none [transcriber's note: footnotes have been relocated to the end of the text, and footnote anchors have been labeled with the original page and footnote numbers. inconsistent hyphenations by the author (including co-extensive/coextensive, foot-notes/footnotes, hundred-fold/hundredfold, mis-statement/misstatement, re-written/rewritten, two-fold/twofold) have been retained as printed.] essays on the work entitled "supernatural religion" reprinted from _the contemporary review_. by j.b. lightfoot, d.d., d.c.l., ll.d. late bishop of durham. london: macmillan and co. and new york. _first edition_, . _second edition_, . preface. this republication of essays which were written several years ago has no reference to any present controversies. its justification is the fact that strangers and friends in england and america alike had urged me from time to time to gather them together, that they might be had in a more convenient form, believing that they contained some elements of permanent value which deserved to be rescued from the past numbers of a review not easily procurable, and thus rendered more accessible to students. i had long resisted these solicitations for reasons which i shall explain presently; but a few months ago, when i was prostrated by sickness and my life was hanging on a slender thread, it became necessary to give a final answer to the advice tendered to me. this volume is the result. the kind offices of my chaplain the rev. j.r. harmer, who undertook the troublesome task of verifying the references, correcting the press, and adding the indices, when i was far too ill to attend to such matters myself, have enabled me to bring it out sooner than i had hoped. when i first took up the book entitled 'supernatural religion,' i felt, whether rightly or wrongly, that its criticisms were too loose and pretentious, and too full of errors, to produce any permanent effect; and for the most part attacks of this kind on the records of the divine life are best left alone. but i found that a cruel and unjustifiable assault was made on a very dear friend to whom i was attached by the most sacred personal and theological ties; and that the book which contained this attack was from causes which need not be specified obtaining a notoriety unforeseen by me. thus i was forced to break silence; and, as i advanced with my work, i seemed to see that, though undertaken to redress a personal injustice, it might be made subservient to the wider interests of the truth. paper succeeded upon paper, and i had hoped ultimately to cover the whole ground, so far as regards the testimony of the first two centuries to the new testament scriptures. but my time was not my own, as i was necessarily interrupted by other literary and professional duties which claimed the first place; and meanwhile i was transferred to another and more arduous sphere of practical work, being thus obliged to postpone indefinitely my intention of giving something like completeness to the work. in republishing these papers then, the only course open to me, in justice to my adversary as well as to myself, was to reprint them in succession word for word as they appeared, correcting obvious misprints; though in many cases my argument might have been strengthened considerably. recently discovered documents for instance have established the certainty of the main conclusions respecting tatian's _diatessaron_, to which the criticism of the available evidence had led me. again i have since treated the ignatian question more fully elsewhere, and satisfied myself on points about which i had expressed indecision in these essays. on the other hand on one or two minor questions i might have used less confident language. what shocked me in the book was not the extravagance of the opinions or the divergence from my own views; though i cannot pretend to be indifferent about the veracity of the records which profess to reveal him, whom i believe to be not only the very truth, but the very life. i have often learnt very much even from extreme critics, and have freely acknowledged my obligations; but here was a writer who (to judge from his method) seemed to me, and not to me only [footnote: see salmon's _introduction to the new testament_ p. .], where it was a question of weighing probabilities, as is the case in most historical investigations, to choose invariably that alternative, even though the least probable, which would enable him to score a point against his adversary. for the rest i disclaim any personal bias, as against any personal opponent. the author of 'supernatural religion,' as distinct from the work, is a mere blank to me. i do not even know his name, nor have i attempted to discover it. whether he is living or dead, i know not. he preferred to write anonymously, and so far as i am concerned, i am glad that it was so; though, speaking for myself, i prefer taking the responsibility of my opinions and statements on important subjects. in several instances the author either vouchsafed an answer to my criticisms, or altered the form of his statements in a subsequent edition. in all such cases references are scrupulously given in this volume to his later utterances. in most cases my assailant had the last word. he is welcome to it. i am quite willing that careful and impartial critics shall read my statements and his side by side, and judge between us. it is my sole desire, in great things and in small, to be found [greek: sunergos tê alêtheia]. bournemouth, _may_ , . table of contents. page i. introduction -- ii. the silence of eusebius -- iii. the ignatian epistles -- iv. polycarp of smyrna -- v. papias of hierapolis i. -- vi. papias of hierapolis ii. -- vii. the later school of st john -- viii. the churches of gaul -- ix. tatian's diatessaron -- discoveries illustrating the acts of the apostles -- indices -- supernatural religion. i. introduction. [december, ] if the author of _supernatural religion_ [footnote : ] designed, by withholding his name, to stimulate public curiosity and thus to extend the circulation of his work, he has certainly not been disappointed in his hope. when the rumour once got abroad, that it proceeded from the pen of a learned and venerable prelate, the success of the book was secured. for this rumour indeed there was no foundation in fact. it was promptly and emphatically denied, when accidentally it reached the ears of the supposed author. but meanwhile the report had been efficacious. the reviewers had taken the work in hand and (with one exception) lavished their praises on the critical portions of it. the first edition was exhausted in a few months. no words can be too strong to condemn the heartless cruelty of this imputation. the venerable prelate, on whom the authorship of this anonymous work was thrust, deserved least of all men to be exposed to such an insult. as an academic teacher and as an ecclesiastical ruler alike, he had distinguished himself by a courageous avowal of his opinions at all costs. for more than a quarter of a century he had lived in the full blaze of publicity, and on his fearless integrity no breath of suspicion had ever rested. yet now, when increasing infirmities obliged him to lay down his office, he was told that his life for years past had been one gigantic lie. the insinuation involved nothing less than this. throughout those many years, during which the anonymous author, as he himself tells us, had been preparing for the publication of an elaborate and systematic attack upon christianity, the bishop was preaching christian doctrine, confirming christian children, ordaining christian ministers, without breathing a hint to the world that he felt any misgiving of the truths which he thus avowed and taught. yet men talked as if, somehow or other, the cause of 'freethinking' had gained great moral support from the conversion of a bishop, though, if the rumour had been true, their new convert had for years past been guilty of the basest fraud of which a man is capable. and all the while there was absolutely nothing to recommend this identification of the unknown author. the intellectual characteristics of the work present a trenchant contrast to the refined scholarship and cautious logic of this accomplished prelate. only one point of resemblance could be named. the author shows an acquaintance with the theological critics of the modern dutch school; and a knowledge of dutch writers was known, or believed, to have a place among the acquisitions of this omniscient scholar. truly no reputation is safe, when such a reputation is traduced on these grounds. i have been assuming however that the work entitled _supernatural religion_, which lies before me, is the same work which the reviewers have applauded under this name. but, when i remember that the st mark of papias cannot possibly be our st mark, i feel bound to throw upon this assumption the full light of modern critical principles; and, so tested, it proves to be not only hasty and unwarrantable, but altogether absurd. it is only necessary to compare the statements of highly intellectual reviewers with the work itself; and every unprejudiced mind must be convinced that 'the evidence is fatal to the claims' involved in this identification. out of five reviews or notices of the work which i have read, only one seems to refer to our _supernatural religion_. the other four are plainly dealing with some apocryphal work, bearing the same name and often using the same language, but in its main characteristics quite different from and much more authentic than the volumes before me. . it must be observed in the first place, that the reviewers agree in attributing to the work scholarship and criticism of the highest order. 'the author,' writes one, 'is a scientifically trained critic. he has learned to argue and to weigh evidence.' 'the book,' adds a second, 'proceeds from a man of ability, a scholar and a reasoner.' 'his scholarship,' says this same reviewer again, 'is apparent throughout.' 'along with a wide and minute scholarship,' he writes in yet another place, 'the unknown writer shows great acuteness.' again a third reviewer, of whose general tone, as well as of his criticisms on the first part of the work, i should wish to speak with the highest respect, praises the writer's 'searching and scholarly criticism.' lastly a fourth reviewer attributes to the author 'careful and acute scholarship.' this testimony is explicit, and it comes from four different quarters. it is moreover confirmed by the rumour already mentioned, which assigned the work to a bishop who has few rivals among his contemporaries as a scholar and a critic. now, since the documents which our author has undertaken to discuss are written almost wholly in the greek and latin languages, it may safely be assumed that under the term 'scholarship' the reviewers included an adequate knowledge of these languages. starting from this as an axiom which will not be disputed, i proceed to inquire what we find in the work itself, which will throw any light on this point. the example, which i shall take first, relates to a highly important passage of irenæus [ : ], containing a reference in some earlier authority, whom this father quotes, to a saying of our lord recorded only in st john's gospel. the passage begins thus:-- 'as the elders say, then also shall those deemed worthy of the abode in heaven depart thither; and others shall enjoy the delights of paradise; and others shall possess the splendour of the city; for everywhere the saviour shall be seen according as they that see him shall be worthy.' then follows the important paragraph which is translated differently by our author [ : ] and by dr westcott [ : ]. for reasons which will appear immediately, i place the two renderings side by side:-- westcott. | supernatural religion. | 'this distinction of dwelling, | 'but there is to be this they taught, exists between | distinction [ : ] of dwelling those who brought forth a | ([greek: einai de tên diastolên hundred-fold, and those who | tautên tês oikêseôs]) of those bearing brought forth sixty-fold, and | fruit the hundred-fold, and of the those who brought forth | (bearers of) the sixty-fold, and of twenty-fold (matt. xiii. )... | the (bearers of) the thirty-fold: of | whom some indeed shall be taken up | into the heavens, some shall live and it was for this reason | in paradise, and some shall the lord said that _in his | inhabit the city, and for that father's house_ ([greek: en | reason ([greek: dia touto]-- tois tou patros]) _are many | _propter hoc_) the lord declared mansions_ (john xiv. ).' | many mansions to be in the (heavens) [ : ] | of my father ([greek: en tois tou | patros mou monas einai pollas]), etc.' on this extract our author remarks that 'it is impossible for any one who attentively considers the whole of this passage and who makes himself acquainted with the manner in which irenæus conducts his argument, and interweaves it with texts of scripture, to doubt that the phrase we are considering is introduced by irenæus himself, and is in no case a quotation from the work of papias [ : ].' as regards the relation of this quotation from the fourth gospel to papias any remarks, which i have to make, must be deferred for the present [ : ]; but on the other point i venture to say that any fairly trained schoolboy will feel himself constrained by the rules of greek grammar to deny what our author considers it 'impossible' even 'to doubt.' he himself is quite unconscious of the difference between the infinitive and the indicative, or in other words between the oblique and the direct narrative; and so he boldly translates [greek: einai tên diastolên] as though it were [greek: estai] (or [greek: mellei einai]) [greek: hê diastolê], and [greek: eirêkenai ton kurion] as though it were [greek: eirêken ho kurios]. this is just as if a translator from a german original were to persist in ignoring the difference between 'es sey' and 'es ist' and between 'der herr sage' and 'der herr sagt.' yet so unconscious is our author of the real point at issue, that he proceeds to support his view by several other passages in which irenæus 'interweaves' his own remarks, because they happen to contain the words [greek: dia touto], though in every instance the indicative and _not the infinitive_ is used. to complete this feat of scholarship he proceeds to charge dr westcott with what 'amounts to a falsification of the text [ : ],' because this scholarly writer has inserted the words 'they taught' to show that in the original the sentence containing the reference to st john is in the oblique narrative and therefore reports the words of others [ : ]. i shall not retort this charge of 'falsification,' because i do not think that the cause of truth is served by imputing immoral motives to those from whom we differ; and indeed the context shows that our author is altogether blind to the grammatical necessity. but i would venture to ask whether it would not have been more prudent, as well as more seemly, if he had paused before venturing, under the shelter of an anonymous publication, to throw out this imputation of dishonesty against a writer of singular candour and moderation, who has at least given to the world the hostage and the credential of an honoured name. it is necessary to add that our author persists in riveting this grammatical error on himself. he returns to the charge again in two later footnotes [ : ] and declares himself to have shown 'that it [the reference to the fourth gospel] must be referred to irenæus himself, and that there is no ground for attributing it to the presbyters at all.' 'most critics,' he continues, 'admit the uncertainty [ : ].' as it will be my misfortune hereafter to dispute not a few propositions which 'most critics' are agreed in maintaining, it is somewhat reassuring to find that they are quite indifferent to the most elementary demands of grammar [ : ]. the passage just discussed has a vital bearing on the main question at issue, the date of the fourth gospel. the second example which i shall take, though less important, is not without its value. as in the former instance our author showed his indifference to moods, so here he is equally regardless of tenses. he is discussing the heathen celsus, who shows an acquaintance with the evangelical narratives, and whose date therefore it is not a matter of indifference to ascertain. origen, in the preface to his refutation of celsus, distinctly states that this person had been long dead ([greek: êdê kai palai nekron]). in his first book again he confesses his ignorance who this celsus was, but is disposed to identify him with a person of the name known to have flourished about a century before his own time [ : ]. but at the close of the last book [ : ], addressing his friend ambrosius who had sent him the work, and at whose instance he had undertaken the refutation, he writes (or rather, he is represented by our author as writing) as follows:-- 'know, however, that celsus has promised to write another treatise after this one.... if, therefore, he has not fulfilled his promise to write a second book, we may well be satisfied with the eight books in reply to his discourse. if however, he has commenced and finished this work also, seek it and send it in order that we may answer it also, and confute the false teaching in it etc.' [ : ] on the strength of the passage so translated, our author supposes that origen's impression concerning the date of celsus had meanwhile been 'considerably modified', and remarks that he now 'treats him as a contemporary'. unfortunately however, the tenses, on which everything depends, are freely handled in this translation. origen does not say, 'celsus _has promised_,' but 'celsus _promises_' ([greek: epangellomenon]), _i.e._ in the treatise before him, for origen's knowledge was plainly derived from the book itself. and again, he does not say 'if he _has not fulfilled_ his promise to write', but 'if he _did not write_ as he undertook to do' ([greek: egrapsen huposchomenos]); nor 'if he _has commenced and finished_', but 'if he _commenced and finished_' ([greek: arxamenos sunetelese]) [ : ]. thus origen's language itself here points to a past epoch, and is in strict accordance with the earlier passages in his work. these two examples have been chosen, not because they are by any means the worst specimens of our author's greek, but because in both cases an elaborate argument is wrecked on this rock of grammar. if any reader is curious to see how he can drive his ploughshare through a greek sentence, he may refer for instance to the translations of basilides (ii. p. ) [ : ], or of valentinus (ii. p. ) [ : ], or of philo (ii. p. sq) [ : ]. or he may draw his inferences from such renderings as [greek; ho logos edêlou], 'scripture declares,' [ : ] or [greek: kata korrês propêlakizein], [ : ] 'to inflict a blow on one side'; or from such perversions of meaning as 'did no wrong,' twice repeated [ : ] as a translation of [greek: ouden hêmarte] in an important passage of papias relating to st mark, where this father really means that the evangelist, though his narrative was not complete, yet 'made no mistake' in what he did record. nor does our author's latin fare any better than his greek, as may be inferred from the fact that he can translate 'nihil tamen differt credentium fidei,' 'nothing nevertheless differs in the faith of believers,' [ : ] instead of 'it makes no difference to the faith of believers,' thus sacrificing sense and grammar alike [ : ]. or it is still better illustrated by the following example:-- 'nam ex iis commentatoribus | 'for of the commentators quos habemus, lucam videtur | whom we possess, marcion seems marcion elegisse quem caederet.' | (_videtur_) to have selected luke, tertull. _adv. marc._ iv. . | which he mutilates.' _s.r._ | ii. p. . [ : ] here again tenses and moods are quite indifferent, an imperfect subjunctive being treated as a present indicative; while at the same time our author fails to perceive that the "commentatores" are the evangelists themselves. his mind seems to be running on the commentaries of de wette and alford, and he has forgotten the commentaries of cæsar [ : ]. having shown that the author does not possess the elementary knowledge which is indispensable in a critical scholar, i shall not stop to inquire how far he exhibits those higher qualifications of a critic, which are far more rare--whether for instance he has the discriminating tact and nice balance of judgment necessary for such a work, or whether again he realizes how men in actual life do speak and write now, and might be expected to speak and write sixteen or seventeen centuries ago--without which qualifications the most painful study and reproduction of german and dutch criticism is valueless. these qualifications cannot be weighed or measured, and i must trust to my subsequent investigations to put the reader in possession of data for forming a judgment on these points. at present it will be sufficient to remark that a scholarly writer might at least be expected not to contradict himself on a highly important question of biblical criticism. yet this is what our author does. speaking of the descent of the angel at the pool of bethesda (john v. , ) in his first part, he writes: 'the passage is not found in the older mss of the fourth gospel, and it was probably a later interpolation.' [ : ] but, having occasion towards the end of his work to refer again to this same passage, he entirely forgets his previously expressed opinion, and is very positive on the other side. 'we must believe,' he writes, 'that this passage did originally belong to the text, and has from an early period been omitted from the mss on account of the difficulty it presents.' [ : ] and, to make the contradiction more flagrant, he proceeds to give a reason why the disputed words must have formed part of the original text. it must be evident by this time to any 'impartial mind,' that the _supernatural religion_ of the reviewers cannot be our _supernatural religion_. the higher criticism has taught me that poor foolish papias, an extreme specimen of 'the most deplorable carelessness and want of critical judgment' displayed by the fathers on all occasions, cannot possibly have had our st mark's gospel before him [ : ], because he says that his st mark recorded only 'some' of our lord's sayings and doings, and did not record them in order (though by the way no one maintains that everything said and done by christ is recorded in our second gospel, or that the events follow in strict chronological sequence); and how then is it possible to resist the conclusion, which is forced upon the mind by the concurrent testimony of so many able reviewers, the leaders of intellectual thought in this critical nineteenth century, to the consummate scholarship of the writer, that they must be referring to a different recension, probably more authentic and certainly far more satisfactory than the book which lies before me? . and the difficulty of the popular identification will be found to increase as the investigation proceeds. there is a second point, also, on which our critics are unanimous. our first reviewer describes the author as 'scrupulously exact in stating the arguments of adversaries.' our fourth reviewer uses still stronger language: 'the author with excellent candour places before us the materials on which a judgment must rest, with great fulness and perfect impartiality.' the testimony of the other two, though not quite so explicit, tends in the same direction. 'an earnest seeker after truth,' says the second reviewer, 'looking around at all particulars pertaining to his inquiries.' 'the account given in the volume we are noticing,' writes the third, 'is a perfect mine of information on this subject, alloyed indeed with no small prejudice, yet so wonderfully faithful and comprehensive that an error may be detected by the light of the writer's own searching and scholarly criticism.' now this is not the characteristic of the book before me. the author does indeed single out from time to time the weaker arguments of 'apologetic' writers, and on these he dwells at great length; but their weightier facts and lines of reasoning are altogether ignored by him, though they often occur in the same books and even in the same contexts which he quotes. this charge will, i believe, be abundantly substantiated as i proceed. at present i shall do no more than give a few samples. our author charges the epistle ascribed to polycarp with an anachronism [ : ], because, though in an earlier passage st ignatius is assumed to be dead, 'in chap. xiii he is spoken of as living, and information is requested regarding him "and those who are with him."' why then does he not notice the answer which he might have found in any common source of information, that when the latin version (the greek is wanting here) 'de his qui cum eo sunt' is retranslated into the original language, [greek: tois sun autô], the 'anachronism' altogether disappears? [ : ] again, when he devotes more than forty pages to the discussion of papias [ : ], why does he not even mention the view maintained by dr westcott and others (and certainly suggested by a strict interpretation of papias' own words), that this father's object in his 'exposition' was not to construct a new evangelical narrative, but to interpret and illustrate by oral tradition one already lying before him in written documents? [ : ] this view, if correct, entirely alters the relation of papias to the written gospels; and its discussion was a matter of essential importance to the main question at issue. again, when he reproduces the tübingen fallacy respecting 'the strong prejudice' of hegesippus against st paul [ : ], and quotes the often-quoted passage from stephanus gobarus, in which this writer refers to the language of hegesippus condemning the use of the words, 'eye hath not seen, etc.', why does he not state that these words were employed by heretical teachers to justify their rites of initiation, and consequently 'apologetic' writers contend that hegesippus refers to the words, not as used by st paul, but as misapplied by these heretics? since, according to the tübingen interpretation, this single notice contradicts everything else which we know of the opinions of hegesippus [ : ], the view of 'apologists' might perhaps have been worth a moment's consideration. and again, in the elaborate examination of justin martyr's evangelical quotations [ : ], in which he had credner's careful analysis to guide him, and which therefore is quite the most favourable specimen of his critical work, our author frequently refers to dr westcott's book to censure it, and many comparatively insignificant points are discussed at great length. why then does he not once mention dr westcott's argument founded on the looseness of justin martyr's quotations from the old testament, as throwing some light on the degree of accuracy which he might be expected to show in quoting the gospels? [ : ] the former justin supposed to be (as one of the reviewers expresses it) 'almost automatically inspired,' whereas he took a much larger view of the inspiration of the evangelical narratives. a reader fresh from the perusal of _supernatural religion_ will have his eyes opened as to the character of justin's mind, when he turns to dr westcott's book, and finds how justin interweaves, mis-names, and mis-quotes passages from the old testament. it cannot be said that these are unimportant points. in every instance which i have selected these omitted considerations vitally affect the main question at issue. our fourth reviewer however uses the words which i have already quoted, 'excellent candour,' 'great fulness,' 'perfect impartiality,' with special reference to the part of the work relating to the authorship and character of the fourth gospel, which he describes as 'a piece of keen and solid reasoning.' this is quite decisive. our author might have had his own grounds for ignoring the arguments of 'apologetic' writers, or he may have been ignorant of them. for reasons which will appear presently, the latter alternative ought probably to be adopted as explaining some omissions. but however this may be, the language of the reviewer is quite inapplicable to the work lying before me. it may be candid in the sense of being honestly meant, but it is not candid in any other sense; and it is the very reverse of full and impartial. the arguments of 'apologetic' writers are systematically ignored in this part of the work. once or twice indeed he fastens on passages from such writers, that he may make capital of them; but their main arguments remain wholly unnoticed. why, for instance, when he says of the fourth gospel that 'instead of the fierce and intolerant temper of the son of thunder, we find a spirit breathing forth nothing but gentleness and love,' [ : ] does he forget to add that 'apologists' have pointed to such passages as 'ye are of your father the devil,' as a refutation of this statement--passages far more 'intolerant' than anything recorded in the synoptic gospels? [ : ] why again, when he asserts that 'allusion is undoubtedly made to' st paul in the words of the apocalypse, 'them that hold the teaching of balaam, who taught balak to cast a stumbling-block before the children of israel, to eat things sacrificed to idols [ : ],' does he forget to mention that st paul himself uses this same chapter in jewish history as a warning to those free-thinkers and free-livers, who eat things sacrificed to idols, regardless of the scandal which their conduct might create, and thus, so far from a direct antagonism, there is a substantial agreement between the two apostles on this point? [ : ] why, when he is endeavouring to minimize, if not to deny, the hebraic [ : ] character of the fourth gospel, does he wholly ignore the investigations of luthardt and others, which (as 'apologists' venture to think) show that the whole texture of the language in the fourth gospel is hebraic? why again, when he alludes to 'the minuteness of details' [ : ] in this gospel as alleged in defence of its authenticity, is he satisfied with this mere caricature of the 'apologetic' argument? having set up a man of straw, he has no difficulty in knocking him down. he has only to declare that 'the identification of an eye-witness by details is absurd.' it would have been more to the purpose if he had boldly grappled with such arguments as he might have found in mr sanday's book for instance [ : ]; arguments founded not on the minuteness of details, but on the thorough naturalness with which the incidents develop themselves, on the subtle and inobtrusive traits of character which appear in the speakers, on the local colouring which is inseparably interwoven with the narrative, on the presence of strictly jewish (as distinguished from christian) ideas, more especially messianic ideas, which saturate the speeches, and the like. and, if he could have brought forward any parallel to all this in the literature of the time, or could even have shown a reasonable probability that such a fiction might have been produced in an age which (as we are constantly reminded) was singularly inappreciative and uncritical in such matters, and which certainly has not left any evidence of a genius for realism, for its highest conception of romance-writing does not rise above the stiffness of the clementines or the extravagance of the protevangelium--if he could have done this, he would at least have advanced his argument a step [ : ]. why again, when he is emphasizing the differences between the apocalypse and the fourth gospel, does he content himself with stating 'that some apologetic writers' are 'satisfied by the analogies which could scarcely fail to exist between two works dealing with a similar (!) theme,' [ : ] without mentioning for the benefit of the reader some of these analogies, as for instance, that our lord is styled the word of god in these two writings, and these alone, of the new testament? he recurs more than once to the doctrine of the logos, as exhibited in the gospel, but again he is silent about the presence of this nomenclature in the apocalypse [ : ]. why, when he contrasts the christology of the synoptic gospels with the christology of st john [ : ], does he not mention that 'apologists' quote in reply our lord's words in matt. xi. sq, 'all things are delivered unto me of my father; and no man knoweth the son but the father; neither knoweth any man the father, save the son, and he to whom soever the son will reveal him. come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and i will give you rest'? this one passage, they assert, covers the characteristic teaching of the fourth gospel, and hitherto they have not been answered. again, our author says very positively that the synoptics clearly represent the ministry of jesus as having been limited to a single year, and his preaching is confined to galilee and jerusalem, where his career culminates at the fatal passover;' thus contrasting with the fourth gospel, which 'distributes the teaching of jesus between galilee, samaria, and jerusalem, makes it extend at least over three years, and refers to three passovers spent by jesus at jerusalem.' [ : ] why then does he not add that 'apologetic' writers refer to such passages as matt. xxiii. (comp. luke xiii. ), 'o, jerusalem, jerusalem,... _how often_ would i have gathered thy children together'? here the expression 'how often,' it is contended, obliges us to postulate other visits, probably several visits, to jerusalem, which are not recorded in the synoptic gospels themselves. and it may be suggested also that the twice-repeated notice of time in the context of st luke, 'i do cures _to-day and to-morrow, and the third day_ i shall be perfected,' 'i must walk _to-day and to-morrow and the day following_,' points to the very duration of our lord's ministry, as indicated by the fourth gospel [ : ]. if so, the coincidence is the more remarkable, because it does not appear that st luke himself, while recording these prophetic words, was aware of their full historical import. but whatever may be thought of this last point, the contention of 'apologetic' writers is that here, as elsewhere, the fourth gospel supplies the key to historical difficulties in the synoptic narratives, which are not unlocked in the course of those narratives themselves, and this fact increases their confidence in its value as an authentic record [ : ]. again: he refers several times to the paschal controversy of the second century as bearing on the authorship of the fourth gospel. on one occasion he devotes two whole pages to it. [ : ] why then does he not mention that 'apologetic' writers altogether deny what he states to be absolutely certain; maintaining on the contrary that the christian passover, celebrated by the asiatic churches on the th nisan, commemorated not the institution of the lord's supper, but, as it naturally would, the sacrifice on the cross, and asserting that the main dispute between the asiatic and roman churches had reference to the question whether the commemoration should take place always on the th nisan (irrespective of the day of the week) or always on a friday? thus, they claim the paschal controversy as a witness on their own side. this view may be right or wrong; but inasmuch as any person might read the unusually full account of the controversy in eusebius from beginning to end, without a suspicion that the alternative of the th or th nisan, as the day of the crucifixion, entered into the dispute at all, the _onus probandi_ rests with our author, and his stout assertions were certainly needed to supply the place of arguments. [ : ] the same reticence or ignorance respecting the arguments of 'apologetic' writers is noticeable also when he deals with the historical and geographical allusions in the fourth gospel. if by any chance he condescends to discuss a question, he takes care to fasten on the least likely solution of 'apologists' (_e.g._ the identification of sychar and shechem), [ : ] omitting altogether to notice others [ : ]. but as a rule, he betrays no knowledge whatever of his adversaries' arguments. one instance will suffice to illustrate his mode of procedure. referring to the interpretation of siloam as 'sent,' in john ix. , he stigmatizes this as 'a distinct error,' because the word signifies 'a spring, a fountain, a flow of water;' and he adds that 'a foreigner with a slight knowledge of the language is misled by the superficial analogy of sound [ : ].' does he not know (his gesenius will teach him this) that siloam signifies a fountain, or rather, an aqueduct, a conduit, like the latin _emissarium_, because it is derived from the hebrew _shalach_ 'to send'? and if he does know it, why has he left his readers entirely in the dark on this subject? as the word is much disguised in its greek dress (_siloam_ for _shiloach_), the knowledge of its derivation is not unimportant, and 'apologists' claim to have this item of evidence transferred to their side of the account. any one disposed to retaliate upon our author for his habitual reticence would find in these volumes, ready made for his purpose, a large assortment of convenient phrases ranging from 'discreet reserve' to 'wilful and deliberate evasion.' i do not intend to yield to this temptation. but the reader will have drawn his own conclusions from this recklessness of assault in one whose own armour is gaping at every joint. but indeed, when he does stoop to notice the arguments of 'apologetic' writers, he is not always successful in apprehending their meaning. thus he writes of the unnamed disciple, the assumed author of the fourth gospel:-- 'the assumption that the disciple thus indicated is john, rests principally on the fact that whilst the author mentions the other apostles, he seems studiously to avoid directly naming john, and also that he only once [ : ] distinguishes john the baptist by the appellation [greek: ho baptistês], whilst he carefully distinguishes the two disciples of the name of judas, and always speaks of the apostle peter as 'simon peter,' or 'peter,' or but rarely as 'simon' only. without pausing to consider the slightness of this evidence, etc.' [ : ] now the fact is, that the fourth evangelist never once distinguishes this john as 'the baptist,' though such is his common designation in the other gospels; and the only person, in whom the omission would be natural, is his namesake john the son of zebedee. hence 'apologists' lay great stress on this fact, as an evidence all the more valuable, because it lies below the surface, and they urge with force, that this subtle indication of authorship is inconceivable as the literary device of a forger in the second century. we cannot wonder, however, if our author considers this evidence so slight that he will not even pause upon it, when he has altogether distorted it by a mis-statement of fact. but it is instructive to trace his error to its source. turning to credner, to whom the author gives a reference in a footnote, i find this writer stating that the fourth evangelist 'has not found it necessary to distinguish john the baptist from the apostle john his namesake _even so much as once_ (auch nur ein einziges mal) by the addition [greek: ho baptistês].' [ : ] so then our author has stumbled over that little word 'nur,' and his german has gone the way of his greek and his latin [ : ]. but the error is instructive from another point of view. this argument happens to be a commonplace of 'apologists.' how comes it then, that he was not set right by one or other of these many writers, even if he could not construe credner's german? clearly this cannot be the work which the reviewers credit with an 'exhaustive' knowledge of the literature of the subject. i may be asked indeed to explain how, on this theory of mistaken identity which i here put forward, the work reviewed by the critics came to be displaced by the work before me, so that no traces of the original remain. but this i altogether decline to do, and i plead authority for refusing. 'the merely negative evidence that our actual [_supernatural religion_] is not the work described by [the reviewers] is sufficient for our purpose.' [ : ] . but the argument is strengthened when we come to consider a third point. 'the author's discussions,' writes our first reviewer, 'are conducted in a judicial method.' 'he has the critical faculty in union with a calm spirit.' 'calm and judicial in tone,' is the verdict of our second reviewer. the opinion of our third and fourth reviewers on this part may be gathered not so much from what they say as from what they leave unsaid. a fifth reviewer however, who seems certainly to have had our _supernatural religion_ before him, holds different language. he rebukes the author--with wonderful gentleness, considering the gravity of the offence--for 'now and then losing patience.' now whether calmness of tone can be said to distinguish a work which bristles with such epithets as 'monstrous,' 'impossible,' 'audacious,' 'preposterous,' 'absurd;' whether the habit of reiterating as axiomatic truths what at the very best are highly precarious hypotheses--as, for instance, that papias did not refer to our st mark's gospel--does not savour more of the vehemence of the advocate than of the impartiality of the judge, i must ask the reader to decide for himself. but of the highly discreditable practice of imputing corrupt motives to those who differ from us there cannot be two opinions. we have already seen how a righteous nemesis has overtaken our author, and he has covered himself with confusion, while recklessly flinging a charge of 'falsification' at another. unfortunately however that passage does not stand alone. i will not take up the reader's time with illustrations of a practice, of which we have seen more than enough already. but there is one example which is sufficiently instructive to deserve quoting. dr westcott writes of basilides as follows:-- 'at the same time, he appealed to the authority of glaucias, who, as well as st mark, was "an interpreter of st. peter."' [ : ] the inverted commas are given here as they appear in dr westcott's book. it need hardly be said that dr westcott is simply illustrating the statement of basilides that glaucias was an interpreter of st peter by the similar statement of papias and others that st mark was an interpreter of the same apostle--a very innocent piece of information, one would suppose. on this passage however our author remarks:-- 'now we have here again an illustration of the same misleading system which we have already condemned, and shall further refer to, in the introduction after 'glaucias' of the words '_who as well as st mark was_ an interpreter of st peter.' the words in italics are the gratuitous addition of canon westcott himself, and can only have been inserted for one of two purposes: (i) to assert the fact that glaucias was actually an interpreter of peter, as tradition represented mark to be; or (ii) to insinuate to unlearned readers that basilides himself acknowledged mark as well as glaucias as the interpreter of peter. we can hardly suppose the first to have been the intention, and we regret to be forced back upon the second, and infer that the temptation to weaken the inferences from the appeal of basilides to the uncanonical glaucias, by coupling with it the allusion to mark, was [unconsciously, no doubt] too strong for the apologist.' [ : ] dr westcott's honour may safely be left to take care of itself. it stands far too high to be touched by insinuations like these. i only call attention to the fact that our author has removed dr westcott's inverted commas [ : ], and then founded on the passage so manipulated a charge of unfair dealing, which could only be sustained in their absence, and which even then no one but himself would have thought of. i will not retort upon our author the charge of 'deliberate falsification,' which he so freely levels at others, for i do not believe that he had any such intention. the lesson suggested by this highly characteristic passage is of another kind. it exemplifies the elaborate looseness which pervades the critical portion of this book. it illustrates the author's inability to look at things in a straightforward way. it emphasizes more especially the suspicious temper of the work, which makes it, as even a favourable reviewer has said, 'painfully sceptical'--a temper which must necessarily vitiate all the processes of criticism, and which, if freely humoured elsewhere, would render life intolerable and history impossible [ : ]. it is difficult to see what end the author proposed to attain by all this literary browbeating. in the course of my examination i shall be constrained to adopt many a view which has been denounced beforehand as impossible and absurd; and i shall give my reasons for doing so. if by an 'apologist' [ : ] is meant one who knows that he owes everything which is best and truest in himself to the teaching of christianity--not the christless christianity which alone our author would spare, the works with the mainspring broken, but the christianity of the apostles and evangelists--who believes that its doctrines, its sanctions, and its hopes, are truths of the highest moment to the wellbeing of mankind, and who, knowing and believing all this, is ready to use in its defence such abilities as he has, then a man may be proud to take even the lowest place among the ranks of 'apologists,' and to brave any insinuations of dishonesty which an anonymous critic may fling at him. there is however another more subtle mode of intimidation which plays an important part in these volumes. long lists of references are given in the notes, to modern critics who (as the reader would infer from the mode of reference) support the views mentioned or adopted by the author in the text. i have verified these references in one or two cases, and have found that several writers, at all events, do not hold the opinions to which their names are attached [ : ]. but, under any circumstances, these lists will not fetter the judgment of any thoughtful mind. it is strange indeed, that a writer who denounces so strongly the influence of authority as represented by tradition, should be anxious to impose on his readers another less honourable yoke. there is at least a presumption (though in individual cases it may prove false on examination) that the historical sense of seventeen or eighteen centuries is larger and truer than the critical insight of a section of men in one late half century. the idols of our cave never present themselves in a more alluring form than when they appear as the 'spirit of the age.' it is comparatively easy to resist the fallacies of past times, but it is most difficult to escape the infection of the intellectual atmosphere in which we live. i ask myself, for instance, whether one who lived in the age of the rabbis would have been altogether right in resigning himself to the immediate current of intellectual thought, because he saw, or seemed to see, that it was setting strongly in one direction. this comparison is not without its use. here were men eminently learned, painstaking, minute; eminently ingenious also, and in a certain sense, eminently critical. in accumulating and assorting facts--such facts as lay within their reach--and in the general thoroughness of their work, the rabbis of jewish exegesis might well bear comparison with the rabbis of neologian criticism. they reigned supreme in their own circles for a time; their work has not been without its fruits; many useful suggestions have gone to swell the intellectual and moral inheritance of later ages; but their characteristic teaching, which they themselves would have regarded as their chief claim to immortality, has long since been consigned to oblivion. it might be minute and searching, but it was conceived in a false vein; it was essentially unhistorical, and therefore it could not live. the modern negative school of criticism seems to me to be equally perverse and unreal, though in a different way; and therefore i anticipate for it the same fate. mr matthew arnold, alluding to an eccentric work of rationalizing tendencies written by an english scholar, and using m. renan as his mouthpiece, expresses the opinion that 'an extravagance of this sort could never have come from germany where there is a great force of critical opinion controlling a learned man's vagaries, and keeping him straight.' [ : ] i confess that my experiences of the critical literature of germany have not been so fortunate. it would be difficult, i think, to find among english scholars any parallel to the mass of absurdities, which several intelligent and very learned german critics have conspired to heap upon two simple names in the philippian epistle, euodia and syntyche; first, baur suggesting that the pivot of the epistle, which has a conciliatory tendency, is the mention of clement, a mythical or almost mythical person, who represents the union of the petrine and pauline parties in the church [ : ]; then schwegler, carrying the theory a step further, and declaring that the two names, euodia and syntyche, actually represent these two parties, while the true yoke-fellow is st peter himself [ : ]; then volkmar, improving the occasion, and showing that this fact is indicated in their very names, euodia, or 'rightway,' and syntyche or 'consort,' denoting respectively the orthodoxy of the one party and the incorporation of the other [ : ]; lastly, hitzig lamenting that interpreters of the new testament are not more thoroughly imbued with the language and spirit of the old, and maintaining that these two names are reproductions of the patriarchs asher and gad--their sex having been changed in the transition from one language to another--and represent the greek and roman elements in the church, while the epistle to the philippians itself is a plagiarism from the agricola of tacitus [ : ]. when therefore i find our author supporting some of his more important judgments by the authority of 'hitzig, volkmar and others,' or of 'volkmar and others,' [ : ] i have my own opinion of the weight which such names should carry with them [ : ]. it is not however against the eccentricities of individuals except so far as these can be charged to a vicious atmosphere and training, that i would rest the chief stress of my complaint. the whole tone and spirit of the school in its excess of scepticism must, i venture to think, be fatal to the ends of true criticism. a reviewer of _supernatural religion_ compares the author's handling of the reconstructive efforts of certain conservative critics regarding the fourth gospel to sir g.c. lewis's objections to niebuhr's 'equally arbitrary reconstruction of early roman history.' from one point of view this comparison is instructive. we have no means of testing the value of that eminent writer's negative criticisms of early roman history. but where additional knowledge has enabled us to apply a test to his opinions, as, for instance, respecting the interpretation of the egyptian hieroglyphic language, we find that his scepticism led him signally astray. it seems to be assumed that, because the sceptical spirit has its proper function in scientific inquiry (though even here its excesses will often impede progress), therefore its exercise is equally useful and equally free from danger in the domain of criticism. a moment's reflection however will show that the cases are wholly different. in whatever relates to morals and history--in short, to human life in all its developments-- where mathematical or scientific demonstration is impossible, and where consequently everything depends on the even balance of the judicial faculties, scepticism must be at least as fatal to the truth as credulity. the author of _supernatural religion_ proposes to himself the task of demonstrating that the miraculous element in christianity is a delusion. the work is divided into three parts. the first part undertakes to prove that miracles are not only highly improbable, but antecedently incredible, so that no amount of testimony can overcome the objections to them. as a subsidiary aim, he endeavours to show that the sort of evidence, which, under the most favourable circumstances, we should be likely to obtain in the early christian ages, ought not to inspire confidence. the second and third parts are occupied in examining the actual witnesses themselves, that is, the four gospels; the second being devoted to the synoptists, and the third to st john. the main contention is that the four gospels are entirely devoid of evidence sufficient to satisfy us of their date and authorship, considering the momentous import of their contents. these portions of the work therefore are chiefly occupied in examining the external testimonies to the authenticity and genuineness of the gospels. in the case of st john the internal character of the document is likewise subjected to examination. obviously, if the author has established his conclusions in the first part, the second and third are altogether superfluous [ : ]. it is somewhat strange, therefore, that more than three-fourths of the whole work should be devoted to this needless task. impressed, as it would seem, by the elaboration of these portions, reviewers have singled them out for special praise, even when they have condemned the first as unsatisfactory. with this estimate of their value i find myself altogether unable to agree; and in the articles which will follow i hope to give my reasons for dissenting. regarded as a handbook of the critical fallacies of the modern destructive school, _supernatural religion_ well deserves examination. for this reason i shall hereafter occupy myself solely with the two latter portions of the work, and more especially with the external evidences of the gospels; but there is one point, affecting the main question at issue, which it is impossible to pass over in silence. anyone who, with the arguments of the first part fresh in his memory, will turn to the final chapter, in which the author gives a confession of faith, must be struck with the startling dislocation between the principles from which the work starts and the manifesto with which it concludes. our author has eliminated, as he believes, the miraculous or supernatural element from the gospel. he will have nothing to say to 'ecclesiastical christianity,' by which strange phrase is meant the christianity of the apostles and evangelists. he will not even hear of a future life with its hopes and fears [ : ]. he will purge the gospel of all 'dogmas,' and will present it as an ethical system alone. the extreme beauty, i might almost say the absolute perfection, of christ's moral teaching [ : ] he not only allows, but insists upon. 'morality,' he adds, 'was the essence of his system; theology was an after-thought.' [ : ] and yet almost in the same breath he adopts as his 'two fundamental principles, love to god and love to man.' he commends a 'morality based upon the earnest and intelligent acceptance of divine law, and perfect recognition of the brotherhood of man,' as 'the highest conceivable by humanity.' [ : ] he speaks of the 'purity of heart which alone "sees god.'" [ : ] he enforces the necessity of 'rising to higher conceptions of an infinitely wise and beneficent being ... whose laws of wondrous comprehensiveness and perfection we ever perceive in operation around us.' [ : ] all this is well said, but is it consistent? this universal 'brotherhood of man,' what is it but a 'dogma' of the most comprehensive application? this 'love to god' springing from the apprehension of a 'wondrous perfection,' and the recognition of an 'infinitely wise and beneficent being,'--in short, this belief in a heavenly father, which on any showing was the fundamental axiom of our lord's teaching, and which our author thus accepts as a cardinal article in his own creed,--what is it but a theological proposition of the most overwhelming import, before which all other 'dogmas' sink into insignificance? and what room, we are forced to ask, has he left for such a dogma? in the first portion of the work our author has been careful not to define his position. he has studiously avoided committing himself to a belief in a universal father or a moral governor, or even in a personal god. if he had done so, he would have tied his hands at once. very much of the reasoning which he brings forward against the miraculous element in christianity in answer to dr mozley and dean mansel falls to the ground when this proposition is assumed. his arguments prove nothing, because they prove too much: for they are equally efficacious, or equally inefficacious, against the doctrine of a divine providence or of human responsibility, as they are against the resurrection of christ. the truth is, that when our author closes his work, he cannot face the conclusions to which his premisses would inevitably lead him. they are too startling for himself, as well as for his readers, in their naked deformity; and with a noble inconsistency he clutches at these 'dogmas' to save himself from sinking into the abyss of moral scepticism. mr j.s. mill's inexorable logic may not be without its use, as holding up the mirror to such inconsistency. on his own narrow premisses this eminent logician builds up his own narrow conclusions with remorseless rigour. our author in his first part adopts this same narrow basis, and truly enough finds no resting-place for christianity upon it, as indeed there is none for any theory of a providential government. but at the conclusion he tacitly and (as it would seem) quite unconsciously assumes a much wider standing-ground. if he had not done so, he himself would have been edged off his footing, and hurled down the precipice. a whole pack of 'pursuing wolves' [ : ] is upon him, far more ravenous than any which beset the path of the believers in revelation; and he has left himself no shelter. if he had commenced by defining what he meant by 'nature' and 'supernatural,' he might have avoided this inconsistency, though he must have sacrificed much of his argument to save his creed. as it is, he has unconsciously juggled with two senses of nature. nature in the first part, where he is arguing against miracles, is the aggregate of external phenomena--the same nature against which mr mill prefers his terrible indictment for its cruelty and injustice. but nature in the concluding chapter involves the idea of a moral governor and a beneficent father; and this idea can only be introduced by opening flood-gates of thought which refuse to be closed just at the moment when it is necessary to bar the admission of the miraculous. our author has ranged himself unconsciously with the 'intuitive philosophers,' of whom mr mill speaks so scornfully. he has appealed, though he does not seem to be aware of it, to the inner consciousness of man, to the instincts and cravings of humanity, to interpret and supplement the teachings of external nature; and he is altogether unaware how large a concession he has made to believers in revelation by so doing. even though we should close our eyes to all other considerations, it is vain to ignore the inevitable moral consequences which flow from this mode of reasoning; for they are becoming every day more apparent. the demand is made that we should abandon our christianity on grounds which logically involve the abandonment of any belief in the providential government of the world and in the moral responsibility of man. young men are apt to be far more logical than their elders. older persons are taught by long experience to distrust the adequacy of their premisses: consciously or unconsciously they supplement the narrow conclusions of their logic by larger lessons learnt from human life or from their own heart. but generally speaking, the young man has no such distrust. his teacher has appealed to nature, and to nature he shall go. the teacher becomes frightened, struggles to retrace his steps, and speaks of 'an infinitely wise and beneficent being'; but the pupil insolently points out how nature, red in tooth and claw, with ravin, shrieks against his creed. the teacher urges, 'all that is consistent with wise and omnipotent law is prospered and brought to perfection:' [ : ] and the pupil replies: 'you have limited my horizon to this life, and in this life the facts do not verify your statement.' the teacher says, believe that you--you personally--'are eternally cared for and governed by an omnipresent immutable power for which nothing is too great, nothing too insignificant.' [ : ] the pupil says: 'my christianity did show me how this was possible; but with my christianity i have cast it away as a delusion. i could not stop short at this point consistently with the principles you have laid down for my guidance. i have done as you told me to do; i have "ratified the fiat which maintains the order of nature," [ : ] and i find nature wholly careless of the single life. i will therefore please myself henceforth.' the teacher speaks of 'the purity which alone sees god;' and to him the expression has a real meaning, for his mind is unconsciously saturated with ideas which he has certainly not learnt from his adopted philosophy: but to the pupil it has lost its articulate utterance, and is no better than sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. hence the pupil, having thrown off his christianity, too often follows out the principles of his teacher to their logical conclusions, and divests himself also of moral restraints, except so far as it may be convenient or necessary for him to submit to them. happily this has not been the case hitherto in the large majority of instances. the permanence of habits formed in a nobler school of teaching, the abiding presence of a loftier ideal not derived from this new philosophy, and (we may add also) the voice of an inward witness whose authority is denied, but whose warnings nevertheless compel a hearing, all tend to raise the level of men's conduct above their principles. the full moral consequences of the teaching would only then be seen, if ever a generation should grow up, moulded altogether under its influences. ii. the silence of eusebius. [january, .] 'it is very important,' says the author of _supernatural religion_, when commencing his critical investigations, 'that the silence of early writers should receive as much attention as any supposed allusions to the gospels.' [ : ] in the present article i shall act upon this suggestion. in one province more especially, relating to the external evidences for the gospels, silence occupies a prominent place. this mysterious oracle will be interrogated, and, unless i am mistaken, the response elicited will not be at all ambiguous. to eusebius we are indebted for almost all that we know of the lost ecclesiastical literature of the second century. this literature was very considerable. the expositions of papias, in five books, and the ecclesiastical history of hegesippus, likewise in five books, must have been full of important matter bearing on our subject. the very numerous works of melito and claudius apollinaris, of which eusebius has preserved imperfect lists [ : ], ranged over the wide domain of theology, of morals, of exegesis, of apologetics, of ecclesiastical order; and here again a flood of light would probably have been poured on the history of the canon, if time had spared these precious documents of christian antiquity. even the extant writings of the second century, however important they may be from other points of view, give a very inadequate idea of the relation of their respective authors to the canonical writings. in the case of justin martyr for instance, it is not from his apologies or from his dialogue with trypho that we should expect to obtain the fullest and most direct information on this point. in works like these, addressed to heathens and jews, who attributed no authority to the writings of apostles and evangelists, and for whom the names of the writers would have no meaning, we are not surprised that he refers to those writings for the most part anonymously and with reserve. on the other hand, if his treatise against marcion (to take a single instance) had been preserved, we should probably have been placed in a position to estimate with tolerable accuracy his relation to the canonical writings. but in the absence of all this valuable literature, the notices in eusebius assume the utmost importance, and it is of primary moment to the correctness of our result that we should rightly interpret his language. above all, it is incumbent on us not to assume that his silence means exactly what we wish it to mean. eusebius made it his business to record notices throwing light on the history of the canon. the first care of the critic therefore should be to inquire with what aims and under what limitations he executed this portion of his work. now, our author is eloquent on the silence of eusebius. his fundamental assumption is that where eusebius does not mention a reference to or quotation from any canonical book in any writer of whom he may be speaking, there the writer in question was himself silent. this indeed is only the application of a general principle which seems to have taken possession of our author's mind. the argument from silence is courageously and extensively applied throughout these volumes. it is unnecessary to accumulate instances, where 'knows nothing' is substituted for 'says nothing,' as if the two were convertible terms; for such instances are countless. but in the case of eusebius the application of the principle takes a wider sweep. not only is it maintained that a knows nothing of b, because he says nothing of b; but it is further assumed that a knows nothing of b, because c does not say that a says anything of b. this is obviously an assumption which men would not adopt in common life or in ordinary history; still less is it one to which a competent jury would listen for a moment: and therefore a prudent man may well hesitate before adopting it. with what unflinching boldness our author asserts his position, will appear from the following passages:-- of hegesippus he writes [ : ]:-- 'the care with which eusebius searches for every trace of the use of the books of the new testament in early writers, and his anxiety to produce any evidence concerning their authenticity, render his silence upon the subject almost as important as his distinct utterance when speaking of such a man as hegesippus.' and again [ : ]:-- 'it is certain that eusebius, who quotes with so much care the testimony of papias, a man of whom he speaks disparagingly, regarding the gospels _and the apocalypse_ [ : ], would not have neglected to have availed himself of the evidence of hegesippus, for whom he has so much respect, had that writer furnished him with any opportunity.' and again [ : ]:--'as hegesippus does not [ : ] mention any canonical work of the new testament etc.' and in the second volume he returns to the subject [ : ]:-- 'it is certain that, had he (hegesippus) mentioned [ : ] our gospels, and we may say particularly the fourth, the fact would have been recorded by eusebius.' similarly he says of papias[ : ]:-- 'eusebius, who never fails to enumerate [ : ] the works of the new testament to which the fathers refer, does not pretend [ : ] that papias knew either the third or fourth gospels.' and again, in a later passage [ : ]:-- 'had he (papias) expressed any recognition [ : ] of the fourth gospel, eusebius would certainly have mentioned the fact, and this silence of papias is strong presumptive evidence against the johannine gospel.' and a little lower down [ : ]:-- 'the presumption therefore naturally is that, as eusebius did not mention the fact, he did not find any reference to the fourth gospel in the work of papias.' [ : ] so again, our author writes of dionysius of corinth [ : ]:-- 'no quotation from, or allusion to, any writing of the new testament occurs in any of the fragments of the epistles still extant; nor does eusebius make mention of any such reference in the epistles which have perished [ : ], which he certainly would not have omitted to do had they contained any.' and lower down [ : ]:-- 'it is certain that had dionysius mentioned [ : ] books of the new testament, eusebius would, as usual, have stated the fact.' of this principle and its wide application, as we have seen, the author has no misgivings. he declares himself absolutely certain about it. it is with him _articulus stantis aut cadentis critices_. we shall therefore do well to test its value, because, quite independently of the consequences directly flowing from it, it will serve roughly to gauge his trustworthiness as a guide in other departments of criticism, where, from the nature of the case, no test can be applied. in the land of the unverifiable there are no efficient critical police. when a writer expatiates amidst conjectural quotations from conjectural apocryphal gospels, he is beyond the reach of refutation. but in the present case, as it so happens, verification is possible, at least to a limited extent; and it is important to avail ourselves of the opportunity. in the first place then, eusebius himself tells us what method he intends to pursue respecting the canon of scripture. after enumerating the writings bearing the name of st peter, as follows;--(l) the first epistle, which is received by all, and was quoted by the ancients as beyond dispute; ( ) the second epistle, which tradition had not stamped in the same way as canonical ([greek: endiathêkon], 'included in the testament'), but which nevertheless, appearing useful to many, had been studied ([greek: espoudasthê]) with the other scriptures; ( ) the acts, gospel, preaching, and apocalypse of peter, which four works he rejects as altogether unauthenticated and discredited--he continues [ : ]:-- 'but, as my history proceeds, i will take care ([greek: prourgou poiêsomai]), along with the successions (of the bishops), to indicate what church writers (who flourished) from time to time have made use of any of the disputed books ([greek: antilegomenôn]), and what has been said by them concerning the canonical ([greek: endiathêkôn]) and acknowledged scriptures, and anything that (they have said) concerning those which do not belong to this class. well, then, the books bearing the name of peter, of which i recognise ([greek: egnôn]) one epistle only as genuine and acknowledged among the elders of former days ([greek: palai]), are those just enumerated ([greek: tosauta]). but the fourteen epistles of paul are obvious and manifest ([greek: prodêloi kai sapheis]). yet it is not right to be ignorant of the fact that some persons have rejected the epistle to the hebrews, saying that it was disputed by the church of the romans as not being paul's. and i will set before (my readers) on the proper occasions ([greek: kata kairon]) what has been said concerning this (epistle) also by those who lived before our time ([greek: tois pro hêmon]).' he then mentions the acts of paul, which he 'had not received as handed down among the undisputed books,' and the shepherd of hermas, which 'had been spoken against by some' and therefore 'could have no place among the acknowledged books,' though it had been read in churches and was used by some of the most ancient writers. and he concludes:-- 'let this suffice as a statement ([greek: eis parastasin ... eirêsthô]) of those divine writings which are unquestionable, and those which are not acknowledged among all.' this statement, though not so clear on minor points as we could wish, is thoroughly sensible and quite intelligible in its main lines. it shows an appreciation of the conditions of the problem. above all, it is essentially straightforward. it certainly does not evince the precision of a lawyer, but neither on the other hand does it at all justify the unqualified denunciations of the uncritical character of eusebius in which our author indulges. the exact limits of the canon were not settled when eusebius wrote. with regard to the main body of the writings included in our new testament there was absolutely no question; but there existed a margin of _antilegomena_ or disputed books, about which differences of opinion existed, or had existed. eusebius therefore proposes to treat these two classes of writings in two different ways. this is the cardinal point of the passage. of the antilegomena he pledges himself to record when any ancient writer _employs_ any book belonging to their class ([greek: tines hopoiais kechrêntai]); but as regards the undisputed canonical books he only professes to mention them, when such a writer has something to _tell about them_ ([greek: tina _peri_ tôn endiathêkôn eirêtai]). any _anecdote_ of interest respecting them, as also respecting the others ([greek: tôn mê toioutôn]), will be recorded. but in their case he nowhere leads us to expect that he will allude to mere _quotations_, however numerous and however precise [ : ]. this statement is inserted after the record of the martyrdom of st peter and st paul, and has immediate and special reference to their writings. the shepherd of hermas is only mentioned incidentally, because (as eusebius himself intimates) the author was supposed to be named in the epistle to the romans. but the occasion serves as an opportunity for the historian to lay down the general principles on which he intends to act. somewhat later, when he arrives at the history of the last years of st john, he is led to speak of the writings of this apostle also; and as st john's gospel completes the tetrad of evangelical narratives, he inserts at this point his account of the four gospels. this account concludes as follows [ : ]:-- 'thus much ([greek: tauta]) we ourselves (have to say) concerning these (the four gospels); but we will endeavour more particularly ([greek: oikeioteron]) on the proper occasions ([greek: kata kairon]) by quoting the ancient writers to set forth what has been said by anyone else ([greek: tois allois]) also concerning them. now, of the writings of john, the first (former, [greek: protera]) of his epistles also is acknowledged as beyond question alike among our contemporaries ([greek: tois nun]) and among the ancients, while the remaining two are disputed. but respecting the apocalypse opinions are drawn in opposite directions, even to the present day, among most men ([greek: tois pollois]). howbeit it also shall receive its judgment ([greek: epikrisin]) at a proper season from the testimonies of the ancients.' after this follows the well-known passage in which he sums up the results at which he has arrived respecting the canon. with this passage, important as it is in itself, i need not trouble my readers. here again it will be seen that the same distinction as before is observed. of the gospels the historian will only record anecdotes concerning them. on the other hand, in the case of the apocalypse mere references and quotations will be mentioned because they afford important data for arriving at a decision concerning its canonical authority. hitherto we have discovered no foundation for the superstructure which our author builds on the silence of eusebius. but the real question, after all, is not what this historian professes to do, but what he actually does. the original prospectus is of small moment compared with the actual balance-sheet, and in this case time has spared us the means of instituting an audit to a limited extent. with papias and hegesippus and dionysius of corinth, any one is free to indulge in sweeping assertions with little fear of conviction; for we know nothing, or next to nothing, of these writers, except what eusebius himself has told us. but eusebius has also dealt with other ancient writings in relation to the canon, as, for instance, those of clement of rome, of ignatius, of polycarp, of irenæus, and others; and, as these writings are still extant, we can compare their actual contents with his notices. here a definite issue is raised. if our author's principle will stand this test, there is a very strong presumption in its favour; if it will not, then it is worthless. let us take first the epistle of clement of rome. this epistle contains several references to evangelical narratives--whether oral or written, whether our canonical gospels or not, it is unnecessary for the present to discuss [ : ]. it comprises a chapter relating to the labours and martyrdom of st peter and st paul [ : ]. it also, as our author himself allows (accepting the statement of tischendorf), 'here and there ... makes use of passages from pauline epistles.' [ : ] it does more than this; it mentions definitely and by name st paul's first epistle to the corinthians, alluding to the parties which called themselves after paul and cephas and apollos [ : ]. of all this eusebius says not a word. he simply remarks that clement, by 'putting forward ([greek: paratheis]) many thoughts of the (epistle) to the hebrews, and even employing some passages from it word for word ([greek: autolexei]), shows most clearly that the document [greek: sungramma] was not recent (when he wrote).' [ : ] this is strictly true, as far as it goes; the passages are too many and too close to leave any doubt about their source; but the epistle to the hebrews is not directly named, as the epistle to the corinthians is. the ignatian epistles deserve to be considered next. the question of their genuineness does not affect the present inquiry; for the seven letters contained in what is commonly called the short greek recension, whether spurious or not, were confessedly the same which eusebius read; and to these i refer. for the sake of convenience i shall call the writer ignatius, without prejudging the question of authorship. ignatius then presents some striking coincidences with our synoptic gospels (whether taken thence or not, i need not at present stop to inquire), _e.g._ 'be thou wise as a serpent in all things, and harmless always as a dove,' [ : ] 'the tree is manifest by its fruit,' [ : ] 'he that receiveth, let him receive.' [ : ] he likewise echoes the language of st john, _e.g._ 'it (the spirit) knoweth whence it cometh and whither it goeth,' [ : ] 'jesus christ ... in all things pleased him that sent him,' [ : ] with other expressions. he also refers to the examples of st peter and st paul. [ : ] he describes the apostle of the gentiles as 'making mention of' the ephesians 'in every part of his letter' (or 'in every letter' [ : ]). these letters moreover contain several passages which are indisputable reminiscences of st paul's epistles [ : ]. yet of all this eusebius says not a word. all the information which he gives respecting the relation of ignatius to the canon is contained in this one sentence [ : ]:-- 'writing to the smyrnæans, he has employed expressions (taken) i know not whence, recording as follows concerning christ:-- "and i myself know and believe that he exists in the flesh after the resurrection. and when he came to peter and those with him ([greek: pros tous peri petron]), he said unto them, 'take hold, feel me, and see that i am not an incorporeal spirit' [literally, 'demon,' [greek: daimonion asômaton]]; and immediately they touched him, and believed."' it should be added that, though eusebius does not know the source of this reference, jerome states that it came from the gospel of the hebrews [ : ]. now let us suppose that these epistles were no longer extant, and that we interpreted the silence of eusebius on the same principle which our author applies to papias and hegesippus and dionysius of corinth. 'here,' we should say, 'is clearly a judaising christian--an ebionite of the deepest hue. he recognises st peter as his great authority. he altogether ignores st paul. he knows nothing of our canonical gospels, and he uses exclusively the gospel of the hebrews. thus we have a new confirmation of the tübingen theory respecting the origin of the christian church. the thing is obvious to any impartial mind. apologetic writers must indeed be driven to straits if they attempt to impugn this result.' it so happens that this estimate of ignatius would be hopelessly wrong. he appeals to st paul as his great example [ : ]. his christology is wholly unlike the ebionite, for he distinctly declares the perfect deity as well as the perfect humanity of christ [ : ]. and he denounces the judaisers at length and by name [ : ]. what then is the value of a principle which, when applied in a simple case, leads to conclusions diametrically opposed to historical facts? from ignatius we pass to polycarp. here again the genuineness of the epistle bearing this father's name does not affect the question; for it is confessedly the same document which eusebius had before him. in polycarp's epistle [ : ] also there are several coincidences with our gospels. there is a hardly disputable embodiment of words occurring in the acts. there are two or three references to st paul by name. once he is directly mentioned as writing to the philippians. there are obvious quotations from or reminiscences of romans, , corinthians, galatians, ephesians, thessalonians, , timothy, not to mention other more doubtful coincidences. of all this again eusebius 'knows nothing.' so far as regards the canon, he does not think it necessary to say more than that 'polycarp in his aforesaid ([greek: dêlôtheisê]) writing ([greek: graphê]) to the philippians, which is in circulation ([greek: pheromenê]) to the present day, has used certain testimonies from the first (former) epistle of peter [ : ]. here again, we might say, is a judaiser, the very counterpart of papias. this inference indeed would be partially, though only partially, corrected by the fact that eusebius in an earlier place [ : ], to illustrate his account of ignatius, quotes from polycarp's epistle a passage in which st paul's name happens to be mentioned. but this mention (so far as regards the matter before us) is purely accidental; and the sentence relating to the canon entirely ignores the apostle of the gentiles, with whose thoughts and language nevertheless this epistle is saturated. when we turn from polycarp to justin martyr, the phenomena are similar. this father introduces into his extant writings a large number of evangelical passages. a few of these coincide exactly with our canonical gospels; a much larger number have so close a resemblance that, without referring to the actual text of our gospels, the variations would not be detected by an ordinary reader. justin martyr professes to derive these sayings and doings from written documents, which he styles _memoirs of the apostles_, and which (he tells his heathen readers) 'are called gospels [ : ].' his expressions and arguments moreover in some passages recall the language of st paul's epistles [ : ]. of all this again eusebius 'knows nothing.' so far as regards the canon of the new testament, he contents himself with stating that justin 'has made mention ([greek: memnêtai]) of the apocalypse of john, clearly saying that it is (the work) of the apostle.' [ : ] his mode of dealing with theophilus of antioch is still more instructive. among the writings of this father, he mentions one work addressed _to autolycus_, and another _against the heresy of hermogenes_ [ : ]. the first is extant: not so the other. in the extant work theophilus introduces the unmistakeable language of romans, , corinthians, ephesians, philippians, timothy, titus, not to mention points of resemblance with other apostolic epistles which can hardly have been accidental [ : ]. he has one or two coincidences with the synoptic gospels, and, what is more important, he quotes the beginning of the fourth gospel by name, as follows [ : ]:-- 'whence the holy scriptures and all the inspired men ([greek: pneumatophoroi]) teach us, one of whom, john, says, "in the beginning was the word, and the word was with god," showing that at the first ([greek: en prôtois]) god was alone, and the word in him. then he says, "and the word was god; all things were made by him, and without him was not anything made."' this quotation is direct and precise. indeed even the most suspicious and sceptical critics have not questioned the adequacy of the reference [ : ]. it is moreover the more conspicuous, because it is the one solitary instance in which theophilus quotes directly and by name any book of the new testament. here again eusebius is altogether silent. but of the treatise no longer extant he writes, that in it 'he (theophilus) has used testimonies from the apocalypse of john.' [ : ] this is all the information which he vouchsafes respecting the relation of theophilus to the canon. one example more must suffice. irenÆus [ : ] in his extant work on heresies quotes the acts again and again, and directly ascribes it to st luke. he likewise cites twelve out of the thirteen epistles of st paul, the exception being the short letter to philemon. these twelve he directly ascribes to the apostle in one place or another, and with the exception of timothy and titus he gives the names of the persons addressed; so that the identification is complete. the list of references to st paul's epistles alone occupies two octavo pages of three columns each in the index to stieren's _irenæus_. yet of all this eusebius 'knows nothing.' in a previous chapter indeed he happens to have quoted a passage from irenæus, relating to the succession of the roman bishops, in which this father states that linus is mentioned by st paul 'in the epistle to timothy;' [ : ] but the passage relating to the canon contains no hint that irenæus recognised the existence of any one of st paul's epistles; and from first to last there is no mention of the acts. the language of eusebius here is highly characteristic as illustrating his purpose and method. he commences the chapter by referring back to his original design, as follows [ : ]:-- 'since, at the commencement of our treatise, we have made a promise, saying that we should adduce at the proper opportunities the utterances of the ancient elders and writers of the church, in which they have handed down in writing the traditions that reached them concerning the canonical ([greek: endiathêkôn]) writings, and irenæus was one of these, let me now adduce his notices also, and first those relating to the sacred gospels, as follows.' he then quotes a short passage from the third book, giving the circumstances under which the four gospels were written. then follow two quotations from the well-known passage in the fifth book, in which irenæus mentions the date and authorship of the apocalypse, and refers to the number of the beast. eusebius then proceeds:-- 'this is the account given by the above-named writer respecting the apocalypse also. and he has made mention too of the first epistle of john, adducing very many testimonies out of it; and likewise also of the first (former) epistle of peter. and he not only knows, but even receives the writing of the 'shepherd,' saying, 'well then spake the writing' [or 'scripture,' [greek: hê graphê]] 'which says, "first of all believe that god is one, even he that created all things;"' and so forth.' this is all the information respecting the canon of the new testament which he adduces from the great work of irenæus. in a much later passage [ : ], however, he has occasion to name other works of this father no longer extant; and of one of these he remarks that in it 'he mentions the epistle to the hebrews, and the so-called wisdom of solomon, adducing certain passages from them.' from these examples, combined with his own prefatory statements, we feel justified in laying down the following canons as ruling the procedure of eusebius:-- ( ) his main object was to give such information as might assist in forming correct views respecting the canon of scripture. ( ) this being so, he was indifferent to any quotations or references which went towards establishing the canonicity of those books which had never been disputed in the church. even when the quotation was direct and by name, it had no value for him. ( ) to this class belonged (i) the four gospels; (ii) the acts; (iii) the thirteen epistles of st paul. ( ) as regards these, he contents himself with preserving any anecdotes which he may have found illustrating the circumstances under which they were written, _e.g._ the notices of st matthew and st mark in papias, and of the four gospels in irenæus. ( ) the catholic epistles lie on the border-land between the _homologumena_ and the _antilegomena_, between the universally acknowledged and the disputed books. of the epistles of st john for instance, the first belonged to the one class, the second and third to the other. of the epistles of st peter again, the first was acknowledged, the second disputed. the catholic epistles in fact occupy an exceptional position. respecting his treatment of this section of the canon he is not explicit in his opening statement, and we have to infer it from his subsequent procedure. as this however is uniform, we seem able to determine with tolerable certainty the principle on which he acts. he subjects all the books belonging to this section to the same law. for instance, he mentions any references to john and peter (_e.g._ in papias, polycarp, and irenæus), though in the church no doubt was ever entertained about their genuineness and authority. he may have thought that this mention would conduce to a just estimate of the meaning of silence in the case of disputed epistles, as peter and , john. ( ) the epistle to the hebrews and the apocalypse still remain to be considered. their claim to a place in the canon is, or has been, disputed: and therefore he records every decisive notice respecting either of them, _e.g._ the quotations from the epistle to the hebrews in clement of rome and irenæus, and the notices of the apocalypse in justin and melito [ : ] and apollonius [ : ], and theophilus and irenæus. so too, he records any testimony, direct or indirect, bearing the other way, _e.g._ that the roman presbyter gaius mentions only thirteen epistles of st paul, 'not reckoning the epistle to the hebrews with the rest.' [ : ] ( ) with regard to the books which lie altogether outside the canon, but which were treated as scripture, or quasi-scripture, by any earlier church writer, he makes it his business to record the fact. thus he mentions the one quotation in irenæus from the shepherd of hermas; he states that hegesippus employs the gospel according to the hebrews; he records that clement of alexandria in the _stromateis_ has made use of the epistles of barnabas and clement, and in the _hypotyposeis_ has commented on the epistle of barnabas and the so-called apocalypse of peter [ : ]. it will have appeared from the above account, if i mistake not, that his treatment of this subject is essentially frank. there is no indication of a desire to make out a case for those writings which he and his contemporaries received as canonical, against those which they rejected. the shepherd of hermas is somewhere about two-thirds the length of the whole body of the thirteen epistles of st paul. he singles out the one isolated passage from hermas in irenæus, though it is quoted anonymously; and he says nothing about the quotations from st paul, though they exceed two hundred in number, and are very frequently cited by name. it is necessary however, not only to investigate his principles, but also to ascertain how far his application of these principles can be depended upon. and here the facts justify us in laying down the following rules for our guidance:-- (i) as regards the anecdotes containing information relating to the books of the new testament he restricts himself to the narrowest limits which justice to his subject will allow. his treatment of irenæus makes this point clear. though he gives the principal passage in this author relating to the four gospels [ : ], he omits to mention others which contain interesting statements directly or indirectly affecting the question, _e.g._ that st john wrote his gospel to counteract the errors of cerinthus and the nicolaitans [ : ]. thus too, when he quotes a few lines alluding to the unanimous tradition of the asiatic elders who were acquainted with st john [ : ], he omits the context, from which we find that this tradition had an important bearing on the authenticity of the fourth gospel, for it declared that christ's ministry extended much beyond a single year, thus confirming the obvious chronology of the fourth gospel against the apparent chronology of the synoptists. (ii) as regards the quotations and references the case stands thus. when eusebius speaks of 'testimonies' in any ancient writer taken from a scriptural book, we cannot indeed be sure that the quotations were direct and by name (this was certainly not the case in some), but we may fairly assume that they were definite enough, or numerous enough, or both, to satisfy even a sceptical critic of the modern school. this is the case, for instance, with the quotations from the epistle to the hebrews in clement of rome, and those from the first epistle of st peter in polycarp. _in no instance which we can test does eusebius give a doubtful testimony._ on the other hand he omits several which might fairly be alleged, and have been alleged by modern writers, as, for instance, the coincidence with john in polycarp [ : ]. he may have passed them over through inadvertence, or he may not have considered them decisive. i am quite aware that our author states the case differently; but i am unable to reconcile his language with the facts. he writes as follows [ : ]:-- 'he (eusebius) states however, that papias "made use of testimonies from the first epistle of john, and likewise from that of peter." as eusebius, however, does not quote the passages from papias, we must remain in doubt whether he did not, as elsewhere, assume from some similarity of wording that the passages were quotations from these epistles, whilst in reality they might not be. eusebius made a similar statement with regard to a supposed quotation in the so-called epistle of polycarp (^ ) upon very insufficient grounds.' [ : ] for the statement 'as elsewhere' our author has given no authority, and i am not aware of any. the note to which the number in the text (^ ) refers is 'ad phil. vii.; euseb. _h.e._ iv. .' i cannot help thinking there is some confusion here. the passage of eusebius to which our author refers in this note relates how polycarp 'has employed certain testimonies from the first (former) epistle of peter.' the chapter of polycarp, to which he refers, contains a reference to the first epistle of st john, which has been alleged by modern writers, but is not alleged by eusebius. this same chapter, it is true, contains the words 'watch unto prayer,' which present a coincidence with pet. iv. . but no one would lay any stress on this one expression: the strong and unquestionable coincidences are elsewhere. moreover our author speaks of a single 'supposed quotation,' whereas the quotations from i peter in polycarp are numerous. thus in c. we have 'in whom, not having seen, ye believe, and believing ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory,' from pet. i. : in c. , 'girding up your loins,' from pet. i. (comp. ephes. vi. ); 'having believed on him that raised up our lord jesus christ from the dead and gave him glory,' from pet. i. ; 'not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing,' from pet. iii. : in c. , 'every lust warreth against the spirit,' from pet. ii. : in c. , 'who bore our sins with his own body ([greek: to idiô sômati]) on the tree,' from pet. ii. ; 'who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth,' from pet. ii. : in c. , 'lovers of the brotherhood,' from pet. ii. ; 'be ye all subject one to another,' from pet. v. ; 'having your conversation unblamable among the gentiles, that from your good works both ye may receive praise, and the lord may not be evil spoken of in you,' from pet. ii. (comp. iv. in the received text). i am quite at a loss to conceive how any one can speak of these numerous and close coincidences as 'very insufficient grounds.' and though our author elsewhere, as, for instance, in the quotations from the fourth gospel in tatian and in the clementine homilies [ : ], has resisted evidence which (i venture to think) would satisfy any jury of competent critics, yet i cannot suppose that he would hold out against such an array of passages as we have here, and i must therefore believe that he has overlooked the facts. i venture to say again that, in these references to early writers relating to the canon, eusebius (where we are able to test him) _never overstates the case_. i emphasize this assertion, because i trust some one will point out my error if i am wrong. if i am not shown to be wrong, i shall make use of the fact hereafter [ : ]. this investigation will have thrown some light upon the author's sweeping assertions with respect to the arbitrary action which he supposes to have presided over the formation of the canon, and still more on his unqualified denunciations of the uncritical spirit of eusebius. but such was not my immediate purpose. _hypotheses non fingimus._ we have built no airy castles of criticism on arbitrary _à priori_ assumptions as to what the silence of eusebius must mean. we have put the man himself in the witness-box; we have confronted him with facts, and cross-examined him; thus we have elicited from him his principles and mode of action. i may perhaps have fallen into some errors of detail, though i have endeavoured to avoid them, but the main conclusions are, i believe, irrefragable. if they are not, i shall be obliged to any one who will point out the fallacy in my reasoning; and i pledge myself to make open retractation, when i resume these papers in a subsequent number. if they are, then the reader will not fail to see how large a part of the argument in _supernatural religion_ has crumbled to pieces. our author is quite alive to the value of a system of 'positively enunciating.' [ : ] 'a good strong assertion,' he says, 'becomes a powerful argument, since few readers have the means of verifying its correctness.' [ : ] his own assertions, which i quoted at the outset of this investigation, are certainly not wanting in strength, and i have taken the liberty of verifying them. any english reader may do the same. eusebius is translated, and so are the ante-nicene fathers. i now venture on a statement which might have seemed a paradox if it had preceded this investigation, but which, coming at its close, will, if i mistake not, commend itself as a sober deduction from facts. _the silence of eusebius respecting early witnesses to the fourth gospel is an evidence in its favour._ its apostolic authorship had never been questioned by any church writer from the beginning, so far as eusebius was aware, and therefore it was superfluous to call witnesses. it was not excused, because it had not been accused. in short, the silence of eusebius here means the very opposite to that which our author assumes it to mean. if any one demurs to this inference, let him try, on any other hypothesis, to answer the following questions:-- ( ) how is it that, while eusebius alleges repeated testimonies to the epistle to the hebrews, he is silent from first to last about the universally acknowledged epistles of st paul, such as romans, , corinthians, and galatians? ( ) how is it that he does not mention the precise and direct testimony in theophilus to the gospel of st john, while he does mention a reference in this same author to the apocalypse? and this explanation of the silence of eusebius, while it is demanded by his own language and practice, alone accords with the known facts relating to the reception of the fourth gospel in the second century. its theology is stamped on the teaching of orthodox apologists; its authority is quoted for the speculative tenets of the manifold gnostic sects, basilideans, valentinians, ophites; its narrative is employed even by a judaising writer like the author of the clementines. the phenomena which confront us in the last quarter of the second century are inexplicable, except on the supposition that the gospel had had a long previous history. how else are we to account for such facts as that the text already exhibits a number of various readings, such as the alternative of 'only begotten god' for 'the only begotten son' in i. , and 'six' for 'five' in iv. , or the interpolation of the descent of the angel in v. , ; that legends and traditions have grown up respecting its origin, such as we find in clement of alexandria and in the muratorian fragment [ : ]; that perverse mystical interpretations, wholly foreign to the simple meaning of the text, have already encrusted it, such as we meet with in the commentary of heracleon? how is it that ecclesiastical writers far and wide receive it without misgiving at this epoch--irenæus in gaul, tertullian in africa, clement in alexandria, theophilus at antioch, the anonymous muratorian writer perhaps in rome? that they not only receive it, but assume its reception from the beginning? that they never betray a consciousness that any church or churchman had ever questioned it? the history of the first three-quarters of the second century is necessarily obscure owing to the paucity of remains. a flood of light is suddenly poured in during the remaining years of the century. our author is content to grope in the obscurity: any phantoms may be conjured up here; but the moment the light is let in, he closes his eyes and can see nothing. he refuses altogether to discuss irenæus, though irenæus was a disciple of polycarp, and polycarp was a disciple of st john. even if it be granted that the opinion of irenæus, as an isolated individual, is not worth much, yet the wide-spread and traditional belief which underlies his whole language and thoughts is a consideration of the highest moment: and irenæus is only one among many witnesses. the author's treatment of the external evidences to the fourth gospel is wholly vitiated by his ignoring the combined force of such facts as these. a man might with just as much reason assert that a sturdy oak sapling must have sprung up overnight, because circumstances had prevented him from witnessing its continuous growth. the author of _supernatural religion_ was kind enough to send me an early copy of his fourth edition, and i sincerely thank him for his courtesy. unfortunately it arrived too late for me to make any use of it in my previous article. with one exception however, i have not noticed that my criticisms are affected by any changes which may have been made. but this single exception is highly important. a reader, with only the fourth edition before him, would be wholly at a loss to understand my criticism, and therefore some explanation is necessary. in my former article [ : ] i pointed out that the author had founded a charge of 'falsification' against dr westcott on a grammatical error of his own. he had treated the infinitive and indicative moods as the same for practical purposes; he had confused the oblique with the direct narrative; he had maintained that the passage in question (containing a reference to st john) was irenæus' own, whereas the grammar showed that irenæus was repeating the words of others; and consequently, he had wrongly accused dr tischendorf and dr westcott, because in their translations they had brought out the fact that the words did not belong to irenæus himself. i place the new note relating to dr westcott side by side with the old [ : ]:-- fourth edition. | earlier editions. | 'having just observed that a note | 'canon westcott, who quotes in this place, in previous | this passage in a note (_on the editions, has been understood as | canon_ p. , note ), translates an accusation against dr westcott | here, "this distinction of dwelling, of deliberate falsification of | they taught, exists" etc. the text of irenæus, we at once | the introduction of "they taught" withdraw it with unfeigned regret | here is most unwarrantable; and that the expressions used could | being inserted, without a word bear an interpretation so far | of explanation or mark showing from our intention. _we desired | its addition by the translator, in simply to object to the insertion | a passage _upon whose interpretation of "they taught"_ (_on the canon_ | there is difference of opinion_, p. , note ), without some | and whose origin is in dispute, it indication, in the absence of the | amounts to a falsification of the original text, that these words | text. dr westcott neither gives were merely supplementary and | the greek nor the ancient latin conjectural. the source _of the | version for comparison.' indirect passage_ is, of course, | matter of argument, and we make | it so; but it seems to us that | the introduction of specific | words like these, without | explanation of any kind, conveys | to the general reader too | positive a view of the case. we | may perhaps be permitted to say | that we fully recognise dr | westcott's sincere love of truth, | and feel the most genuine respect | for his character.' | considering the gravity of his accusation, i think that our author might have been more explicit in his retractation. he might have stated that he not only retracted his charge against dr westcott, but also withdrew his own interpretation of the passage. he might have confessed that, having in his earlier editions assumed the words to be irenæus' own, he had found out his mistake [ : ]; that accordingly he acknowledged the passage to be oblique; that therefore, after all, dr westcott was right and he was wrong; and that the only question with him now was how best to break the force of the true interpretation, in its bearing on the authenticity of the fourth gospel. the reader will not find in this fourth edition, from beginning to end, the slightest intimation of all this. he is left with the impression that the author regrets having used a strong expression respecting dr westcott, but that otherwise his opinion is unchanged. whether i have or have not rightly interpreted the facts, will be seen from a juxtaposition of passages from the fourth and earlier editions. fourth edition. | earlier editions. | 'now, in the quotation from | 'now in the quotation from irenæus given in this passage, | irenæus given in this passage, _tischendorf renders the oblique | _tischendorf deliberately falsifies construction_ by inserting "say | the text_ by inserting "say they;" they," referring to the presbyters | and, as he does not give the of papias; and, as he does not | original, the great majority of give the original, he should at | readers could never detect how least have indicated that these | he thus adroitly contrives to words are supplementary. we | strengthen his argument. as shall endeavour' [ : ] etc. | regards the whole statement of | the case we must affirm that it | misrepresents the facts. we | shall endeavour' etc. lower down he mentions how irenæus 'continues with a quotation from isaiah his own train of reasoning,' adding in the early editions--'and it might just as well be affirmed that irenæus found the quotation from the prophet in papias as that which we are considering.' [ : ] as the reference to isaiah is in the indicative, whereas the clause under consideration is in the infinitive, this was equivalent to saying that the one mood is just as good as the other, where it is a question of the direct or oblique narrative. this last sentence is tacitly removed in the fourth edition. in the translation of the infinitive [greek: einai de tên diastolên] we notice this difference:-- fourth edition. | earlier editions. | but ... there is this distinction.' | 'but there is to be this | distinction.' the translation of the passage containing these oblique infinitives is followed by the author's comment, which is altered thus:-- fourth edition. | earlier editions. | 'now it is impossible for anyone | 'now it is impossible for anyone who attentively considers the whole | who attentively considers the whole of this passage, and who makes | of this passage, and who makes himself acquainted with the manner | himself acquainted with the manner in which irenæus conducts his | in which irenæus conducts his argument, and interweaves it _with | argument, and interweaves it _with quotations, to assert that the | texts of scripture, to doubt that phrase we are considering_ must | the phrase we are considering is have been taken from a book | introduced by irenæus himself_, referred to three chapters earlier, | and is in no case a quotation and _was not introduced by irenæus | from the work of papias.' from some other source_.' | here the author has tacitly withdrawn an interpretation which a few weeks before he declared to be beyond the reach of doubt, and has substituted a wholly different one for it. he then proceeds:-- fourth edition. | earlier editions. | 'in the passage from the | 'the passage from the commencement commencement of the second | of the second paragraph (§ ) is paragraph irenæus enlarges upon, | an enlargement or comment on what and illustrates, what "the | the presbyters say regarding the presbyters say" regarding the | blessedness of the saints, and blessedness of the saints, _by | irenæus illustrates the distinction quoting the view held_ as to the | between those bearing fruit distinction between those bearing | thirty-fold, sixty-fold, and one fruit thirty-fold, sixty-fold, and | hundred-fold, so often represented one hundred-fold, and _the | in the gospel, _by the saying_ interpretation given of the saying_ | regarding "many mansions" being regarding "many mansions."' | prepared in heaven.' after this our author, in the earlier editions, quotes a number of passages from irenæus to support his view that the words in question are direct and not oblique, because they happen to begin with [greek: dia touto]. it is unfortunate that not one of them is in the infinitive mood, and therefore they afford no illustration of the point at issue. 'these,' he there adds, 'are _all direct quotations by irenæus_, as is _most certainly_ that which we are considering, which is introduced in precisely the same way. that this is the case is further _shown_ etc.... and it is rendered _quite certain_ by the fact that' etc. all these false parallels are withdrawn in the fourth edition and the sentence is rewritten. we are now told that '_the source of his_ (irenæus') _quotation is quite indefinite, and may simply be the exegesis of his own day_ [ : ].' so then it was a quotation after all, and the old interpretation, though declared to be 'most certain' and 'quite certain' in two consecutive sentences, silently vanishes to make room for the new. but why does the author allow himself to spend nine octavo pages over the discussion of this one passage, freely altering sentence after sentence to obliterate all traces of his error, without any intimation to the reader? had not the public a right to expect more distinctness of statement, considering that the author had been led by this error to libel the character of more than one writer? must not anyone reading the apology to dr westcott, contained in the note quoted above, necessarily carry off a wholly false impression of the facts? i add one other passage for comparison:-- fourth edition. | earlier editions. | 'we have disposed of his alternative | 'we have disposed of his that the quotation being by "the | alternative that the quotation, presbyters" was more ancient even | being by "the presbyters," was than papias, by showing that it | more ancient even than papias, _may be referred to irenæus himself | by showing that it _must be quoting probably from | attributed to irenæus himself_, contemporaries_, and that there is | and that there is no ground for no ground for attributing it to the | attributing it to the presbyters presbyters at all.' [ : ] | at all.' surely this writer might have paused before indulging so freely in charges of 'discreet reserve,' of 'disingenuousness,' of 'wilful and deliberate evasion,' and the like. iii. the ignatian epistles. [february, .] the letters bearing the name of ignatius [ : ], with which we are immediately concerned, profess to have been written by the saint as he was passing through asia minor on his way to martyrdom. if their representations be true, he was condemned at antioch, and sent to rome to stiffer death in the amphitheatre by exposure to the wild beasts. the exact year of the martyrdom is uncertain, but the limits of possibility are not very wide. the earlier date assigned is about a.d. , and the later about a.d. . these letters, with a single exception, are written to different churches of asia minor (including one addressed more especially to polycarp, bishop of smyrna). the exceptional letter is sent to the roman church, apprising the christians of the metropolis that his arrival among them may soon be expected, declaring his eagerness for martyrdom, and intreating them not to interpose and rescue him from his fate. his language supposes that there were at this time members of the roman church sufficiently influential to obtain either a pardon or a commutation of his sentence. the letters to the asiatic churches have a more general reference. they contain exhortations, friendly greetings, warnings against internal divisions and against heretical doctrines. with some of these churches he had been brought in personal contact; with others he was acquainted only through their delegates. of the three forms in which the ignatian letters have been handed down to us, one may be dismissed from our consideration at once. the long recension, preserved both in the greek original and in a latin translation, may be regarded as universally condemned. in the early part of the last century an eccentric critic, whose arian sympathies it seemed to favour, endeavoured to resuscitate its credit, and one or two others, at long intervals, have followed in his wake; but practically it may be regarded as dead. it abounds in anachronisms of fact or diction; its language diverges widely from the ignatian quotations in the writers of the first five centuries. our author places its date in the sixth century, with ussher; i should myself ascribe it to the latter half of the fourth century. this however is a matter of little consequence. only, before passing on, i would enter a protest against the argument of our author that, because the ignatian letters were thus interpolated 'in the sixth century,' therefore 'this very fact increases the probability of much earlier interpolation also.' [ : ] i am unable to follow this reasoning. i venture to think that we cannot argue back from the sixth, or even the fourth century, to the second, that this later forgery must not be allowed to throw any shadow of suspicion on the earlier ignatian letters; and that the question of a prior interpolation must be decided by independent evidence. the two other forms of the ignatian letters may be described briefly as follows:-- ( ) the first comprises the seven letters which eusebius had before him, and in the same form in which he read them--to the ephesians, magnesians, trallians, romans, philadelphians, smyrnæans, and polycarp. it is true that other epistles confessedly spurious are attached to them in the mss; but these (as will appear presently) do not properly belong to this collection, and were added subsequently. this collection is preserved not only in the original greek, but also in latin and armenian versions. fragments also are extant of coptic and syriac versions, from which last, and not from the original greek, the armenian was translated. the discovery of these epistles, first of all by ussher in the latin translation, and then by isaac voss in the greek original, about the middle of the seventeenth century, was the death-blow to the long recension. ussher's dissertations had the honour of giving it the happy despatch. it is usual to call this recension, which thus superseded the other, the short greek; but this term is for obvious reasons objectionable, and i shall designate these epistles the _vossian._ ( ) the second is extant only in a syriac dress, and contains three of the epistles alone--to polycarp, to the ephesians, and to the romans--in a still shorter form. these syriac epistles were discovered among the nitrian mss in the british museum, and published by cureton in . i shall therefore call these the _curetonian_ epistles. cureton's discovery stirred up the ignatian dispute anew. it was soon fanned into flames by the controversy between bunsen and baur, and is raging still. the two questions are these: ( ) whether the vossian or the curetonian epistles are prior in time; in other words, whether the vossian epistles were expanded from the curetonian by interpolation, or whether the curetonian were reduced from the vossian by excision and abridgment; and ( ) when this question has been disposed of, whether the prior of these two recensions can be regarded as genuine or not. the question respecting the ignatian letters has, from the nature of the case, never been discussed exclusively on its own merits. the pure light of criticism has been crossed by the shadows of controversial prepossession on both sides. from the era of the reformation onward, the dispute between episcopacy and presbyterianism has darkened the investigation; in our own age the controversies respecting the canon of scripture and the early history of christianity have interfered with equally injurious effects. besides these two main questions which are affected by the ignatian letters, other subjects indirectly involved have aided the strife and confusion. the antagonism between papal and protestant writers materially affected the discussion in the sixteenth century, and the antagonism between arianism and catholicity in the eighteenth. but the disturbing influence of these indirect questions, though not inconsiderable at the time, has not been lasting. in the present paper i shall not attempt to treat of the ignatian question as a whole. it will simply be my business to analyse the statements and discuss the arguments of the author of _supernatural religion_ relating to this subject. i propose, when i resume these papers again, to say something of the apostolic fathers in reference to early christian belief and to the new testament canon; and this cannot be done with any effect until the way has been so far cleared as to indicate the extent to which we can employ the ignatian letters as valid testimony. the ignatian question is the most perplexing which confronts the student of earlier christian history. the literature is voluminous; the considerations involved are very wide, very varied, and very intricate. a writer therefore may well be pardoned if he betrays a want of familiarity with this subject. but in this case the reader naturally expects that the opinions at which he has arrived will be stated with some diffidence. the author of _supernatural religion_ has no hesitation on the subject. 'the whole of the ignatian literature,' he writes, 'is a mass of falsification and fraud.' [ : ] 'it is not possible,' he says, 'even if the epistle [to the smyrnæans] were genuine, which it is not, to base any such conclusion upon these words.' [ : ] and again:-- 'we must, however, go much further, and assert that none of the epistles have any value as evidence for an earlier period than the end of the second, or beginning of the third, century, even if they possess any value at all.' [ : ] and immediately afterwards:-- 'we have just seen that the martyr-journey of ignatius to rome is, for cogent reasons, declared to be wholly fabulous, and the epistles purporting to be written during that journey must be held to be spurious.' [ : ] the reader is naturally led to think that a writer would not use such very decided language unless he had obtained a thorough mastery of his subject; and when he finds the notes thronged with references to the most recondite sources of information, he at once credits the author with an 'exhaustive' knowledge of the literature bearing upon it. it becomes important therefore to inquire whether the writer shows that accurate acquaintance with the subject, which justifies us in attaching weight to his dicta, as distinguished from his arguments. i will take first of all a passage which sweeps the field of the ignatian controversy, and therefore will serve well as a test. the author writes as follows:-- 'the strongest internal, as well as other evidence, into which space forbids our going in detail, has led the majority of critics to recognise the syriac version as the most genuine form of the letters of ignatius extant, and this is admitted by most [ : ] of those who nevertheless deny the authenticity of any of the epistles.' [ : ] no statement could be more erroneous, as a summary of the results of the ignatian controversy since the publication of the syriac epistles, than this. those who maintain the genuineness of the ignatian epistles, in one or other of the two forms, may be said to be almost evenly divided on this question of priority. while cureton and bunsen and ritschl and ewald and weiss accept the curetonian letters, uhlhorn and denzinger and petermann and hefele and jacobson and zahn still adhere to the vossian. but this is a trifling error compared with what follows. the misstatement in the last clause of the sentence will, i venture to think, surprise anyone who is at all familiar with the literature of the ignatian controversy. those, who 'deny the authenticity of any of the epistles,' almost universally maintain the priority of the vossian epistles, and regard the curetonian as later excerpts. this is the case, for instance, with baur [ : ], and zeller [ : ] and hilgenfeld [ : ] and merx [ : ] and scholten [ : ]. it was reserved for a critic like volkmar [ : ] to entertain a different opinion; but, so far as i have observed, he stands alone among those who have paid any real attention to the ignatian question. indeed, it will be apparent that this position was forced upon critics of the negative school. if the ignatian letters, in either form, are allowed to be genuine, the tübingen views of early christian history fall to the ground. it was therefore a matter of life and death to this school to condemn them wholly. now the seven vossian epistles are clearly very early [ : ]; and, if the curetonian should be accepted as the progenitors of the vossian, the date is pushed so far back that no sufficient ground remains for denying their genuineness. hence, when bunsen forced the question on the notice of his countrymen by advocating the curetonian letters as the original work of ignatius, baur instinctively felt the gravity of the occasion, and at once took up the gauntlet. he condemned the curetonian epistles as mere excerpts from the vossian; and in this he has been followed almost without exception by those who advocate his views of early christian history. the case of lipsius is especially instructive, as illustrating this point. having at one time maintained the priority and genuineness of the curetonian letters, he has lately, if i rightly understand him, retracted his former opinion on both questions alike [ : ]. but how has our author ventured to make this broad statement, when his own notes elsewhere contain references to nearly all the writers whom i have named as belonging to this last category, and even to the very passages in which they express the opposite opinion? to throw some light on this point, i will analyse the author's general statement of the course of opinion on this subject given in an earlier passage. he writes as follows:-- 'these three syriac epistles have been subjected to the severest scrutiny, and many of the ablest critics have pronounced them to be the only authentic epistles of ignatius, whilst others, who do not admit that even these are genuine letters emanating from ignatius, still prefer them to the version of seven greek epistles, and consider them the most ancient form of the letters which we possess (^ ). as early as the sixteenth century however, the strongest doubts were expressed regarding the authenticity of any of the epistles ascribed to ignatius. the magdeburg centuriators first attacked them, and calvin declared [p. ] them to be spurious (^ ), an opinion fully shared by chemnitz, dallæus, and others, and similar doubts, more or less definite, were expressed throughout the seventeenth century (^ ), and onward to comparatively recent times (^ ), although the means of forming a judgment were not then so complete as now. that the epistles were interpolated there was no doubt. fuller examination and more comprehensive knowledge of the subject have confirmed earlier doubts, and a large mass of critics recognise that the authenticity of none of these epistles can be established, and that they can only be considered later and spurious compositions (^ ).' the first note (^ ) on p. is as follows:-- 'bunsen, _ignatius v. ant. u. s. zeit_, ; _die drei ächt. u. d. vier unächt. br. des ignat._, ; bleek, _einl. n.t._, p. ; böhringer, _k.g. in biograph._, aufl., p. ; cureton, _the ancient syriac version of eps. of st ignatius, etc._, ; _vindiciæ ignat._, , _corpus ignatianum_, ; ewald, _gesch. d. v. isr._, vii. p. ; lipsius, _aechtheit d. syr. recens. d. ign. br._ in _illgen's zeitschr. f. hist. theol._, , h. i., , _abhandl. d. deutsche-morgenl. gesellschaft._ i. , , p. ; milman, _hist. of chr._, ii. p. ; ritschl, _entst. altk. kirche_, p. , anm.; weiss, _reuter's repertorium_, sept. .' [the rest of the note touches another point, and need not be quoted.] these references, it will be observed, are given to illustrate more immediately, though perhaps not solely, the statement that writers 'who do not admit that even these [the curetonian epistles] are genuine letters emanating from ignatius, still prefer them to the version of seven greek epistles, and consider them the most ancient form of the letters which we possess.' the reader therefore will hardly be prepared to hear that not one of these nine writers condemns the ignatian letters as spurious. bleek [ : ] alone leaves the matter in some uncertainty, while inclining to bunsen's view; the other eight distinctly maintain the genuineness of the curetonian letters [ : ]. as regards the names which follow in the text, it must be remembered that the magdeburg centuriators and calvin wrote long before the discovery of the vossian letters. the ignatian epistles therefore were weighted with all the anachronisms and impossibilities which condemn the long recension in the judgment of modern critics of all schools. the criticisms of calvin more especially refer chiefly to those passages which are found in the long recension alone. the clause which follows contains a direct misstatement. chemnitz did not fully share the opinion that they were spurious; on the contrary he quotes them several times as authoritative; but he says that they 'seem to have been altered in many places to strengthen the position of the papal power etc.' [ : ] the note (^ ) on p. runs as follows:-- 'by bochartus, aubertin, blondel, basnage, casaubon, cocus, humfrey, rivetus, salmasius, socinus (faustus), parker, petau, etc., etc.; of. jacobson, _patr. apost._, i. p. xxv; cureton, _vindiciæ ignatianæ_, , appendix.' here neither alphabetical nor chronological order is observed. nor is it easy to see why an englishman r. cook, vicar of leeds, should be cocus, while a foreigner, petavius, is petau. these however are small matters. it is of more consequence to observe that the author has here mixed up together writers who lived before and after the discovery of the vossian epistles, though this is the really critical epoch in the history of the ignatian controversy. but the most important point of all is the purpose for which they are quoted. 'similar doubts' could only, i think, be interpreted from the context as doubts 'regarding the authenticity of any of the epistles ascribed to ignatius.' the facts however are these [ : ]. bochart condemns the ignatian epistle to the romans on account of the mention of 'leopards,' of which i shall speak hereafter, but says nothing about the rest, though probably he would have condemned them also. aubertin, blondel, basnage, r. parker, and saumaise, reject all. humfrey ( ) considers that they have been interpolated and mutilated, but he believes them genuine in the main. cook ( ) pronounces them 'either supposititious or shamefully corrupted.' f. socinus (a.d. ) denounces corruptions and anachronisms, but so far as i can see, does not question a nucleus of genuine matter. casaubon (a.d. ), so far from rejecting them altogether, promises to defend the antiquity of some of the epistles with new arguments. rivet explains that calvin's objections apply not to ignatius himself but to the corrupters of ignatius, and himself accepts the vossian epistles as genuine [ : ]. petau, before the discovery of the vossian letters, had expressed the opinion that there were interpolations in the then known epistles, and afterwards on reading the vossian letters, declared it to be a _prudens et justa suspicio_ that these are the genuine work of ignatius. the next note (^ ) p. is as follows:-- [wotton, _præf. clem. r. epp._, ]; j. owen, _enquiry into original nature, etc., evang. church: works_, ed. russel, , vol. xx, p. ; oudin, _comm. de script. eccles. etc._ , p. ; lampe, _comm. analyt. ex evang. joan._, , i. p. ; lardner, _credibility, etc., works_, ii. p. f.; beausobre, _hist. crit. de manichée, etc._, , i. p. , note ; ernesti, _n. theol. biblioth._, , ii. p. ; [mosheim, _de rebus christ._, p. f.]; weismann, _introd. in memorab. eccles._, , p. ; heumann, _conspect. reipub. lit._, , p. ; schroeckh, _chr. kirchengesch._, , ii. p. ; griesbach, _opuscula academ._, , i. p. ; rosenmüller, _hist. interpr. libr. sacr. in eccles._, , i. p. ; semler, _paraphr. in epist. ii. petri_, , præf.; kestner, _comm. de. eusebii h.e. condit._, , p. ; henke, _allg. gesch. chr. kirche_, , i. p. ; neander, _k.g._ , ii. p. [cf. i. p. , anm. ]; baumgarten-crusius. _lehrb. chr. dogmengesch._, , p. , cf. _comp. chr. dogmengesch._, , p. ; [_niedner, gesch. chr. k._, p. ; thiersch, _die k. im ap. zeit_, p. ; hagenbach, _k.g._, i. p. f.]; cf. cureton, _vind. ign. append._; ziegler, _versuch ein. prag. gesch. d. kirchl. verfassungs-formen_, u.s.w., , p. ; j.e.c. schmidt, _versuch üb. d. gedopp. recens. d. br. s. ignat._ in _henke's mag. f. rel. phil._, u.s.w. [ ; cf. _biblioth. f. krit._, u.s.w., _n.t._, i. p. ff., _urspr. kath. kirche_, ii. i. p. i f.]; _h'buch chr. k.g._, i. p. . the brackets are not the author's, but my own. this is doubtless one of those exhibitions of learning which have made such a deep impression on the reviewers. certainly, as it stands, this note suggests a thorough acquaintance with all the by-paths of the ignatian literature, and seems to represent the gleanings of many years' reading. it is important to observe however, that every one of these references, except those which i have included in brackets, is given in the appendix to cureton's _vindiciæ ignatianæ_, where the passages are quoted in full. thus two-thirds of this elaborate note might have been compiled in ten minutes. our author has here and there transposed the order of the quotations, and confused it by so doing, for it is chronological in cureton. but what purpose was served by thus importing into his notes a mass of borrowed and unsorted references? and, if he thought fit to do so, why was the key-reference to cureton buried among the rest, so that it stands in immediate connection with some additional references on which it has no bearing? moreover, several of the writers mentioned in this note express opinions directly opposed to that for which they are quoted. wotton, for instance [ : ], defends the genuineness of the vossian epistles very decidedly, and at some length, against whiston, whose arianism led him to prefer the long recension. weismann declares that 'the authenticity and genuineness of the epistles have been demonstrated clearly and solidly' by pearson and others, so that no valid objections remain affecting the main question. thiersch again, who wrote after the publication of cureton's work, uses the three syriac epistles as genuine, his only doubt being whether he ought not to accept the vossian epistles and to regard the curetonian as excerpts. of the rest a considerable number, as for instance, lardner, beausobre, schroeckh, griesbach, kestner, neander, and baumgarten-crusius, with different degrees of certainty or uncertainty, pronounce themselves in favour of a genuine nucleus [ : ]. the next note (^ ), which i need not quote in full, is almost as unfortunate. references to twenty authorities are there given, as belonging to the 'large mass of critics' who recognise that the ignatian epistles 'can only be considered later and spurious compositions.' of these bleek (already cited in a previous note) expresses no definite opinion. gfrörer declares that the substratum (_grundlage_) of the seven epistles is genuine, though 'it appears as if later hands had introduced interpolations into both recensions' (he is speaking of the long recension and the vossian). harless avows that he must 'decidedly reject with the most considerable critics of older and more recent times' the opinion maintained by certain persons that the epistles are 'altogether spurious,' and proceeds to treat a passage as genuine because it stands in the vossian letters as well as in the long recension [ : ]. schliemann also says that 'the external testimonies oblige him to recognise a genuine substratum,' though he is not satisfied with either existing recension. all these critics, it should be observed, wrote before the discovery of the curetonian letters. of the others, hase commits himself to no opinion; and lechler, while stating that the seven epistles left on his mind an impression unfavourable to their genuineness, and inclining to baur's view that the curetonian letters are excerpts from the others, nevertheless adds, that he cannot boast of having arrived at a decided conviction of the spuriousness of the ignatian letters. one or two of the remaining references in this note i have been unable to verify; but, judging from the names, i should expect that the rest would be found good for the purpose for which they are quoted by our author. i am sorry to have delayed my readers with an investigation which--if i may venture to adopt a phrase, for which i am not myself responsible--'scarcely rises above the correction of an exercise.' [ : ] but these notes form a very appreciable and imposing part of the work, and their effect on its reception has been far from inconsiderable, as the language of the reviewers will show. it was therefore important to take a sample and test its value. i trust that i may be spared the necessity of a future investigation of the same kind. if it has wearied my readers, it has necessarily been tenfold more irksome to myself. ordinary errors, such as must occur in any writer, might well have been passed over; but the character of the notes in _supernatural religion_ is quite unique, so far as my experience goes, in works of any critical pretensions. in the remainder of the discussion our author seems to depend almost entirely on cureton's preface to his _ancient syriac version_, to which indeed he makes due acknowledgment from time to time. notwithstanding the references to other later writers which crowd the notes already mentioned, they appear (with the single exception of volkmar) to have exercised no influence on his discussion of the main question. one highly important omission is significant. there is no mention, from first to last, of the armenian version. now it happens that this version (so far as regards the documentary evidence) has been felt to be the key to the position, and around it the battle has raged fiercely since its publication. one who (like our author) maintains the priority of the curetonian letters, was especially bound to give it some consideration, for it furnishes the most formidable argument to his opponents. this version was given to the world by petermann in , the same year in which cureton's later work, the _corpus ignatianum_, appeared, and therefore was unknown to him [ : ]. its bearing occupies a more or less prominent place in all, or nearly all, the writers who have specially discussed the ignatian question during the last quarter of a century. this is true of lipsius and weiss and hilgenfeld and uhlhorn, whom he cites, not less than of merx and denzinger and zahn, whom he neglects to cite. the facts established by petermann and others are these;--( ) this armenian version, which contains the seven vossian epistles together with other confessedly spurious letters, was translated from a previous syriac version. indeed fragments of this version were published by cureton himself, as a sort of appendix to the curetonian letters, in the _corpus ignatianum_, though he failed to see their significance. ( ) this syriac version conformed so closely to the syriac of the curetonian letters that they cannot have been independent. either therefore the curetonian letters were excerpts from this complete version, or this version was founded upon and enlarged from the pre-existing curetonian letters by translating and adding the supplementary letters and parts of letters from the greek. the former may be the right solution, but the latter is _a priori_ more probable; and therefore a discussion which, while assuming the priority of the curetonian letters, ignores this version altogether, has omitted a vital problem of which it was bound to give an account. i have no wish to depreciate the labours of cureton. whether his own view be ultimately adopted as correct or not, he has rendered inestimable service to the ignatian literature. but our author has followed him in his most untenable positions, which those who have since studied the subject, whether agreeing with cureton on the main question or not, have been obliged to abandon. thus he writes:-- 'seven epistles have been selected out of fifteen extant, all equally purporting to be by ignatius, simply because only that number were mentioned by eusebius.' [ : ] and again:-- 'it is a total mistake to suppose that the seven epistles mentioned by eusebius have been transmitted to us in any special way. these epistles are mixed up in the medicean and corresponding ancient latin mss with the other eight epistles, universally pronounced to be spurious, without distinction of any kind, and all have equal honour.' [ : ] with more to the same effect. this attempt to confound the seven epistles mentioned by eusebius with the other confessedly spurious epistles, as if they presented themselves to us with the same credentials, ignores all the important facts bearing on the question. ( ) theodoret, a century after eusebius, betrays no knowledge of any other epistles, and there is no distinct trace of the use of the confessedly spurious epistles till late in the sixth century at the earliest. ( ) the confessedly spurious epistles differ widely in style from the seven epistles, and betray the same hand which interpolated the seven epistles. in other words, they clearly formed part of the long recension in the first instance. ( ) they abound in anachronisms which point to an age later than eusebius, as the date of their composition. ( ) it is not strictly true that the seven epistles are mixed up with the confessedly spurious epistles. in the greek and latin mss as also in the armenian version, the spurious epistles come after the others [ : ]; and this circumstance, combined with the facts already mentioned, plainly shows that they were a later addition, borrowed from the long recension to complete the body of ignatian letters. indeed our author seems hardly able to touch this question at any point without being betrayed into some statement which is either erroneous or misleading. thus, summing up the external evidence, he writes:-- 'it is a fact, therefore, that up to the second half of the fourth century no quotation ascribed to ignatius, except one by eusebius, exists, which is not found in the three short syriac letters.' [ : ] in this short statement three corrections are necessary. ( ) our author has altogether overlooked one quotation in eusebius from _ephes._ , because it happens not to be in the ecclesiastical history, though it is given in cureton's _corpus ignatianum_ [ : ]. ( ) of the two quotations in the ecclesiastical history, the one which he here reckons as found in the syriac epistles is not found in those epistles in the form in which eusebius quotes it. the quotation in eusebius contains several words which appear in the vossian epistles, but not in the curetonian; and as the absence of these words produces one of those abruptnesses which are characteristic of the curetonian letters, the fact is really important for the question under discussion [ : ]. ( ) though eusebius only directly quotes two passages in his ecclesiastical history, yet he gives a number of particulars respecting the places of writing, the persons named, etc., which are more valuable for purposes of identification than many quotations. our author's misstatement however does not in this instance affect the main question under discussion. the fact remains true, when all these corrections are made, that the quotations in the second and third centuries are confined to passages which occur both in the curetonian and in the vossian epistles, and therefore afford no indication in favour of either recension as against the other. the testimony of eusebius in the fourth century first differentiates them. hitherto our author has not adduced any arguments which affect the genuineness of the ignatian epistles as a whole. his reasons, even on his own showing, are valid only so far as to give a preference to the curetonian letters as against the vossian. when therefore he declares the whole of the ignatian literature to be 'a mass of falsification and fraud,' [ : ] we are naturally led to inquire into the grounds on which he makes this very confident and sweeping assertion. these grounds we find to be twofold. ( ) in the first place he conceives the incidents, as represented in the epistles, to be altogether incredible. thus he says [ : ]:-- 'the writer describes the circumstances of his journey as follows:--"from syria even unto rome i fight with wild beasts, by sea and by land, by night and day; being bound amongst ten leopards, which are the band of soldiers: who even when good is done to them render evil." now if this account be in the least degree true, how is it possible to suppose that the martyr could have found means to write so many long epistles, entering minutely into dogmatic teaching, and expressing the most deliberate and advanced views regarding ecclesiastical government?' and again:-- 'it is impossible to suppose that soldiers such as the quotation above describes would allow a prisoner, condemned to wild beasts for professing christianity, deliberately to write long epistles at every stage of his journey, promulgating the very doctrines for which he was condemned. and not only this, but on his way to martyrdom, he has, according to the epistles, perfect freedom to see his friends. he receives the bishops, deacons, and members of various christian communities, who come with greetings to him, and devoted followers accompany him on his journey. all this without hindrance from the "ten leopards," of whose cruelty he complains, and without persecution or harm to those who so openly declare themselves his friends and fellow-believers. the whole story is absolutely incredible.' to this objection, plausible as it may appear at first sight, a complete answer is afforded by what is known of roman procedure in other cases [ : ]. as a matter of fact, christian prisoners during the early centuries were not uncommonly treated by the authorities with this same laxity and indulgence which is here accorded to ignatius. an excited populace or a stern magistrate might insist on the condemnation of a christian; a victim must be sacrificed to the wrath of the gods, or to the majesty of the law; a human life must be 'butcher'd to make a roman holiday;' but the treatment of the prisoners meanwhile, even after condemnation, was, except in rare instances, the reverse of harsh. st paul himself preaches the gospel apparently with almost as much effect through the long years of his imprisonment as when he was at large. during his voyage he moves about like the rest of his fellow-travellers; when he arrives at rome, he is still treated with great consideration. he writes letters freely, receives visits from his friends, communicates with churches and individuals as he desires, though the chain is on his wrist and the soldier at his side all the while. even at a much later date, when the growth of the christian church may have created an alarm among statesmen and magistrates which certainly cannot have existed in the age of ignatius, we see the same leniency of treatment, and (what is more important) the same opportunities of disseminating their opinions accorded to the prisoners. thus saturus and perpetua, the african martyrs, who suffered under severus [ : ] (apparently in the year or ), are allowed writing materials, with which they record the extant history of their sufferings; and they too are visited in prison by christian deacons, as well as by their own friends. they owed this liberty partly to the humanity of the chief officers; partly to gratuities bestowed by their friends on the gaolers [ : ]. even after the lapse of another half-century, when decius seriously contemplated the extermination of christianity, we are surprised to find the amount of communication still kept up with the prisoners in their dungeons. the cyprianic correspondence reveals to us the confessors and martyrs writing letters to their friends, visited by large numbers of people, even receiving the rites of the church in their prisons at the hands of christian priests. but the most powerful testimony is derived from the representations of a heathen writer. the christian career of peregrinus must have fallen within the reign of antoninus pius (a.d. - ). thus it is not very far removed, in point of time, from the age of ignatius. this peregrinus is represented by lucian, writing immediately after his death (a.d. ), as being incarcerated for his profession of christianity, and the satirist thus describes the prison scene [ : ]:-- 'when he was imprisoned, the christians, regarding it as a great calamity, left no stone unturned in the attempt to rescue him. then, when they found this impossible, they looked after his wants in every other respect with unremitting zeal ([greek: ou parergôs alla sun spoudê]). and from early dawn old women, widows, and orphan children, might be seen waiting about the doors of the prison; while their officers ([greek: hoi en telei autôn]) succeeded, by bribing the keepers, in passing the night inside with him. then various meals were brought in, and religious discourses were held between them, and this excellent peregrinus (for he still bore this name) was entitled a new socrates by them. moreover, there came from certain cities in asia deputies sent by the christian communities to assist and advise and console the man. indeed they show incredible despatch, when any matter of the kind is undertaken as a public concern; for, in short, they spare nothing. and so large sums of money came to peregrinus at that time from them, on the plea of his fetters, and he made no inconsiderable revenue out of it.' the singular correspondence in this narrative with the account of ignatius, combined with some striking coincidences of expression [ : ], have led to the opinion that lucian was acquainted with the ignatian history, if not with the ignatian letters. for this view there is much to be said; and, if it be true, the bearing of the fact on the genuineness of the ignatian literature is important, since lucian was born in syria somewhere about a.d. , and lived much in asia minor. at all events it is conclusive for the matter in hand, as showing that christian prisoners were treated in the very way described in these epistles. the reception of delegates and the freedom of correspondence, which have been the chief stumbling-blocks to modern criticism in the ignatian letters, appear quite as prominently in the heathen satirist's account of peregrinus [ : ]. in the light of these facts the language of ignatius becomes quite intelligible. he was placed under the custody of a maniple of soldiers. these ten men would relieve guard in turns, the prisoner being always bound to one or other of them day and night, according to the well-known roman usage, as illustrated by the case of st paul. the martyr finds his guards fierce and intractable as leopards. his fight with wild beasts, he intimates, is not confined to the arena of the flavian amphitheatre; it has been going on continuously ever since he left antioch. his friends manage to secure him indulgences by offering bribes, but the soldiers are exorbitant and irritating in the extreme [ : ]. the more they receive, the more they exact. their demands keep pace with his exigencies. all this is natural, and it fully explains the language here ascribed to ignatius. a prisoner smarting under such treatment naturally dwells on the dark side of the picture, without thinking how a critic, writing in his study centuries afterwards, will interpret his fragmentary and impulsive utterances. in short, we must treat ignatius as a man, and not as an automaton. men will not talk mechanically, as critics would have them talk. ( ) having declared 'the whole story' to be 'absolutely incredible,' on the grounds which i have just considered, our author continues [ : ]:-- 'this conclusion, irresistible in itself, is, however, confirmed by facts arrived at from a totally different point of view. it has been demonstrated that ignatius was not sent to rome at all, but suffered martyrdom in antioch itself on the th december, a.d. (^ ), when he was condemned to be cast to wild beasts in the amphitheatre, in consequence of the fanatical excitement produced by the earthquake which took place on the th of that month (^ ).' the two foot-notes contain no justification of this very positive statement, though so much depends upon it; but the reader is there furnished with a number of references to modern critics. these references have been analysed by dr westcott [ : ], with results very similar to those which my analysis of the author's previous notes has yielded. in some cases the writers express opinions directly opposed to that for which they are quoted; in others they incline to views irreconcilable with it; and in others they suspend judgment. when the references are sifted, the sole residuum on which our author rests his assurance is found to be a hypothesis of volkmar [ : ], built upon a statement of john malalas, which i shall now proceed to examine. the words of john malalas are-- 'the same king trajan was residing in the same city (antioch) when the visitation of god (_i.e._ the earthquake) occurred. and at that time the holy ignatius, the bishop of the city of antioch, was martyred (or bore testimony, [greek: emarturêse]) before him ([greek: epi autou]); for he was exasperated against him, because he reviled him.' [ : ] the earthquake is stated by malalas to have occurred on the th of december, a.d. . on these statements, combined with the fact that the day dedicated to st ignatius at a later age was the th of december [ : ], volkmar builds his theory. it will be observed that the cause of the martyr's death, as laid down by volkmar, receives no countenance from the story of malalas, who gives a wholly different reason--the irritating language used to the emperor. now this john malalas lived not earlier than the latter half of the sixth century, and possibly much later. his date therefore constitutes no claim to a hearing. his statement moreover is directly opposed to the concurrent testimony of the four or five preceding centuries, which, without a dissentient voice, declare that ignatius suffered at rome. this is the case with all the writers and interpolators of the ignatian letters, of whom the earliest is generally placed, even by those critics who deny their genuineness, about the middle or in the latter half of the second century. it is the case with two distinct martyrologies [ : ], which, agreeing in little else, are united in sending the martyr to rome to die. it is the case necessarily with all those fathers who quote the ignatian letters in any form as genuine, amongst whom are irenæus and origen and eusebius and athanasius. it is the case with chrysostom, who, on the day of the martyr's festival, pronounces at antioch an elaborate panegyric on his illustrious predecessor in the see [ : ]. it is the case with several other writers also, whom i need not enumerate, all prior to malalas. but john malalas, it is said, lived at antioch. so did chrysostom some two centuries at least before him. so did evagrius, who, if the earliest date of malalas be adopted, was his contemporary, and who, together with all preceding authorities, places the martyrdom of ignatius in rome. if therefore the testimony of malalas deserves to be preferred to this cloud of witnesses, it must be because he approves himself elsewhere as a sober and trustworthy writer. as a matter of fact however, his notices of early christian history are, almost without exception, demonstrably false or palpably fabulous [ : ]. in the very paragraph which succeeds the sentence quoted, he relates how trajan had five christian women burnt alive; the emperor then mingled their ashes with the metal from which the vessels used for the baths were cast; the bathers were seized with swooning-fits in consequence; the vessels were again melted up; and out of the same metal were erected five pillars in honour of the five martyrs by the emperor's orders. these pillars, adds malalas, stand in the bath to the present day. as if this were not enough, he goes on to relate how trajan made a furnace and ordered any christians, who desired, to throw themselves into it--an injunction which was obeyed by many. nor when he leaves the domain of hagiology for that of chronology, is this author any more trustworthy. for instance, he states that manes first propounded his doctrine in the reign of nerva, and that marcion still further disseminated the manichean heresy under hadrian [ : ]. an anachronism of a century or more is nothing to him. we have seen by this time what authority suffices, in our author's judgment, to 'demonstrate' a fact; and no more is necessary for my purpose. but it may be worth while adding that the error of malalas is capable of easy explanation. he has probably misinterpreted some earlier authority, whose language lent itself to misinterpretation. the words [greek: marturein, marturia], which were afterwards used especially of martyrdom, had in the earlier ages a wider sense, including other modes of witnessing to the faith: the expression [greek: epi traïanou] again is ambiguous and might denote either 'during the reign of trajan,' or 'in the presence of trajan.' a blundering writer like malalas might have stumbled over either expression [ : ]. the objections of our author have thus been met and answered; and difficulties which admit of this easy explanation cannot, i venture to think, be held to have any real weight against even a small amount of external testimony in favour of the epistles. the external testimony however is considerable in this case [ : ]. the epistle of polycarp, which purports to have been written so soon after this journey of ignatius through asia minor that the circumstances of the martyr's death were not fully known there, speaks of his letters in language which is entirely applicable to the existing documents. our author indeed declares this epistle also to be spurious. but irenæus, the pupil of polycarp, bears testimony to the existence of such an epistle; and i pledge myself to answer in a subsequent paper the objections urged against its genuineness by our author and others [ : ]. besides this, irenæus, writing about a.d. - , quotes a characteristic and distinctive passage from the epistle to the romans, not indeed mentioning ignatius by name, but introducing the quotation as the words of a member of the christian brotherhood. and again, in the first half of the next century origen cites two passages from these letters, ascribing them directly to ignatius. i say nothing of the later and more explicit references and quotations of eusebius, important as these are in themselves. our author indeed seems to consider this amount of testimony very insufficient. but even if we set polycarp aside, it would hardly be rash to say that the external evidence for at least two-thirds of the remains of classical antiquity is inferior. we christians are constantly told that we must expect to have our records tested by the same standards which are applied to other writings. this is exactly what we desire, and what we do not get. it is not easy to imagine the havoc which would ensue, if the critical principles of the tübingen school and their admirers were let loose on the classical literature of greece and rome. external testimony therefore leaves a very strong presumption in favour of the genuineness of the ignatian letters in one form or other; and before rejecting them entirely, we are bound to show that internal evidence furnishes really substantial and valid objections to their authenticity. it is not sufficient, for instance, to allege that the saint's desire for martyrdom, as exhibited in these epistles, is extravagant, because we have ample testimony for believing that such extravagance (whether commendable or not) was highly characteristic of the faith and zeal of the early christians when tried by persecution. nor again, is it of any avail to produce some eccentricities of thought or language, because there is no _a priori_ reason why st ignatius should not have indulged in such eccentricities. unless therefore really solid objections can be urged, we are bound by all ordinary laws of literary evidence to accept as genuine at all events the shortest form in which these epistles are presented to us. in other words, the curetonian letters at least must be received. and as these satisfy all the quotations and references of the second and third centuries (though not those of eusebius in the first half of the fourth), perhaps not more is required by the external testimony. against the genuineness of these it may be presumed that our author has advanced what he considered the strongest arguments which the case admits; and i have answered them. i am quite aware that other objections have been alleged by other critics; but it will be sufficient here to express a conviction that these have no real force against even the slightest external testimony, and to undertake to meet them if they are reproduced. thus all the supposed anachronisms have failed. bochart, for instance, was bold enough to maintain that the ignatian epistle to the romans could not have been written before the time of constantine the great, because 'leopards' are mentioned in it, and the word was not known until this late age. in reply to bochart, pearson and others showed conclusively, by appealing (among other documents) to the contemporary acts of martyrdom of perpetua and felicitas (who suffered when geta was cæsar, about a.d. ), that 'leopards' were so called more than a century at least before constantine, while they gave good reasons for believing that the word was in use much earlier. i am able to carry the direct evidence half a century farther back. the word occurs in an early treatise of galen (written about the middle of the second century), without any indication that it was then a new or unusual term. this passage, which (so far as i am aware) has been hitherto overlooked, carries the use back to within some forty years, or less, of the professed date of the ignatian letters; and it must be regarded as a mere accident that no earlier occurrence has been noticed in the scanty remains of greek and roman literature which bridge over the interval. of the institution of episcopacy again, it is sufficient to say that its prevalence in asia minor at this time, whatever may have been the case elsewhere, can only be denied by rejecting a large amount of direct and indirect evidence on this side of the question, and by substituting in its place a mere hypothesis which rests on no basis of historical fact. on the other hand, the epistles themselves are stamped with an individuality of character which is a strong testimony to their genuineness. the intensity of feeling and the ruggedness of expression seem to bespeak a real living man. on this point however it is impossible to dwell here; anyone who will take the pains to read these epistles continuously will be in a better position to form a judgment on this evidence of style, than if he had been plied with many arguments. but if the curetonian letters are the genuine work of ignatius, what must we say of the vossian? were the additional portions, which are contained in the latter but wanting in the former, also written by the saint, or are they later interpolations and additions? this is a much more difficult question. as a first step towards answering this question, we may observe that there is one very strong reason for believing that the vossian letters cannot have been written after the middle of the second century. the argument from silence has been so often abused, that one is almost afraid to employ it at all. yet here it seems to have a real value. the writer of these letters, whoever he was, is evidently an orthodox catholic christian, and at the same time a strong controversialist. it is therefore a striking fact that he is altogether silent on the main controversies which agitated the church, and more especially the church of asia minor, in the middle and latter half of the second century. there is not a word about montanism or about the paschal controversy. it is difficult to believe that such a writer could have kept clear of these 'burning' questions, if he had lived in the midst of them. even though his sense of historical propriety might have preserved him from language involving a positive anachronism, he would have taken a distinct side, and would have made his meaning clear by indirect means. again, there is nothing at all bearing on the great gnostic heresies of this age. the doctrines of the marcionites, of the valentinians, even of the basilideans (though basilides flourished under hadrian), are not touched. on the contrary, the writer several times uses language which an orthodox churchman, writing in the second half of the second century or later, would almost certainly have avoided. among other expressions he salutes the church of the trallians 'in the _pleroma_'--an expression which could not escape the taint of heresy when once valentinus had promulgated his system, of which the pleroma was the centre. nor again, is it likely that such a writer would have indulged in expressions which, however innocent in themselves, would seem very distinctly to countenance the gnostic doctrine of the inherent evil of matter, as for instance, where he says that he has not in him any 'matter-loving ([greek: philoülon]) fire (of passion),' [ : ] and the like. the bearing of these facts has (so far as i remember) been overlooked, and yet it is highly important. having regard to these and similar phenomena, i do not see how it is reasonable to date the vossian epistles after the middle of the second century. but still it does not follow that they are genuine; and elsewhere i had acquiesced in the earlier opinion of lipsius, who ascribed them to an interpolator writing about a.d. [ : ]. now however i am obliged to confess that i have grave and increasing doubts whether, after all, they are not the genuine utterances of ignatius himself. the following reasons weigh heavily in this scale. ( ) petermann's investigations, which have been already mentioned, respecting the armenian version and its relation to a pre-existing syriac version, throw a new light on the curetonian letters. when it is known that there existed a complete version of the vossian letters in this language, the theory that the curetonian letters are excerpts becomes at least highly plausible, since the two sets of syriac letters were certainly not independent the one of the other. ( ) notwithstanding cureton's assertions, which our author has endorsed, the abruptness of the curetonian letters is very perplexing in some parts. subsequent writers, even while maintaining their genuineness, have recognised this difficulty, and endeavoured to explain it. it is far from easy, for instance, to conceive that the ephesian letter could have ended as it is made to end in this recension. ( ) though the vossian letters introduce many historical circumstances respecting the journey of ignatius, the condition of the church of antioch, and the persons visiting or visited by him, no contradictions have yet been made out; but, on the contrary, the several notices fit in one with another in a way which at all events shows more care and ingenuity than might be expected in a falsifier. ( ) all the supposed anachronisms to which objection has been taken in these epistles fail on closer investigation. more especially stress has been laid on the fact that this writer describes christ as god's 'eternal logos, not having proceeded from silence;' [ : ] and objectors, have urged that this expression is intended as a refutation of the valentinian doctrine. pearson thought it sufficient to reply that the valentinians did not represent the logos as an emanation from silence, but from an intermediate Æon; and when the treatise of hippolytus was discovered, an answer seemed to be furnished by the fact that silence held a conspicuous place in the tenets of the earlier sect of simonians, and the ignatian expression was explained as a reference to their teaching. but fresh materials for the correction of the ignatian text, which cureton and petermann have placed in our hands, seem to show very clearly (though these editors have overlooked the importance of the facts) that in the original form of the passage the words 'eternal' and 'not' were wanting; so that the expression stood, 'who is his logos, having proceeded from silence.' they are omitted in the armenian version and in the passage as cited by severus of antioch [ : ]; while the paraphrase of the long recension seems to point in the same direction, though this is more doubtful. severus more especially comments on the quotation, so that his reading is absolutely certain. such a combination of early authorities is very strong evidence in favour of the omission. moreover it is difficult to explain how the words, if genuine, should have been omitted; whereas their insertion, if they were no part of the original text, is easily accounted for. in the middle of the fourth century, marcellus of ancyra expressed his sabellianism in almost identical language [ : ]; he spoke of christ as the logos issuing from silence; and there was every temptation with orthodox scribes to save the reputation of st ignatius from complicity in heretical opinions, and at the same time to deprive marcellus of the support of his great name. i call attention to these facts, both because they have been overlooked, and because the passage in question has furnished their main argument to those who charge these epistles with anachronisms. of the character of these epistles, it must suffice here to say that the writer at all events was thoroughly acquainted with the manner and teaching of st ignatius. as regards the substance, they contain many extravagances of sentiment and teaching, more especially relating to the episcopal office, from which the curetonian letters are free and which one would not willingly believe written by the saint himself. but it remains a question, whether such considerations ought to outweigh the arguments on the other side. at all events it cannot be shown that they exhibit any different type of doctrine, though the mode of representation may seem exaggerated. as regards style, the curetonian letters are more rugged and forcible than the vossian; but as selected excerpts, they might perhaps be expected to exhibit these features prominently. for the reasons given i shall, unless i am shown to be wrong, treat the curetonian letters as the work of the genuine ignatius, while the vossian letters will be accepted as valid testimony at all events for the middle of the second century. the question of the genuineness of the latter will be waived. i fear that my indecision on this point will contrast disadvantageously with the certainty which is expressed by the author of _supernatural religion_. if so, i am sorry, but i cannot help it. iv. polycarp of smyrna. [may, .] polycarp, bishop of smyrna, is the most important person in the history of the christian church during the ages immediately succeeding the apostles. in the eyes of his own and the next generations, clement of rome appears to have held a more prominent position, if we may judge from the legendary stories which have gathered about his name; but for ourselves the interest which attaches to polycarp is far greater. this importance he owes to his peculiar position, rather than to any marked greatness or originality of character. two long lives--those of st john and of polycarp--span the period which elapsed between the personal ministry of our lord and the great christian teachers living at the close of the second century. polycarp was the disciple of st john, and irenæus was the disciple of polycarp. we know enough of st john's teaching, if the books ascribed to him in our canon are accepted as genuine. we are fully acquainted with the tenets of irenæus, and of these we may say generally that on all the most important points they conform to the theological standard which has satisfied the christian church ever since. but of the intermediate period between the close of the first century and the close of the second, the notices are sparse, the literature is scanty and fragmentary. hence modern criticism has busied itself with hypothetical reconstructions of christian history during this interval. it has been maintained that the greater part of the writings of our canon were unknown and unwritten at the beginning of this period. it has been supposed that there was a complete discontinuity in the career of the christian church throughout the world. the person of polycarp is a standing protest against any such surmises. unless irenæus was entirely mistaken as to the teaching of his master, unless the extant epistle ascribed to polycarp is altogether spurious, these views must fall to the ground. it is indispensable for the advocates of the tübingen theory respecting the origin of the christian church and the scriptural canon to make good both these positions alike. otherwise it can have no standing ground. my object in the following investigations is to show that neither position is tenable. polycarp was born more than thirty years before the close of the first century, and he survived to the latter half of the second. the date of his birth may be fixed with some degree of certainty as a.d. or . at all events it cannot have been later than this. at the time of his martyrdom, which is now ascertained to have taken place a.d. or [ : ], he declared that he had served christ eighty-six years [ : ]; and, if this expression be explained as referring to the whole period of his life (which is the more probable supposition), we are carried back to the date which i have just given. thus polycarp was born on the eve of a great crisis, which was fraught with momentous consequences to the church at large, and which more especially made itself felt in the christian congregations of his own country, proconsular asia. the fall of jerusalem occurred in the autumn of the year . but at the final assault the christians were no longer among the besieged. the impending war had been taken as the signal for their departure from the doomed city. the greater number had retired beyond the jordan, and founded christian colonies in pella and the neighbourhood. but the natural leaders of the church--the surviving apostles and personal disciples of christ--had sought a home elsewhere. from this time forward it is neither to jerusalem nor to pella, but to proconsular asia, and more especially to ephesus as its metropolis, that we must look for the continuance of the original type of apostolic doctrine and practice. at the epoch of the catastrophe we find the apostle john for a short time living in exile--whether voluntary or constrained, it is unnecessary to inquire--in the island of patmos. soon after this he takes up his abode at ephesus, which seems to have been his head-quarters during the remainder of his long life [ : ]. and john was not alone in choosing asia minor as his new home. more especially the companions of his early youth seem to have been attracted to this neighbourhood. of two brother apostles and fellow-countrymen of bethsaida this is distinctly recorded. andrew, the brother of simon peter, appears in company with john in these later years, according to an account which seems at least so far trustworthy [ : ]. the presence of philip, the special friend of andrew [ : ], in these parts is recorded on still better authority [ : ]. philip himself died at hierapolis in phrygia; but one of his three daughters was buried at ephesus, where perhaps he had resided at an earlier date. among other personal disciples of christ, not otherwise known to us, who dwelt in these districts of asia minor, aristion and a second john are mentioned, with whom papias, the friend of polycarp, had conversed [ : ]. among these influences polycarp was brought up. his own words, to which i have already alluded, seem to show that he was born of christian parentage. at all events he must have been a believer from early childhood. if his parents were christians, they probably received their first lessons in the gospel from the teachers of an earlier date--from st paul who had planted the churches of asia minor, or from st peter who appears to have watered them, [ : ] or from the immediate disciples of one or other of these two apostles. but during the childhood and youth of polycarp himself the influence of st john was paramount. irenæus reports (and there is no reason for questioning the truth of his statement) that st john survived to the reign of trajan [ : ], who ascended the imperial throne a.d. . thus polycarp would be about thirty years old at the time of st john's death. when therefore irenæus relates that he was appointed bishop in smyrna 'by apostles,' [ : ] the statement involves no chronological difficulty, even though we interpret the term 'bishop' in its more restricted sense, and not as a synonyme for presbyter, according to its earlier meaning. later writers say distinctly that he was appointed to the episcopal office by st john [ : ]. at all events, he appears as bishop of smyrna in the early years of the second century. when ignatius passes through asia minor on his way to martyrdom, he halts at smyrna, where he is received by polycarp. at a later stage in his journey he writes to his friend. the tone of his letter is altogether such as might be expected from an old man writing to a younger, who nevertheless held a position of great responsibility, and had shown himself worthy of the trust. after expressing his thankfulness for their meeting, and commending his friend's steadfast faith, which was 'founded as on an immovable rock,' he proceeds:-- vindicate thine office in all diligence, whether in things carnal or in things spiritual. have a care for unity, than which nothing is better. sustain all men, even as the lord sustaineth thee. suffer all men in love, as also thou doest. give thyself to unceasing prayer. ask for more wisdom than thou hast. keep watch, and preserve a wakeful spirit.... be thou wise as the serpent in all things, and harmless always as the dove.... the time requireth thee, as pilots require winds, or as a storm-tossed mariner a haven, so that it may find god.... be sober, as god's athlete.... stand firm as an anvil under the stroke of the hammer. it becomes a great athlete to endure blows and to conquer.... show thyself more zealous than thou art.... let nothing be done without thy consent, neither do thou anything without god's consent, as indeed thou doest not [ : ]. the close of the letter is addressed mainly to the smyrnæans, enforcing their reciprocal obligations towards their bishop. this letter, if the additional matter in the vossian epistles may be trusted, was written from troas, when the martyr was on the point of embarking for neapolis [ : ]. the next stage of his journey would bring him to philippi, where he halted. thence he proceeded by the great egnatian road across the continent to the hadriatic, on his way to rome. shortly after this, polycarp himself addresses a letter to the philippians. he had been especially invited by his correspondents to write to them, but he had also a reason of his own for doing so. during this season of the year, when winter had closed the high seas for navigation, all news from rome must travel through macedonia to asia minor. at smyrna they had not yet received tidings of the fate of ignatius; and he hoped to get early information from his correspondents, who were some stages nearer to rome where, as polycarp assumed, his friend had already suffered martyrdom [ : ]. this was the occasion of the letter, which for various reasons possesses the highest interest as a document of early christian literature, though far from remarkable in itself. its most important feature is the profuseness of quotation from the apostolic writings. of a canon of the new testament, strictly so called, it is not probable that polycarp knew anything [ : ]. this idea was necessarily, as dr westcott has shown, the growth of time. but of the writings which are included in our canon he shows a wide knowledge and an ample appreciation. in this respect he may not unprofitably be compared with clement of rome. clement of rome, there is good reason to believe, was a hellenist jew [ : ]; he must have been brought up in a familiar acquaintance with the old testament scriptures. on the other hand polycarp, as we have already seen, was probably the son of christian parents; at all events he was educated from his earliest childhood in the knowledge of the gospel; he had grown up in the society of apostles and apostolic men. this contrast of education makes itself apparent in the writings of the two fathers. though there are clear indications in clement that he was acquainted with many of the apostolic epistles, yet his quotations are chiefly taken from the old testament. again and again he cites continuous passages, and argues from them at length. but with polycarp the case is different. the new testament has exchanged places with the old, at least so far as practical use is concerned. notwithstanding its brevity, polycarp's epistle contains decisive coincidences with or references to between thirty and forty passages in the new testament [ : ]. on the other hand, with the single exception of four words from the apocryphal book of tobit [ : ], there is no quotation taken immediately from the old testament. elsewhere indeed he cites the words of ps. iv. , but these are evidently quoted from st paul, and not directly from the psalmist, as his context shows [ : ]. not less remarkable than the number of his quotations from the new testament is their wide range. of the evangelical references i shall have occasion to speak in a subsequent article. besides these there is a strong coincidence with the acts which can hardly be accidental [ : ]; and there are passages or expressions taken from most of the apostolic epistles. among the latter the most decisive examples frequently refer to those very epistles which modern criticism has striven to discredit. it cannot reasonably be questioned for instance, that polycarp was acquainted with the epistle to the ephesians and with the two epistles to timothy. of the indisputable references to the first epistle of st peter i have already spoken in a former paper [ : ]. but the most important fact, in its bearing on recent controversy, is the relation of the writer to st paul. according to the hypothesis of the tübingen school, there was a personal antagonism between st paul and st john, and an irreconcilable feud between their respective schools. it is therefore with special interest that we look to see what the most eminent scholar of the beloved disciple says about the apostle of the gentiles. now st paul occupies quite the most prominent place in polycarp's epistle. this prominence is partly explained by the fact that he is writing to a church of st paul's founding, but this explanation does not detract from its value. st paul is the only apostle who is mentioned by name; his writings are the only apostolic writings which are referred to by name; of his thirteen epistles, there are probable references to as many as eleven [ : ]; there are direct appeals to his example and his teaching alike: there is even an apology on the writer's part for the presumption of seeming to set himself up as a rival to the apostle by writing to a church to whom he had addressed an epistle [ : ]. altogether the testimony to the respect in which st paul is held by the writer is as complete as language can make it. if therefore the epistle be accepted as genuine, the position of the tübingen school must be abandoned. from considering the phenomena of the extant epistle, we pass by a natural transition to the second point which i proposed to investigate, the traditions of the author's teaching. polycarp was no longer a young man, when his epistle was written. but he lived on to see a new generation grow up from infancy to mature age afterwards; and as the companion of apostles and the depositary of the apostolic tradition, his influence increased with his increasing years. before he died, even unbelievers had come to regard him as the 'father of the christians.' of his later years a glimpse is afforded to us in the record of an eye-witness. among the disciples of his old age were two youths, companions for the time, but destined to stand far apart in after life-- 'like cliffs that had been rent asunder;' the elder, florinus, who became famous afterwards as a heretical leader; the younger, irenæus, who stood forward as the great champion of orthodoxy. the following is the remonstrance addressed by irenæus to his former associate after his defection:-- these opinions, florinus, that i may speak without harshness, are not of sound judgment; these opinions are not in harmony with the church, but involve those adopting them in the greatest impiety; these opinions even the heretics outside the pale of the church have never ventured to broach; these opinions the elders before us, who also were disciples of the apostles, did not hand down to thee. for i saw thee, when i was still a boy ([greek: pais ôn eti]), in lower asia in company with polycarp, while thou wast faring prosperously in the royal court, and endeavouring to stand well with him. for i distinctly remember ([greek: diamnêmoneuô]) the incidents of that time better than events of recent occurrence; for the lessons received in childhood ([greek: ek paidôn]), growing with the growth of the soul, become identified with it; so that i can describe the very place in which the blessed polycarp used to sit when he discoursed, and his goings out and his comings in, and his manner of life, and his personal appearance, and the discourses which he held before the people, and how he would describe his intercourse with john and with the rest who had seen the lord, and how he would relate their words. and whatsoever things he had heard from them about the lord, and about his miracles, and about his teaching, polycarp, as having received them from eye-witnesses of the life of the word [ : ], would relate altogether in accordance with the scriptures. to these (discourses) i used to listen at the time with attention by god's mercy which was bestowed upon me, noting them down, not on paper, but in my heart; and by the grace of god, i constantly ruminate upon them faithfully ([greek: gnêsiôs]). and i can testify in the sight of god, that if the blessed and apostolic elder had heard anything of this kind, he would have cried out, and stopped his ears, and said after his wont, 'o good god, for what times hast thou kept me, that i should endure such things?' and would even have fled from the place where he was sitting or standing when he heard such words. and indeed, this can be shown from his letters which he wrote either to the neighbouring churches for their confirmation, or to certain of the brethren for their warning and exhortation [ : ]. unfortunately the chronological notices are not sufficiently precise to enable us to fix the date either of this intercourse with polycarp, or of the letter to florinus in which irenæus records it. in the year or polycarp died; in the year irenæus became bishop of lyons. putting these two facts together, we may perhaps assume that irenæus must have been a pupil of polycarp somewhere between a.d. - . the mention of the 'royal court' seems at first sight to suggest the hope of a more precise solution; but even if this notice be taken to imply the presence of the emperor for the time being in asia minor, our information respecting the movements of hadrian and his successors is too scanty to afford ground for any safe inference [ : ]. of the later career of florinus, we are informed that he was at one time a presbyter of the roman church; that he afterwards fell away, and taught his heresy in the metropolis; that in consequence irenæus addressed to him this letter from which i have given the extract, and which was also entitled 'on monarchy' or 'showing that god is no--the author of evil' ([greek: poiêtên kakôn])--this being the special heresy of florinus; and that afterwards, apparently by a rebound, he lapsed into valentinianism, on which occasion irenæus wrote his treatise on the ogdoad [ : ]. as the treatise of irenæus on the ogdoad can hardly have been written later than his extant work on heresies, in which valentinianism is so fully discussed as to render any such partial treatment superfluous, and which dates from the episcopate of eleutherius (a.d. - ), we are led to the conclusion that the letter to florinus was one of the earliest writings of this father. thus we are left without any means of ascertaining the exact age of irenæus when he sat at the feet of polycarp. but beyond this uncertainty his testimony is as explicit as could well be desired. all experience, if i mistake not, bears out his statement respecting the vividness of the memory during this period of life. in a recent trial, the most fatal blot in the evidence was the inability of a pretender to give any information respecting the games and studies, the companions, the familiar haunts, of the school and college days of the person with whom he identified himself. it is the penalty which mature age pays for clearer ideas and higher powers of generalisation, that the recollection of facts becomes comparatively blurred. very often an old man will relate with perfect distinctness the incidents of his youth and early manhood, while a haze will rest over much of the intervening period. those who have listened to a sedgwick after a lapse of sixty or seventy years repeating anecdotes of the 'statesmen' in his native dale, or describing the circumstances under which he first heard the news of the battle of trafalgar, will be able to realize the vividness of the stories which the aged polycarp would tell to his youthful pupil of his intercourse with the last surviving apostle--the memory of the narrator being quickened and the interest of the hearer intensified, in this case, by the conviction that they were brought face to face with facts such as the world had never seen before. one incident more is recorded of this veteran preacher of the gospel. in the closing years of his life he undertook a journey to rome, where he conferred with the bishop, anicetus. the main subject of this conference was the time of celebrating the passion. polycarp pleaded the practice of st john and the other apostles with whom he had conversed, for observing the actual day of the jewish passover, without respect to the day of the week. on the other hand, anicetus could point to the fact that his predecessors, at least as far back as xystus, who succeeded to the see soon after the beginning of the century, had always kept the anniversary of the passion on a friday and that of the resurrection on a sunday, thus making the day of the month give place to the day of the week. neither convinced the other, but they parted good friends. this difference of usage did not interfere with the most perfect cordiality; and, as a sign of this, anicetus allowed polycarp to celebrate the eucharist in his stead [ : ]. about forty years later, when the paschal controversy was revived, and victor, a successor of anicetus, excommunicated the asiatic churches, irenæus, though himself an observer of the western usage, wrote to remonstrate with victor on this harsh and tyrannical measure. an extract from his letter is preserved by eusebius, in which these incidents respecting his old master are recorded [ : ]. irenæus insists strongly on the fact that "the harmony of the faith" has never been disturbed hitherto by any such diversities of usage. to this visit to rome irenæus makes another reference in his extant work against heresies. the perfect confidence with which he appeals to the continuity of the apostolic tradition, and to the testimony of polycarp as the principal link in the chain, gives a peculiar significance to this passage, and no apology is needed for quoting it at length. after speaking of the succession of the roman bishops, through whom the true doctrine has been handed down to his own generation without interruption, he adds-- and (so it was with) polycarp also, who not only was taught by apostles, and lived in familiar intercourse ([greek: sunanastrapheis]) with many that had seen christ, but also received his appointment in asia from apostles, as bishop in the church of smyrna, whom we too have seen in our youth ([greek: en tê prôtê hêmôn hêlikia]) for he survived long, and departed this life at a very great age, by a glorious and most notable martyrdom, having ever taught these very things, which he had learnt from the apostles, which the church hands down, and which alone are true. to these testimony is borne by all the churches in asia, and by the successors of polycarp up to the present time, who was a much more trustworthy and safer witness of the truth than valentinus and marcion, and all such wrong-minded men. he also, when on a visit to rome in the days of anicetus, converted many to the church of god from following the aforenamed heretics, by preaching that he had received from the apostles this doctrine, and this only, which was handed down by the church, as the truth. and there are those who have heard him tell how john, the disciple of the lord, when he went to take a bath in ephesus, and saw cerinthus within, rushed away from the room without bathing, with the words, 'let us flee, lest the room should indeed fall in, for cerinthus, the enemy of the truth, is within.' yea, and polycarp himself also on one occasion, when marcion confronted him and said, 'dost thou recognize me?' answered, 'i recognize the firstborn of satan.' such care did the apostles and their disciples take not to hold any communication, even by word, with any of those who falsify the truth, as paul also said, 'a man that is a heretic after a first and second admonition, avoid; knowing that such an one is perverted and sinneth, being self-condemned.' moreover, there is an epistle of polycarp addressed to the philippians, which is most adequate ([greek: hikanôtatê]), and from which both his manner of life and his preaching of the truth may be learnt by those who desire to learn and are anxious for their own salvation. and again, the church in ephesus, which was founded by paul, and where john survived till the times of trajan, is a true witness of the tradition of the apostles [ : ]. i have given these important extracts at length because they speak for themselves. if i mistake not, they will be more convincing than many arguments. it is impossible to doubt the sincerity of irenæus, when he thus explicitly and repeatedly maintains that the doctrines which he holds and teaches are the same which polycarp had held and taught before him. on the other hand, a school of critics which has arisen in the present generation maintains that irenæus was mistaken from beginning to end; that, instead of this continuity in the teaching and history of the church, there had been a violent dislocation; that st john, as an apostle of the circumcision, must have had a deep-rooted aversion to the doctrine and work of st paul; and that polycarp, as a disciple of st john, must have shared that aversion, and cannot therefore have recognized the authority of the apostle of the gentiles. it is difficult to believe that those who hold this theory have seriously faced the historical difficulties which it involves, or have attempted to realize any combination of circumstances by which this revolution could have been brought about in such a manner as to escape the notice of the next succeeding generations. i shall probably have occasion hereafter to speak of the solidarity of the church at this epoch. at present it is sufficient to say that the direct personal testimony of irenæus respecting polycarp is by no means the only, or even the greatest, impediment to this theory. he constantly appeals to the asiatic elders, the disciples and followers of the apostles, in confirmation of his statement. among the christian teachers of proconsular asia who immediately succeeded polycarp, are two famous names, melito of sardis and claudius apollinaris of hierapolis. they must already have reached middle life before polycarp's martyrdom. they were not merely practical workers, but voluminous writers also. the lists of their works handed down to us comprise the widest range of topics; they handle questions of christian ethics, of scriptural interpretation, of controversial divinity, of ecclesiastical order, of theological metaphysics. was there then any possibility of a mistake here? to us the history of the church during the second century is obscure, because all this voluminous literature, except a few meagre fragments, has been blotted out. but to the contemporaries and successors of irenæus it was legible enough. 'who does not know,' exclaims his own pupil hippolytus, 'the books of irenæus and melito and the rest, which declare christ to be god and man?' [ : ] this mission of peace to rome must have been one of the latest acts of the old man's life. the accession of anicetus to the see of rome is variously dated; but the earliest year is about a.d. , and an eminent recent critic, who has paid special attention to the subject, places it between a.d. and a.d. [ : ]. in the year , or at the latest, polycarp fell a martyr. the details of his martyrdom are recorded in a contemporary document, which takes the form of a letter from the church of smyrna, addressed more immediately to the church of philomelium but challenging at the same time a wider circulation [ : ]. the simplicity with which the narrators record omens and occurrences easily explicable in themselves, but invested by their surcharged feelings with a miraculous character, is highly natural. the whole narrative is eminently touching and instructive; but the details have little or no bearing on my immediate purpose. it is sufficient to say that polycarp had retired into the country to escape persecution; that the populace, not satisfied with the victims already sacrificed to their fury, demanded the life of polycarp, as the 'father of the christians;' that his hiding-place was betrayed by a boy in his service, under the influence of torture; that the magistrates urged him to save his life by submitting to the usual tests, by pronouncing the formula, 'cæsar is lord,' or offering sacrifice, or swearing by the fortune of the emperor, or reviling christ; that he declared himself unable to blaspheme a master whom he had served for eighty-six years, and from whom he had received no wrong; and that consequently he was burnt at the stake, jews and heathens vying with each other in feeding the flames. the games were already past; otherwise he would have been condemned to the wild beasts--the usual punishment for such contumacy. polycarp was martyred during the proconsulship of statius quadratus. the commonly received date of his death is a.d. or , as given in the chronicon of eusebius. quite recently however, m. waddington has subjected the proconsular _fasti_ of asia minor to a fresh and rigorous scrutiny [ : ]. this statius quadratus is mentioned by the orator aristides; and by an investigation of the chronology of aristides' life, with the aid of newly-discovered inscriptions, m. waddington arrives at the result that quadratus was proconsul in , ; and, as polycarp was martyred in the early months of the year, his martyrdom must be dated a.d. . this result is accepted by m. renan [ : ], and substantially also by hilgenfeld and lipsius [ : ], who however (for reasons into which it is unnecessary to enter here) postpones the martyrdom to the following year, a.d. . m. waddington's arguments seem conclusive, and this rectification of date removes some stumbling-blocks. the relations between st john and polycarp for instance, as reported by irenæus and others, no longer present any difficulty, when the period during which the lives of the two overlap each other is thus extended. the author of _supernatural religion_ very excusably adopts the received date of polycarp's martyrdom, being unaware, as it would seem, of these recent investigations. in this account of polycarp, i have assumed the genuineness of the epistle ascribed to him; but the author of _supernatural religion_ has taken his side with those writers who condemn it as spurious, and i am therefore obliged to give reasons for this confidence. so far as regards external testimony, it must be confessed that the epistle of polycarp presents itself with credentials of exceptional value. the instances are very rare indeed where a work of antiquity can claim the direct testimony of a pupil of the writer to whom it is ascribed. the statement of irenæus respecting the authorship of this epistle is explicit; and indeed, as the reference is not denied either by the author of _supernatural religion_ or by other critics, like lipsius and hilgenfeld, who nevertheless condemn the epistle as spurious, i am saved all trouble in establishing its adequacy. our author indeed is content to set it aside, because 'the testimony of irenæus is not ... entitled to much weight, inasmuch as his intercourse with polycarp was evidently confined to a short period of his extreme youth, and we have no reason to suppose that he had any subsequent communication with him.' [ : ] i do not see how the notice of irenæus justifies the statement that the period was short; but the passage has been given above, and the reader may judge for himself. nor does it seem probable, considering that the communications between asia minor and southern gaul were close and frequent, that the pupil should altogether have lost sight of the master whom he revered, when he migrated to his new and distant home in the west. but, even though all this be granted, the fact still remains, that the testimony is exceptionally good and would in ordinary cases be regarded as quite decisive. i do not say that it is impossible irenæus could have been mistaken; there is always risk of error in human testimony; but i maintain that, unless we are required to apply a wholly different standard of evidence here from that which is held satisfactory in other cases, we approach this epistle with a very strong guarantee of its authenticity, which can only be invalidated by solid and convincing proofs, and against which hypothetical combinations and ingenious surmises are powerless [ : ]. whether the objections adduced by the impugners of this epistle are of this character, the reader will see presently. from the external we turn to the internal evidence. we are asked to believe that this letter was forged on the confines of the age of irenæus and clement of alexandria. but can anything be more unlike the ecclesiastical literature of this later generation, whether we regard the use of the new testament, or the notices of ecclesiastical order, or the statements of theological doctrine? the evangelical quotations are still given (as in clement of rome) with the formula, 'the lord said;' the passages from the apostolic epistles are still, for the most part, indirect and anonymous. though two or three chapters are devoted to injunctions respecting the ministry of the church, there is not an allusion to episcopacy from beginning to end. though the writer's ideas of the person of christ practically leave nothing to be desired, yet these ideas are still held in solution, and have not yet crystallized into the dogmatic forms which characterize the later generation. and from first to last this epistle is silent upon those questions which interested the church in the second half of the second century. of montanism, of the paschal controversy, of the developed gnostic heresies of this period, it says nothing. a supposed reference to marcion i shall have to discuss presently. for the moment it is sufficient to say that an allusion so vague and pointless as this would be must certainly have missed its aim. but this argument from internal evidence gains strength when considered from another point of view. the only intelligible theory--indeed, so far as i remember, the only attempt at a theory--offered to account for this epistle by those who deny its genuineness or its integrity, connects it closely with the ignatian letters. if forged, it was forged by the same hand which wrote the seven vossian epistles; if interpolated, it was interpolated by the person who expanded the three genuine epistles into the seven. according to either hypothesis, the object was to recommend the ignatian forgery on the authority of a great dame; the motive betrays itself in the thirteenth chapter, where polycarp is represented as sending several of the ignatian epistles to the philippians along with his own letter. this theory is at all events intelligible; and, so far as i can see, it is the only rational theory of which the case admits. let us ask then, whether there is any improbability in the circumstances, as here represented. ignatius had stayed at philippi on his way to martyrdom; the philippians had been deeply impressed by their intercourse with him; writing to polycarp afterwards, they had requested him to send them a copy of the martyr's letter or letters to him; he complies with the request, and appends also copies of other letters written by ignatius, which he happened to have in his possession. is this at all unnatural? suppose on the other hand, that the letter of polycarp had contained no such reference to ignatius and his epistles, would it not have been regarded as a highly suspicious circumstance, that, writing to the philippians so soon after ignatius had visited both churches, polycarp should have said nothing about so remarkable a man? when i see how this argument from silence is worked in other cases, i cannot doubt that it would have been plied here as a formidable objection either to the truth of the ignatian story, or to the genuineness of polycarp's epistle, or to both. my conclusion is that this notice proves nothing either way, when it stands alone. if the other contents of the polycarpian epistle are questionable, then it enforces our misgivings. if not, then this use of the notice is only another illustration of the over-suspicious temperament of modern criticism, which, as i ventured to suggest in an earlier paper, must be as fatal to calm and reasonable judgment in matters of early christian history, as it is manifestly in matters of common life. the question therefore is narrowed to this issue, whether the epistle of polycarp bears evidence in its style and diction or in its modes of thought or in any other way, that it was written by the same hand which penned the ignatian letters. and here i venture to say that, however we test these documents, the contrast is very striking; more striking in fact than we should have expected to find between two christian writers who wrote about the same time and were personally acquainted with each other. i will apply some of these tests. . the stress which ignatius lays on episcopacy as the keystone of ecclesiastical order and the guarantee of theological orthodoxy, is well known. indeed it is often supposed that the ignatian letters were written for this express purpose. in polycarp's epistle on the other hand, as i have already said, there is no mention of episcopacy. he speaks at length about the duties of the presbyters, of the deacons, of the widows, and others, but the bishop is entirely ignored. more especially he directs the younger men to be obedient to 'the presbyters and deacons, as to god and christ,' but nothing is said about obedience to the bishop [ : ]. at a later point he has occasion to speak of an offence committed by one valens, a presbyter, but here again there is the same silence. all this is quite intelligible, if the letter is genuine, on the supposition either that there was a vacancy in the philippian bishopric at this time, or, as seems more probable, that the ecclesiastical organization there was not yet fully developed; but it is, so far as i can see, quite inconceivable that a forger whose object was to recommend episcopacy should have pictured a state of things so damaging to his main purpose. the supposed forger indeed shows himself throughout quite indifferent on this subject. there is every reason for believing that polycarp was bishop of smyrna at this time; yet in the heading of the letter he does not assert his title, but writes merely, 'polycarp and the presbyters with him.' . if we turn from ecclesiastical organization to doctrinal statement, the contrast still remains. we meet with no such strong expressions as are found in the ignatian letters; polycarp, never speaks of 'the blood of god,' 'the passion of my god,' 'jesus christ our god,' and the like. even in the commoner modes of designating our lord, a difference is perceptible. thus the favourite mode of expression with ignatius is 'jesus christ' simply, which occurs nearly a hundred times; whereas in polycarp it is only found twice (one passage being a quotation). on the other hand, the usual expression in polycarp is 'our lord jesus christ,' which apparently occurs only twice in the ignatian epistles, and in both instances with various readings. again the combination 'god and christ,' occurring three times in polycarp, does not appear once in the ignatian letters [ : ]. . the divergence of the two writers as regards scriptural quotations is still more remarkable. though the seven ignatian letters are together at least five times as long as the epistle of polycarp, the quotations from the apostolic epistles in the latter are many times more numerous, as well as more precise, than in the former. whole passages in polycarp are made up of such quotations strung together, while in ignatius they are very rare, being for the most part epigrammatic adaptations and isolated coincidences of language or thought. nor indeed is their range coextensive. thus the epistle of polycarp, as i pointed out in a former article [ : ], is pervaded with the language of st peter's first epistle, but in the ignatian letters there is no trace of its use [ : ]. . but this divergence only forms part of a still broader and more decisive contrast. the profuseness of quotation in polycarp's epistle arises from a want of originality. the writer reproduces the thoughts and words of others, because his mind is essentially receptive and not creative. he is altogether wanting in independence of thought. on the other hand, the ignatian letters are remarkable for their individuality. of all early christian writings they are pre-eminent in this respect. they are full of idiomatic expressions, quaint images, unexpected turns of thought and language. they exhibit their characteristic ideas, which obviously have a high value for the writer, for he recurs to them again and again, but which the reader often finds it extremely difficult to grasp, owing to their singularity. i venture to think that any one who will carefully consider these contrasts--more especially the last, as extending over the whole field--must be struck with the impossibility of the theory which makes this letter part of the assumed ignatian forgeries. this hypothesis requires us to believe that a very uncritical age produced a literary fiction, which, for subtlety and naturalness of execution, leaves the most skilful forgeries of the nineteenth century far behind. and the hypothesis of interpolation is encumbered with difficulties of the same kind, and hardly less considerable. this hypothesis was shaped and developed by ritschl [ : ], whose theory has been accepted by some later writers. he supposes that the greater part of the epistle is the genuine production of the person whose name it bears, written however, not immediately after the death of ignatius, but in the later years of polycarp's long life. the three passages which relate to ignatius, together with other parts which he defines, he supposes to have been interpolated by the same forger who amplified the three genuine letters of the martyr of antioch into the seven of the vossian collection. but if any one will take the passages which ritschl has struck out as interpolated, he will find that the general style is the same; that individual expressions, more especially theological expressions, are the same; that the quotations are from the same range of books, as in the other parts, extending even to coincidences of expression with the epistle of clement of rome; and that altogether there is nothing to separate one part from another, except the _a priori_ assumption that the references to ignatius must be unhistorical. i do not know whether these facts have been pointed out before, and i cannot do more here than hint at lines of investigation which any one may follow up for himself. but when the phenomena are fully recognized, i venture to think that the difficulties in ritschl's theory will be felt to be many times greater than those which it is framed to remove. of the general character of the epistle, as affecting the question of its genuineness, the author of _supernatural religion_ has said nothing. but he has reproduced special objections which have been urged by previous writers; and to these i wish to call attention, because they are very good, and not unfavourable, illustrations of the style of criticism which is in vogue with the negative school. . our author writes in the first place:-- we have just seen that the martyr-journey of ignatius to rome is, for cogent reasons, declared to be wholly fabulous, and the epistles purporting to be written during that journey must be held to be spurious. the epistle of polycarp, however, not only refers to the martyr-journey (c. ix), but to the ignatian epistles which are inauthentic (c. xiii), and the manifest inference is that it also is spurious. of the fabulous character of the martyr-journey i have already disposed in my previous article on the ignatian letters [ : ]. for the present i reserve what i have to say concerning the assumed reference to the 'inauthentic' epistles, as this objection will reappear again. . our author on a later page urges that-- in the epistle itself, there are many anachronisms. in ch. ix the 'blessed ignatius' is referred to as already a considerable time dead, and he is held up with zosimus and rufus, and also with paul and the rest of the apostles, as examples of patience: men who have not run in vain, but are with the lord; but in ch. xiii he is spoken of as living, and information is requested regarding him, 'and those who are with him.' to this objection i had already supplied the answer [ : ] which has been given many times before, and which, as it seemed to me, the author ought in fairness to have noticed. i had pointed out that we have only the latin version here, and that the present tense is obviously due to the translator. the original would naturally be [greek: tôn sun autô], which the translator, being obliged to supply a substantive verb, has carelessly rendered 'his qui cum eo _sunt_.' if any one will consider what has been just said about the general character of the epistle, he will see that this is the only reasonable explanation of the fact, whether we regard the work as genuine or not. if it is not genuine, the forger has executed his task with consummate skill and appreciation; and yet here he is charged with a piece of bungling which a schoolboy would have avoided. it is not merely an anachronism, but a self-contradiction of the most patent kind. the writer, on this hypothesis, has not made up his mind whether ignatius is or is not supposed to be dead at the time, and he represents the fact differently in two different parts [ : ]. but our author apparently is quite unaware that [greek: hoi sun autô] might mean equally well, 'those who _were_ with him,' and those who _are_ with him.' at least i cannot attach any other meaning to his reply, in which he retorts upon me my own words used elsewhere, and speaks of my argument as being wrecked upon this rock of grammar.' [ : ] if so, i can only refer him to thucydides or any greek historian, where he will find scores of similar instances. i need hardly say that the expression itself is quite neutral as regards time, meaning nothing more than 'his companions,' and that the tense must be supplied according to the context or the known circumstances of the case. but i am not sorry that our author has fallen into this error, for it has led me to investigate the usage of polycarp and his translator, and has thus elicited the following facts:--( ) unless he departed from his ordinary usage, polycarp would have employed the short expression [greek: hoi sun autô] or [greek: hoi met' autou] in such a case. thus he has [greek: ou sun autô] in the opening paragraph, and [greek: tois ex humôn] in c. , with other similar distances. ( ) the translator, if he had the words [greek: tois sun autô] before him, would almost certainly supply the substantive verb, as he has done in the opening, 'qui cum eo _sunt_ presbyteri;' in c. , 'illis qui tunc _erant_ hominibus,' and 'quae _est_ in deo;' in c. , 'qui ex vobis _sunt_;' and probably also in c. , 'qui _sunt_ sub coelo' (the greek is wanting in this last passage). ( ) the translator, in supplying the verb, was as likely as not to give the wrong tense. in fact, in the only other passage in the epistle where it was possible to make a mistake, he has gone wrong on this very point; he has translated [greek: hên kai eidete ... en allois tois ex humôn] mechanically by a present tense, 'quam et vidistis ... in aliis qui ex vobis _sunt_,' though the persons are mentioned in connection with st ignatius and st paul, and though it is distinctly stated immediately afterwards that they _all_ were dead, having, as we may infer from the context, ended their life by martyrdom. in fact, he has made the very same blunder which i ascribe to him here. this objection therefore may be set aside for ever. but the notices which i have been considering suggest another reflection. is the historical position which the writer of this letter takes up at all like the invention of a forger? would he have thought of placing himself at the moment of time when ignatius is supposed to have been martyred, but when the report of the circumstances had not yet reached smyrna? if he had chosen this moment, would he not have made it clear, instead of leaving his readers to infer it by piecing together notices which are scattered through the epistle--notices moreover, which, though entirely consistent with each other, are so far from obvious that his translator has been led astray by them, and that modern critics have woven out of them these entanglements which it has taken me so much time to unravel? . but our author proceeds:-- moreover, although thus spoken of as alive, the writer already knows of his epistles, and refers, in the plural, to those written by him 'to us, and all the rest which we have by us.' the reference here, it will be observed, is not only to the epistles to the smyrnæans and to polycarp himself, but to other spurious epistles which are not included in the syriac version. i have already shown that ignatius is not spoken of as alive; but, if he had been alive, i do not see why polycarp should not have known of his epistles, seeing that of the seven vossian letters four claim to have been written from smyrna, when the saint was in some sense polycarp's guest, and two to have been written to smyrna. therefore of the seven epistles, supposing them to be genuine, polycarp would almost necessarily have been acquainted with six. by the 'other spurious epistles,' which the epistle of polycarp is supposed to recognize, i presume that our author means the four of the vossian collection, which have no place in the syriac. if so, i would reply that, supposing the three syriac epistles to represent the only genuine letters _extant_, these epistles themselves bear testimony to the fact that ignatius wrote several others besides; for in one passage in these syriac epistles (_rom._ ) the martyr says, 'i write to _all the churches_ and charge _all men_.' and again, when polycarp writes, [greek: tas epistolas ignatious tas pemphtheisas hêmin hup' autou] it is sufficient to advert to the fact that, like the latin _epistolæ_, the plural [greek: epistolai] is frequently used convertibly with the singular [greek: epistolê] for a single letter [ : ], and indeed appears to be so used in an earlier passage by polycarp himself of st paul's epistle to the philippians [ : ]; so that the notice is satisfied by the single epistle to polycarp which is included in the syriac letters, and does not necessarily imply also the epistle to the smyrnæans which has no place there. but of this passage generally i would say, that though it may be a question whether the language does not favour the genuineness of the vossian letters, as against the curetonian, it cannot be taken to impugn the genuineness of the epistle of polycarp itself, authenticated, as this epistle is, by irenæus, and exhibiting, as we have seen, every mark of genuineness in itself. . our author then continues:-- dallæus pointed out long ago, that ch. xiii abruptly interrupts the conclusion of the epistle. in what sense this chapter can be said to interrupt the conclusion it is difficult to say. it occupies exactly the place which would naturally be assigned to such personal matters; for it follows upon the main purport of the letter, while it immediately precedes the recommendation of the bearer and the final salutation. on the same showing the conclusion of the greater number of st paul's epistles is 'abruptly interrupted.' . the next argument is of another kind:-- the writer vehemently denounces, as already widely spread, the gnostic heresy and other forms of false doctrine which did not exist until the time of marcion, to whom and to whose followers he refers in unmistakable terms. an expression is used in ch. vii in speaking of these heretics, which polycarp is reported by irenæus to have actually applied to marcion in person, during his stay in rome about a.d. . he is said to have called marcion 'the first-born of satan,' ([greek: prôtotokos tou satana]), and the same term is employed in this epistle with regard to every one who holds such false doctrines. the development of these heresies, therefore, implies a date for the composition of the epistle, at earliest, after the middle of the second century, a date which is further confirmed by other circumstances. i will take the latter part of this statement first, correcting however one or two errors of detail. m. waddington's investigations, to which i have already alluded [ : ], oblige us to place polycarp's visit to rome some few years before , since his death is fixed at a.d. or . again, irenæus does not state that the interview between polycarp and marcion took place at rome. it may have taken place there, but it may have occurred at an earlier date in asia minor, of which region marcion was a native [ : ]. these however are not very important matters. the point of the indictment lies in the fact that about a.d. , earlier or later, polycarp is reported to have applied the expression 'first-born of satan' to marcion, while in the epistle, purporting to have been written many years before, he appears as using this same expression of other gnostic teachers. this argument is a good illustration of the reasons which satisfy even men like lipsius and hilgenfeld. to any ordinary judicial mind, i imagine, this coincidence, so far as it goes, would appear to point to polycarp as the author of the epistle; for the two facts come to us on independent authority--the one from oral tradition through irenæus, the other in a written document older than irenæus. or, if the one statement arose out of the other, the converse relation of that which this hypothesis assumes is much more probable. irenæus, as he tells us in the context, was acquainted with the epistle, and it is quite possible that in repeating the story of polycarp's interview with marcion he inadvertently imported into it the expression which he had read in the epistle. but the independence of the two is far more probable. as a fact, men do repeat the same expressions again and again, and this throughout long periods of their lives. such forms of speech arise out of their idiosyncrasies, and so become part of them. this is a matter of common experience, and in the case of polycarp we happen to be informed incidentally that he had a habit of repeating favourite expressions. irenæus, in a passage already quoted, mentions his exclamation, 'o good god,' as one of these [ : ]. our author however declares that the passage in the epistle which contains this expression is directly aimed at marcion and his followers; and, inasmuch as marcion can hardly have promulgated his heresy before a.d. - at the earliest, this fact, if it be a fact, condemns as spurious a work which professes to have been written some years before. but is there anything really characteristic of marcion in the description? our author does not explain himself, nor can i find anything which really justifies the statement in the writers to whom i am referred in his footnote. i turn therefore to the words themselves-- for every one who doth not confess that jesus christ has come in the flesh, is antichrist; and whosoever doth not confess the testimony of the cross, is of the devil; and whosoever perverteth the oracles of the lord to (serve) his own lusts, and saith that there is neither resurrection nor judgment, this man is a first-born of satan [ : ]. to illustrate the relation of these denunciations to marcionite doctrine, i will suppose a parallel. i take up a book written by a nonconformist, and i find in it an attack (i am not concerned with the truth or falsehood of the opinions attacked) on the doctrines of episcopal succession, of sacramental grace, of baptismal regeneration, and the like. it is wholly silent about claims to papal domination, about infallibility, about purgatory and indulgences, about the worship of the virgin or of the saints. am i justified in concluding that the writer is 'referring in unmistakable terms' to the church of rome, because the church of rome, in common with the majority of churches, holds the doctrines attacked? would not any reasonable man draw the very opposite inference, and conclude that the writer cannot mean the church of rome, because there is absolute silence about the distinctive tenets of that church? so it is here. marcion, in common with almost all gnostic sects, held some views which are here attacked. but marcion had also doctrines of his own, sharp, trenchant, and startling. marcion taught that the god of the new testament was a distinct being from the god of the old, whom he identified with the god of nature; that these two gods were not only distinct but antagonistic; that there was an irreconcilable, internecine feud between them; and that jesus christ came from the good god to rescue men from the god of nature and of the jews. this was the head and front of his offending; and consequently a common charge against him with orthodox writers is that he 'blasphemes god.' [ : ] of this there is not a hint in polycarp's denunciation. again, marcion rejected the authority of the twelve, denouncing them as false apostles, and he confined his canon to st paul's epistles and to a pauline gospel. again, marcion prohibited marriage, and even refused to baptize married persons. on these points also polycarp is silent. but indeed the case against this hypothesis is much stronger than would appear from the illustration which i have used. not only is there nothing specially characteristic of marcion in the heresy or heresies denounced by polycarp, not only were the doctrines condemned held by divers other teachers besides, but some of the charges are quite inapplicable to him. the passage in question denounces three forms of heretical teaching, which may or may not have been combined in one sect. of these the first, 'whosoever doth not confess that jesus christ has come in the flesh,' is capable of many interpretations. it way refer, for instance, to the separationism of cerinthus, who maintained that the spiritual being christ descended on the man jesus after the baptism, and left him before the crucifixion, so that, while jesus suffered, christ remained impassible [ : ]; or it may describe the pure docetism, which maintained that our lord's body was a mere phantom body, so that his birth and life and death alike were only apparent, and not real [ : ]; or it may have some reference different from either. i cannot myself doubt that the expression is borrowed from the first epistle of st john, and there it seems to refer to cerinthus, the contemporary of the apostle [ : ]; but polycarp may have used it with a much wider reference. under any circumstances, though it would no doubt apply to marcion, who held strong docetic views, it would apply to almost every sect of gnostics besides. the same may be said of the second position attacked, 'whosoever doth not confess the testimony of the cross,' which might include not only divers gnostic sects, but many others as well. but the case is wholly different with the third, 'whosoever perverteth the oracles of the lord to (serve) his own lusts, and saith that there is neither resurrection nor judgment.' to this type of error, and this only, the description 'first-born of satan' is applied in the text, and of this i venture to say that it is altogether inapplicable to marcion. no doubt marcion, like every other heretical teacher of the second century, or indeed of any century, did 'pervert the oracles of the lord' by his tortuous interpretations; but he did not pervert them 'to his own lusts.' the high moral character of marcion was unimpeachable, and is recognized by the orthodox writers of the second century; the worst charge which they bring against him is disappointed ambition. he was an ascetic of the most uncompromising and rigorous type. i cannot but regard it as a significant fact that when scholten wishes to fasten this denunciation on marcion, he stops short at 'pervert the oracles of the lord,' and takes no account of the concluding words 'to his own lusts,' though these contain the very sting of the accusation [ : ]. obviously the allusion here is to that antinomian license which many early gnostic teachers managed to extract from the spiritual teaching of the gospel. we find germs of this immoral doctrine a full half century before the professed date of polycarp's epistle, in the incipient gnosticism which st paul rebukes at corinth [ : ]. we have still clearer indications of it in the pastoral epistles; and when we reach the epoch of the apocalypse, which our author himself places somewhere in the year or , the evil is almost full blown [ : ]. this interpretation becomes more evident when we consider the expression in the light of the accompanying clause, where the same persons are described as saying that there was 'no resurrection nor judgment.' this can hardly mean anything else than that they denied the doctrine of a future retribution, and so broke loose from the moral restraints imposed by fear of consequences. here again, they had their forerunners in those licentious speculators belonging to the christian community at corinth who maintained that 'there is no resurrection of the dead,' [ : ] and whose epicurean lives were a logical consequence of their epicurean doctrine. and here, too, the pastoral epistles supply a pertinent illustration. if we are at a loss to conceive how they could have extracted such a doctrine out of 'the oracles of the lord,' the difficulty is explained by the parallel case of hymenæus and philetus, who taught that 'the resurrection had already taken place,' [ : ] or in other words, that all such terms must be understood in a metaphorical sense as applying to the spiritual change, the new birth or resuscitation of the believer in the present world'. thus everything hangs together. but such teaching is altogether foreign to marcion. he did indeed deny the resurrection of the flesh, and the future body of the redeemed [ : ]. this was a necessary tenet of all gnostics, who held the inherent malignity of matter. in this sense only he denied a resurrection; and he did not deny a judgment at all. holding, like the catholic christian, that men would be rewarded or punished hereafter according to their deeds in this life, he was obliged to recognize a judgment in some form or other. his supreme god indeed, whom he represented as pure beneficence, could not be a judge or an avenger, but he got over the difficulty by assigning the work of judging and punishing to the demiurge [ : ]. to revert to my illustration, this is as though our nonconformist writer threw out a charge of erastianism against the anonymous body of christians whom he was attacking, and whom nevertheless it was sought to identify with the church of rome. . the next argument is of a wholly different kind:-- the writer evidently assumes a position in the church to which polycarp could only have attained in the latter part of his life, and of which we first have evidence about a.d. , when he was deputed to rome for the paschal discussion. this argument will not appeal to englishmen with any power, when they remember that the ablest and most powerful prime minister whom constitutional england has seen assumed the reins of government at the early age of twenty-four. but polycarp was not a young man at this time. m. waddington's investigations here again stand us in good stead. if we take the earlier date of the martyrdom of ignatius, polycarp was now in his fortieth year at least; if the later date, he was close upon fifty. he had been a disciple, apparently a favourite disciple, of the aged apostle st john. he was specially commended by ignatius, who doubtless had spoken of him to the philippians. history does not point to any person after the death of ignatius whose reputation stood nearly so high among his contemporaries. so far as any inference can be drawn from silence, he was now the one prominent man in the church. what wonder then that the philippians should have asked him to write to them? to this request, i suppose, our author refers when he speaks of the writer 'assuming a position in the church;' for there is nothing else to justify it. on his own part polycarp writes with singular modesty. he associates his presbyters with himself in the opening address; he says that he should not have ventured to write as he does, if he had not received a request from the philippians; he even deprecates any assumption of superiority [ : ]. . but our author continues:-- and throughout, the epistle depicts the developed organization of that period. this argument must, i think, strike any one who has read the epistle as surprising. there is, as i have said already, no reference to episcopacy from beginning to end [ : ]; and in this respect it presents the strongest contrast to writings of the age of irenæus, to which it is here supposed to belong. irenæus and his contemporaries are so familiar with episcopacy as a traditional institution, that they are not aware of any period when it was not universal; and more especially when they are dealing with heretics, they appeal to the episcopate as the depositary of the orthodox and apostolic tradition in matters of doctrine and practice. the absence of all such language in polycarp's epistle is a strong testimony to its early date. . lastly, another argument is alleged:-- hilgenfeld has pointed out another indication of the same date, in the injunction 'pray for the kings' (orate pro regibus), which, in peter ii. , is 'honour the king' ([greek: ton basilea timate]), which accords with the period after antoninus pius had elevated marcus aurelius to joint sovereignty (a.d. ), or better still, with that in which marcus aurelius appointed lucius verus his colleague, a.d. . here we have only to ask why _orate pro regibus_ should be translated 'pray for _the_ kings,' rather than 'pray for kings,' and the ghost of a divided sovereignty vanishes before the spell. there is no reason whatever for supposing that the expression has anything more than a general reference. even if the words had stood in the original [greek: huper tôn basileôn] and not [greek: huper basileôn], the presence of the article would not, according to ordinary greek usage, necessarily limit the reference to any particular sovereigns. but there is very good reason for believing that the definite article had no place in the original. the writer of this epistle elsewhere shows acquaintance with the first epistle to timothy. thus in one place (§ ), he combines two passages which occur in close proximity in that epistle; 'the love of money is the source of all troubles ( tim. vi. ): knowing therefore that we brought nothing into the world, neither are we able to carry anything out ( tim. vi. ), let us arm ourselves' etc. hence it becomes highly probable that he has derived this injunction also from the same epistle; 'i exhort first of all, that supplications, prayers, intercessions, thanksgivings, be made for all men; for kings, and for all that are in authority' (ii. ) [ : ], where it is [greek: huper basileôn]. after his manner, polycarp combines this with other expressions that he finds in the evangelical and apostolical writings (ephes. vi. , matt. v. , phil. iii. ), and gives the widest possible range to his injunction; 'pray for all the saints; pray also for kings and potentates and princes, and for them that persecute and hate you, and for the enemies of the cross, etc.' we may therefore bid farewell to marcus aurelius and lucius verus. our author at the outset speaks of 'some critics who affirm the authenticity of the epistle attributed to him [polycarp], but who certainly do not justify their conclusion by any arguments nor attempt to refute adverse reasons.' he himself passes over in silence all answers which have been given to the objections alleged by him. doubtless he considered them unworthy of notice. i have endeavoured to supply this lacuna in his work; and the reader will judge for himself on which side the weight of argument lies. the author of _supernatural religion_ in his reply, which appeared in the january number of the _fortnightly review_, pointed out two inaccuracies in my first article. in adverting to his silence respecting the occurrence of the logos in the apocalypse [ : ], i ought to have confined my remark to the portion of his work in which he is contrasting the doctrinal teaching of this book with that of the apocalypse, where especially some mention of it was to be expected. he has elsewhere alluded, as his references show, to the occurrence of the term in the apocalypse. the other point relates to the passage in which he charges dr westcott with insinuating in an underhand way what he knew not to be true respecting basilides. while commenting on his omission of dr westcott's inverted commas in the extract which i gave [ : ], i overlooked the fact that he had just before quoted dr westcott's text correctly, as it stands in dr westcott's book. though i find it still more difficult to understand how he could have brought this most unwarrantable charge when the fact of dr westcott's inverted commas was distinctly before him, i am not the less bound to plead guilty of an oversight, which i think i can explain to myself but which i shall not attempt to excuse, and to accept the retort of looseness, which he throws back upon me. for the rest, i could not desire a more complete vindication of my criticisms than that which is furnished by the author's reply. i cannot, for instance, take any blame to myself for not foreseeing the misprints which our author pleads, because they must have baffled far higher powers of divination than mine. thus i found [ : ] the author stating that the fourth evangelist 'only once distinguishes john the baptist by the appellation [greek: ho baptistês],' [ : ] whereas, as a matter of fact, he never does so; and comparing the whole sentence with a passage in credner [ : ], to which the author refers in his footnote, i found that it presented a close parallel, as the reader will see:-- während der verfasser die | he [the author] _only once_ beiden apostel gleiches namens, | distinguishes john the baptist judas, sorgfältig unterscheidet | by the appellation [greek: ho (vergl. , ), den ap. thomas | baptistês], whilst he carefully näher bezeichnet ( , ; , ; | distinguishes the two disciples , ) und den apostel petrus, | of the name of judas, and always nur simon petrus, oder petrus, | speaks of the apostle peter as nie simon allein nennt (s. § , | 'simon peter,' or 'peter,' but nr. .), hat er es nicht für nöthig | rarely as 'simon' only. gefunden, den täufer johannes | von dem gleichnamigen apostel | johannes _auch nur ein einziges | mal_ durch den zusatz [greek: ho | baptistês] zu unterscheiden | ( , . . . , etc.). | seeing that the two passages corresponded so closely [ : ] the one to the other (the clauses however being transposed), i imagined that i had traced his error to its source in the correspondence of the two particular expressions which i have italicized, and that he must have stumbled over credner's 'auch nur ein einziges mal.' he has more than once gone wrong elsewhere in matters of fact relating to the new testament. thus he has stated that the saying about the first being last and the last first occurs in st matthew alone of the synoptic gospels, though it appears also in st mark (x. ) and (with an unimportant variation) in st luke (xiii. ) [ : ]. thus again, he can remember 'no instance whatever' where a new testament writer 'claims to have himself performed a miracle [ : ],' though st paul twice speaks of his exercising this power as a recognized and patent fact [ : ]. this explanation of his mistake therefore seemed to me to be tolerably evident. i could not have foreseen that, where the author wrote '_never_ once,' the printer printed '_only_ once.' this error runs through all the four editions. but the other clerical error which our author pleads was still further removed from the possibility of detection. i had called attention [ : ] to the fact that, in the earlier part of his book, our author had written respecting the descent of the angel at bethesda (john v. , )-- this passage is not found in the older mss of the fourth gospel, and it was probably a later interpolation [ : ]. whereas towards the end of his second volume he had declared that the passage was genuine; and i had pointed out that the last words stood 'certainly a late interpolation' in the first edition, so that the passage had undergone revision, while yet the contradiction had been suffered to remain. in justice to our author, i will give his reply in his own words:-- the words 'it is argued that' were accidentally omitted from vol. i. p. , line , and the sentence should read, 'and it is argued that it was probably a later interpolation [ : ].' to this the following note is appended:-- i altered 'certainly' to 'probably' in the second edition, as dr lightfoot points out, in order to avoid the possibility of exaggeration, but my mind was so impressed with the certainty that i had clearly shown i was merely, for the sake of fairness, reporting the critical judgment of others, that i did not perceive the absence of the words given above. this omission runs through four editions. but more perplexing still is the author's use of language. the reader will already have heard enough of the passage in irenæus, where this father quotes some earlier authority or authorities who refer to the fourth gospel; but i am compelled to allude to it again. in my first article i had accused the author of ignoring the distinction between the infinitive and indicative--between the oblique and direct narrative--and maintaining, in defiance of grammar, that the words might very well be irenæus' own [ : ]. in my second article i pointed out that whole sentences were tacitly altered or re-written or omitted in the fourth edition, and that (as i unhesitatingly inferred) he had found out his mistake [ : ]. i have read over the passage carefully again in its earlier form in the light of the explanation which the author gives in his reply, and i cannot put any different interpretation on his language. it seems to me distinctly to aim at proving two things: ( ) that there is no reason for thinking that the passage is oblique at all, or that irenæus is giving anything else besides his own opinion (pp. - ); and ( ) that, even supposing it to be oblique, there is no ground for identifying the authorities quoted with the presbyters of papias (pp. - ). with this last question i have not concerned myself hitherto. it will come under discussion in a later article, when i shall have occasion to treat of papias [ : ]. it was to the first point alone that my remarks referred. the author however says in his reply that his meaning was the same throughout, that he knew all the while irenæus must be quoting from some one else, and that he 'did what was possible to attract attention to the actual indirect construction.' [ : ] why then did he translate the oblique construction as if it were direct? why, after quoting as parallels a number of direct sentences in irenæus containing quotations, did he add, 'these are all direct quotations by irenæus, as is most certainly that which we are now considering, which is introduced in precisely the same way?' [ : ] why in his fourth edition, in which he first introduces a recognition of the oblique construction, did he withdraw all these supposed parallels, which, if his opinion was unchanged, still remained as good for his purpose (whatever that purpose might be) as they had ever been? further discussion on this point would obviously be wasted. i can only ask any reader who is interested in this matter to refer to the book itself, and more especially to compare the fourth [ : ] with the earlier editions, that he may judge for himself whether any other interpretation, except that which i and others besides myself [ : ] have put upon his words, was natural. the author has declared his meaning, but i could only judge by his language. i now proceed to notice some other of the chief points in our author's reply; and perhaps it may be convenient in doing so to follow the order adopted in my original article to which it is a rejoinder. . in the first place then, the author is annoyed that i spoke disparagingly of his scholarship [ : ]; and in reply he says that the criticism in which i have indulged 'scarcely rises above the correction of an exercise or the conjugation of a verb.' [ : ] i cannot help thinking this language unfortunate from his own point of view; but let that pass. if the reader will have the goodness to refer back to my article, he will find that, so far from occupying the main part of it on points of scholarship which have no bearing on the questions under discussion, as the author seems to hint, i have taken up about two-thirds of a page only [ : ] with such matters. in the other instances which i have selected, his errors directly affect the argument for the time being at some vital point. it would have been possible to multiply examples, if examples had been needed. i might have quoted, for instance, such renderings as [greek: katabas peripateitô] 'come down let him walk about [ : ];' or [greek: iousta tis en hêmin esti surophoinikissa, to genos chananitis, hês to thugatrion k.t.l.] 'justa, who is amongst us, a syrophoenician, a canaanite by race, whose daughter' etc. [ : ] both these renderings survive to the fourth edition. i must not however pass over the line of defence which our author takes, though only a few words will be necessary. i do not see that he has gained anything by sheltering himself behind others, when he is obviously in the wrong. not a legion of tischendorfs, for instance, can make [greek: epangellomenon] signify 'has promised,' [ : ] though it is due to tischendorf to add that notwithstanding his loose translation he has seen through the meaning of origen's words, and has not fastened an error upon himself by a false interpretation, as our author has done. and in other cases, where our author takes upon himself the responsibility of his renderings, his explanations are more significant than the renderings themselves. scholars will judge whether a scholar, having translated _quem caederet_ [ : ], 'whom he mutilates,' could have brought himself to defend it as a 'paraphrase' [ : ]. i am not at all afraid that dispassionate judges hereafter will charge me with having unduly depreciated his scholarship. but our author evidently thinks that the point was not worth establishing at all. i cannot agree with him. i feel sure that, if he had been dealing with some indifferent matter, as for instance some question of classical literature, he would not have received any more lenient treatment from independent reviewers; and i do not see why the greater importance of the subject should be pleaded as a claim for immunity from critical examination. it does not seem to me to be a light matter that an author assuming, as the author of _supernatural religion_ does, a tone of lofty superiority over those whom he criticizes, should betray an ignorance of the very grammar of criticism. but in the present case there was an additional reason why attention should be called to these defects. it was necessary to correct a wholly false estimate of the author's scholarship with which reviewers had familiarized the public, and to divest the work of a prestige to which it was not entitled. . in the next place i ventured to dispute the attribute of impartiality with which the work entitled _supernatural religion_ had been credited. and here i would say that my quarrel was much more with the author's reviewers than with the author himself. i can understand how he should omit to entertain the other side of the question with perfect sincerity. it appeared from the book itself, and it has become still more plain from the author's reply, that he regards 'apologists' as persons from whom he has nothing to learn, and with whose arguments therefore he need not for the most part concern himself. but the fact remains that the reader has had an _ex parte_ statement presented to him, while he has been assured that the whole case is laid before him. of this one-sided representation i adduced several instances. to these our author demurs in his reply. as regards polycarp, i believe that the present article has entirely justified my allegation. of papias, hegesippus, and justin, i shall have occasion to speak in subsequent articles. at present it will be sufficient to challenge attention to what dr westcott has written on the last-mentioned writer, and ask readers to judge for themselves whether our author has laid the case impartially before them. several of my examples had reference to the gospel of st. john. of these our author has taken exception more especially to three. as regards the first, i have no complaint to make, because he has quoted my own words, and i am well content that they should tell their own tale. if our author considers the argument 'unsound in itself, and irrelevant to the direct purpose of the work,' [ : ] i venture to think that discerning readers will take a different view. i had directed attention [ : ] to certain passages in the synoptic gospels (matt. xxiii. ; luke xiii. ) as implying other visits to jerusalem which these gospels do not themselves record, and therefore as refuting the hypothesis that our lord's ministry was only of a single year's duration, and was exercised wholly in galilee and the neighbourhood until the closing visit to jerusalem--a hypothesis which rests solely on the arbitrary assumption that the record in the synoptists is complete and continuous. thus the supposed difficulty in st john's narrative on this fundamental point of history disappears. in fact the synoptists give no continuous chronology in the history of our lord's ministry between the baptism and the passion; the incidents were selected in the first instance (we may suppose) for purposes of catechetical instruction, and are massed together sometimes by connection of subject, sometimes (though incidentally) by sequence of time. in st. john, on the other hand, the successive festivals at jerusalem are the vertebræ of the chronological backbone, which is altogether wanting to the account of christ's ministry in the synoptists. we cannot indeed be sure even here that the vertebræ are absolutely continuous; many festivals may have been omitted; the ministry of christ may have extended over a much longer period, as indeed irenæus asserts that it did [ : ]; but the three passovers bear testimony to a duration of between two and three years at the least. the second point has reference to the diction of the fourth gospel, as compared with the apocalypse [ : ]. here i am glad to find that there is less difference of opinion between us than i had imagined. if our author does not greatly differ from luthardt's estimate of the language, neither do i [ : ]. on the other hand, i did not deny, and (so far as i am aware) nobody has denied, that there is a marked difference between the apocalypse and the gospel, in respect of diction; only it is contended that two very potent influences must be taken into account which will explain this difference. in the first place, the subjects of the two books stand widely apart. the apocalyptic purport of the one book necessarily tinges its diction and imagery with a very strong hebraic colouring, which we should not expect to find in a historical narrative. secondly, a wide interval of time separates the two works. the apocalypse was written, according to the view which our author represents 'as universally accepted by all competent critics,' about a.d. , [ : ]. it marks the close of what we may call the _hebraic_ period of st john's life--_i.e._, the period which (so far as we can gather alike from the notices and from the silence of history) he had spent chiefly in the east and among aramaic-speaking peoples. the gospel on the other hand, according to all tradition, dates from the last years of the apostle's life, or, in other words, it was written (or more probably dictated) at the end of the _hellenic_ period, after an interval of twenty or thirty years, during which st john had lived at ephesus, a great centre of greek civilization. our author appears to be astonished that luthardt should describe the 'errors' in the apocalypse as not arising out of ignorance, but as 'intentional emancipations from the rules of grammar.' yet it stands to reason, i think, that this must be so with some of the most glaring examples at all events. a moment's reflection will show that one who could write [greek: apo ho ôn, k.t.l.], 'from he that is,' etc. (rev. i. ), in sheer ignorance that [greek: apo] does not take a nominative case, would be incapable of writing any two or three consecutive verses of the apocalypse. the book, after all allowance made for solecisms, shows a very considerable command of the greek vocabulary, and (what is more important) a familiarity with the intricacies of the very intricate syntax of this language. on the third point, to which our author devotes between three and four pages, more explanation is required. i had remarked [ : ] on the manner in which our author deals with the name 'sychar' in the fourth gospel, and had complained that he only discusses the theory of its identification with shechem, omitting to mention more probable solutions. to this remark i had appended the following note: travellers and 'apologists' alike now more commonly identify sychar with the village bearing the arabic name askar. this fact is not mentioned by our author. he says moreover, 'it is admitted that there was no such place [as sychar [greek: suchar]], and apologetic ingenuity is severely taxed to explain the difficulty.' _this is altogether untrue_. others besides 'apologists' point to passages in the talmud which speak of 'the well of suchar (or sochar, or sichar);' see neubauer, 'la géographie du talmud,' p. sq. our author refers in his note to an article by delitzsch ('zeitschr. f. luth. theol.' , p. sq). _he cannot have read the article, for these talmudic references are its main purport._ our author in his reply quotes this note, and italicizes the passages as they are printed here. i am glad that he has done so, for i wish especially to call attention to the connection between the two. he adds that 'an apology is surely due to the readers of the _contemporary review_,' and, as he implies, to himself, 'for this style of criticism,' to which he says that he is not accustomed [ : ]. i am not sorry that this rejoinder has obliged me to rescue from the obscurity of a footnote a fact of real importance in its bearing on the historical character of the fourth gospel. as for apologizing, i will most certainly apologize, if he wishes it. but i must explain myself first. i am surprised that this demand should be made by the same person who penned certain sentences in _supernatural religion_. i am not a little perplexed to understand what canons of controversial etiquette he would lay down; for, while i have merely accused him, in somewhat blunt language, of great carelessness, he has not scrupled to charge others with 'wilful and deliberate evasion,' with 'unpardonable calculation upon the ignorance of his readers,' with 'a deliberate falsification,' with 'disingenuousness' [ : ] and other grave moral offences of the same kind. now i have been brought up in the belief that offences of this class are incomparably more heinous than the worst scholarship or the grossest inaccuracy; and i am therefore obliged to ask whether he is not imposing far stricter rules on others than he is prepared to observe himself, when he objects to what i have said. nevertheless i will apologize; but i cannot do so without reluctance, for he is asking me to withdraw an explanation which seemed to me to place his mode of proceeding in the most favourable light, and to substitute for it another which i should not have ventured to suggest. when i saw in his text the unqualified statement, 'it is admitted that there was no such place,' [ : ] and found in one of his footnotes on the same page a reference to an article by an eminent hebraist devoted to showing that such a place is mentioned several times in the talmud, i could draw no other conclusion than that he had not read the article in question, or (as i might have added), having read it, had forgotten its contents. the manner in which references are given elsewhere in this work, as i have shown in my article on the ignatian epistles, seemed to justify this inference. his own explanation however is quite different.-- my statement is, that it is admitted that there was no such place as sychar--i ought to have added, 'except by apologists, who never admit anything'--but i thought that in saying, 'and apologetic ingenuity is severely taxed to explain the difficulty,' i had sufficiently excepted apologists, and indicated that many assertions and conjectures are advanced by them for that purpose. certainly this qualifying sentence needed to be added; for no reader could have supposed that the author intended his broad statement to be understood with this all-important reservation. unfortunately however this explanation is not confined to 'apologists.' as i pointed out, it is adopted by m. neubauer also, who (unless i much mistake his position) would altogether disclaim being considered an apologist, but who nevertheless, being an honest man, sets down his honest opinion, without considering whether it will or will not tend to establish the credibility of the evangelist. but after all, the really important question for the reader is not what this or that person thinks on this question, but what are the facts. and here i venture to say that, when our author speaks of 'assertions and conjectures' in reference to delitzsch's article, such language is quite misleading. the points which the talmudical passages quoted by him establish are these:-- ( ) a place called 'suchar,' or 'sychar,' is mentioned in the talmud. our author speaks of 'some vague references in the talmud to a somewhat similar, but not identical, name.' but the fact is, that the word [greek: suchar], if written in hebrew letters, would naturally take one or other of the two forms which we find in the talmud, [hebrew: sukh'r] (suchar) or [hebrew: sykh'r] (sychar). in other words, the transliteration is as exact as it could be. it would no doubt be possible to read the former word 'socher,' and the latter 'sicher,' because the vowels are indeterminate within these limits. but so far as identity was possible, we have it here. ( ) the talmudical passages speak not only of 'sychar,' but of 'ayin-sychar,' _i.e._, 'the well of sychar.' ( ) the 'well of sychar' which they mention is in a corn-growing country. this is clear from the incident which leads to the mention of the place in the two principal talmudical passages where it appears, _baba kamma_ b, _menachoth_ b. it is there stated that on one occasion, when the lands in the neighbourhood of jerusalem were laid waste by war, and no one knew whence the two loaves of the pentecostal offering, the first-fruits of the wheat harvest, could be procured, they were obliged ultimately to bring them from 'the valley of the well of sychar.' now the country which was the scene of the interview with the samaritan woman is remarkable in this respect--'one mass of corn, unbroken by boundary or hedge'[ : ]--as it is described by a modern traveller; and indeed the prospect before him suggests to our lord, as we may well suppose, the image which occurs in the conversation with the disciples immediately following--'lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.' [ : ] it is true that the talmudical passages do not fix the locality of their 'ayin-sychar;' but all the circumstances agree. it was just from such a country as this (neither too near nor too far distant for the notices) that the pentecostal loaves would be likely to be procured in such an emergency. the reader will draw his own conclusions. he will judge for himself whether the unqualified statement, 'it is admitted that there was no such place as sychar,' is or is not misleading. he will form his own opinion whether a writer, who deliberately ignores these facts, because they are brought forward by 'apologists who never admit anything,' is likely to form an impartial judgment. the identification of sychar with askar, to which recent opinion has been tending, is a question of less importance. notwithstanding the difficulty respecting the initial _ain_ in the latter word, an identification which has commended itself to oriental scholars like ewald and delitzsch and neubauer can hardly be pronounced impossible. i venture to suggest that the initial ain of 'askar' may be explained by supposing the word to be a contraction for _ayin-sychar_, the 'well of sychar.' this corruption of the original name into a genuine arabic word would furnish another example of a process which is common where one language is superposed upon another, _e.g._, charter-house for chartreuse. . the third point to which i called attention [ : ] was the author's practice of charging those from whom he disagreed with dishonesty. this seemed to me to be a very grave offence, which deserved to be condemned by all men alike, whatever their opinions might be. and in the present instance i considered that the author was especially bound to abstain from such charges, because he had thought fit to shelter himself (as he was otherwise justified in doing) under an anonyme. moreover, the offence was aggravated by the fact that one of the writers whom he had especially selected for this mode of attack was distinguished for his moderation of tone, and for his generous appreciation of the position and arguments of his adversaries. this is our author's reply-- dr lightfoot says, and says rightly, that 'dr westcott's honour may safely be left to take care of itself.' it would have been much better to have left it to take care of itself, indeed, than trouble it by such advocacy. if anything could check just or generous expression, it would be the tone adopted by dr lightfoot; but nevertheless, i again say, in the most unreserved manner, that neither in this instance, nor in any other, have i had the most distant intention of attributing 'corrupt motives' to a man like dr westcott, whose single-mindedness i recognize, and for whose earnest character i feel genuine respect. the utmost that i have at any time intended to point out is that, utterly possessed as he is by orthodox views in general, and on the canon in particular, he sees facts, i consider, through a dogmatic medium, and unconsciously imparts his own peculiar colouring to statements which should be more impartially made [ : ]. i am well content to bear this blame when i have elicited this explanation. a great wrong had been done, and i wished to see it redressed. but who could have supposed that this was our author's meaning? who could have imagined that he had all along felt a 'genuine respect' for the single-mindedness of one whom he accused of 'discreet reserve,' of 'unworthy suppression of the truth,' of 'clever evasion,' of 'ignorant ingenuity or apologetic partiality,' of 'disingenuousness,' of 'what amounts to falsification,' and the like, and whom in the very passage which has called forth this explanation he had charged with yielding to a 'temptation' which was 'too strong for the apologist,' and 'insinuating to unlearned readers' what he knew to be untrue respecting basilides? this unfortunate use of language, i contend, is no trifling matter where the honour of another is concerned; and, instead of his rebuke, i claim his thanks for enabling him to explain expressions which could only be understood in one way by his readers, and which have so grievously misrepresented his true meaning. i trust also that our author wishes us to interpret the charges which he has brought against tischendorf [ : ] in the same liberal spirit. i certainly consider that tischendorf took an unfortunate step when he deserted his proper work, for which he was eminently fitted, and came forward as an apologist; and, if our author had satisfied himself with attacking the weak points of his apologetic armour, there would have been no ground for complaint, and on some points i should have agreed with him. but i certainly supposed that 'deliberate falsification' meant 'deliberate falsification.' i imagined, as ordinary readers would imagine, that these words involved a charge of conscious dishonesty. i am content to believe now that they were intended to impute to him an unconscious bias. in our author's observations on my criticism of his general argument, there is one point which seems to call for observation. of all my remarks, the one sentence which i should least have expected to incur his displeasure, is the following:-- obviously, if the author has established his conclusions in the first part, the second and third are altogether superfluous [ : ]. i fancied that, in saying this, i was only translating his own opinion into other words. i imagined that he himself wished the second and third parts to be regarded as a work of supererogation. was i altogether without ground for this belief? i turn to the concluding paragraph of the first part, and i find these words:-- those who have formed any adequate conception of the amount of testimony which would be requisite in order to establish the reality of occurrences in violation of the order of nature, which is based upon universal and invariable experience, must recognize that, _even if the earliest asserted origin of our four gospels could be established upon the most irrefragable grounds_, the testimony of the writers--men of like ignorance with their contemporaries, men of like passions with ourselves--_would be utterly incompetent to prove the reality of miracles_ [ : ]. what does this mean, except that even though it should be necessary to concede every point against which the author is contending in the second and third parts, still the belief in the gospel miracles is irrational? is the language which i have used at all stronger than our author's own on this point? but i am glad to have elicited from him an expression of opinion that the question is not foreclosed by the arguments in the first part [ : ]. for some expressions in his concluding paragraph i sincerely thank the author, though i find it difficult to reconcile them with either the tone or the substance of the preceding reply. i trust that i have already relieved him from the apprehension that i should confine myself to 'desultory efforts.' i had hoped that some of the topics in my first article might have been laid aside for ever, but his reply has compelled me to revert to them. he does me no more than justice when he credits me with earnestness. i am indeed in earnest, as i believe him to be. but it seems to me that the motives for earnestness are necessarily more intense in my case than in his; for (to say nothing else), as i read history, the morality of the coming generations of englishmen is very largely dependent on the answers which they give to the questions at issue between us. as he has withheld his name, he has deprived me of the pleasure of reciprocating any expression of personal respect. thus he has placed me at a great disadvantage. i know nothing of the man, and can speak only of the book. of the book i would wish to say that one who has taken so much pains to regulate his personal belief is so far entitled to every consideration. and, if this had been all, i should have entertained and expressed the highest respect for him, however faulty his processes might appear to me, and however dangerous his results. but, when i observed that the author, not content with ignoring the facts and reasonings, went on to impugn the honesty of his opponents; when i noticed that again and again the arguments on one side of the question were carefully arrayed, while the arguments on the other side were altogether omitted; when i perceived that he denied the authenticity of every work, and questioned the applicability of every reference, which made against him; when in short i saw that, however sincere the writer's personal convictions might be, the critical portion of the work was stamped throughout with the character of an advocate's _ex parte_ statement, i felt that he had forfeited any claim to special forbearance. for the rest, i do not wish to be unjust to the book, and i am sorry if, while attempting to correct an exceedingly false estimate, i have seemed to any one to be so; but i do not see any good in paying empty and formal compliments which do not come from the heart, and i cannot consent to tamper with truths which seem to me of the highest moment. still, i should be sorry to think that so much energetic work had been thrown away. if the publication of this book shall have had the effect of attracting serious attention to these most momentous subjects, it will have achieved an important result. but i would wish to add one caution. no good will ever come from merely working on the lines of modern theorists. perhaps the reader will forgive me if i add a few words of explanation, for i do not wish to be misunderstood. i should be most ungrateful if, in speaking of german writers, i used the language of mere depreciation. if there is any recent theologian from whom i have learnt more than from another, it is the german neander. nor can i limit my obligations to men of this stamp. all diligent students of early christian history must have derived the greatest advantage on special points from the conscientious research, and frequently also from the acute analysis, even of writers of the most extreme school. but it is high time that the incubus of fascinating speculations should be shaken off, and that englishmen should learn to exercise their judicial faculty independently. any one who will take the pains to read irenæus through carefully, endeavouring to enter into his historical position in all its bearings, striving to realize what he and his contemporaries actually thought about the writings of the new testament and what grounds they had for thinking it, and, above all, resisting the temptation to read in modern theories between the lines, will be in a more favourable position for judging rightly of the early history of the canon than if he had studied all the monographs which have issued from the german press during the last half century. v. papias of hierapolis. [august, .] two names stand out prominently in the churches of proconsular asia during the age immediately succeeding the apostles--polycarp of smyrna, and papias of hierapolis. having given an account of polycarp in my last article, i purpose now to examine the notices relating to papias. these two fathers are closely connected together in the earliest tradition. papias, writes irenæus, was 'a hearer of john and a companion of polycarp.' [ : ] on the latter point we may frankly accept the evidence of irenæus. a pupil of polycarp, at all events, was not likely to be misinformed here. but to the former part of the statement objections have been raised in ancient and modern times alike; and it will be my business in the course of this investigation to inquire into its credibility. yet, even if papias was not a personal disciple of st john, still his age and country place him in more or less close connection with the traditions of this apostle; and it is this fact which gives importance to his position and teaching. papias wrote a work entitled, 'exposition of oracles of the lord,' in five books, of which a few scanty fragments and notices are preserved, chiefly by irenæus and eusebius. the object and contents of this work will be discussed hereafter; but it is necessary to quote at once an extract which eusebius has preserved from the preface, since our estimate of the date and position of papias will depend largely on the interpretation of its meaning. papias then, addressing (as it would appear) some friend to whom the work was dedicated, explains its plan and purpose as follows [ : ]:-- but i will not scruple also to give a place for you along with my interpretations to everything that i learnt carefully and remembered carefully in time past from the elders, guaranteeing their truth. for, unlike the many, i did not take pleasure in those who have so very much to say ([greek: tois ta polla legosin]), but in those who teach the truth; nor in those who relate foreign commandments, but in those [who record] such as were given from the lord to the faith, and are derived from the truth itself. and again, on any occasion when a person came [in my way] who had been a follower of the elders ([greek: ei de pou kai parêkolouthêkôs tis tois presbuterois elthoi]), i would inquire about the discourses of the elders--what was said by andrew, or by peter, or by philip, or by thomas or james, or by john or matthew or any other of the lord's disciples, and what aristion and the elder john, the disciples of the lord, say. for i did not think that i could get so much profit from the contents of books as from the utterances of a living and abiding voice ([greek: ou gar ta ek tôn bibliôn tosouton me ôphelein hupelambanon, hoson ta para zôsês phônês kai menousês]). this passage is introduced by eusebius with the remark that, though irenæus calls papias a hearer of john, yet papias himself, in the preface to his discourses, certainly does not declare that he himself was a hearer and eye-witness of the holy apostles, but he shows, by the language which he uses, that he received the matters of the faith from those who were their friends. then follows the extract which i have given; after which eusebius resumes:-- here it is important to observe, that he twice mentions the name of john. the former of these he puts in the same list with peter and james and matthew and the rest of the apostles, clearly intending the evangelist; but the second john he mentions after an interval ([greek: diasteilas ton logon]), and places among others outside the number of the apostles, putting aristion before him, and he distinctly calls him an 'elder;' so that by these facts the account of those is proved to be true who have stated that two persons in asia had the same name, and that there were two tombs in ephesus, each of which, even to the present time, bears the name of john. then, after speculating on the possibility that this second john was the author of the apocalypse, he continues:-- papias avows that he has received the sayings of the apostles from those who had been their followers ([greek: tôn autois parêkolouthêkotôn]), but says that he himself was an immediate hearer of aristion and the elder john. certainly he mentions them many times in his writings, and records their traditions. the justice of this criticism has been disputed by many recent writers, who maintain that the same john, the son of zebedee, is meant in both passages. but i cannot myself doubt that eusebius was right in his interpretation, and i am glad for once to find myself entirely agreed with the author of _supernatural religion_. it will be observed that john is the only name mentioned twice, and that at its second occurrence the person bearing it is distinguished as the 'elder' or 'presbyter,' this designation being put in an emphatic position before the proper name. we must therefore accept the distinction between john the apostle and john the presbyter, though the concession may not be free from inconvenience, as introducing an element of possible confusion. but it does not therefore follow that the statement of irenæus was incorrect. though this passage in the preface of papias lends no support to the belief that he was a personal disciple of john the son of zebedee, yet it is quite consistent with such a belief. irenæus does not state that he derived his knowledge from this preface, or indeed from any part of the work. having listened again and again to polycarp while describing the sayings and doings of john the apostle [ : ], he had other sources of information which were closed to eusebius. nor indeed is there any chronological or other difficulty in supposing that he may have derived the fact from direct intercourse with papias himself. but the possibility still remains that he was guilty of this confusion which eusebius lays to his charge; and the value of his testimony on this point is seriously diminished thereby. it will have been noticed that in the above extract papias professes to derive the traditions of 'the elders,' with which he illustrated his expositions, from two different sources. he refers _first_, to those sayings which he had heard from their own lips, and _secondly_, to those which he had collected at second-hand from their immediate followers. what class of persons he intends to include under the designation of 'elders' he makes clear by the names which follow. the category would include not only apostles like andrew and peter, but also other personal disciples of christ, such as aristion and the second john. in other words, the term with him is a synonyme for the fathers of the church in the first generation. this meaning is entirely accordant with the usage of the same title elsewhere. thus irenæus employs it to describe the generation to which papias himself belonged [ : ]. thus again, in the next age, irenæus in turn is so designated by hippolytus [ : ]. and, when we descend as low as eusebius, we find him using the term so as to include even writers later than irenæus, who nevertheless, from their comparative antiquity, were to him and his generation authorities as regards the traditions and usages of the church [ : ]. nor indeed did papias himself invent this usage. in the epistle to the hebrews for instance, we read that 'the elders obtained a good report' [ : ]; where the meaning is defined by the list which follows, including old testament worthies from abel to 'samuel and the prophets.' thus this sense of 'elders' in early christian writers corresponds very nearly to our own usage of 'fathers,' when we speak of the fathers of the church, the fathers of the reformation, the pilgrim fathers, and the like. thus employed therefore, the term 'presbyters' or 'elders' denotes not office, but authority and antiquity [ : ]. it is equivalent to 'the ancient' or 'primitive worthies' [ : ]. but at its last occurrence in the extract of papias, where it is applied to the second john, this is apparently not the case. here it seems to be an official title, designating a member of the order of the presbyterate. though modern critics have stumbled over this two-fold sense of the word [greek: presbuteros] in the same context, it would create no difficulty to the contemporaries of papias, to whom 'the presbyter john' must have been a common mode of designation in contradistinction to 'the apostle john,' and to whom therefore the proper meaning would at once suggest itself. instances are not wanting elsewhere in which this word is used with two senses, official and non-official, in the same passage [ : ]. of the elders with whom papias was personally acquainted, we can only name with certainty aristion and the presbyter john; but as regards these eusebius is explicit. to them the apostle john may perhaps be added, as we have seen, on the authority of irenæus. beyond these three names we have no authority for extending the list, though there is a possibility that in very early life he may have met with others, more especially andrew and philip, who are known to have lived in these parts. but, however this may be, it seems to follow from the words of his preface that his direct intercourse with these elders or personal disciples of the lord had not been great. it was probably confined to the earlier part of his life, before he had any thought of writing his book; and the information thence derived was in consequence casual and fragmentary. when he set himself to collect traditions for this special purpose, he was dependent on secondary evidence, on the information collected from scholars and followers of these primitive elders. we are now in a position to investigate the age of papias; but, as a preliminary to this investigation, it is necessary to say something about the authority for the one definite date which is recorded in connection with him. in my article on polycarp, i pointed out that recent investigations had pushed the date of this father's martyrdom several years farther back, and that some chronological difficulties attaching to the commonly received date had thus been removed [ : ]. a similar difficulty meets us in the case of papias; and it disappears in like manner, as i hope to show, before the light of criticism. the _chronicon paschale_, which was compiled in the first half of the seventh century [ : ], represents papias as martyred at pergamum about the same time when polycarp suffered at smyrna, and places the event in the year . if this statement were true, we could hardly date his birth before a.d. , and even then he would have lived to a very advanced age. but there is a certain difficulty [ : ] in supposing that one born at this late date should have been directly acquainted with so many personal disciples of our lord. no earlier writer however mentions the date, or even the fact, of the martyrdom--not even eusebius, who has much to say both about papias and about the martyrologies of this epoch; and this absence of confirmation renders the statement highly suspicious. i believe that i have traced the error to its source, which indeed is not very far to seek. the juxtaposition of the passage in this chronicle with the corresponding passage in the history of eusebius [ : ], will, if i mistake not, tell its own tale. chronicon paschale. | eusebius. | in the rd year of the ascension | at this time _very severe of the lord _very severe persecutions | persecutions having disturbed_ having dismayed_ ([greek: | ([greek: anathorubêsantôn]) anasobêsantôn]) _asia_, many were | _asia, polycarp_ is perfected by _martyred_, among whom _polycarp_.... | _martyrdom_ ... and in the same | writing concerning him were | attached other martyrdoms ... * * * * * | and next in order ([greek: hexês]) | memoirs of _others_ ([greek: | allôn]) also, who were martyred and in _pergamum others_ ([greek: | _in pergamum_, a city of asia, heteroi]), among whom was papias and | _are extant_ ([greek: pheretai]), many others ([greek: alloi]), whose | carpus and papylus and a woman martyrdoms _are extant_ ([greek: | agathonice.... pherontai]) also in writing.... | | * * * * * | * * * * * | _justin_, a philosopher of the | and at the same time with these word received among us ([greek: tou | ([greek: kata toutous]) _justin_, kath' hêmas logou]), _having | also who was mentioned shortly presented a second book in defence of | before by us, _having presented the doctrines received among us_ to | a second book in defence of the marcus aurelius and antoninus verus, | doctrines received among us_ to the emperors, _is decorated_ not | the aforementioned rulers, _is long after _with the divine_ crown of | decorated with divine martyrdom_, _martyrdom, crescens_ accusing (?) | a philosopher _crescens_ ... him. | having hatched the plot against | him, etc. the sequence of events, and the correspondence of individual phrases, alike show that the compiler of this chronicle derived his information from the history of eusebius [ : ]. but either he or his transcriber has substituted a well known name, _papias_, for a more obscure name, _papylus_. if the last letters of the word were blurred or blotted in his copy of eusebius, nothing would be more natural than such a change. it is only necessary to write the two names in uncials, [greek: papias papylos], to judge of its likelihood [ : ]. this explanation indeed is so obvious, when the passages are placed side by side, that one can only feel surprised at its not having been pointed out before. thus the martyrdom of papias, with its chronological perplexities (such as they are), disappears from history; and we may dismiss the argument of the author of _supernatural religion_, that 'a writer who suffered martyrdom under marcus aurelius (c. a.d. ) can scarcely have been a hearer of the apostles' [ : ]. thus we are left to infer the date of papias entirely from the notices of his friends and contemporaries; but these will assist us to a very fair approximation. ( ) he was a hearer of at least two personal disciples of christ, aristion and the presbyter john. if we suppose that they were among the youngest disciples of our lord, and lived to old age, we shall be doing no violence to probability. obviously there were in their case exceptional circumstances which rendered intercourse with them possible. if so, they may have been born about a.d. or later, and have died about a.d. or later. in this case their intercourse with papias may be referred to the years a.d. - , or thereabouts. ( ) he was acquainted with the daughters of philip, who dwelt with their father at hierapolis, where they died in old age. whether this philip was the apostle, as the earliest writers affirm, or the evangelist, as others suppose [ : ], is a question of little moment for my immediate purpose--the date of papias. in the latter case these daughters would be the same who are mentioned at the time of st paul's last visit to jerusalem, a.d. , apparently as already grown up to womanhood [ : ]. on the former supposition they would belong to the same generation, and probably would be about the same age. as a very rough approximation, we may place their birth about a.d. , and their death about a.d. - . ( ) papias is called by irenæus a 'companion' of polycarp, whose life (as we saw) extended from a.d. to a.d. [ : ]. the word admits a certain latitude as regards date, though it suggests something approaching to equality in age. but on the whole the notices affecting his relations to polycarp suggest that he was rather the older man of the two. at all events eusebius discusses him immediately after ignatius and quadratus and clement, _i.e._ in connection with the fathers who flourished in the reign of trajan or before; while the notice of polycarp is deferred till a much later point in the history, where it occurs in close proximity with justin martyr [ : ]. this arrangement indicates at all events that eusebius had no knowledge of his having been martyred at the same time with polycarp, or indeed of his surviving to so late a date. otherwise he would naturally have inserted his account of him in this place. if it is necessary to put the result of these incidental notices in any definite form, we may say that papias was probably born about a.d. - . but his work was evidently written at a much later date. he speaks of his personal intercourse with the elders, as a thing of the remote past [ : ]. he did not write till false interpretations of the evangelical records had had time to increase and multiply. we should probably not be wrong if we deferred its publication till the years a.d. - , or even later. our author places it at least as late as the middle of the second century [ : ]. the opinions of a christian writer who lived and wrote at this early date, and had conversed with these first disciples, are not without importance, even though his own mental calibre may have been small. but the speculations of the tübingen school have invested them with a fictitious interest. was he, or was he not, as these critics affirm, a judaic christian of strongly ebionite tendencies? the arguments which have been urged in defence of this position are as follows:-- . in the first place we are reminded that he was a millennarian. the chiliastic teaching of his work is the subject of severe comment with eusebius, who accuses him of misinterpreting figurative sayings in the apostolic writings and assigning to them a literal sense. this tendency appears also in the one passage which irenæus quotes from papias. but the answer to this is decisive. chiliasm is the rule, not the exception, with the christian writers of the second century; and it appears combined with views the very opposite of ebionite. it is found in justin martyr, in irenæus, in tertullian [ : ]. it is found even in the unknown author of the epistle bearing the name of barnabas [ : ], which is stamped with the most uncompromising and unreasoning antagonism to everything judaic. . a second argument is built on the fact that eusebius does not mention his quoting st paul's epistles or other pauline writings of the canon. i have already disposed of this argument in an earlier paper on the 'silence of eusebius' [ : ]. i have shown that papias might have quoted st paul many times, and by name, while nevertheless eusebius would not have recorded the fact, because it was not required by his principles or consistent with his practice to do so. i have shown that this interpretation of the silence of eusebius in other cases, where we are able to test it, would lead to results demonstrably and hopelessly wrong. i have pointed out for instance, that it would most certainly conduct us to the conclusion that the writer of the ignatian epistles was an ebionite--a conclusion diametrically opposed to the known facts of the case [ : ]. . lastly, it is argued that papias was an ebionite, because he quoted the gospel according to the hebrews. in the first place, however, the premiss is highly questionable. eusebius does not say, as in other cases, that papias 'uses' this gospel, or that he 'sets down facts from' it [ : ], but he writes that papias relates 'a story about a woman accused of many sins before the lord' (doubtless the same which is found in our copies of st john's gospel, vii. -viii. ), and he adds 'which the gospel according to the hebrews contains' [ : ]. this does not imply that papias derived it thence, but only that eusebius found it there. papias may have obtained it, like the other stories to which eusebius alludes, 'from oral tradition'([greek: ek paradoseôs agraphou]). but, even if it were directly derived thence, the conclusion does not follow from the premiss. the gospel according to the hebrews is quoted both by clement of alexandria and by origen, though these two fathers accepted our four gospels alone as canonical [ : ]. it may even be quoted, as jerome asserts that it is, and as the author himself believes [ : ], by the writer of the ignatian letters, a most determined anti-ebionite. if papias had cited the gospel according to the hebrews only once, eusebius would have mentioned the fact, because he made it his business to record these exceptional phenomena; whereas he would have passed over any number of quotations from the canonical gospels in silence. as all these supposed tokens of ebionite tendencies have failed, we are led to inquire whether any light is thrown on this question from other quarters. and here his name is not altogether unimportant. papias was bishop of hierapolis, and apparently a native of this place. at all events he seems to have lived there from youth; for his acquaintance with the daughters of philip, who resided in this city, must have belonged to the earlier period of his life. now papias was a designation of the hierapolitan zeus [ : ]; and owing to its association with this god, it appears to have been a favourite name with the people of hierapolis and the neighbourhood. it occurs several times in coins and inscriptions belonging to this city and district [ : ]. in one instance we read of a 'papias, who is also diogenes,' this latter name 'zeus-begotten' being apparently regarded as a rough synonyme for the phrygian word [ : ]. we find mention also in galen of a physician belonging to the neighbouring city of laodicea, who bore this name [ : ]. altogether it points to a heathen rather than a jewish origin. but more important than his name, from which the inference, though probable, is still precarious [ : ], are his friendships and associations. papias, we are told, was a companion of polycarp [ : ]. the opinions of polycarp have been considered in it previous article [ : ]; and it has there been shown that the hypothesis of ebionite leanings in his case is not only unsupported, but cannot be maintained except by an entire disregard of the evidence, which is of different kinds, and all leads to the opposite conclusion. as regards papias therefore, it is reasonable to infer, in the absence of direct evidence, that his views were, at all events, in general accordance with his friend's. moreover, the five books of papias were read by irenæus and by eusebius, as well as by later writers; and, being occupied in interpretation, they must have contained ample evidence of the author's opinions on the main points which distinguished the ebionite from the catholic--the view of the mosaic law, the estimate of the apostle paul, the conception of the person of christ. it is therefore important to observe that irenæus quotes him with the highest respect, as an orthodox writer and a trustworthy channel of apostolic tradition. eusebius again, though he is repelled by his millennarianism, calling him 'a man of very mean capacity,' and evidently seeking to disparage him in every way, has yet no charge to bring against him on these most important points of all. and this estimate of him remains to the last. anastasius of sinai for instance, who wrote in the latter half of the sixth century, and who is rigidly and scrupulously orthodox, according to the standard of orthodoxy which had been created by five general councils, had the work of papias in his hands. he mentions the author by name twice; and on both occasions he uses epithets expressive of the highest admiration. papias is to him 'the great,' 'the illustrious' [ : ]. but indeed eusebius has left one direct indication of the opinions of papias, which is not insignificant. he tells us that papias 'employed testimonies from the first epistle of john.' how far this involves a recognition of the fourth gospel i shall have to consider hereafter. at present it is sufficient to say that this epistle belongs to the class of writings in our canon which is the most directly opposed to ebionism. it may be said indeed, that papias was foolish and credulous. but unhappily foolishness and credulity are not characteristic of any one form of christian belief--or unbelief either. the work of papias, as we saw, was entitled, 'exposition of oracles of the lord,' or (more strictly), 'of dominical oracles' [ : ]. but what was its nature and purport? shall we understand the word 'exposition' to mean 'enarration,' or 'explanation'? was the author's main object to construct a new evangelical narrative, or to interpret and explain one or more already in circulation? this is a vital point in its bearing on the relation of papias to our canonical gospels. our author, ignoring what dr westcott and others have said on this subject, tacitly assumes the former alternative without attempting to discuss the question. yet, if this assumption is wrong, a very substantial part of his argument is gone. the following passage will illustrate the attitude of the author of _supernatural religion_ towards this question:-- this work was less based on written records of the teaching of jesus than on that which papias had been able to collect from tradition, which he considered more authentic, for, like his contemporary hegesippus, papias avowedly prefers tradition to any written works with which he was acquainted [ : ]. i venture to ask in passing, where our author obtained his information that hegesippus 'avowedly prefers tradition to any written works with which he was acquainted.' certainly not from any fragments or notices of this writer which have been hitherto published. after quoting the extract from the preface of papias which has been given above, our author resumes:-- it is clear from this that, even if papias knew any of our gospels, he attached little or no value to them, and that he knew absolutely nothing of canonical scriptures of the new testament. his work was evidently intended to furnish a more complete collection of the discourses of jesus from oral tradition than any previously existing, with his own expositions; and this is plainly indicated by his own words, and by the title of his work, [greek: logiôn kuriakôn exêgêsis] [ : ]. 'the natural and only reasonable course,' he adds in a note, 'is to believe the express declaration of papias, more especially as it is made, in this instance, as a prefatory statement of his belief.' he has appealed to cæsar, and to cæsar he shall go. what then is the natural interpretation of the title 'exposition of oracles of' (or 'relating to') 'the lord'? would any one, without a preconceived theory, imagine that 'exposition' here meant anything else but explanation or interpretation? it is possible indeed, that the original word [greek: exêgêsis] might, in other connections, be used in reference to a narrative, but its common and obvious sense is the same which it bears when adopted into english as 'exegesis.' in other words, it expresses the idea of a commentary on some text. the expression has an exact parallel, for instance, in the language of eusebius when, speaking of dionysius of corinth, he says that this writer introduces into his letter to the church of amastris 'expositions of divine scriptures' ([greek: graphôn theiôn exêgêseis]), or when he says that irenæus quotes a certain 'apostolic elder' and gives his 'expositions of divine scriptures' (the same expression as before) [ : ]. it is used more than once in this sense, and it is not used in any other, as we shall see presently, by irenæus [ : ]. moreover anastasius of sinai distinctly styles papias an 'exegete,' meaning thereby, as his context shows, an 'interpreter' of the holy scriptures [ : ]. 'the title of his work' therefore does not 'indicate' anything of the kind which our author assumes it to indicate [ : ]. it does not suggest a more authentic narrative, but a more correct interpretation of an existing narrative. and the same inference is suggested still more strongly, when from the title we turn to the words of the preface; '_but_ i will not scruple _also_ to give a place _along with my interpretations_ ([greek: sunkatataxai tais hermêneiais]) to all that i learnt carefully and remembered carefully in time past from the elders.' here the sense of 'exegesis' in the title is explained by the use of the unambiguous word 'interpretations.' but this is not the most important point. the interpretations must have been interpretations of something. of what then? certainly not of the oral traditions, for the interpretations are presupposed, and the oral traditions are mentioned subsequently, being introduced to illustrate the interpretations. the words which i have italicised leave no doubt about this. the 'also,' which (by the way) our author omits, has no significance otherwise. the expression 'along with the interpretations' is capable only of one meaning. in other words, the only account which can be given of the passage, consistently with logic and grammar, demands the following sequence.--( ) the text, of which something was doubtless said in the preceding passage, for it is assumed in the extract itself. ( ) the interpretations which explained the text, and which were the main object of the work. ( ) the oral traditions, which, as the language here shows, were subordinate to the interpretations, and which papias mentions in a slightly apologetic tone. these oral traditions had obviously a strong attraction for papias; he introduced them frequently to confirm and illustrate his explanations. but only the most violent wresting of language can make them the text or basis of these interpretations [ : ]. a good example of the method thus adopted by papias and explained in his preface is accidentally preserved by irenæus [ : ]. this father is discoursing on the millennial reign of christ. his starting point is the saying of our lord at the last supper, 'i will not drink henceforth of the fruit of this vine, until that day when i drink it new with you in my father's kingdom.' (matt. xxvi. .) he takes the words literally, and argues that they must imply a terrestrial kingdom, since only men of flesh can drink the fruit of the vine. he confirms this view by appealing to two other sayings of christ recorded in the gospels--the one the promise of a recompense in the resurrection of the just to those who call the poor and maimed and lame and blind to their feast (luke xiv. , ); the other the assurance that those who have forsaken houses or lands for christ's sake shall receive a hundredfold now _in this present time_ (matt. xix. ; mark x. , ; luke xviii. ) [ : ], which last expression, he maintains, can only be satisfied by an earthly reign of christ. he then attempts to show that the promises to the patriarchs also require the same solution, since hitherto they have not been fulfilled. these, he says, evidently refer to the reign of the just in a renewed earth, which shall be blessed with abundance. as the elders relate, who saw john the disciple of the lord, that they had heard from him how the lord used to teach concerning those times, and to say, 'the days will come, in which vines shall grow, each having ten thousand shoots, and on each shoot ten thousand branches, and on each branch again ten thousand twigs, and on each twig ten thousand clusters, and on each cluster ten thousand grapes, and each grape when pressed shall yield five-and-twenty measures of wine. and when any of the saints shall have taken hold of one of their clusters, another shall cry, "i am a better cluster; take me, bless the lord through me." likewise also a grain of wheat shall produce ten thousand heads,' etc. these things papias, who was a hearer of john and a companion of polycarp, an ancient worthy, witnesseth in writing in the fourth of his books, for there are five books composed by him. and he added, saying, 'but these things are credible to them that believe.' and when judas the traitor did not believe, and asked, 'how shall such growths be accomplished by the lord?' he relates that the lord said, 'they shall see, who shall come to these [times].' i shall not stop to inquire whether there is any foundation of truth in this story, and, if so, how far it has been transmuted, as it passed through the hands of the elders and of papias. it is sufficient for my purpose to remark that we here find just the three elements which the preface of papias would lead us to expect: _first_, the saying or sayings of christ recorded in the written gospels: _secondly_, the interpretation of these sayings, which is characteristically millennial; _thirdly_, the illustrative story, derived from oral tradition, which relates 'what john said,' and to which the author 'gives a place along with his interpretation' [ : ]. so far everything seems clear. but if this be so, what becomes of the disparagement of written gospels, which is confidently asserted by our author and others? when the preface of papias is thus correctly explained, the 'books' which he esteems so lightly assume quite a different aspect. they are no longer evangelical records, but works commenting on such records. the contrast is no longer between oral and written gospels, but between oral and written _aids to interpretation_. papias judged rightly that any doctrinal statement of andrew or peter or john, or any anecdote of the saviour which could be traced distinctly to their authority, would be far more valuable to elucidate his text than the capricious interpretations which he found in current books. if his critical judgment had corresponded to his intention, the work would have been highly important. the leading object of papias therefore was not to substitute a correct narrative for an imperfect and incorrect, but to counteract a false exegesis by a true. but where did he find this false exegesis? the opening passage of irenæus supplies the answer. this father describes the gnostic teachers as 'tampering with the oracles of the lord ([greek: ta logia kuriou]), showing themselves bad expositors of things well said' ([greek: exêgêtai kakoi tôn kalôs eirêmenôn ginomenoi]) [ : ]. here we have the very title of papias' work reproduced. papias, like irenæus after him, undertook, we may suppose, to stem the current of gnosticism. if, while resisting the false and exaggerated spiritualism of the gnostics, he fell into the opposite error, so that his chiliastic doctrine was tainted by a somewhat gross materialism, he only offended in the same way as irenæus, though probably to a greater degree. the gnostic leaders were in some instances no mean thinkers; but they were almost invariably bad exegetes. the gnostic fragments in irenæus and hippolytus are crowded with false interpretations of christ's sayings as recorded in the gospels. simonians, ophites, basilideans, valentinians, gnostics of all sects, are represented there, and all sin in the same way. these remains are only the accidental waifs and strays of a gnostic literature which must have been enormous in extent. as by common consent the work of papias was written in the later years of his life, a very appreciable portion of this literature must have been in existence when he wrote. more especially the elaborate work of basilides on 'the gospel,' in twenty-four books, must have been published some years. basilides flourished, we are told, during the reign of hadrian [ : ] (a.d. - ). such a lengthy work would explain the sarcastic allusion in papias to those 'who have so very much to say' ([greek: tois ta polla legousin]) [ : ], and who are afterwards described as 'teaching foreign commandments [ : ].' there are excellent reasons for believing this to be the very work from which the fragments quoted by hippolytus, as from basilides, are taken [ : ]. these fragments contain false interpretations of passages from st luke and st john, as well as from several epistles of st paul. but, however this may be, the general character of the work appears from the fact that clement of alexandria quotes it under the title of 'exegetics' [ : ]. it is quite possible too, that the writings of valentinus were in circulation before papias wrote, and exegesis was a highly important instrument with him and his school. if we once recognize the fact that papias wrote when gnosticism was rampant, the drift of his language becomes clear and consistent. this account of the 'books' which papias disparages seems to follow from the grammatical interpretation of the earlier part of the sentence. and it alone is free from difficulties. it is quite plain for instance, that eusebius did not understand our gospels to be meant thereby; for otherwise he would hardly have quoted this low estimate without expostulation or comment. and again, the hypothesis which identifies these 'books' with written evangelical records used by papias charges him with the most stupid perversity. it makes him prefer the second-hand report of what matthew had said about the lord's discourses to the account of these discourses which matthew himself had deliberately set down in writing [ : ]. such a report might have the highest value outside the written record; but no sane man could prefer a conversation repeated by another to the immediate and direct account of the same events by the person himself. nor again, is it consistent with the language which papias himself uses of the one evangelical document about which (in his extant fragments) he does express an opinion. of st mark's record he says that the author 'made no mistake,' and that it was his one anxiety 'not to omit anything that he had heard, or to set down any false statement therein.' is this the language of one speaking of a book to which 'he attached little or no value'? [ : ] but, if papias used written documents as the text for his 'expositions,' can we identify these? to this question his own language elsewhere supplies the answer at least in part. he mentions evangelical narratives written by mark and matthew respectively; and it is therefore the obvious inference that our first two gospels at all events were used for his work. an obvious inference, but fiercely contested nevertheless. it has been maintained by many recent critics, that the st mark of papias was not our st mark, nor the st matthew of papias our st matthew; and as the author of _supernatural religion_ has adopted this view, some words will be necessary in refutation of it. the language then, which papias uses to describe the document written by st mark, is as follows:-- and the elder said this also: mark, having become the interpreter of peter, wrote down accurately everything that he remembered, without however recording in order what was either said or done by christ. for neither did he hear the lord, nor did he follow him; but afterwards, as i said, [attended] peter, who adapted his instructions to the needs [of his hearers] but had no design of giving a connected account of the lord's oracles [_or_ discourses] ([greek: all' ouch hôsper suntaxin tôn kuriakôn poioumenos logiôn] _or_ [greek: lôgon]). so then mark made no mistake, while he thus wrote down some things as he remembered them; for he made it his one care not to omit anything that he heard, or to set down any false statement therein. eusebius introduces this passage by a statement that it 'refers to mark, the writer of the gospel;' and the authority whom papias here quotes is apparently the presbyter john, who has been mentioned immediately before. now it will be plain, i think, to any reader of common sense, that papias is giving an account of the circumstances under which the evangelical narrative in question was composed. there were two phenomena in it which seemed to him to call for explanation. in the first place, it is not a _complete_ narrative. in the second place, the events are not recorded in _strict chronological order_. these two phenomena are explained by st mark's position and opportunities, which were necessarily limited. his work was composed from reminiscences of st peter's preaching; and, as this preaching was necessarily fragmentary and adapted to the immediate requirements of his hearers (the preacher having no intention of giving a continuous narrative), the writer could not possess either the materials for a complete account or the knowledge for an accurate chronological arrangement. papias obviously has before him some other gospel narrative or narratives, which contained sayings or doings of christ not recorded by st mark, and moreover related those which he did record in a different order. for this discrepancy he desires to account. the motive and the treatment have an exact parallel, as i shall show hereafter, in the account of the gospels given by the author of the muratorian canon. this is the plain and simple inference from the passage; and we have only to ask whether this description corresponds with the phenomena of our st mark. that it does so correspond, i think, can hardly be denied. as regards _completeness_, it is sufficient to call attention to the fact that any one of our canonical gospels records many doings, and above all, many sayings, which are omitted in st mark. as regards _order_ again, it may, i believe, safely be said that no writer of a 'life of christ' finds himself able to preserve the sequence of events exactly as it stands in st mark. his account does not profess to be strictly chronological. there are indeed chronological links in the narrative here and there; but throughout considerable parts of our lord's ministry the successive incidents are quite unconnected by notices of time. in short, the gospel is just what we should expect, if the author had derived his information in the way reported by the presbyter. but our author objects, that it 'does not depart in any important degree from the order of the other two synoptics,' and that it 'throughout has the most evident character of orderly arrangement' [ : ]. persons may differ as to what is important or unimportant; but if the reader will refer to any one of the common harmonies, those of anger and tischendorf for instance, he will see that constant transpositions are necessary in one or other of the synoptic gospels to bring them into accordance, and will be able to judge for himself how far this statement is true. 'orderly arrangement' of some sort, no doubt, there is; but it is just such as lay within the reach of a person obtaining his knowledge at second-hand in this way. our author himself describes it lower down as 'artistic and orderly arrangement.' i shall not quarrel with the phrase, though somewhat exaggerated. any amount of 'artistic arrangement' is compatible with the notice of papias, which refers only to historical sequence. 'artistic arrangement' does not require the direct knowledge of an eye-witness. it will be observed however, that our author speaks of a comparison with 'the order of the other two synoptics.' but what, if the comparison which papias had in view was wholly different? what, if he adduced this testimony of the presbyter to explain how st mark's gospel differed not from another synoptic narrative, but _from st john_? i shall return to this question at a later point in these investigations. our author is no stranger to the use of strong words: 'if our present gospel,' he writes, 'cannot be proved to be the very work referred to by the presbyter john, as most certainly it cannot, the evidence of papias becomes fatal to the claims of the second canonical gospel' [ : ]. the novelty of the logic in this sentence rivals the boldness of the assumption. yet so entirely satisfied is he with the result of his arguments, that he does not consider it 'necessary to account for the manner in which the work to which the presbyter john referred disappeared, and the present gospel according to mark became substituted for it' [ : ]. but others are of a more inquiring turn of mind. they will be haunted with this difficulty, and will not be able thus to shelve the question. they will venture to ask how it is that not any, even the faintest, indication of the existence of this other mark can be traced in all the remains of christian antiquity. they will observe too, that if the date which our author himself adopts be correct, irenæus was already grown up to manhood when papias wrote his work. they will remember that irenæus received his earliest christian education from a friend of papias, and that his great authorities in everything which relates to christian tradition are the associates and fellow-countrymen of papias. they will remark that, having the work of papias in his hands and holding it in high esteem, he nevertheless is so impressed with the conviction that our present four gospels, and these only, had formed the title-deeds of the church from the beginning, that he ransacks heaven and earth for analogies to this sacred number. they will perhaps carry their investigations further, and discover that irenæus not only possessed our st mark's gospel, but possessed it also with its present ending, which, though undoubtedly very early, can hardly have been part of the original work. they will then pass on to the muratorian author, who probably wrote some years before irenæus, and, remembering that irenæus represents the combined testimony of asia minor and gaul, they will see that they have here the representative of a different branch of the church, probably the roman. yet the muratorian writer agrees with irenæus in representing our four gospels, and these only, as the traditional inheritance of the church; for though the fragment is mutilated at the beginning, so that the names of the first two evangelists have disappeared, the identity cannot be seriously questioned. they will then extend their horizon to clement in alexandria and tertullian in africa; and they will find these fathers also possessed by the same belief. impressed with this convergency of testimony from so many different quarters, they will be utterly at a loss to account for the unanimity of these early witnesses--all sharing in the same delusion, all ignorant that a false mark has been silently substituted for the true mark during their own lifetime, and consequently assuming as an indisputable fact that the false mark was received by the church from the beginning. and they will end in a revolt against the attempt of our author to impose upon them with his favourite commonplace about the 'thoroughly uncritical character of the fathers.' indeed, they will begin altogether to suspect this wholesale denunciation; for they will observe that our author is convicted out of his own context. they will remark how he repels an inconvenient question of tischendorf by a scornful reference to 'the frivolous character of the _only_ criticism in which they [eusebius and the other christian fathers] _ever_ indulged [ : ].' yet they will remember at the same time to have read in this very chapter on papias a highly intelligent criticism of eusebius, with which this father confronts a statement of irenæus, and which our author himself adopts as conclusive [ : ]. they will recall also, in this same context, a reference to a passage in dionysius of alexandria, where this 'great bishop' anticipates by nearly sixteen centuries the criticisms of our own age concerning the differences of style between the fourth gospel and the apocalypse [ : ]. from st mark we pass to st matthew. papias has something to tell us of this gospel also; but here again we are asked to believe that we have a case of mistaken identity. after the notice relating to st mark, eusebius continues:-- but concerning matthew, the following statement is made [by papias]: 'so then matthew ([greek: matthaios men oun]) composed the oracles in the hebrew language, and each one interpreted them as he could.' the assumption that this statement, like the former, was made on the authority of the presbyter, depends solely on the close proximity in which the two extracts stand in eusebius. it must therefore be regarded as highly precarious. in papias' own work the two extracts may have been wide apart. indeed the opening particles in the second passage prove conclusively that it cannot have followed immediately on the first. just as the [greek: hôs ephên] in the extract relating to st mark showed that it was a fragment torn from its context, so we have the similar evidence of a violent severance here in the words [greek: men oun]. the ragged edge is apparent in both cases [ : ]. this fact must be borne in mind in any criticisms which the passages suggest. in this extract then papias speaks of a state of things in which each man interpreted the original hebrew for himself. there can have been no authoritative greek gospel of st matthew at that time, if his account be correct. so far his meaning is clear. but it is equally clear that the time which he is here contemplating is not the time when he writes his book, but some earlier epoch. he says not 'interprets,' but 'interpreted.' this past tense 'interpreted,' be it observed, is not the tense of eusebius reporting papias, but of papias himself. everything depends on this distinction; yet our author deliberately ignores it. he does indeed state the grammatical argument correctly, as given by others:-- some consider that papias or the presbyter use the verb in the past tense, [greek: hêrmêneuse], as contrasting the time when it was necessary for each to interpret as best he could with the period when, from the existence of a recognized translation, it was no longer necessary for them to do so [ : ]. yet a few lines after, when he comes to comment upon it, he can write as follows:-- the statement [of papias] is perfectly simple and direct, and it is at least quite clear that it conveys the fact that translation was requisite: and, as each one translated 'as he was able,' that no recognized translation existed to which all might have recourse. there is absolutely not a syllable which warrants the conclusion that papias was acquainted with an authentic greek version, although it is possible that he may have known of the existence of some greek translations of no authority. the words used, however, imply that, if he did, he had no respect for any of them [ : ]. our author has here imposed upon himself by a grammatical trick. hard pressed by the argument, he has covered his retreat under an ambiguous use of tenses. the words 'each one translated as he was able' are perfectly clear in the direct language of papias; but adopted without alteration into the oblique statement of our author, they are altogether obscure. 'translation _was_ requisite.' yes, but at what time? the fact is that no careful reader can avoid asking why papias writes 'interpreted,' and not 'interprets.' the natural answer is that the necessity of which he speaks had already passed away. in other words, it implies the existence of a recognized greek translation, _when papias wrote_. whence our author got his information that papias 'had no respect for' any such translation, it is difficult to say. certainly not from 'the words used'; for papias says nothing about it, and we only infer its existence from the suppressed contrast implied in the past tense. but, if a greek st matthew existed in the time of papias, we are forbidden by all considerations of historical probability to suppose that it was any other than our st matthew. as in the case of st mark, so here the contrary hypothesis is weighted with an accumulation of improbabilities. the argument used there might be repeated _totidem verbis_ here. it was enough that we were asked to accept the theory of a mistaken identity once; but the same demand is renewed again. and the improbability of this double mistake is very far greater than the sum of the improbabilities in the two several cases, great as this sum would be. the testimony of papias therefore may be accepted as valid so far as regards the recognition of our st matthew in his own age. but it does not follow that his account of the origin was correct. it may or may not have been. this is just what we cannot decide, because we do not know exactly what he said. it cannot be inferred with any certainty from this fragmentary excerpt of eusebius, what papias supposed to be the exact relation of the greek gospel of st matthew which he had before him to the hebrew document of which he speaks. our author indeed says that our first gospel bears all the marks of an original, and cannot have been translated from the hebrew at all. this, i venture to think, is far more than the facts will sustain. if he had said that it is not a homogeneous greek version of a homogeneous hebrew original, this would have been nearer to the truth. but we do not know that papias said this. he may have expressed himself in language quite consistent with the phenomena. or on the other hand he may, as hilgenfeld supposes, have made the mistake which some later fathers made, of thinking that the gospel according to the hebrews was the original of our st matthew. in the absence of adequate data it is quite vain to conjecture. but meanwhile we are not warranted in drawing any conclusion unfavourable either to the accuracy of papias or to the identity of the document itself. our author however maintains that the hebrew st matthew of which papias speaks was not a gospel at all--_i.e._ not a narrative of our lord's life and ministry--but a mere collection of discourses or sayings. it is urged that the expression, 'matthew compiled the oracles' ([greek: xunegrapsato ta logia]), requires this interpretation. if this explanation were correct, the notice would suggest that papias looked upon the greek gospel as not merely a translation, but an enlargement, of the original document. in this case it would be vain to speculate how or when or by whom he supposed it to be made; for either he did not give this information, or (if he did) eusebius has withheld it. this hypothesis was first started, i believe, by schleiermacher, and has found favour with not a few critics of opposite schools. attempts have been made from time to time to restore this supposed document by disengaging those portions of our first gospel, which would correspond to this idea, from their historical setting. the theory is not without its attractions: it promises a solution of some difficulties; but hitherto it has not yielded any results which would justify its acceptance. our author speaks of those critics who reject it as 'in very many cases largely influenced by the desire to see in these [greek: logia] our actual gospel according to st matthew' [ : ]. this is true in the same sense in which it is true that those who take opposite views are largely influenced in very many cases by the opposite desire. but such language is only calculated to mislead. by no one is the theory of a collection of discourses more strongly denounced than by bleek [ : ], who apparently considers that papias did not here refer to a greek gospel at all. 'there is nothing,' he writes, 'in the manner in which papias expresses himself to justify this supposition; he would certainly have expressed himself as he does, if he meant an historical work like our new testament gospels, if he were referring to a writing whose contents were those of our greek gospel according to matthew.' equally decided too is the language of hilgenfeld [ : ], who certainly would not be swayed by any bias in this direction. indeed this theory is encumbered with the most serious difficulties. in the first place, there is no notice or trace elsewhere of any such 'collection of discourses.' in the next place, all other early writers from pantænus and irenæus onwards, who allude to the subject, speak of st matthew as writing a gospel, not a mere collection of sayings, in hebrew. if they derived their information in every case from papias, it is clear that they found no difficulty in interpreting his language so as to include a narrative: if they did not (as seems more probable, and as our author himself holds [ : ]), then their testimony is all the more important, as of independent witnesses to the existence of a hebrew st matthew, which was a narrative, and not a mere collection of discourses. nor indeed does the expression itself drive us to any such hypothesis. hilgenfeld, while applying it to our first gospel, explains it on grounds which at all events are perfectly tenable. he supposes that papias mentions only the _sayings_ of christ, not because st matthew recorded nothing else, but because he himself was concerned only with these, and st matthew's gospel, as distinguished from st mark's, was the great storehouse of materials for his purpose [ : ]. i do not however think that this is the right explanation. it supposes that only [greek: logoi] ('discourses' or 'sayings') could be called [greek: logia] ('oracles'); but usage does not warrant this restriction. thus we are expressly told that the scriptures recognized by ephraem, patriarch of antioch (about a.d. - ), consisted of 'the old testament and the oracles of the lord ([greek: ta kuriaka logia]) and the preachings of the apostles' [ : ]. here we have the very same expression which occurs in papias; and it is obviously employed as a synonyme for the gospels. our author does not mention this close parallel, but he alleges that 'however much the signification [of the expression 'the oracles,' [greek: ta logia]] became afterwards extended, it was not then at all applied to doings as well as sayings'; and again, that 'there is no linguistic precedent for straining the expression, used at that period, to mean anything beyond a collection of sayings of jesus which were oracular or divine [ : ].' this objection, if it has any force, must involve one or both of these two assumptions; _first_, that books which were regarded as scripture could not at this early date be called oracles, unless they were occupied entirely with divine sayings; _secondly_, that the gospel of st matthew in particular could not at this time be regarded as scripture. both assumptions alike are contradicted by facts. the first is refuted by a large number of examples. st paul, for instance, describes it as the special privilege of the jews, that they had the keeping of the 'oracles of god' (rom. iii. ). can we suppose that he meant anything else but the old testament scriptures by this expression? is it possible that he would exclude the books of genesis, of joshua, of samuel and kings, or only include such fragments of them as professed to give the direct sayings of god? would he, or would he not, comprise under the term the account of the creation and fall ( cor. xi. sq), of the wanderings in the wilderness ( cor. x. sq), of sarah and hagar (gal. iv. sq)? does not the main part of his argument in the very next chapter (rom. iv.) depend much more on the narrative of god's dealings than of his words? again, when the author of the epistle to the hebrews refers to 'the first principles of the oracles of god' (v. ), his meaning is explained by his practice; for he elicits the divine teaching quite as much from the history as from the direct precepts of the old testament. but, if the language of the new testament writers leaves any loophole for doubt, this is not the case with their contemporary philo. in one place he speaks of the words in deut. x. , 'the lord god is his inheritance,' as an 'oracle' ([greek: logion]); in another he quotes as an 'oracle' ([greek: logion]) the _narrative_ in gen. iv. , 'the lord god set a mark upon cain, lest anyone finding him should kill him' [ : ]. from this and other passages it is clear that with philo an 'oracle' is a synonyme for a 'scripture.' similarly clement of rome writes, 'ye know well the sacred scriptures, and have studied the oracles of god,' [ : ] and immediately he recalls to their mind the account in deut. ix. sq, exod. xxxii. sq, of which the point is not any divine precept or prediction, but _the example of moses_. a few years later polycarp speaks in condemnation of those who 'pervert the oracles of the lord.' [ : ] how much he included under this expression, we cannot say, but it must be observed that he does not write [greek: ta kuriaka logia] 'the dominical oracles,' or [greek: ta logia] 'the oracles' simply--the two expressions which occur in papias--but [greek: ta logia tou kuriou], 'the oracles of the lord,' which form of words would more directly suggest the lord as the speaker. again irenæus, denouncing the interpretations of the scriptures current among the gnostics, uses the very expression of papias, [greek: ta kuriaka logia] [ : ]; and though he does not define his exact meaning, yet as the 'oracles of god' are mentioned immediately afterwards, and as the first instance of such false interpretation which he gives is not a saying, but an incident in the gospels--the healing of the ruler's daughter--we may infer that he had no idea of restricting the term to sayings of christ. again when we turn to clement of alexandria, we find that the scriptures in one passage are called 'the oracles of truth,' while in another among the good deeds attributed to ezra is the 'discovery and restoration of the inspired oracles' [ : ]. similarly origen speaks of the teachings of the scripture as 'the oracles,' 'the oracles of god' [ : ]. in the context of the latter of the two passages to which i refer, he has clearly stated that he is contemplating the histories, the law, and the prophets alike. so too st basil uses 'sacred' (or divine) 'oracles', 'oracles of the spirit,' [ : ] as synonymes for the scriptures. and this catena of passages might be largely extended. this wide sense of the word 'oracles' therefore in itself is fully substantiated by examples both before and after the time of papias. but our author objects that it is not consistent with the usage of papias himself elsewhere. the examples alleged however fail to prove this. if papias entitled his work 'exposition of oracles of the lord,' or rather 'of dominical oracles,' there is nothing to show that he did not include narrative portions of the gospels, as well as discourses; though from the nature of the case the latter would occupy the chief place. on the contrary, it is certain from the extant notices that he dealt largely with incidents. and this he would naturally do. by false allegory and in other ways gnostic teachers misinterpreted the facts, not less than the sayings, of the gospels; and papias would be anxious to supply the corrective in the one case as in the other. the second example of its use in papias certainly does not favour our author's view. this father, as we have seen [ : ], describes st mark as not writing down 'in order the things said or done by christ' ([greek: ou mentoi taxei ta hupo tou christou ê lechthenta ê prachthenta]). this, he states, was not within the evangelist's power, because he was not a personal disciple of our lord, but obtained his information from the preaching of peter, who consulted the immediate needs of his hearers and had 'no intention of giving a consecutive record of the dominical oracles' ([greek: ouch hôsper suntaxin tôn kuriakôn poioumenos logiôn]). here the obvious inference is that [greek: ta kuriaka logia] in the second clause is equivalent to [greek: ta hupo tou christou ê lechthenta ê prachthenta] the first, just as the [greek: suntaxin] in the second clause corresponds to the [greek: taxei] in the first. our author however, following the lead of those who adopt the same interpretation of 'the oracles,' explains it differently [ : ]. there is an evident contrast made. mark wrote [greek: ê lechthenta ê prachthenta], because he had not the means of writing discourses, but matthew composed the [greek: logia]. papias clearly distinguishes the work of mark, who had written reminiscences of what jesus had said and done, from that of matthew, who had made a collection of his discourses [ : ]. this interpretation depends altogether on the assumption that the extracts relating to st mark and st matthew belonged to the same context; but this is only an assumption. moreover it introduces into the extract relating to st mark a contrast which is not only not suggested by the language, but is opposed to the order of the words. the leading idea in this extract is the absence of strict historical sequence in st mark's narrative. accordingly the emphatic word in the clause in question is [greek: suntaxin], which picks up the previous [greek: taxei], and itself occupies the prominent position in its own clause. if our author's interpretation were correct, the main idea would be a contrast between a work relating deeds as well as sayings, and a work relating sayings only; and [greek: logiôn], as bringing out this idea, would demand the most emphatic place ([greek: ouch hôsper tôn logiôn suntaxin poioumenos]); whereas in its present position it is entirely subordinated to other words in the clause. the examples quoted above show that 'the oracles' ([greek: ta logia]) can be used as co-extensive with 'the scriptures' ([greek: hai graphai]) in the time of papias. hence it follows that 'the dominical oracles' ([greek: ta kuriaka logia]) can have as wide a meaning as 'the dominical scriptures' (_dominicae scripturae_, [greek: ai kuriakai graphai])--an expression occurring in irenæus and in dionysius of corinth [ : ]--or, in other words, that the gospels may be so called. if any difficulty therefore remains, it must lie in the _second_ of the two assumptions which i mentioned above--namely, that no evangelical record could at this early date be invested with the authority implied by the use of this term, or (in other words) could be regarded as scripture. this assumption again is contradicted by facts. the gospel of st matthew is twice quoted in the epistle of barnabas, and in the first passage the quotation is introduced by the common formula of scriptural reference--'as it is written' [ : ]. to what contortions our author puts his argument, when dealing with that epistle, in the vain attempt to escape the grip of hard fact, i shall have occasion to show when the proper time comes [ : ]. at present it is sufficient to say that the only ground for refusing to accept st matthew as the source of these two quotations, which are found there, is the assumption that st matthew could not at this early date be regarded as 'scripture.' in other words, it is a _petitio principii_. but the epistle ascribed to barnabas, on any showing, was written before the date which our author himself assigns to the exposition of papias. some place it as early as a.d. , or thereabouts; some as late as a.d. ; the majority incline to the later years of the first, or the very beginning of the second century. if therefore this gospel could be quoted as scripture in barnabas, it could _à fortiori_ be described as 'oracles' when papias wrote. vi. papias of hierapolis. _continued._ [october, .] it has been seen that, in the meagre fragments of his work which alone survive, papias mentions by name the evangelical records of st matthew and st mark. with the third and fourth gospels the case is different. eusebius has not recorded any reference to them by papias, and our author therefore concludes that they were unknown to this early writer. i have shown in a previous paper on the 'silence of eusebius' [ : ], that this inference is altogether unwarrantable. i have pointed out that the assumption on which it rests is not justified by the principles which eusebius lays down for himself as his rule of procedure [ : ], while it is directly refuted by almost every instance in which he quotes a writing now extant, and in which therefore it is possible to apply a test. i have proved that, as regards the four gospels, eusebius only pledges himself to give, and (as a matter of fact) only does give, traditions of interest respecting them. i have proved also that it is not consistent either with his principles or with his practice to refer to mere quotations, however numerous, even though they are given by name. papias therefore might have quoted the third gospel any number of times as written by luke the companion of paul, and the fourth gospel not less frequently as written by john the apostle; and eusebius would not have cared to record the fact. all this i have proved, and the author of _supernatural religion_ is unable to disprove it. in the preface to his last edition [ : ] he does indeed devote several pages to my argument; but i confess that i am quite at a loss to understand how any writer can treat the subject as it is there treated by him. does he or does he not realize the distinction which underlies the whole of my argument--the distinction between _traditions about_ the gospels on the one hand, and _quotations from_ the gospels on the other? at times it appears as if this distinction were clearly before him. he quotes a passage from my article, in which it is directly stated [ : ], and even argues upon it. i gave a large number of instances where ancient authors whose writings are extant do quote our canonical scriptures, sometimes directly, sometimes indirectly, sometimes anonymously, sometimes by name, and where nevertheless eusebius does not mention the circumstance. this is his mode of dealing with such facts-- that he omitted to mention a reference to the epistle to the corinthians in the epistle of clement of rome, or the reference by theophilus to the gospel of john, and other supposed quotations, might be set down as much to oversight as intention [ : ]. does it not occur to him that he is here cutting the throat of his own argument? the reference to the first epistle to the corinthians is the single direct reference by name to the canonical scriptures of the new testament in clement; the reference to the gospel of st john again is the single direct reference by name in the extant work of theophilus. what would be said of a traveller who paid a visit to the gorner-grat for the express purpose of observing and recording the appearance of the alps from this commanding position, and returned from his survey without having noticed either the matterhorn or monte rosa? if eusebius could have overlooked these most obvious notices, he could have overlooked anything. his gross and habitual carelessness would then cover any omission. nor again, i venture to think, will our author deceive any fairly intelligent person, who has read my article with moderate care, by his convenient because cloudy expression, 'other supposed quotations.' i need only remind my readers that among these 'other supposed quotations' are included (to take only one instance) numerous and direct references by name to the acts of the apostles and to eleven epistles of st paul in irenæus [ : ], of which eusebius says not a word, and they will judge for themselves by this example what dependence can be placed on the author's use of language. but our author speaks of the 'ability' of my article, as a reason for discrediting its results. i am much obliged to him for the compliment, but i must altogether decline it. it is the ability of facts which he finds so inconvenient. i brought to the task nothing more than ordinary sense. i found our author declaring, as others had declared before him, that under certain circumstances eusebius would be sure to act in a particular way. i turned to eusebius himself, and i found that, whenever we are able to test his action under the supposed circumstances, he acts in precisely the opposite way. i discovered that he not only sometimes, but systematically, ignores mere quotations from the four gospels and the acts and the thirteen epistles of st paul, however numerous and however precise. i cannot indeed recollect a single instance where he adduces a quotation for the mere purpose of authenticating any one of these books. but our author asks [ : ], is it either possible or permissible to suppose that, had papias known anything of the other two gospels [the third and fourth], he would not have inquired about them from the presbyters and recorded their information? and is it either possible or permissible to suppose that if papias had recorded any similar information regarding the composition of the third and fourth gospels, eusebius would have omitted to quote it? to the first question i answer that it is both possible and permissible to make this supposition. i go beyond this, and say that it is not only possible and permissible, but quite as probable as the opposite alternative. in the absence of all definite knowledge respecting the motive of papias, i do not see that we are justified in giving any preference to either hypothesis over the other. there is no reason for supposing that papias made these statements respecting st mark and st matthew in his preface rather than in the body of his work, or that they were connected and continuous, or that he had any intention of giving an exhaustive account of all the documents with which he was acquainted. on the contrary, these notices bear every mark of being incidental. if we take the passage relating to st mark for instance, the natural inference is that papias in the course of his expositions stumbled on a passage where this evangelist omitted something which was recorded by another authority, or gave some incident in an order different from that which he found elsewhere, and that in consequence he inserted the notice of the presbyter respecting the composition of this gospel, to explain the divergence. he might, or might not, have had opportunities of inquiring from the presbyters respecting the gospel of st luke. they might, or might not, have been able to communicate information respecting it, beyond the fact which every one knew, and which therefore no one cared to repeat, that it was written by a companion of st paul. he might, or might not, have found himself confronted with a difficulty which led him to repeat his information, assuming he had received any from them. as regards the second question, i agree with our author. i am indeed surprised that after ascribing such incredible carelessness to eusebius as he has done a few pages before, he should consider it impossible and impermissible to suppose him guilty of any laches here. but i myself have a much higher opinion of the care manifested by eusebius in this matter. so far as i can see, it would depend very much on the nature of the information, whether he would care to repeat it. if papias had reported any 'similar' information respecting the two last gospels, i should certainly expect eusebius to record it. but if (to give an illustration) papias had merely said of the fourth evangelist that 'john the disciple of the lord wished by the publication of the gospel to root out that error which had been disseminated among men by cerinthus, and long before by those who are called nicolaitans,' or language to that effect, it would be no surprise to me if eusebius did not reproduce it; because irenæus uses these very words of the fourth gospel [ : ], and eusebius does not allude to the fact. but our author argues that, 'if there was a fourth gospel in his knowledge, he [papias] must have had something to tell about it' [ : ]. perhaps so, but it does not follow either that he should have cared to tell this something gratuitously, or that any occasion should have arisen which led him to tell it. indeed, this mode of arguing altogether ignores the relations in which the immediate circle addressed by papias stood to st john. it would have been idle for papias to have said, as irenæus says, 'john the disciple of the lord, who also lay upon his breast, published his gospel, while living in ephesus of asia' [ : ]. it would have been as idle as if a writer in this review were to vouchsafe the information that 'napoleon i was a great ruler of the french who made war against england.' on the hypothesis of the genuineness of the fourth gospel, such information would have been altogether superfluous. papias might incidentally, when quoting the gospel, have introduced his quotation in words from which a later generation could gather these facts; but he is not at all likely to have communicated them in the form of a direct statement. and, if he did not, there is no reason to think that eusebius would have quoted the passage. so far however, our author seems to recognize the distinction which i drew between stories about, and quotations from, the gospels. but elsewhere, when the practical consequences become inconvenient, he boldly ignores it. take, for instance, the following passage:-- the only inference which i care to draw from, the silence of eusebius is precisely that which dr lightfoot admits that, both from his promise and his practice, i am entitled to deduce. when any ancient writer 'has something to _tell about_' the gospels, 'any _anecdote_ of interest respecting them,' eusebius will record it. this is the only information of the slightest value to this work which could be looked for in these writers [ : ]. what? does our author seriously maintain that, supposing papias to have quoted the fourth gospel several times by name as the work of john the apostle, this fact would not be of 'the slightest value' in its bearing on the question at issue between us--the antiquity and genuineness of that gospel--because, forsooth, he did not give any anecdote respecting its composition? so again a few pages later, he writes-- eusebius fulfils his pledge, and states what disputed works were used by hegesippus and what he said about them, and one of these was the gospel according to the hebrews. he does not, however, record a remark of any kind regarding our gospels, and the legitimate inference, and it is the only one i care to draw, is that hegesippus did not say anything about them [ : ]. yes; 'did not say anything _about_ them,' in the sense of not recording any traditions respecting them, though he may have quoted them scores of times and by name. if this is the only inference which our author cares to draw, i cannot object. but it is not the inference which his words would suggest to the incautious reader; and it is not the inference which will assist his argument at all. moreover this passage ignores another distinction, which i showed to be required by the profession and practice alike of eusebius. eusebius relates of hegesippus that he 'sets down some things from the gospel according to the hebrews' [ : ]; but, as our author correctly says, he does not directly mention his using our four canonical gospels. this is entirely in accordance with his procedure elsewhere. i showed that he makes it his business to note every single quotation from an apocryphal source, whereas he deliberately ignores any number of quotations from the canonical gospels, the acts, and the pauline epistles. how else (to take a single instance) can we explain the fact that, in dealing with irenæus, he singles out the one anonymous quotation from the shepherd of hermas [ : ], and is silent about the two hundred quotations (a very considerable number of them by name) from the pauline epistles? but the passage which i have just given is not the only one in which the unwary reader will be entirely misled by this juggle between two meanings of the preposition 'about'. thus our author has in several instances [ : ] tacitly altered the form of expression in his last edition; but the alteration is made in such a way as, while satisfying the letter of my distinction, to conceal its true significance. thus he writes of dionysius [ : ]-- earlier editions. | last edition [ : ]. | it is certain that, had dionysius | it is certain that had dionysius _mentioned_ books of the new | _said anything about_ books testament, eusebius would, as | of the new testament, eusebius usual, have stated the fact. | would, as usual, have stated the | fact. and again of papias [ : ]-- earlier editions. | last edition. | eusebius, who never fails to | eusebius, who never fails to _enumerate the works of the new | _state what the fathers say about testament to which the fathers | the works of_ the new testament, refer_, does not pretend that | does not mention that papias papias knew either the third or | knew either the third or fourth fourth gospels. | gospels. these alterations tell their own tale. one meaning of the expression, 'say about,' is suggested to the reader by the context and required by the author's argument, while another is alone consistent with the facts. elsewhere however the distinction is not juggled away, but boldly ignored. thus he still writes-- the presumption therefore naturally is that, as eusebius did not mention the fact, he did not find any reference to the fourth gospel in the work of papias [ : ]. i have shown that there is not any presumption--even the slightest--on this side. elsewhere he affirms still more boldly of hegesippus-- it is certain that had he mentioned our gospels, and we may say particularly the fourth, the fact would have been recorded by eusebius [ : ]. i have proved that, so far from this being certain, the probability is all the other way. i confess that i cannot understand this treatment of the subject. it may indeed serve an immediate purpose. it may take in an unwary reader, or even a stray reviewer. i must suppose that it has even deceived the writer himself. but _magna est veritas_. my paper on the silence of eusebius was founded on an induction of facts; and therefore i feel confident that, unwelcome as these results are to the author of _supernatural religion_, and unexpected as they may be to many others, they must be ultimately accepted in the main. the absence therefore of any direct mention by eusebius respecting the use of the third and fourth gospels by papias affords no presumption one way or the other; and we must look elsewhere for light on the subject. unfortunately the fragments and notices of the work of papias which have been preserved are very scanty. they might easily be compressed into less than two ordinary octavo pages, though the work itself extended to five books. it must therefore be regarded as a mere accident, whether we find in these meagre reliques the indications which we seek. as regards st luke, these indications are precarious and inadequate. they may afford a presumption that papias used this gospel, but they will not do more. independent writers indeed, like credner and hilgenfeld, are satisfied, from certain coincidences of expression in the preface of papias, that he was acquainted with this evangelist's record, though he did not attach any value to it; but i agree with the author of _supernatural religion_ in thinking that the inference is not warranted by the expressions themselves. it seems to me much more to the purpose that an extant fragment of papias, in which he speaks of the overthrow of satan and his angels, and their fall to the earth, appears to have been taken from an exposition of luke x. [ : ]. at least there is no other passage in the gospels to which it can so conveniently be referred. but obviously no great stress can be laid on this fact. it must indeed seem highly improbable that papias should have been unacquainted with a gospel which marcion, a contemporary and a native of asia minor, thought fit to adapt to his heretical teaching, and which at this time is shown by the state of the text to have been no recent document [ : ]. but this is a consideration external to the evidence derivable from papias himself. the case with the fourth gospel however is quite different. here we have a combination of circumstantial evidence, which is greater than we had any right to expect beforehand, and which amounts in the aggregate to a very high degree of probability. . in the first place, eusebius informs us that papias 'has employed testimonies from the first (former) epistle of john, and likewise from that of peter.' the knowledge of the first epistle almost necessarily carries with it the knowledge of the gospel. the identity of authorship in the two books, though not undisputed, is accepted with such a degree of unanimity that it may be placed in the category of acknowledged facts. but, if i mistake not, their relation is much closer than this. there is not only an identity of authorship, but also an organic connection between the two. the first epistle has sometimes been regarded as a preface to the gospel. it should rather be described, i think, as a commendatory postscript. this connection will make itself felt, if the two books are read continuously. the gospel seems to have been written or (more properly speaking) dictated for an immediate circle of disciples. this fact appears from special notices of time and circumstance, inserted here and there, evidently for the purpose of correcting the misapprehensions and solving the difficulties of the evangelist's hearers. it is made still more clear by the sudden transition to the second person, when the narrator breaks off, and looking up (as it were), addresses his hearers--'he that saw, it hath borne record ... that _ye_ might believe.' 'these things are written that _ye_ might believe' [ : ]. there were gathered about the apostle, we may suppose, certain older members of the church, like aristion and the presbyter john, who, as eye-witnesses of christ's earthly life, could guarantee the correctness of the narrative. the twenty-fourth verse of the last chapter is, as it were, the endorsement of these elders--'this is the disciple which testifieth of these things, and wrote these things, and _we know_ that his testimony is true.' after the narrative is thus ended, comes the hortatory postscript which we call the first epistle, and which was intended (we may suppose) to be circulated with the narrative. it has no opening salutation, like the two epistles proper--the second and third--which bear the same apostle's name. it begins at once with a reference to the gospel narrative which (on this hypothesis) has preceded--'that which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we beheld and our hands handled, of the word of life ... that which we have seen and heard declare we unto you.' the use of the plural here links on the opening of the epistle with the close of the gospel. the apostle begins by associating with himself the elders, who have certified to the authorship and authenticity of the narrative. having done this, he changes to the singular, and speaks in his own name--'i write.' the opening phrase of the epistle, 'that which was from the beginning,' is explained by the opening phrase of the gospel, 'in the beginning was the word.' the whole epistle is a devotional and moral application of the main ideas which are evolved historically in the sayings and doings of christ recorded in the gospel. the most perplexing saying in the epistle, 'he that came by water and by blood,' illustrates and itself is illustrated by the most perplexing incident in the gospel, 'there came forth water and blood.' we understand at length, why in the gospel so much stress is laid on the veracity of the eye-witness just at this point, when we see from the epistle what significance the writer would attach to the incident, as symbolizing christ's healing power. this view of the composition of the gospel and its connection with the epistle has been suggested by internal considerations; but it is strongly confirmed by the earliest tradition which has been preserved. the muratorian fragment [ : ] on the canon must have been written about a.d. . as i shall have occasion to refer to this document more than once before i have done, i will here give an account of the passage relating to the gospels, that it may serve for reference afterwards. the fragment is mutilated at the beginning, so that the passage describing the first gospel is altogether wanting. the text begins with the closing sentence in the description of the second gospel--obviously st mark--which runs thus: 'at which however he was present, and so he set them down.' 'the third book of the gospel' is designated 'according to luke.' the writer relates that this luke was a physician, who after the ascension of christ became a follower of st paul, and that he compiled the gospel in his own name. 'yet,' he adds, 'neither did _he_ (nec ipse) see the lord in the flesh, and he too set down incidents as he was able to ascertain them [ : ]. so he began his narrative from the birth of john.' then he continues-- 'the fourth gospel is (the work) of john, one of the (personal) disciples [ : ] (of christ). being exhorted by his fellow-disciples and bishops, he said, "fast with me to-day for three days, and let us relate to one another what shall have been revealed to each." the same night it was revealed to andrew, one of the apostles, that john should write down everything in his own name, and all should certify (ut recognoscentibus cunctis johannes suo nomine cuncta describeret). and therefore, although various elements (principia) are taught in the several books of the gospels, yet it makes no difference to the faith of the believer, since all things in all of them are declared by one supreme spirit, concerning the nativity, the passion, the resurrection, his intercourse with his disciples, and his two advents, the first in despised lowliness, which is already past, the second with the magnificence of kingly power, which is yet to come. what wonder then, if john so boldly puts forward each statement in his epistle ([greek: tais epistolais]) [ : ] also saying of himself, "what we have seen with our eyes and heard with our ears, and our hands have handled, these things we have written unto you?" for so he avows himself to be not only an eye-witness and a hearer, but also a recorder, of all the wonderful things of the lord in order.' after speaking of the acts and epistles of st paul, this anonymous writer arrives at the catholic epistles; and here he mentions _two_ epistles of st john as received in the church. i shall have something to say presently about the coincidences with papias in this passage. for the moment i wish to call attention to the account which the writer gives of the origin of st john's gospel [ : ]. there may be some legendary matter mixed up with this account; the interposition of andrew and the dream of john may or may not have been historical facts; but its general tenor agrees remarkably with the results yielded by an examination of the gospel itself. yet it must be regarded as altogether independent. to suppose otherwise would be to ascribe to the writer in the second century an amount of critical insight and investigation which would do no dishonour to the nineteenth. but there is also another point of importance to my immediate subject. the writer detaches the first epistle of st john from the second and third, and connects it with the gospel. either he himself, or some earlier authority whom he copied, would appear to have used a manuscript in which it occupied this position. but our author attempts to invalidate the testimony of eusebius respecting the use of the first epistle by papias. he wrote in his earlier editions:-- as eusebius however does not quote the passages from papias, we must remain in doubt whether he did not, as elsewhere, assume from some similarity of wording that the passages were quotations from these epistles, whilst in reality they might not be. eusebius made a similar statement with regard to a supposed quotation in the so-called epistle of polycarp (^ ) upon very insufficient grounds [ : ]. in my article on the silence of eusebius [ : ], i challenged him to produce any justification of his assertion 'as elsewhere.' i stated, and i emphasized the statement, that '_eusebius in no instance which we can test gives a doubtful testimony_.' i warned him that, if i were not proved to be wrong in this statement, i should use the fact hereafter. in the preface to his new edition he has devoted twelve pages to my article on eusebius; and he is silent on this point. of his silence i have no right to complain. if he had nothing to say, he has acted wisely. but there is another point in the paragraph quoted above, which demands more serious consideration. in my article [ : ] i offered the conjecture that our author had been guilty of a confusion here. i called attention to his note (^ ) which runs, 'ad phil. vii.; euseb. _h.e._ iv. ,' and i wrote:-- the passage of eusebius to which our author refers in this note relates how polycarp 'has employed certain testimonies from the first (former) epistle of peter.' the chapter of polycarp, to which he refers, contains a reference to the first epistle _of st john_, which has been alleged by modern writers, but _is not alleged by eusebius._ this same chapter, it is true, contains the words 'watch unto prayer,' which presents a coincidence with pet. iv. . but no one would lay any stress on this one expression: the strong and unquestionable coincidences are elsewhere. moreover our author speaks of a single 'supposed quotation,' whereas the quotations from peter in polycarp are numerous. i then pointed out ten other coincidences with the first epistle of st peter, scattered through polycarp's epistle. some of these are verbal; almost all of them are much more striking and cogent than the resemblance in c. vii. our author will not allow the error, but replies in his preface:-- i regret very much that some ambiguity in my language (_s.r._ i. p. ) should have misled, and given dr lightfoot much trouble. i used the word 'quotation' in the sense of a use of the epistle of peter, and not in reference to any one sentence in polycarp. i trust that in this edition i have made my meaning clear [ : ]. accordingly, in the text, he substitutes for the latter sentence the words:-- eusebius made a similar statement with regard to the use of the epistle of peter in the so-called epistle of polycarp, upon no more definite grounds than an apparent resemblance of expressions [ : ]. but the former part of the sentence is unaltered; the assertion 'as elsewhere' still remains unsubstantiated; and what is more important, he leaves the note exactly as it stood before, with the single reference to c. vii. thus he has entirely misled his readers. he has deliberately ignored more than nine-tenths of the evidence in point of amount, and very far more than this proportion in point of cogency. the note was quite appropriate, supposing that the first epistle of st john were meant, as i assumed; it is a flagrant _suppressio veri_, if it refers to the first epistle of st peter, as our author asserts that it does. the charge which i brought against him was only one of carelessness, which no one need have been ashamed to confess. the charge which his own explanation raises against him is of a far graver kind. though he regrets the trouble he has given me, i do not regret it. it has enabled me to bring out the important fact that eusebius may always be trusted in these notices relating to the use made of the canonical scriptures by early writers. . but this is not the only reason which the fragments in eusebius supply for believing that papias was acquainted with the fourth gospel. the extract from the preface suggests points of coincidence, which are all the more important because they are incidental. in the words, 'what was said by andrew, or by peter, or by philip, or by thomas or james, or by john or matthew,' the first four names appear in the same order in which they are introduced on the scene by this evangelist. as this order, which places andrew before peter, is anything but the natural order, the coincidence has a real significance. moreover, three of these four hold a prominent place in the fourth gospel, which they do not hold in the others--philip and thomas being never once named by the synoptic evangelists, except in their lists of the twelve. it has been said indeed that the position assigned to the name of john by papias in his enumeration is inconsistent with the supposition that this apostle wrote a gospel, or even that he resided and taught in asia minor, because so important a personage must necessarily have been named earlier. but this argument proves nothing because it proves too much. no rational account can be given of the sequence, supposing that the names are arranged 'in order of merit.' peter, as the chief apostle, must have stood first; and john, as a pillar apostle, would have been named next, or (if the james here mentioned is the lord's brother) at all events next but one. this would have been the obvious order in any case; but, if papias had any judaic sympathies, as he is supposed to have had, no other is imaginable. this objection therefore is untenable. on the other hand, it is a remarkable fact that the two names, which are kept to the last and associated together, are just those two members of the twelve to whom alone the church attributes written gospels. as evangelists, the name of john and matthew would naturally be connected. on any other hypothesis, it is difficult to account for this juxtaposition. again, it should be noticed that when papias speaks of incidents in our lord's life which are related by an eye-witness without any intermediation between christ and the reporter, he describes them as 'coming from the truth's self' [ : ] ([greek: ap' autês tês alêtheias]). this personification of christ as 'the truth' is confined to the fourth gospel. . when we turn from eusebius to irenæus, we meet with other evidence pointing to the same result. i refer to a passage with which the readers of these articles will be familiar, for i have had occasion to refer to it more than once [ : ]; but i have not yet investigated its connection with papias. irenæus writes [ : ]:-- as the elders say, then also shall they which have been deemed worthy of the abode in heaven go thither, while others shall enjoy the delight of paradise, and others again shall possess the brightness of the city; for in every place the saviour shall be seen, according as they shall be worthy who see him. [they say] moreover that this is the distinction between the habitation of them that bring forth a hundred-fold, and them that bring forth sixty-fold, and them that bring forth thirty-fold; of whom the first shall be taken up into the heavens, and the second shall dwell in paradise, and the third shall inhabit the city; and that therefore our lord has said, 'in my father's abode are many mansions' ([greek: en tois tou patros mou monas einai pollas]); for all things are of god, who giveth to all their appropriate dwelling, according as his word saith that allotment is made unto all by the father, according as each man is, or shall be, worthy. and this is the banqueting-table at which those shall recline who are called to the marriage and take part in the feast. the presbyters, the disciples of the apostles, say that this is the arrangement and disposal of them that are saved, and that they advance by such steps, and ascend through the spirit to the son, and through the son to the father, the son at length yielding his work to the father, as it is said also by the apostle, 'for he must reign until he putteth all enemies under his feet,' etc. [ : ] i am glad to be saved all further trouble about the grammar of this passage. our author now allows that the sentence with which we are mainly concerned is oblique, and that the words containing a reference to our lord's saying in st john's gospel are attributed to the elders who are mentioned before and after. he still maintains however, that 'it is unreasonable to claim' the reference 'as an allusion to the work of papias,' he urges in one place that there is 'a wide choice of presbyters, including even evangelists, to whom the reference of irenæus may with equal right be ascribed' [ : ]; in another, that 'the source of the quotation is quite indefinite, and may simply be the exegesis of his own day' [ : ]. to the one hypothesis it is sufficient to reply that no such explanation is found in the only four evangelists whom irenæus recognized; to the other, that when irenæus wrote there were no 'disciples of the apostles' living, so that he could have used the present tense in speaking of them. this reference to the tense leads to a distinction of real importance. critics have remarked that these reports of the opinions of the presbyters in irenæus must be accepted with reserve; that the reporter may unconsciously have infused his own thoughts and illustrations into the account; and that therefore we cannot adduce with entire confidence the quotations from the canonical writings which they contain. this caution is not superfluous, but it must not be accepted without limitation. the reports in irenæus are of two kinds. in some cases he repeats the _conversations_ of his predecessors; in others he derives his information from _published records_. the hesitation, which is prudent in the one case, would be quite misplaced in the other. we shall generally find no difficulty in drawing the line between the two. though there may be one or two doubtful instances, the language of irenæus is most commonly decisive on this point. thus, when he quotes the opinions of the elder on the two testaments, he is obviously repeating oral teaching; for he writes, 'the presbyter used to say,' 'the presbyter would entertain us with his discourse,' 'the old man, the disciple of the apostles, used to dispute' [ : ]. on the other hand, when in the passage before us he employs the present tense, 'as the elders say,' 'the presbyters, the disciples of the apostles, say,' he is clearly referring to some _document_. no one would write, 'coleridge maintains,' or 'pitt declares,' unless he had in view some work or speech or biographical notice of the person thus quoted. we may therefore safely conclude that in the passage before us irenæus is citing from some _book_. so far as regards the main question at issue, the antiquity of the fourth gospel, it matters little whether this book was the exegetical work of papias or not. indeed the supposition that it was a different work is slightly more favourable to my position, because it yields additional and independent testimony of the same date and character as that of papias. but the following reasons combined make out a very strong case for assigning the passage to papias. ( ) it entirely accords with the _method_ of papias, as he himself describes it in his preface [ : ]. scriptural passages are interpreted, and the sayings of the elders are interwoven with the interpretations. it accords equally well with the _subject_ of his expositions; for we know that he had a great fondness for eschatological topics, and that he viewed them in this light. ( ) the possibilities are limited by the language, which confines our search to written documents. so far as we know there was, prior to the time of irenæus, no christian work which would treat the same subject in the same way, and would at the same time satisfy the conditions implied in the words, 'the elders, the disciples of the apostles, say.' ( ) the connection with a previous passage is highly important in its bearing on this question. in the thirty-third chapter of his fifth and last book irenæus gives the direct reference to papias which has been considered already [ : ]; in the thirty-sixth and final chapter occurs the passage with which we are now concerned. is there reason to believe that the authority in these two passages is the same or different? several considerations aid us in answering this question, and they all tend in the same direction. (i) the subject of the two passages is the same. they both treat of the future kingdom of christ, and both regard it from the same point of view as a visible and external kingdom. (ii) in the next place the authorities in the two passages are described in similar terms. in the first passage they are designated at the outset 'the elders who saw john, the disciple of the lord,' while at the close we are told that 'papias records these things in writing in his fourth book: it is not clear whether these elders are the authorities whom papias quotes, or the class to whom papias himself belongs, and whom therefore he represents. since irenæus regards papias as a direct hearer of st john, this latter alternative is quite tenable, though perhaps not as probable as the other. but this twofold possibility does not affect the question at issue. in the second passage the authorities are described in the opening as 'the elders' simply, and at the close as 'the elders, the disciples of the apostles.' thus the two accord. moreover, in the second passage 'the elders' are introduced without any further description, as if they were already known, and we therefore naturally refer back to the persons who have been mentioned and described shortly before. (iii) the subject is continuous from the one passage to the other, though it extends over four somewhat long chapters (c. - ). the discussion starts, as we have seen, from christ's saying about drinking the fruit of the vine in his kingdom [ : ]. the authority of the elders, recorded in the work of papias, is quoted to support a literal interpretation of these words, as implying a material recompense of the believers. irenæus then cites those prophecies of isaiah which foretell the reign of peace on god's holy mountain (xi. sq, lxv. sq). this leads him to the predictions which announce the future triumphs of israel and the glories of the new jerusalem, all of which are interpreted literally as referring to a reign of christ on earth. creation thus renovated, he argues, will last for ever, as may be inferred from the promise of the new heavens and the new earth (isaiah lxvi. ). then follows the passage in question, which contains the interpretation, given by the elders, of christ's saying concerning the many mansions in his father's house. a few lines lower down irenæus refers again to the words respecting the fruit of the vine from which he had started; and after two or three sentences more the book ends. these seem to be very substantial reasons for assigning the words to papias. and probably the two passages which i have been considering do not stand alone. in an earlier part of this same fifth book irenæus writes [ : ]:-- where then was the first man placed? in paradise plainly, as it is written 'and god planted a paradise....;' and he was cast out thence into this world, owing to his disobedience. wherefore also the elders, disciples of the apostles, say that those who were translated were translated thither (for paradise was prepared for righteous and inspired men, whither also the apostle paul was carried....) and that they who are translated remain there till the end of all things ([greek: heôs sunteleias]), preluding immortality. on this passage our author remarks:-- it seems highly probable that these 'presbyters the disciples of the apostles' who are quoted on paradise are the same 'presbyters the disciples of the apostles' referred to on the same subject (v. . §§ , ), whom we are discussing [ : ]. with this opinion i entirely agree. 'but,' he adds, 'there is nothing whatever to connect them with papias.' here i am obliged to join issue. it seems to me that there are several things. in the first place, there is the description of the authorities, 'the elders, the disciples of the apostles,' which exactly accords with the statement in papias' own preface [ : ]. next there is the subject and its treatment. this latter point, if i mistake not, presents some considerations which strongly confirm my view of the source of these references in irenæus. the elders here quoted maintain that the paradise of genesis is not a terrestrial paradise; it is some region beyond the limits of this world, to which enoch and elijah were translated; it is the abode, as irenæus says, of the righteous and the spiritual ([greek: pneumatikoi]), of whom these two respectively are types; their translation preludes the immortality of the faithful in christ. in the second passage where paradise is mentioned by these elders, it is declared to be one of the 'many mansions' in the father's house. but it is clear from this latter passage that the work from which these sayings of the elders are quoted must have contained much more about paradise. the intermediate position there assigned to it between the celestial and the terrestrial kingdom does not explain itself, and must have required some previous discussion. is there any reason to think that papias did directly occupy himself with this subject? the work of papias was in the hands of anastasius of sinai, who (as we have seen) set a very high value on it [ : ]. he tells us in his 'hexaemeron' [ : ] that 'the more ancient interpreters ... contemplated the sayings about paradise _spiritually_, and referred them to the church of christ.' they 'said that there was a certain _spiritual_ paradise' [ : ]. among these 'more ancient interpreters,' of whom he gives a list, he names 'the great papias of hierapolis, the scholar of john the evangelist, and irenæus of lyons.' here the two are associated together as dealing with this same subject in the same way. how much of the exegesis which anastasius gives in the context, and attributes to these ancient interpreters, may be due to papias in particular, it is impossible to say. but it may be observed that the expression 'the delight of the paradise,' in the saying of the elders reported by irenæus, is taken from the septuagint of ezekiel xxviii. , where the prince of tyre is addressed, 'thou wast in the delight of the paradise of god;' and that anastasius represents 'the interpreters' (among whom he had previously mentioned papias) as 'especially confirming their views of a spiritual paradise' by appealing to this very passage, 'where god seems to reveal to us enigmatically the fall of the devil from heaven,' the prince of tyre being interpreted as satan, and the 'stones of fire' the hosts of intelligent beings; and he immediately afterwards quotes in illustration our lord's words in luke x. , 'i beheld satan as lightning fall from heaven' [ : ]. 'see,' he concludes, 'we have heard plainly that he was cast down to the earth from some paradise of delight high above, and from the cherubic coals of fire. (ezek. xxviii. )' from the hexaemeron of anastasius i turn to the catena on the apocalypse, bearing the names of oecumenius and arethas, which was published by cramer [ : ], and here i find fresh confirmation. on rev. xii. , the compiler of this commentary quotes the same passage of st luke to which anastasius refers. he then goes on to explain that there was a twofold fall of satan--the one at the time of the creation of man, the other at the incarnation; and he proceeds-- seeing then that michael, the chief captain [of the heavenly hosts], could not tolerate the pride of the devil, and had long ago cast him out from his own abode by warlike might, according as ezekiel says, that 'he was cast out by the cherubim from the midst of the stones of fire,' that is to say, the angelic ranks, because 'iniquities were found in him' (xxviii. , ); again at the coming of christ, as has been said ... he hath fallen more completely. this is confirmed by the tradition of the fathers, especially of papias ([greek: kai paterôn paradosis kai papiou]), a successor of the evangelist john who wrote this very apocalypse with which we are concerned. indeed papias speaks thus concerning the war in these express words: 'it so befell that their array,' that is, their warlike enterprise, 'came to nought; for the great dragon, the old serpent, who is also called satan and the devil, was cast down, yea, and was cast down to the earth, he and his angels' [ : ]. i turn again to anastasius; and i read in him that 'the above-mentioned interpreters' gave these explanations of paradise to counteract the teaching of divers heretics, among whom he especially mentions the ophites who 'offered the greatest thanksgivings to the serpent, on the ground that by his counsels, and by the transgression committed by the woman, the whole race of mankind had been born' [ : ]. this notice again confirms the view which i adopted, that it was the design of papias to supply an antidote to the false exegesis of the gnostics. thus everything hangs together, and we seem to have restored a lost piece of ancient exegesis. if this restoration is uncertain in its details, it has at least materially strengthened my position, that the two sayings of the elders respecting paradise, quoted by irenæus, must be attributed to the same authority, papias, whom irenæus cites by name in the intermediate passage relating to the millennial kingdom. i must add my belief also that very considerable parts of the fifth book of irenæus, which consists mainly of exegesis, are borrowed from the exegetical work of papias. it is the unpardonable sin of papias in the eyes of eusebius, that he has misled subsequent writers, more especially irenæus, on these eschatological subjects. this is speaking testimony to the debt of irenæus. literary property was not an idea recognized by early christian writers. they were too much absorbed in their subject to concern themselves with their obligations to others, or with the obligations of others to them. plagiarism was not a crime, where they had all literary things in common. hippolytus, in his chief work, tacitly borrows whole paragraphs, and even chapters, almost word for word, from irenæus. he mentions his name only twice, and does not acknowledge his obligations more than once [ : ]. the liberties, which hippolytus takes with his master irenæus, might well have been taken by irenæus himself with his predecessor papias. . eusebius tells us that papias 'relates also another story concerning a woman accused of many sins before the lord,' and he adds that it is 'contained in the gospel according to the hebrews.' the story in question is allowed to be the narrative of the woman taken in adultery, which appears in the common texts of the fourth gospel, vii. -viii. . in the oldest greek ms which contains this pericope, the _codex bezæ_, the words 'taken in adultery' are read 'taken in sin.' in the _apostolic constitutions_ [ : ], where this incident is briefly related, the woman is described as 'having sinned.' and again rufinus, who would possibly be acquainted with jerome's translation of the gospel according to the hebrews, boldly substitutes 'a woman, an adulteress,' for 'a woman accused of many sins,' in his version of eusebius. but it is equally certain that this pericope is an interpolation where it stands. all considerations of external evidence are against it. it is wanting in all greek mss before the sixth century; it was originally absent in all the oldest versions--latin, syriac, egyptian, gothic; it is not referred to, as part of st john's gospel, before the latter half of the fourth century. nor is the internal evidence less fatal. it is expressed in language quite foreign to st john's style, and it interrupts the tenor of his narrative. the evangelist is here relating christ's discourses on the last day, that great day, of the feast' of tabernacles. our lord seizes on the two most prominent features in the ceremonial--the pouring out of the water from siloam upon the altar, and the illumination of the city by flaming torches, lighted in the temple area. each in succession furnishes him with imagery illustrating his own person and work. in the uninterrupted narrative, the one topic follows directly upon the other. he states first, that the streams of _living water_ flow from him (vii. sq). he speaks 'again' ([greek: palin]), and declares that he is the _light of_ _the world_ (viii. sq). but the intervention of this story dislocates the whole narrative, introducing a change of time, of scene, of subject. on the other hand, it will be felt that the incident, though misplaced here, must be authentic in itself. its ethical pitch is far above anything which could have been invented for him by his disciples and followers, 'whose character and idiosyncrasies,' as mr mill says, 'were of a totally different sort' [ : ]. they had neither the capacity to imagine nor the will to invent an incident, which, while embodying the loftiest of all moral teaching, would seem to them dangerously lax in its moral tendencies. but, if so, how came it to find a place in the copies of st john's gospel? ewald incidentally throws out a suggestion [ : ] that it was originally written on the margin of some ancient manuscript, to illustrate the words of christ in john viii. , 'ye judge after the flesh; i judge no man.' this hint he has not followed up, but it seems to me to be highly valuable. the pericope in question occurs, in most authorities which contain it, after vii. ; in one ms however it stands after vii. ; and in several it is placed at the end of the gospel. this is just what might have been expected if it was written, in the first instance, on the margin of a ms containing two or three columns on a page. when transferred from the margin to the text, it would find a place somewhere in the neighbourhood, where it least interfered with the narrative, or, if no suitable place appeared, it would be relegated to the end of the book. it should be added, that some good cursives give it at the end of the twenty-first chapter of st luke--the most appropriate position, historically, that could be found for it. whether this was an independent insertion in st luke, or a transference from st john made on critical grounds, it is not easy to say. but if this was the motive of the insertion, what was its source? have we not here one of those illustrative anecdotes which papias derived from the report of the elders, and to which he 'did not scruple to give a place along with his interpretations' of our lord's sayings? its introduction as an illustration of the words in john viii. would thus be an exact parallel to the treatment of the saying in matthew xxvi. , as described in the first part of this paper [ : ]. a reader or transcriber of st john, familiar with papias, would copy it down in his margin, either from papias himself or from the gospel of the hebrews; and hence it would gain currency. the _codex bezæ_, the oldest greek manuscript by two or three centuries which contains this narrative, is remarkable for its additions. may we not suspect that others besides this pericope (i would name especially our lord's saying to the man whom he found working on the sabbath) were derived from this exegetical work of papias? at all events eusebius speaks of it as containing 'some strange parables and teachings of the saviour, and some other matters more or less fabulous ([greek: muthikôtera]),' which papias derived from oral tradition. . i have already suggested [ : ] that the notice relating to st mark in papias might have been given to explain some peculiarities in the second gospel, _as compared with st john_. this conjecture, standing alone, appears to have a very slight value, but it assumes a higher importance when we find that a writer who was a younger contemporary of papias speaks of st mark's gospel in this same way and with this same motive. the extract from the muratorian fragment relating to the gospels has been given above [ : ]. the writer is obviously desirous of accounting for the differences in the four evangelists. as the fragment is mutilated at the beginning, we cannot say what he wrote about the first gospel. but the half sentence which alone survives of his account of the second gospel tells its own tale; 'quibus interfuit et ita tamen posuit.' it is evident that he, like papias, describes st mark as dependent on the oral preaching of st peter for his information respecting christ's life. he 'set down' such facts as he knew from having been 'present' when the apostle related them to his hearers. if the words themselves had left any room for doubt, it would be cleared up by his account of the third gospel, which follows immediately. st luke, he tells us, was a follower of st paul, and so wrote his gospel; 'but _neither_ did _he_ ([greek: all' oud' autos]) see the lord in the flesh,' and so he gave such information as came within his reach. on the other hand, he declares that the fourth gospel was written by john, a personal _disciple_ of christ, at the instance and with the sanction of other personal disciples like himself. hence, he argues, though there must necessarily be differences in detail, yet this does not affect the faith of believers, since there is perfect accordance on the main points, and all the gospels alike are inspired by the same spirit. at the same time, the authority of the fourth gospel is paramount, as the record of an immediate eye-witness; and this claim john asserts for himself in the opening of his epistle, when he declares that he has written what he himself had seen and heard. probably, if the notice of st mark had not been mutilated, the coincidence would have been found to be still greater. even as it stands, this account throws great light on the notice of papias. the muratorian writer lays stress on the secondary character of st mark's account; so does papias. the muratorian writer quotes from the first epistle of st john in evidence; so did papias. we are not told with what object papias adduced this testimony from the epistle; but it is at least a plausible hypothesis that he had the same end in view as the muratorian writer. it should be observed also that eusebius mentions papias as quoting not only the first epistle of st john, but also the first epistle of st peter. may not the two have been connected together in the context of papias, as they are in the notice of eusebius? it is quite clear that papias had already said something of the relations existing between st peter and st mark previously to the extract which gives an account of the second gospel; for he there refers back to a preceding notice, 'but afterwards, _as i said_, he followed peter.' would he not naturally have quoted, as illustrating these relations, the reference to the evangelist in the apostle's own letter, 'marcus my son saluteth you' ( pet. v. )? if the whole of the muratorian writer's notice of the second gospel had been preserved, we should not improbably have found a parallelism here also. but, however this may be, the resemblance is enough to suggest that the muratorian writer was acquainted with the work of papias, and that he borrowed his contrast between the secondary evidence of st mark and the primary evidence of st john from this earlier writer. and such a contrast offers a highly natural explanation of papias' motive. the testimony of the elder respecting the composition of st mark's gospel was introduced by him, as we saw, to explain its phenomena. though strictly accurate in its relation of facts, as far as it went, this gospel had, he tells us, two drawbacks, which it owed to its secondary character. the account could not be taken as _complete_, and the order could not be assumed to be strictly _chronological_. in other words, compared with other evangelical narratives which papias had in view, it showed _omissions_ and _transpositions_. a comparison with st john's narrative would yield many instances of both. we have ample evidence that within a very few years after papias wrote, the differences between st john and the synoptic gospels had already begun to attract attention. the muratorian writer is a competent witness to this, nor does he stand alone. claudius apollinaris, who succeeded papias in the see of hierapolis, perhaps immediately, certainly within a very few years, mentions that on the showing of some persons 'the gospels seem to be at variance with one another' [ : ]. he is referring especially to the account of the crucifixion in st matthew and st john respectively. it is much to be regretted that the muratorian writer's account of st matthew also has not been preserved; for here again we should expect much light to be thrown on the corresponding account in papias. why did papias introduce this notice of the hebrew original of st matthew? we may suspect that the same motive which induced him to dwell on the secondary character of st mark's knowledge led him also to call attention to the fact that st matthew's gospel was not an original, but a translation. i turn to an exegetical work of eusebius, and i find this father dealing with the different accounts of two evangelists in this very way. he undertakes to solve the question, why st matthew (xxviii. ) says that the resurrection was revealed to mary magdalene on the evening of (or 'late on') the sabbath ([greek: opse sabbatôn]), whereas st john (xx. ) places this same incident on the first day of the week [greek: tê mia tôn sabbatôn]; and among other explanations which he offers is the following:-- the expression 'on the evening of the sabbath' is due to the translator of the scripture; for the evangelist matthew published [greek: paredôke] his gospel in the hebrew tongue; but the person who rendered it into the greek language changed it, and called the hour dawning on the lord's day [greek: opse sabbatôn] [ : ]. he adds, that each evangelist corrects any misapprehension which might arise--st matthew by adding 'as it began to dawn towards the first day of the week,' st john by a similar qualifying expression 'when it was yet dark.' being acquainted with the work of papias, eusebius might have borrowed this mode of explanation, if not this very explanation, from him. but it may be urged that on this hypothesis the motive of papias must have appeared in the context, and that, if it had so appeared, eusebius must have quoted it. the reply is simple. papias must in any case have had some object or other in citing this testimony of the presbyter, and none is given. but i would answer further, that under the supposed circumstances eusebius was not likely to quote the context. as a matter of fact, he has not done so in a very similar case, where he tears out a fragment from a passage in irenæus which intimately affects the relations of the evangelists to one another [ : ]. he commences in the middle of a sentence, and extracts just as much as serves his immediate purpose, leaving out everything else. on this point, i am glad that i can reckon beforehand on the assent of the author of _supernatural religion_ himself. speaking of this extract from irenæus, he says, 'nothing could be further from the desire or intention of eusebius than to represent any discordance between the gospels [ : ].' i do not indeed join in the vulgar outcry against the dishonesty of eusebius. wherever i have been able to investigate the charge, i have found it baseless. we have ample evidence that eusebius was prepared to face the difficulties in harmonizing the gospels, when the subject came properly before him. but here he might fairly excuse himself from entering upon a topic which had no bearing on his immediate purpose, and which once started would require a lengthy discussion to do justice to it. moreover it is obvious that he is very impatient with papias. he tells us twice over that he has confined his extracts to the very narrowest limits which bare justice to his subject would allow [ : ]; he warns his readers that there are a great many traditions in papias which he has passed over; and he refers them to the book itself for further information. though exceptionally long in itself compared with his notices of other early christian writers, his account of papias is, we may infer, exceptionally brief in proportion to the amount of material which this father afforded for such extracts. . i have said nothing yet about the direct testimony of a late anonymous writer, which (if it could be accepted as trustworthy) would be decisive on the point at issue. in an argument prefixed to this gospel in a vatican ms, which is assigned to the ninth century, we read as follows:-- the gospel of john was made known (manifestatum), and given to the churches by john while he yet remained in the body (adhuc in corpore constituto); as (one) papias by name, of hierapolis, a beloved disciple of john, has related in his exoteric, that is, in his last five books (in exotericis, id est, in extremis quinque libris); but he wrote down the gospel at the dictation of john, correctly (descripsit vero evangelium dictante johanne recte). but marcion the heretic, when he had been censured (improbatus) by him, because he held heretical opinions (eo quod contraria sentiebat), was cast off by john. now he had brought writings or letters to him from the brethren that were in pontus [ : ]. no stress can be laid on testimony derived from a passage which contains such obvious anachronisms and other inaccuracies; but the mention of papias here courts inquiry, and time will not be ill spent in the endeavour to account for it. it will be worth while, at all events, to dispose of an erroneous explanation which has found some favour. when attention was first called to this passage by aberle and tischendorf, overbeck met them with the hypothesis that the notice was taken from a spurious work ascribed to papias. he supposed that some one had forged five additional books in the name of this father, in which he had gathered together a mass of fabulous matter, and had entitled them 'exoterica,' attaching them to the genuine five books. to this work he assigned also the notice respecting the four maries which bears the name of papias [ : ]. this explanation might have been left to itself if it had remained as a mere hypothesis of overbeck's, but it has been recently accepted by hilgenfeld. he speaks of these five 'exoteric' books, as attached to 'the five esoteric or genuine books;' and to this source he attributes not only the account of the four maries, but also a notice relating to the death of st john which is given by georgius hamartolos on the authority of papias [ : ]. this however seems to be altogether a mistake. we find no notice or trace elsewhere of any such spurious work attributed to papias. moreover these titles are quite unintelligible. there is no reason why the five genuine books should be called 'esoteric,' or the five spurious books 'exoteric.' about the notice of the four maries again hilgenfeld is in error. it is not taken from any forged book fathered upon the bishop of hierapolis, but from a genuine work of another papias, a latin lexicographer of the eleventh century. this is not a mere hypothesis, as hilgenfeld assumes, but an indisputable fact, as any one can test who will refer to the work itself, of which mss exist in some libraries, and which was printed four times in the fifteenth century [ : ]. nor again does the passage in georgius hamartolos give any countenance to this theory. this writer, after saying that st john survived the rest of the twelve and then suffered as a martyr ([greek: marturiou katêxiôtai]), continues:-- for papias, the bishop of hierapolis, having been an eye-witness of him, says in the second book [greek: logô] of the 'oracles of the lord' ([greek: tôn kuriakôn logiôn]) that he was slain by the jews, having, as is clear, with his brother james, fulfilled the prediction of christ.... 'ye shall drink my cup,' etc. [ : ] here we have an obvious error. the fate which really befell james is attributed to john. georgius hamartolos therefore cannot be quoting directly from papias, for papias cannot have reported the _martyrdom_ of john. but, on the other hand, papias seems plainly to have been the ultimate source of his information. the work is precisely and correctly quoted. the general tenor accords with the main object of papias' book--the exposition of a saying of christ, and the illustration of it by a story derived from tradition. this being so, the error is most easily explained by a lacuna. in the intermediate authority from whom georgius got the reference, some words must have dropped out; a line or two may have been omitted in his copy; and the sentence may have run in the original somewhat in this way; [greek: papias ... phaskei hoti iôannês [men hupo tou rhômaiôn basileôs katedikasthê marturôn eis patmon, iakôbos de] hupo ioudaiôn anêrethê], 'papias says that john [was condemned by the roman emperor (and sent) to patmos for bearing witness (to the truth) while james] was slain by the jews' [ : ]. the hypothesis of a spurious papias therefore is wholly unsupported; and we must seek some other explanation of the statement in the vatican ms. this passage seems to be made up of notices gathered from different sources. the account of marcion, with which it closes, involves an anachronism (to say nothing else), and seems to have arisen from a confusion of the interview between st john and cerinthus and that between polycarp and marcion, which are related by irenæus in the same context [ : ]. the earlier part, referring to papias, is best explained in another way--by clerical errors and mistranslation rather than by historical confusion. the word 'exotericis' ought plainly to be read 'exegeticis' [ : ]. in some handwritings of the seventh or eighth century, where the letters have a round form, the substitution of ot for eg would be far from difficult [ : ]. in this case _extremis_, which should perhaps be read _externis_, is the latin interpretation of the false reading _exotericis_. thus purged of errors, the reference to papias presents no difficulties. we may suppose that papias, having reported some saying of st john on the authority of the elders, went on somewhat as follows: 'and this accords with what we find in his own gospel, which he gave to the churches when he was still in the body' [greek: eti en tô sômati kathestôtos]. in this contrast between the story repeated after his death and the gospel taken down from his lips during his lifetime, we should have an explanation of the words _adhuc in corpore constituto_, which otherwise seem altogether out of place. the word _constituto_ shows clearly, i think, that the passage must have been translated from the greek. if st john's authorship of the gospel had been mentioned in this incidental way, eusebius would not have repeated it, unless he departed from his usual practice. on the other hand, the statement that papias was the amanuensis of the evangelist can hardly be correct, though it occurs elsewhere [ : ]. whether it was derived from a misunderstanding of papias, or of some one else, it would be impossible to say. but i venture to suggest a solution. papias may have quoted the gospel 'delivered by john to the churches, which _they_ wrote down from his lips' ([greek: ho apegraphon apo tou stomatos autou]); and some later writer, mistaking the ambiguous [greek: apegraphon], interpreted it, '_i_ wrote down,' thus making papias himself the amanuensis [ : ]. the _dictation_ of st john's gospel is suggested, as i have said already [ : ], by internal evidence also. here again, so far as we can judge from his practice elsewhere, eusebius would be more likely than not to omit such a statement, if it was made thus casually. this seems to me the most probable explanation of the whole passage. but obviously no weight can be attached to such evidence. like the statement of john malalas respecting ignatius, which i considered in a former paper [ : ], it is discredited by its companionship with an anachronism, though the anachronism is not so flagrant as those of john malalas, and the statement itself does not, like his, contradict the unanimous testimony of all the preceding centuries. but the author of _supernatural religion_ closes with an argument, which he seems to think a formidable obstacle to the belief that papias recognized the fourth gospel as the work of st john:-- andrew of cæsarea, in the preface to his commentary on the apocalypse, mentions that papias maintained 'the credibility' ([greek: to axiopiston]) of that book, or in other words, its apostolic origin.... now, he must, therefore, have recognized the book as the work of the apostle john, and we shall hereafter show that it is impossible that the author of the apocalypse is the author of the gospel; therefore, in this way also, papias is a witness against the apostolic origin of the fourth gospel [ : ]. this argument however is an anachronism. many very considerable critics of the nineteenth century, it is true, maintain that the two works cannot have come from the same author. i do not stop now to ask whether they are right or wrong; but the nineteenth century is not the second. in the second century there is not the slightest evidence that a single writer felt any difficulty on this score, or attempted to separate the authorship of the two books. it is true that eusebius mentions one or two authors, whose works unfortunately are lost, as using the apocalypse, while he does not mention their using the gospel; and this negative fact has obviously misled many. but here again the inference arises from a fundamental misconception of his purpose. i have shown [ : ] that his principles required him to notice quotations from and references to the apocalypse in every early writer, because the authorship and canonicity of the work had been questioned by church writers before his time; whereas it would lead him to ignore all such in the case of the fourth gospel, because no question had ever been entertained within the church respecting it. this indeed is precisely what he does with theophilus; he refers to this father's use of the apocalypse, and he ignores his direct quotations from the gospel. the inference therefore must be set aside as a fallacy. beyond this, all the direct evidence points the other way. there was indeed a small sect or section of men outside the pale of the church, before the close of the second century, who rejected the gospel, but they rejected the apocalypse also. moreover they ascribed both _to a single author_, and (what is more important still) this author was cerinthus, _a contemporary of st john_ [ : ]. thus the very opponents of the gospel in the second century are witnesses not only to the very early date of the two writings, but also to the identity of authorship. on the other hand, every church writer without exception during this century (so far as our knowledge goes) who accepted the one accepted the other also. the most doubtful case is justin martyr, who refers by name to the apocalypse; but even hilgenfeld says that it is difficult to deny the use of the gospel of st john in his case [ : ]. melito again commented on the apocalypse; and there is ample evidence (as i trust to show hereafter) that he recognized the fourth gospel also. both books alike are used in the letter of the gallican churches (a.d. ). both alike are accepted by theophilus of antioch, by the muratorian writer, by irenæus, and by clement. it is the same during the first half of the third century. tertullian and cyprian, hippolytus and origen, place them on an equal footing, and attribute them to the same apostle. the first distinct trace of an attempt to separate the authorship of the two books appears in dionysius of alexandria [ : ], who wrote about the middle or early in the second half of the third century. even he argues entirely upon considerations of internal criticism, and does not pretend to any traditional evidence. he accepts both works as canonical; and he questions the apostolic authorship, not of the gospel, but of the apocalypse. vii. the later school of st john. [february, .] it has been stated in a former paper that at the fall of jerusalem a remnant of the apostolic company, together with other primitive disciples, sought a new home in asia minor [ : ]. of this colony ephesus was the head-quarters, and st john the leader. here he is reported to have lived and laboured for more than a quarter of a century, surviving the accession of trajan, who ascended the imperial throne a.d. [ : ]. in this respect his position is unique among the earliest preachers of christianity. while st peter and st paul converted disciples and organized congregations, st john alone was the founder of a school. the prolongation of his life after the church was firmly rooted, and his fixed residence in the midst of a compact christian society, combined to give a certain definiteness to his personal influence, which would be wanting to the labours of these more strictly missionary preachers. hence the traditions of st john are more direct, more consistent, and more trustworthy, than those which relate to the other apostles. thus we may, without any great impropriety, speak of the 'school of st john.' the existence of such a body of disciples gathered about the veteran teacher is indicated by notices in various writers. the author of the muratorian fragment, for instance, speaks of this apostle as writing his gospel at the request not only of his fellow-disciples, but also of his 'bishops' [ : ]. clement of alexandria again, among whose teachers was one from this very district, and probably of this very school [ : ], represents him as going about from place to place in the neighbourhood of ephesus, appointing bishops and providing in other ways for the government of the churches [ : ]. more especially irenæus, who had received his earliest lessons in christianity from an immediate disciple of st john, appeals again and again to such a body as preserving and handing down the correct tradition of the apostolic doctrine and practice. he describes these persons in one place as 'the elders who in asia associated with john the disciple of the lord' [ : ]; in another as 'all the churches which are in asia,' specifying more particularly the 'church in ephesus ... the true witness of the apostolic tradition' [ : ]; in a third as 'those who saw john face to face' [ : ], or 'the elders who saw john the disciple of the lord' [ : ]; in a fourth as 'the elders who were before us, and who also were pupils of the apostles' [ : ]; in a fifth 'as the elders who have their succession from the apostles' [ : ]; in a sixth as 'the elders, disciples of the apostles' [ : ], with similar expressions elsewhere. the prominent members of this school in the first age were polycarp of smyrna and papias of hierapolis, of whom the former survived beyond the middle of the century, and the latter probably died not many years before. in the next generation the most famous names are melito of sardis and apollinaris of hierapolis, who flourished in the third quarter of the century. they again are succeeded by other writers, of whom the most celebrated was polycrates of ephesus, already an old man, when in the last decade of the century a controversial question obliged him to take up his pen in defence of the traditions of his church. asia minor appears to have been far in advance of the other churches of christendom in literary activity, during the second century. this pre-eminence was due mainly, we may suppose, to the fact already mentioned, that it had become the second home of the apostles and primitive teachers of christianity. but the productiveness of the asiatic christians in this respect was doubtless stimulated by the pressure of opposition. this region was the hot-bed of heresies and the arena of controversy. nor is it unimportant to observe that the main subjects of discussion were of such a kind as must necessarily have involved questions intimately connected with the canon. montanism, with its doctrine of the paraclete and its visions of the new jerusalem, would challenge some expression of opinion respecting the gospel and the apocalypse of st john, if these writings were disputed. the paschal controversy courted investigation into the relations between the narratives of the synoptists and the fourth evangelist. marcionism, resting as it did on the paramount and sole authority of st paul's epistles and of the pauline gospel, would not suffer friend or foe to preserve silence on this fundamental question. and so again, though in a less degree, the disputes with cerinthians, with ophites, with basilideans, with valentinians, with all the various sects of gnostics, could not have been conducted, as we see plainly from the treatises of irenæus and hippolytus, without constant appeals to the testimony of written documents--thus indicating, at all events roughly, the amount of authority which the writers accorded to the more prominent books of our new testament canon. to men like irenæus or eusebius, who had this extensive literature in their hands, the teaching of this church generally, as well as of the more prominent individual writers belonging to it, could not have been open to question. their approval of its orthodoxy therefore, either by silent assent or by studied panegyric, is a fact of real moment. over and above this relation to the books of the new testament generally, the two points to which modern controversy directs attention, and which therefore deserve special consideration in any review of the writers belonging to the school of st john, are--_first_, what indications the extant fragments and notices contain, that they recognized or rejected the fourth gospel; and _secondly_, what can be learnt from these same sources as to the degree of authority which they accorded to the apostle of the gentiles. polycarp and papias have been discussed in my earlier articles [ : ]. in the case of both these fathers, a recognition of the fourth gospel has been inferred from the use made of the first epistle; in the case of the latter, from other indications also. as regards st paul the testimony of polycarp is as full and explicit as it well could be; while, on the other hand, the meagre fragments of papias do not in themselves warrant any inference on this point. the next extant document in chronological order is the account of polycarp's martyrdom, written immediately after the occurrence (a.d. ), and addressed to the churches of the neighbouring province of pontus, more especially to the christians of philomelium. in this letter the brethren of smyrna draw a parallel between the sufferings of their martyred friend and the passion of our lord, which is suggested by some remarkable coincidences. 'nearly all the incidents,' we are told at the outset, 'which preceded (his death) came to pass that the lord might exhibit anew to us a martyrdom after the pattern of the gospel; for polycarp remained that he might be betrayed, as did also the lord' [ : ]. this account is thus the earliest instance of a favourite type of hagiology, which sees the sufferings of christ visibly reflected and imaged in detail in the servants of christ, and of which ancient and mediæval biography furnishes numerous examples. this idea of literal conformity to the life and passion of christ runs through the document. some of the coincidences are really striking; but in other cases the parallelism is highly artificial. the name of the convicting magistrate is herod, and special stress is naturally laid on this fact [ : ]. the time of the martyrdom is the passover--'the great sabbath,' as it is here called [ : ]. polycarp's place of refuge is ascertained from information elicited by torture from a youth, apparently a slave in his employ. this poor boy, much more sinned against than sinning, is cruelly compared to judas; and we are told accordingly that polycarp, like our lord, was 'betrayed by them of his own household' [ : ]. when apprehended, he is put upon an ass, and thus taken back to the city [ : ]; and this is of course intended as a parallel to the triumphal entry into jerusalem. his pursuers come on horse-back and in arms, 'as against a robber' [ : ]. when he is apprehended, he prays, 'the will of god be done' [ : ]; and so forth. these parallels, at the same time that they show the idea dominant in the mind of the narrators, are a valuable testimony to the truth of the narrative itself, where so much violent treatment is necessary to produce the desired effect [ : ]. most of the incidents have their counterparts in the circumstances of the passion, as recorded by the synoptic evangelists alone or in common with st john. this is natural; for they refer to external events, in which the synoptic narrative is rich. but there are exceptions, where the writers obviously have the account of the fourth evangelist in their mind. thus we are told that at the crisis of polycarp's fate a voice came from heaven, saying, 'be strong, and play the man, polycarp' [ : ]. 'and the speaker,' it is added, 'no man saw; but the voice those of our company that were present heard.' this corresponds to the voice which st john records as addressing our lord from heaven, and as imperfectly apprehended by the bystanders [ : ]. again, polycarp, in consequence of a vision, predicts that he shall be burnt alive [ : ], though at the time the intention obviously is to throw him to the wild beasts, as the games are going on. a fortuitous circumstance frustrates this intention, and brings about a fulfilment of his prophecy as to the manner of his death [ : ]. just in the same way in the fourth gospel jesus is represented as 'signifying by what death he should die' [ : ]. death by crucifixion seemed altogether unlikely at the time, for his enemies were the jews, and this was not a jewish mode of punishment; but by an accidental turn of circumstances he was transferred from the jews to pilate, and so his prediction was fulfilled [ : ]. again, it is related that when the fire would not consume the body of the saint, his persecutors 'ordered an executioner to go up to him and thrust a small sword into him. when he had done this,' we are told, 'there came forth [a dove and] a quantity of blood' [ : ]. the parallel to the incident recorded in st john's account of the crucifixion is obvious [ : ]; and just as the evangelist lays stress on his own presence as an eye-witness of the scene, so also do these hagiologers, when relating a strange occurrence at his martyrdom. 'we saw a great marvel,' they say, 'we to whom it was given to see; and we have been saved that we might relate to the rest what happened' [ : ]. and lastly, as st john emphasizes the fact that everything was accomplished in the death of jesus [ : ], so also they declare of polycarp, that 'every word which he uttered out of his mouth hath been and shall be accomplished' [ : ]. to these facts it should be added that the dying prayer of polycarp contains two coincidences with the phraseology of the fourth gospel--'the resurrection of life,' 'the true god' [ : ]. melito, bishop of sardis, flourished soon after the middle of the second century. this fact appears from two of his works, to which we are able to assign an approximate date. his treatise 'on the paschal festival,' he himself tells us, was written while sergius paulus was proconsul of asia [ : ]; and the recent investigations of m. waddington into the fasti of this province have led to the result that this proconsulate should probably be dated about a.d. - [ : ]. again we are informed that he addressed his 'apology' to m. antoninus (a.d. - ) [ : ]. it appears however from an extant fragment, that l. verus, the colleague of m. antoninus, was no longer living; for melito speaks of prayer on behalf of the emperor's son (commodus), without mentioning his brother and co-emperor (verus). now verus died in the very beginning of the year . on the other hand ancient authorities assign the apology to the year or ; and, as there is no reason for rejecting their statement, we may suppose that it was written soon after the death of verus. probably its date was ascertainable within a year or two from internal evidence. this apology however is regarded by eusebius as the latest of melito's writings [ : ]; and, as the catalogue of his works comprises some twenty treatises at least, his literary activity must have extended over a considerable period of time, so that we shall probably not be far wrong if we place the commencement of his career as an author about the middle of the century. he appears to have died soon after the apology was written. in the last decade of the century polycrates mentions him among other worthies of the past who had gone to their rest [ : ]. he was buried at sardis. from the context it may be inferred that he did not suffer martyrdom, like so many of his famous contemporaries, but died a natural death. these chronological notices suggest that melito was born in the early part of the second century, within a very few years after the death of st john. during the greater part of his life at all events, he must have been a contemporary of st john's disciple polycarp, who was martyred at an advanced age in the year or ; and likewise of papias, who had conversed with personal disciples of christ, and seems also to have survived till towards the middle of the century. as the communications between sardis on the one hand, and smyrna and hierapolis on the other, were easy, a prominent man like melito, whose religious zeal led him on one occasion to undertake a distant journey to palestine, would be sure to cultivate the acquaintance of these older teachers, even if circumstances did not throw him directly in their way. thus melito is a significant link of connection with the past. at the same time he holds an equally important position with respect to the succeeding age. it can hardly be doubted that among the asiatic elders, whose authority irenæus invokes so constantly, melito must have held a prominent place. it may be suspected that he was the very ionian whom clement of alexandria mentions among his earlier teachers [ : ]. it is quite certain that his writings were widely known and appreciated in the generations next succeeding his own. he is quoted or referred to by polycrates at ephesus, by clement and origen at alexandria, by tertullian at carthage, by hippolytus at rome. i have already mentioned that he was a very voluminous writer. eusebius gives a catalogue of his works, which however he does not profess to be complete. the historian's knowledge was obviously limited by the contents of the library which his friend pamphilus had gathered together at cæsarea. the titles of these works are as follows:--_on the paschal festival_ (two treatises) [ : ], _on the life of the prophets_, _on the church_, _on the lord's day_, _on the nature of man_, _on creation_, _on the obedience of faith and on the senses_, _on the soul and body [and mind]_, _on baptism_, _on truth_, _on the creation and generation of christ_, _on prophecy_, _on hospitality_, _the key_, _on the devil and on the apocalypse of john_, _on a corporeal deity_, _an apology to antonius_, _selections from the law and the prophets_ [ : ]. besides these works here enumerated, other writings of melito axe quoted elsewhere under the titles, _on the incarnation of christ_, _on the passion_, _on the cross_, _on the faith_ [ : ], though some of these may perhaps represent the same works to which eusebius refers under other names. comprising this wide range of subjects, doctrinal, exegetical, practical, and controversial, the works of melito must have furnished the next succeeding generations with ample data for determining his exact theological position. to them it must have been clear, for instance, whether he did or did not accept the gospel of st john or the epistles of st paul. it was hardly possible for him to write on the paschal question without indicating his views on the fourth gospel. it is almost inconceivable that he should have composed a controversial treatise against marcion without declaring himself respecting the apostle of the gentiles. the few meagre fragments which have come down to us supply only incidental notices and resemblances, from which we are left to draw our own inferences; but where we grope in the twilight, they were walking in the broad noonday. eusebius has happily preserved melito's preface to his _selections_, which is of considerable interest. the work itself comprised passages from the law and the prophets relating to the saviour and to the christian faith generally ([greek: peri tou sôtêros kai pasês tês pisteôs hêmôn]), arranged in six books. it seems to have been accompanied with explanatory comments bringing out the prophetical import of the several passages, as melito understood them. in the preface, addressed to his friend onesimus, at whose instance the work had been undertaken, he relates that having made a journey to the east and visited the actual scenes of the gospel history, he informed himself respecting the books of the old testament, of which he appends a list. the language which he uses is significant from its emphasis. he writes that his friend had 'desired to be accurately informed about the _old_ books' ([greek: mathein tên tôn palaiôn bibliôn eboulêthês akribeian]). he adds that he himself during his eastern tour had 'obtained accurate information respecting the books of the _old_ testament ([greek: akribôs mathôn ta tês palaias diathêkês biblia]).' from these expressions dr westcott argues that melito must have been acquainted with a corresponding christian literature, which he regarded as the books of the new testament. to any such inference the author of _supernatural religion_ demurs [ : ], and he devotes several pages to proving (what nobody denies) that the expressions 'old testament,' 'new testament,' did not originally refer to a written literature at all, and need not so refer here. all this is beside the purpose, and betrays an entire misunderstanding of the writer whom he ventures to criticize. the contention is not that the expression 'old testament' here in itself signifies a collection of books, and therefore implies another collection called the 'new testament,' but that the emphatic and reiterated mention of an _old_ biblical _literature_ points naturally to the existence of a _new_. to any one who is accustomed to weigh the force of greek sentences, as determined by the order of the words, this implied contrast must, i think, make itself felt. it is impossible to read the clauses, having regard to the genius of the language, without throwing a strong emphasis on the recurrent word _old_, which i have therefore italicized, as the only way of reproducing the same effect for the english reader. dr westcott therefore is perfectly justified in maintaining that the expression naturally implies a recognized new testament literature. and if this reference is suggested by strict principles of exegesis, it alone is consonant with historical probability. it is a fact that half a century, or even more, before melito wrote, the author of the epistle bearing the name of barnabas quotes as 'scripture' a passage found in st matthew's gospel, and not known to have existed elsewhere [ : ]. it is a fact that about that same time, or earlier, polycarp wrote a letter which is saturated with the thoughts and language of the apostolic epistles [ : ]. it is a fact that some twenty or thirty years before melito, justin martyr speaks of certain gospels (whether our canonical gospels or not, it is unnecessary for my present purpose to inquire) as being read together with the writings of the prophets at the religious services of the christians on sundays, and taken afterwards as the subject of exhortation and comment by the preacher [ : ]. it is a fact that about the same time when justin records this as the habitual practice of the church, the heretic marcion, himself a native of asia minor, constructed a canon for himself by selecting from and mutilating the apostolic and evangelical writings which he found in circulation. it is a fact that dionysius of corinth, a contemporary of melito, speaks of certain writings as 'the scriptures of the lord,' or 'the dominical scriptures.' and denounces those who tamper with them [ : ]. it is a fact that irenæus, who had received his early education in asia minor, writing within some ten or twenty years after the death of melito, quotes the four gospels, the acts of the apostles, the great majority of the apostolic epistles, and the apocalypse, as scripture, declaring more especially of the four gospels, that they had been received by the churches from the beginning, and treating all these writings alike with the same deference which they have received from subsequent generations of christians ever since. the inference from these facts (and they do not stand alone) is obvious. if melito knew nothing about books of the new testament, he must have been the only bishop of the church from the banks of the euphrates to the pillars of hercules, who remained in this state of dense ignorance--melito, who could refer to the hebrew and the syriac while interpreting a passage of genesis, and who made careful inquiries respecting the canon of the old testament scriptures in the very land where those scriptures had their birth. the extant fragments attributed to melito are meagre and scattered [ : ]; but, supposing them to be genuine, they afford ample evidence of the theological views of this father, while indirectly they indicate his general relation to the canon in a way which can hardly be mistaken. the genuineness of many of these fragments however has been seriously questioned. in one or two instances the grounds of hesitation deserve every consideration; but in the majority of cases the objections must be set aside as groundless. thus it is sought to throw discredit on all those writings which are not named by eusebius. the author of _supernatural religion_, for instance, says that 'eusebius gives what he evidently considers a complete list of the works of melito' [ : ]. on the contrary, eusebius carefully guards himself against any such interpretation of his words. he merely professes to give a list of 'those works which have come to his own knowledge.' obviously he either suspects or knows that there are other writings of melito in circulation, of which he can give no account. again, other fragments have been discredited, because they contain false sentiments or foolish interpretations, which are considered unworthy of a father in the second century. i cannot think that this is any argument at all; and i may confidently assume that the author of _supernatural religion_ will agree with me here. there is much that is foolish in papias, in justin martyr, in irenæus, in tertullian, even in clement of alexandria, and origen. only it is frequently mixed up with the highest wisdom, which more than redeems it. again others (and among these our author) would throw doubt on the genuineness of the greek and syriac fragments which were certainly in circulation some six centuries before, because some mediæval latin writers attach the name of melito to forgeries or to anonymous writings, such as the _clavis_, the _passing away of the blessed virgin mary_, and the _passion of st john_ [ : ]. a moment's reflection will show that the two classes of writings must be considered quite apart. when these groundless objections are set aside, the great majority of the greek and syriac fragments remain untouched. otto, the most recent editor of melito, takes a sensible view on the whole. i do not agree with him on some minor points, but i am quite content to take the fragments which he accepts, as representing the genuine melito; and i refer those of my readers, who are really desirous to know what this ancient father taught and how he wrote, to this editor's collection. we have fortunately the evidence of two writers, who lived in the next age to melito, and therefore before any spurious works could have been in circulation--the one to his style, the other to his theology. on the former point our authority is tertullian, who in a work now lost spoke of the 'elegans et declamatorium ingenium' of melito [ : ]; on the latter, a writer quoted anonymously by eusebius but now identified with hippolytus, who exclaims, 'who is ignorant of the books of irenæus and melito and the rest, which declare christ to be god and man' [ : ]. the fragments, and more especially the syriac fragments, accord fully with both these descriptions. they are highly rhetorical, and their superior elegance of language (compared with other christian writings of the same age) is apparent even through the medium of a syriac version. they also emphasize the two natures of christ in many a pointed antithesis. of the greek fragments, not mentioned by eusebius, the following quoted by anastasius of sinai as from the third book on the incarnation of christ [ : ] is important in its bearing on our subject:-- the things done by christ after the baptism, and especially the miracles (signs), showed his godhead concealed in the flesh, and assured the world of it. for being perfect god, and perfect man at the same time, he assured us of his two essences ([greek: ousias])--of his godhead by miracles in the three years after his baptism, and of his manhood in the thirty seasons ([greek: chronois]) before his baptism, during which, owing to his immaturity as regards the flesh ([greek: dia to ateles to kata sarka]), he concealed the signs of his godhead, although he was true god from eternity ([greek: kaiper theos alêthês proaiônios huparchôn]). the genuineness of this fragment has been impugned, partly on the general considerations which have been already discussed, partly on special grounds. it has been said, for instance, that anastasius must here be reproducing the general substance, and not the exact words, of melito's statement; but he at all events gives it as a direct quotation. it has been urged again, that linguistic reasons condemn this fragment, since the use of 'seasons' or 'times' for 'years' betrays a later age; but abundant instances of the use are found in earlier writers, even if so very natural a device for avoiding the repetition of the same word ([greek: etos]) needed any support at all. it has been suggested that there may possibly be some confusion between melito and meletius. but the work from which this passage comes is distinctly stated by anastasius to have been written against marcion, who by his docetism attacked the true humanity of christ. now melito lived in the very thick of the marcionite controversy, and must have taken his part in it. on the other hand, meletius, who held the see of antioch in the latter part of the fourth century, was one of the principal figures in the arian controversy and, as such, far too intimately involved in the questions of his own day to think of writing an elaborate work on a subject so comparatively dead as the docetism of marcion. moreover, there is no instance in any greek writer, so far as i have observed, of a confusion between the names melito and meletius. again it is suggested that the christological views of the writer are too definite for the age of melito, and point to a later date; but to this the distinct statement of hippolytus respecting melito's opinions, which has been already quoted, is a complete answer; and indeed the ignatian epistles, which (even if their genuineness should not be accepted) cannot reasonably be placed later than the age of melito, are equally precise in their doctrinal statements. but if this be a genuine fragment, the inference is obvious. the author of _supernatural religion_ will no doubt be ready here, as elsewhere, to postulate any number of unknown apocryphal gospels which shall supply the facts thus assumed by melito. the convenience of drawing unlimited cheques on the bank of the unknown is obvious. but most readers will find themselves unable to resist the inference, that for the thirty years of our lord's silence this father is indebted to a familiar passage in st luke [ : ], while, in fixing three years as the duration of his ministry, he is thinking of the three passovers mentioned by st john. of the other fragments ascribed to melito one deserves to be quoted, not only because the author has made it the subject of some criticisms, but because it exhibits in a concentrated form melito's views of evangelical history and doctrine [ : ]. we have made collections from the law and the prophets relating to those things which are declared concerning our lord jesus christ, that we might prove to your love that he is the perfect reason, the word of god: who was begotten before the light, who was creator together with the father, who was the fashioner of man, who was all things in all, who among the patriarchs was patriarch, who in the law was law, among the priests chief-priest, among the kings governor, among the prophets prophet, among the angels archangel, and among voices [ : ] the word, among spirits the spirit, in the father the son, in god god, the king for ever and ever. for this is he who was pilot to noah, who conducted abraham, who was bound with isaac, who was in exile with jacob, who was sold with joseph, who was captain with moses, who was divider of the inheritance with joshua the son of nun, who foretold his own sufferings in david and the prophets, who was incarnate in the virgin, who was born at bethlehem, who was wrapped in swaddling clothes in the manger, who was seen of the shepherds, who was glorified of the angels, who was worshipped by the magi, who was pointed out by john, who gathered together the apostles, who preached the kingdom, who healed the maimed, who gave light to the blind, who raised the dead, who appeared in the temple, who was not believed on by the people, who was betrayed by judas, who was laid hold on by the priests, who was condemned by pilate, who was transfixed in the flesh, who was hanged on the tree, who was buried in the earth, who rose from the dead, who appeared to the apostles, who ascended into heaven, who sitteth on the right hand of the father, who is the rest of those that are departed, the recoverer of those that are lost, the light of those that are in darkness, the deliverer of those that are captives, the guide of those that have gone astray, the refuge of the afflicted, the bridegroom of the church, the charioteer of the cherubim, the captain of the angels, god who is of god, the son who is of the father, jesus christ, the king for ever and ever. amen. this fragment is not in any way exceptional. the references to evangelical history, the modes of expression, the statements of doctrine, all have close parallels scattered through the other fragments ascribed to melito. indeed it is the remarkable resemblance of these fragments to each other in thought and diction (with one or two exceptions), though gathered together from writers of various ages, in greek and in syriac, which is a strong argument for their genuineness. but the special value of this particular passage is that it gathers into a focus the facts of the evangelical history, on which the faith of melito rested. and i do not think it can be reasonably doubted whence these facts are derived. the author of _supernatural religion_ of course suggests some unknown apocryphal gospel. but this summary will strike most readers as wonderfully like what a writer might be expected to make who recognized our four canonical gospels as the sources of evangelical truth. and, when they remember that within a very few years (some twenty at most) irenæus, who was then a man past middle life, who had intimate relations with the region in which melito lived, and who appeals again and again to the asiatic elders as his chief authorities for the traditional doctrine and practice, declares in perfect good faith that the church had received these four, and these only, from the beginning, it will probably seem to them irrational to look elsewhere, when the solution is so very obvious. but the author of _supernatural religion_ writes that this fragment taken from a treatise _on faith_, together with another which purports to be a work on the _soul and body_, though these two works 'are mentioned by eusebius,' must nevertheless 'for every reason be pronounced spurious' [ : ]. let us see what these reasons are. . he writes first: they have in fact no attestation whatever except that of the syriac translation, which is unknown, and which therefore is worthless. the fact is that in a very vast number of literary remains, classical and ecclesiastical, whether excerpts or entire works, we are entirely dependent on the scribe for their authentication. human experience has shown that such authentication is generally trustworthy, and hence it is accepted. in forty-nine cases out of fifty, or probably more, it is found to be satisfactory, and _à priori_ probabilities are very strongly against the assumption that any particular case is this fiftieth exception. if there is substantial ground for suspicion, the suspicion has its weight, but not otherwise. a man who would act on any other principle is as unreasonable as a visitor to london, who refuses to believe or trust any one there, because the place is known to harbour thieves and liars. . we come therefore to the positive grounds of our author's suspicions, and here he tells us that-- the whole style and thought of the fragments are unlike anything else of melito's time, and clearly indicate a later stage of theological development. it is to be regretted that he has not explained himself more fully on this point. i have already pointed out that the theology and the style of these fragments generally are exactly what the notices of hippolytus and tertullian would lead us to expect in melito. and this is especially true of the passage under consideration. what the 'later stage of theological development' indicated may be, i am unable to say. on the contrary, the leading conception of this passage, which sees all theology through the medium of the logos, and therefore identifies all the theophanies in the old testament with the person of christ, though it lingers on through the succeeding ages, is essentially characteristic of the second century. the apologists generally exhibit this phenomenon; but in none is it more persistent than in justin martyr, who wrote a quarter of a century before melito. even the manner in which the conception is worked out by melito has striking parallels in justin. thus justin states that this divine power, who was begotten by god before all creation, is called sometimes 'the glory of the lord, sometimes son, sometimes wisdom, sometimes god, sometimes lord and word, while sometimes he calls himself chief-captain ([greek: archistratêgos]), appearing in the form of man to joshua the son of nun ([greek: tô tou nauê iêsou])' [ : ]. elsewhere he states that christ is 'king and priest and god and lord and angel and man and chief-captain and stone,' etc., and he undertakes to show this 'from all the scriptures' [ : ]. and again, in a third passage he says that the same person, who is called son of god in the memoirs of the apostles, went forth from the father before all created things through his power and counsel,' being designated 'wisdom and day and orient and sword and stone and staff and jacob and israel, now in one way, and now in another, in the sayings of the prophets,' and that 'he became man through the virgin' [ : ]. nor do these passages stand alone. this same conception pervades the whole of justin's _dialogue_, and through it all the phenomena of the old testament are explained. only on one point has our author thought fit to make a definite statement. 'it is worthy of remark,' he writes, 'that the virgin is introduced into all these fragments [the five syriac fragments which he has mentioned just before] in a manner quite foreign to the period at which melito lived.' what can this mean? in the passage before us the only allusion to the subject is in the words 'incarnate in the virgin' (or 'a virgin'); and the references in the other fragments are of the same kind. it is difficult to see how any one, recognizing the statements of the synoptic gospels, could pass over the mention of the virgin more lightly. here again, if he will turn to justin martyr, he will find a far fuller and more emphatic reference [ : ]. . but our author states also: in the mechitarist library at venice there is a shorter version of the same passage in a syriac ms, and an armenian version of the extract as given above, in both of which the passage is distinctly ascribed to irenæus. this is a fact of some importance, to which he has rightly directed attention. it would have been well if he had been a little more accurate in his statement. the extract in the armenian version (of which the shorter syriac form is obviously an abridgment), though mainly the same as our passage, begins in quite a different way. while melito commences, 'we have made collections from the law and the prophets relating to those things which are declared concerning our lord jesus christ,' etc., as quoted above, the armenian extract, ascribed to irenæus, runs thus: 'the law and the prophets and the evangelists have declared that christ was born of a virgin and suffered on the cross, and that he was raised from the dead, and ascended into heaven, and was glorified and reigneth for ever. the same is called the perfect reason, the word of god,' etc. [ : ]. now it is obvious from a comparison of these two openings, that in the former, ascribed to melito, we have the passage in its original setting, whereas in the latter, ascribed to irenæus, it has been altered to suit some other context or to explain itself independently. the reference to the author and the occasion of writing is omitted, while the 'evangelists' are introduced by the side of 'the law and the prophets' for the sake of completeness. melito, as we happen to know, did make such a collection of extracts from the law and the prophets as is here mentioned, and for the very purpose which is here stated; and the correspondence of language in this opening passage with the dedication of his collection to onesimus, referred to above, is sufficiently striking. to melito therefore evidence, internal and external alike, requires us to ascribe the passage. but, if so, how came the name of irenæus to be attached to it? was this mere accident? i think not. nothing would be more natural than that irenæus should introduce a passage of melito, as a famous asiatic elder, either anonymously or otherwise, into one of his own writings. i have already had occasion to refer to the free use which the early fathers made of their predecessors, frequently without any acknowledgement [ : ]. in this particular case, irenæus may or may not have acknowledged his obligation. i venture to think that this solution of the double ascription will appear not only plausible, but probable, when i mention another fact. in a second armenian extract i find a passage headed, 'the saying of irenæus' [ : ]. i turn to the passage, and i find that it contains not the words of irenæus himself, but of papias quoted by irenæus. in the armenian extract the name of the original author has entirely disappeared, though in this case irenæus directly mentions papias as his authority. the attitude of melito towards the apostle of the gentiles appears clearly enough from the title of one of his works, 'on the obedience of faith,' which is a characteristic expression of st paul [ : ], and also from occasional coincidences of language, such as 'putting on the form of a servant' [ : ]. claudius apollinaris, bishop of hierapolis, was a contemporary of melito, but apparently a younger man, though only by a very few years. his date is fixed approximately by the extant notices. he addressed an apology to the emperor m. aurelius, who reigned from a.d. - ; and as in this work he mentioned the incident of the so-called thundering legion, which happened between a.d. - , it cannot have been written before that date [ : ]. at the same time there are some reasons, though not conclusive, for thinking that it should not be placed much later [ : ]. on the other hand, when serapion writes towards the close of the century, he speaks of apollinaris as no longer living; and judging from the language used, we may infer that his death had not been very recent [ : ]. like melito, he was a voluminous writer. eusebius indeed only gives the titles of four works by this father, the _apology_ (already mentioned), _against the greeks_ (five treatises or books), _on truth_ (two books), _against the jews_ (two books), besides referring to certain writings _against the montanists_ [greek: kata tês phrugôn haireseôs], which he places later than the others. but he is careful to say that his list comprises only those works which he had seen, and that many others were extant in different quarters [ : ]. photius mentions reading three works only by this father, of which one, the treatise _on godliness_, is not in eusebius' list; but he too adds, 'other writings of this author also are said to be notable, but i have not hitherto met with them' [ : ]. besides these, the author of the paschal chronicle quotes from a treatise of apollinaris _on the paschal festival_ [ : ], and theodoret speaks of his writing against the severians or encratites [ : ]. as in the case of melito, the character and variety of his works, so long as they were extant, must have afforded ample material for a judgment on his theological views. more especially his writings against the montanists and on the paschal festival would indicate his relations to the canonical books of the new testament. his orthodoxy is attested by serapion, by eusebius, by jerome, by theodoret, by socrates, and by photius [ : ], from different points of view. besides a reference in eusebius to his apology, which hardly deserves the name of a quotation, only two short extracts remain of these voluminous writings. they are taken from the work on the paschal festival, and are preserved, as i have already stated, in the _paschal chronicle_. the first runs as follows:-- there are persons who from ignorance dispute about these questions, acting in a way that is pardonable; for ignorance is no proper subject for blame, but needs instruction. and they say that on the fourteenth the lord ate the lamb ([greek: to probaton]) with his disciples, but himself suffered on the great day of unleavened bread, and they affirm that matthew represents it so, as they interpret him. thus their interpretation is out of harmony with the law ([greek: asumphônos nomô]), and on their showing the gospels seem to be at variance with one another ([greek: stasiazein dokei kat' autous ta euangelia]). the second fragment is taken from the same book, and apparently from the same context. the fourteenth was the true passover of the lord, the great sacrifice, the son of god substituted for the lamb, the same that was bound and himself bound the strong man, that was judged being judge of the quick and dead, and that was delivered into the hands of sinners to be crucified; the same that was lifted on the horns of the unicorn, and that was pierced in his holy side; the same that poured forth again the two purifying elements, water and blood, word and spirit, and that was buried on the day of the passover, the stone being laid against his sepulchre. if the publication of this work was suggested by melito's treatise on the same subject, as seems probable, it must have been written about a.d. - , or soon after. the references to the gospels are obvious. in the first extract apollinaris has in view the difficulty of reconciling the chronology of the paschal week as given by st john with the narratives of the synoptic evangelists; and he asserts that the date fixed for the passion by some persons (the th instead of th) can only be maintained at the expense of a discrepancy between the two accounts; whereas, if the th be taken, the two accounts are reconcilable. at the same time he urges that their view is not in harmony with the law, since the paschal lamb, the type, was slain on the th, and therefore it follows that christ, the antitype, must have been crucified on the same day. i am not concerned here with the question whether apollinaris or his opponents were right. the point to be noticed is that he speaks of 'the gospels' (under which term he includes at least st matthew and st john) as any one would speak of received documents to which the ultimate appeal lies. his language in this respect is such as might be used by a writer in the fourth century, or in the nineteenth, who was led by circumstances to notice a difficulty in harmonizing the accounts of the evangelists. the second extract bears out the impression left by the first. the incident of the water and the blood is taken from the fourth gospel; but a theological interpretation is forced upon it which cannot have been intended by the evangelist. some time must have elapsed before the narrative could well be made the subject of a speculative comment like this. thus both extracts alike suggest that the fourth gospel was already a time-honoured book when they were written. but the author of _supernatural religion_ meets the inference by denying the genuineness of the extracts. i hardly think, however, that he can have seen what havoc he was making in his own ranks by this movement. he elsewhere asserts very decidedly (without however giving reasons) that the quartodeciman controversy turned on the point whether the th nisan was the day of the last supper or the day of the crucifixion, the quartodecimans maintaining the former [ : ]. in other words, he believes that it was the anniversary, not of the passion, but of the last supper, which the quartodecimans kept so scrupulously on the th, and that therefore, as they pleaded the authority of st john for their practice, the fourth gospel cannot have been written by this apostle, since it represents the passion as taking place on the th. as i have before intimated, this view of the paschal dispute seems to me to be altogether opposed to the general tenor of the evidence. but it depends, for such force or plausibility as it has, almost solely on these fragments from ancient writers quoted in the _paschal chronicle_, of which the extracts from apollinaris are the most important. if therefore he refuses to accept the testimony of the _paschal chronicle_ to their authorship, he undermines the very foundation on which his theory rests. on this inconsistency however i need not dwell. the authorship of these extracts was indeed questioned by some earlier writers [ : ], but on entirely mistaken grounds; and at the present time the consensus among critics of the most opposite schools is all but universal. 'on the genuineness of these fragments, which neander questioned, there is now no more dispute, writes scholten [ : ]. our author however is far too persistent to let them pass. their veracity has once been questioned, and therefore they shall never again be suffered to enter the witness-box. it may be presumed that he has alleged those arguments against their genuineness which seemed to him to be the strongest, and i will therefore consider his objections. they are twofold. . he urges that the external testimony to their authorship is defective. his reasoning is as follows [ : ]:-- eusebius was acquainted with the work of melito on the passion, and quotes it, which must have referred to his contemporary and antagonist, apollinaris, had he written such a work as this fragment denotes. not only, however, does eusebius know nothing of his having composed such a work, but neither do theodoret, jerome, photius, nor other writers, who enumerate other of his works; nor is he mentioned in any way by clement of alexandria, irenæus, nor by any of those who took part in the great controversy. here is a tissue of fallacies and assumptions. in the first place, it is a _petitio principii_, as will be seen presently, that apollinaris was an antagonist of melito. even, if this were so, there is not the smallest evidence, nor any probability, that apollinaris would have written before melito, so that the latter could have quoted him. how, again, has our author learnt that eusebius 'knows nothing of his having composed such a work'? it is certain, indeed, that eusebius had not seen the work when he composed his list of the writings of apollinaris; but it nowhere appears that he was unaware of its existence. the very language in which he disclaims any pretension of giving a complete list seems to imply that he had observed other books quoted in other writers, which he had not read or seen himself. theodoret does not 'enumerate other of his works,' as the looseness of the english would suggest to the reader. he only mentions incidentally, when describing the sects of the severians and montanists respectively, that apollinaris had written against them [ : ]. there is not the smallest reason why he should have gone out of his way in either passage to speak of the work on the paschal festival, supposing him to have known of it. and if not, where else does our author find in theodoret any notice which can be made to yield the inference that he was unacquainted with this treatise? nor again does jerome, in the passage to which our author refers in his note [ : ], allude to a single work by this writer, but simply mentions him by name among those versed in profane as well as sacred literature. elsewhere indeed he does give a catalogue of apollinaris' writings [ : ], but there he simply copies eusebius. with regard to photius again, the statement, though not so directly inaccurate, is altogether misleading. photius simply mentions three works of apollinaris, which he read during his embassy, but he does not profess to give a list; and he says distinctly that there were other famous works by the same author which he had not seen. who the 'other writers' may be, who 'enumerate other of his works,' i am altogether at a loss to imagine. but the last sentence, 'nor is he mentioned in any way by clement of alexandria, irenæus, etc.,' is the most calculated to mislead the reader. of the treatise of clement on the paschal festival only two short fragments are preserved. he does not mention any person in these, nor could he have done so without going out of his way. for the rest, clement is reported by eusebius to have stated in his work that he was prompted to write it by melito's treatise on the same subject [ : ]. eusebius is there discussing melito, and any mention of apollinaris would have been quite out of place. what ground is there then for the assumption that clement did not mention apollinaris, because eusebius has not recorded the fact? when at a later point eusebius comes to speak of clement, he says of this father that in the treatise of which we are speaking he 'mentions melito and irenæus and _certain others_, whose explanations also he has given' [ : ]. why may not apollinaris have been included among these 'certain others' whom clement quoted? the same fallacy underlies our author's reference to irenæus. the work of irenæus is lost. eusebius, it is true, preserves some very meagre fragments [ : ]; but in these not a single writer on either side in the quartodeciman controversy is mentioned, not even melito. irenæus may have quoted apollinaris by name in this lost treatise, just as he quotes papias by name in his extant work on heresies, where nevertheless eusebius does not care to record the fact. all this assumed silence of writers whose works are lost is absolutely valueless against the direct and explicit testimony of the _paschal chronicle_. . but secondly; our author considers that the contents of these fragments are inconsistent with their attribution to apollinaris. his argument is instructive [ : ]. it is stated that all the churches of asia, including some of the most distinguished members of the church, such as polycarp, and his own contemporary melito, celebrated the christian festival on the th nisan, the practice almost universal, therefore, in the country in which claudius apollinaris is supposed to write this fragment. how is it possible, therefore, that this isolated convert to the views of victor and the roman church could write of so vast and distinguished a majority as 'some who through ignorance raised contentions' on this point, when notably all the asiatic churches at that time were agreed to keep the fourteenth of nisan, and in doing so raised no new contention at all, but, as polycrates represented, followed the tradition handed down to them from their fathers, and authorized by the practice of the apostle john himself? with more to the same effect. i will hand over this difficulty to those who share our author's views on the point at issue in the quartodeciman controversy. certainly i cannot suggest any satisfactory mode of escape from the dilemma which is here put. but what, if the writer of these fragments was not an 'isolated convert to the views of victor,' but a quartodeciman himself? what, if the quartodecimans kept the th, not as the commemoration of the last supper, but of the passion, so that melito himself would have heartily assented to the criticisms in these fragments? [ : ] this is the obvious view suggested by the account of the controversy in eusebius, and in irenæus as quoted by eusebius; and it gains confirmation from these fragments of apollinaris. it seems to me highly improbable that apollinaris should have been an exception to the practice of the asiatic churches. so far i agree with our author. but this is a reason for questioning the soundness of his own views on the quartodeciman controversy, rather than for disputing the genuineness of the fragments attributed to apollinaris. after this account of melito and apollinaris, the two chief representatives of the later school of st john, it will be worth while to call attention to a statement of irenæus in which he professes to record the opinion of the asiatic elders on a point intimately affecting the credibility of the fourth gospel, the chronology of our lord's life and ministry [ : ]. the valentinians, against whom this father is arguing, sought for analogies to the thirty æons of their pleroma, or supra-sensual world, in the gospel history. among other examples they alleged the thirty years' duration of our lord's life. this computation of the gospel chronology they derived from the notices in st luke as interpreted by themselves. at the commencement of his ministry, so they maintained, he had completed his twenty-ninth and was entering upon his thirtieth year, and his ministry itself did not extend beyond a twelve-month, 'the acceptable _year_ of the lord' foretold by the prophet. irenæus expresses his astonishment that persons professing to understand the deep things of god should have overlooked the commonest facts of the evangelical narrative, and points to the three passovers recorded in st john's gospel during the term of our lord's ministry. independently of the chronology of the fourth gospel, irenæus has an _à priori_ reason of his own, why the saviour must have lived more than thirty years. he came to sanctify every period of life--infancy, childhood, youth, declining age. it was therefore necessary that he should have passed the turn of middle life. from thirty to forty, he argues, a man is still reckoned young (_juvenis_). but from his fortieth and fiftieth year he is already declining into older age, which was the case with our lord when he taught, as the gospel and all the elders who associated with john the disciple of the lord in asia testify that john delivered this account. for he remained with them till the times of trajan. but some of them saw not only john, but other apostles also, and heard these same things from their lips, and bear testimony to such an account. irenæus then goes on to argue that the same may be inferred from the language of our lord's jewish opponents, who asked: 'thou art not yet fifty years old, and hast thou seen abraham?' this, he maintains, could not properly be said of one who was only thirty years of age, and must imply that the person so addressed had passed his fortieth year at least, and probably that he was not far off his fiftieth. on this passage it must be remarked that the valentinian chronology was derived from a _prima facie_ interpretation of the synoptic narrative; whereas the asiatic reckoning, which irenæus maintains, was, or might well have been, founded on the fourth gospel, but could not possibly have been elicited from the first three gospels independently of the fourth. on this question generally i have spoken already in a former paper [ : ]. though it seems probable that our lord's ministry was confined to three years, yet there is not a single notice in any of the four gospels inconsistent with the hypothesis that it extended over a much longer period, and that he was some forty years old at all events at the time of the passion. the synoptic narratives say absolutely nothing about the interval which elapsed between the baptism and the passion. st john mentions three passovers, but he nowhere intimates that he has given an exhaustive list of these festivals. the account of irenæus therefore is not so unreasonable after all; and we need not have hesitated to accept it, if there had been any definite grounds for doing so. it will be seen however, that irenæus, while maintaining that our lord was forty years old, grounds his opinion mainly on a false inference from john viii. . at the same time he adduces the testimony of the gospel and 'all the elders,' not for this particular view of our lord's age, but for the more general statement that he was past middle life; and this vagueness of language suggests that, though their testimony was distinctly on his side as against the valentinians, it did not go beyond this. it is very far from improbable indeed, that he borrowed this very interpretation of john viii. from one of these asiatic elders, just as we have seen him [ : ] elsewhere borrowing an interpretation of another passage of this gospel (xiv. ) from the same source. but, as he has here forced the testimony of the fourth gospel to say more than it really does say, so also he may have strained the testimony of 'all the elders' in the same direction. yet the broad fact remains that he confidently appeals to them in support of a chronology suggested by the fourth gospel, but certainly not deducible from the synoptic narratives. and the extant remains of this school support the appeal so qualified. we have seen that its two most famous authors, melito and apollinaris, distinctly follow the chronology of the fourth evangelist, the one in the duration of the lord's ministry, the other in the events of the paschal week [ : ]. of the special references to these fathers of the asiatic church, which appear elsewhere in irenæus, it is sufficient to say that in one instance an elder is represented as quoting a saying of our lord contained only in the gospel of st john [ : ] while the words ascribed to another are most probably suggested by the language of the same evangelist [ : ]. this latter elder, whose speculations are given at great length, also introduces two direct quotations from st paul's epistles, and treats the apostle's authority throughout as beyond dispute [ : ]. the last father of the asiatic school, whom it will be necessary to mention, is polycrates, bishop of ephesus. when victor of rome in the closing years of the second century attempted to force the western usage with respect to easter on the asiatic christians, polycrates wrote to remonstrate. the letter is unhappily lost, but a valuable extract is preserved by eusebius [ : ]. in this the writer claims to speak authoritatively on the subject of dispute, owing to the special opportunities which he had enjoyed. he states that he had received the observance of the th by tradition from his relations, of whom seven had been bishops; he says that he had conferred with the brethren from all parts of the world; and he adds that he had 'gone through every holy scripture.' when we remember the question at issue, and recall the language of apollinaris respecting the gospels, in writing on the same subject, we see what is implied in this last sentence. the extract, which is short, contains only two references to the writings of the new testament. the one is to the fourth gospel; st john is described in the very words of this gospel, as 'he that leaned on the bosom of the lord' ([greek: ho epi to stêthos tou kuriou anapesôn]) [ : ]. the other is to a book of the pauline cycle, the acts of the apostles; 'they that are greater than i,' writes polycrates, 'have said, _we must obey god rather than men_' [ : ]. we have now reached the close of the second century, and it is not necessary to pursue the history of the school of st john in their asiatic home beyond this point. but in the meantime a large and flourishing colony had been established in the cities of southern gaul, and no account of the traditions of the school would be adequate which failed to take notice of this colony. this part of the subject however must be left for a subsequent paper. meanwhile the inferences from the notices passed under review cannot, i think, be doubtful. out of a very extensive literature, by which this school was once represented, the extant remains are miserably few and fragmentary; but the evidence yielded by these meagre relies is decidedly greater, in proportion to their extent, than we had any right to expect. as regards the fourth gospel, this is especially the case. if the same amount of written matter--occupying a very few pages in all--were extracted accidentally from the current theological literature of our own day, the chances, unless i am mistaken, would be strongly against our finding so many indications of the use of this gospel. in every one of the writers, from polycarp and papias to polycrates, we have observed phenomena which bear witness directly or indirectly, and with different degrees of distinctness, to its recognition. it is quite possible for critical ingenuity to find a reason for discrediting each instance in turn. an objector may urge in one case, that the writing itself is a forgery; in a second, that the particular passage is an interpolation; in a third, that the supposed quotation is the original and the language of the evangelist the copy; in a fourth, that the incident or saying was not deduced from this gospel but from some apocryphal work, containing a parallel narrative. by a sufficient number of assumptions, which lie beyond the range of verification, the evidence may be set aside. but the early existence and recognition of the fourth gospel is the one simple postulate which explains all the facts. the law of gravitation accounts for the various phenomena of motion, the falling of a stone, the jet of a fountain, the orbits of the planets, and so forth. it is quite possible for any one, who is so disposed, to reject this explanation of nature. provided that he is allowed to postulate a new force for every new fact with which he is confronted, he has nothing to fear. he will then "gird the sphere with centric and eccentric scribbled o'er, cycle and epicycle, orb in orb," happy in his immunity. but the other theory will prevail nevertheless by reason of its simplicity. viii. the churches of gaul. [august, .] in the preceding papers i have investigated the testimony borne by the churches of asia minor to the canonical gospels, and more especially to the fourth evangelist. the peculiar value of this testimony is due to the close personal relations of these communities with the latest surviving apostles, more particularly with st john. at the same time i took occasion incidentally to remark on their attitude towards st paul and his writings, because an assumed antagonism between the apostle of the gentiles and the twelve has been adopted by a modern school of critics as the basis for a reconstruction of early christian history. i purpose in the present paper extending this investigation to the churches of gaul. the christianity of gaul was in some sense the daughter of the christianity of asia minor. of the history of the gallican churches before the middle of the second century we have no certain information. it seems fairly probable indeed that, when we read in the apostolic age of a mission of crescens to 'galatia' or 'gaul' [ : ], the western country is meant rather than the asiatic settlement which bore the same name; and, if so, this points to some relations with st paul himself. but, even though this explanation should be accepted, the notice stands quite alone. later tradition indeed supplements it with legendary matter, but it is impossible to say what substratum of fact, if any, underlies these comparatively recent stories. the connection between the southern parts of gaul and the western districts of asia minor had been intimate from very remote times. gaul was indebted for her earliest civilization to her greek settlements like marseilles, which had been colonized from asia minor some six centuries before the christian era; and close relations appear to have been maintained even to the latest times. during the roman period the people of marseilles still spoke the greek language familiarly along with the vernacular celtic of the native population and the official latin of the dominant power [ : ]. when therefore christianity had established her head-quarters in asia minor, it was not unnatural that the gospel should flow in the same channels which had already conducted the civilization and the commerce of the asiatic greeks westward. at all events, whatever we may think of the antecedent probabilities, the fact itself can hardly be disputed. in the year a.d. , under marcus aurelius, a severe persecution broke out on the banks of the rhone in the cities of vienne and lyons--a persecution which by its extent and character bears a noble testimony to the vitality of the churches in these places. to this incident we owe the earliest extant historical notice of christianity in gaul. a contemporary record of the martyrdoms on this occasion is preserved in the form of a letter from the persecuted churches, addressed to 'the brethren that are in asia and phrygia' [ : ]. the communities thus addressed, it will be observed, belong to the district in which st john's influence was predominant, and which produced all the writers of his school who have been discussed in the preceding papers--polycarp, papias, melito, apollinaris, polycrates. of the references to the canonical scriptures in this letter i shall speak presently. for the moment it is sufficient to say that the very fact of their addressing the communication to these distant churches shows the closeness of the ties which connected the christians in gaul with their asiatic brethren. moreover, in the body of the letter it is incidentally stated of two of the sufferers, that they came from asia minor--attalus a pergamene by birth, and alexander a physician from phrygia who 'had lived many years in the provinces of gaul;' while nearly all of them bear greek names. among these martyrs the most conspicuous was pothinus, the aged bishop of lyons, who was more than ninety years old when he suffered. a later tradition makes him a native of asia minor [ : ]; and this would be a highly probable supposition, even if unsupported by any sort of evidence. indeed it is far from unlikely that the fact was stated in the letter itself, for eusebius has not preserved the whole of it. but whether an asiatic greek or not, he must have been a growing boy when st john died; and through him the churches of southern gaul, when they first appear in the full light of history, are linked directly with the apostolic age. immediately after this persecution the intimate alliance between these distant parts of christendom was manifested in another way. the montanist controversy was raging in the church of phrygia, and the brethren of gaul communicated to them their views on the controverted points [ : ]. to this communication they appended various letters of the martyrs, 'which they penned, while yet in bonds, to the brethren in asia and phrygia.' about the same time the martyrs sent irenæus, then a presbyter, as their delegate with letters of recommendation to eleutherus, bishop of rome, for the sake of conferring with him on this same subject [ : ]. some twenty years later, as the century was drawing to a close, another controversy broke out, relating to the observance of easter, in which again the asiatic churches were mainly concerned; and here too we find the christians of gaul interposing with their counsels. when victor of rome issued his edict of excommunication against the churches of asia minor, irenæus wrote to remonstrate. the letter sent on this occasion however did not merely represent his own private views, for we are especially told that he wrote 'in the name of the brethren in gaul over whom he presided.' nor did he appeal to the roman bishop alone, but he exchanged letters also with 'very many divers rulers of the churches concerning the question which had been stirred' [ : ]. bearing these facts in mind, and inferring from them, as we have a right to infer, that the churches of gaul for the most part inherited the traditions of the asiatic school of st john, we look with special interest to the documents emanating from these communities. the epistle of the brotherhoods in vienne and lyons, already mentioned, is the earliest of these. the main business of the letter is a narrative of contemporary facts, and any allusions therefore to the canonical writings are incidental. but, though incidental, they are unequivocal. of the references to st paul, for instance, there can be no doubt. thus the martyrs and confessors are mentioned as 'showing in very truth that _the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us_,' where a sentence containing fourteen words in the greek is given _verbatim_ as it stands in rom. viii. . thus again, they are described as 'imitators of christ, _who being in the form of god thought it not robbery to be equal with god_,' where in like manner a sentence of twelve words stands _verbatim_ as we find it phil. ii. . no one, i venture to think, will question the source of these passages, though they are given anonymously and without any signs of quotation. nor can there be any reasonable doubt that when attalus the martyr is called 'the pillar and ground' ([greek: stulon kai hedraiôma]) of the christians at lyons, the expression is taken from tim. iii. ; or that when alcibiades, who had hitherto lived on bread and water, received a revelation rebuking him for 'not using _the creatures of god_, in obedience to which he 'partook of all things freely and _gave thanks_ to god,' there is a reference to tim. iv. , . these passages show the attitude of the author or authors of this letter towards st paul; but i have cited them also as exhibiting the manner of quotation which prevails in this letter, and thus indicating what we are to expect in other cases. from the third and fourth gospels then we find quotations analogous to these. of vettius epagathus, one of the sufferers, we are told, that though young he 'rivalled the testimony borne to the elder zacharias ([greek: sunexisousthai tê tou presbuterou zachariou marturia]), for verily ([greek: goun]) he had _walked in all the commandments and ordinances of the lord blameless_.' here we have the same words and in the same order, which are used of zacharias and elisabeth in st luke (i. ). moreover, it is stated lower down of this same martyr, that he was 'called the paraclete (or advocate) of the christians, having the paraclete in himself, the spirit more abundantly than zacharias.' this maybe compared with luke i. , 'and zacharias his father was filled with the holy ghost.' the meaning of the expression 'the testimony of zacharias' ([greek: tê tou zachariou marturia]) has been questioned. it might signify either 'the testimony borne to zacharias,' _i.e._ his recorded character, or 'the testimony borne by zacharias,' _i.e._ his martyrdom. i cannot doubt that the former explanation is correct; for the connecting particle ([greek: goun]) shows that the assertion is intended to find its justification in words which immediately follow, '_he walked in all the commandments_,' etc. i need not however dwell on this point, for the author of _supernatural religion_ himself adopts this rendering [ : ]. yet with an inconsistency, of which his book furnishes not a few examples, though he not only adopts this rendering himself, but silently ignores the alternative, he proceeds at once to maintain a hypothesis which is expressly built upon the interpretation thus tacitly rejected. an early tradition or conjecture identified the zacharias, who is mentioned in the gospels as having been slain between the temple and the altar (matt. xxiii. ), with this zacharias the father of the baptist. and in the extravagant romance called the protevangelium, which is occupied mainly with the birth, infancy, and childhood of our lord, the baptist's father is represented as slain by herod 'at the vestibule of the temple of the lord' [ : ]. our author therefore supposes that these christians of gaul are quoting not from st luke, but from some apocryphal gospel which gave a similar account of the martyrdom of zacharias. whether this identification which i have mentioned is true or false it is unnecessary for my purpose to inquire. nor again do i care to discuss the question whether or not the authors of this letter accepted it, and so believed the baptist's father to have fallen a martyr. i am disposed on the whole to think that they did. this supposition, which however must remain uncertain, would give more point to the parallelism with vettius epagathus. but it is a matter of little or no moment as regards the point at issue. the quotation found in st luke's gospel has (according to the interpretation which our author rightly receives) no reference whatever to the martyrdom; and therefore affords no ground for the assumption that the document from which it is taken contained any account of or any reference to the death of the baptist's father. but, granting that the writers of this letter assumed the identification (and this assumption, whether true or false, was very natural), our third gospel itself does furnish such a reference; and they would thus find within the limits of this gospel everything which they required relating to zacharias. the author of _supernatural religion_ indeed represents the matter otherwise; but then he has overlooked an important passage. with a forgetfulness of the contents of the gospels which ought surely to suggest some reflections to a critic who cannot understand how the fathers, 'utterly uncritical' though they were, should ever quote any writing otherwise than with the most literal accuracy, he says, 'there can be no doubt that the reference to zacharias in matthew, in the protevangelium, and in this epistle of vienne and lyons, is not based upon luke, _in which there is no mention of his death_' [ : ]. here and throughout this criticism he appears to have forgotten luke xi. , 'the blood of zacharias which perished between the altar and the temple.' if the death of the baptist's father is mentioned in st matthew, it is mentioned in st luke also. but, if our author disposes of the coincidences with the third gospel in this way, what will he say to those with the acts? in this same letter of the gallican churches we are told that the sufferers prayed for their persecutors 'like stephen the perfect martyr, _lord, lay not this sin to their charge._' will he boldly maintain that the writers had before them another acts containing words identical with our acts, just as he supposes them to have had another gospel containing words identical with our third gospel? or will he allow this account to have been taken from acts vii. , with which it coincides? but in this latter case, if they had the second treatise which bears the name of st luke in their hands, why should they not have had the first also? our author however does not stop here. he maintains that these same writers quoted not only from a double of st luke, but from a double of st john also [ : ]. 'that was fulfilled,' they write, 'which was spoken by the lord, saying, _there shall come a time in which whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth god service_,' where the words of st john (xvi. ) are exactly reproduced, with the exception that for 'there cometh an hour when' ([greek: erchetai hôra hina]) they substitute 'there shall come a time in which' ([greek: eleusetai kairos en hô]. this substitution, which was highly natural in a quotation from memory, is magnified by our author into 'very decided variations from the fourth gospel.' he would therefore assign the quotation to some apocryphal gospel which has perished. no such gospel however is known to have existed. moreover this passage occurs in a characteristic discourse of the fourth gospel, and the expression itself is remarkable--far more remarkable than it appears in the english version ([greek: latreian prospherein tô theô]), not 'to do god service,' but 'to offer a religious service to god'). i may add also that the mention of the spirit as the paraclete, already quoted, points to the use of this gospel by the writers, and that the letter presents at least one other coincidence with st john. our author certainly deserves credit for courage. here, as elsewhere, he imagines that, so long as he does not advance anything which is demonstrably impossible, he may pile one improbability upon another without endangering the stability of his edifice. but even if his account of these evangelical quotations could survive this accumulation of improbabilities, it will appear absolutely untenable in the light of contemporary fact. irenæus was the most prominent and learned member of the church from which this letter emanated, at the very time when it was written. according to some modern critics he was the actual composer of the letter; but for this there is no evidence of any kind. according to our author himself he was the bearer of it [ : ]; but this statement again is not borne out by facts. there can be no doubt however, that irenæus was intimately mixed up with all the incidents, and he cannot have been ignorant of the contents of the letter. now this letter was written a.d. or, as our author prefers, a.d. , while irenæus published his third book before a.d. at all events, and possibly some years earlier. irenæus in this book assumes that the church from the beginning has recognized our four canonical gospels, and these only. the author of _supernatural religion_ maintains on the other hand that only twelve years before, at the outside, the very church to which irenæus belonged, in a public document with which he was acquainted, betrays no knowledge of our canonical gospels, but quotes from one or more apocryphal gospels instead. he maintains this though the quotations in question are actually found in our canonical gospels. here then the inference cannot be doubtful. but what must be the fate of a writer who can thus ride roughshod over plain facts, when he comes to deal with questions which demand a nice critical insight and a careful weighing of probabilities? from this letter relating to the martyrdoms in vienne and lyons, we are led to speak directly of the illustrious gallican father, whose name has already been mentioned several times, and who is the most important of all witnesses to the canonical writings of the new testament. the great work of irenæus is entitled _refutation and overthrow of knowledge falsely so called_, and consists of five books. the third book was published during the episcopate of eleutherus, who was bishop of rome from about a.d. to a.d. ; for he is mentioned in it as still living [ : ]. it must therefore have been written before a.d. . on the other hand it contains a mention of theodotion's version of the lxx [ : ]; and theodotion's version is stated not to have been published till the reign of commodus (a.d. - ). unfortunately epiphanius, the authority mainly relied on by our author and others for this statement, contradicts himself in this same passage, which is full of the grossest chronological and historical blunders [ : ]. no stress therefore can be laid on his statement; nor indeed can we regard its truth or falsehood as of any real moment for our purpose. it is immaterial whether the third book dates from the earlier or later years of eleutherus. as the several books were composed and published separately, the author of _supernatural religion_ has a right to suppose, though he cannot prove, that the fourth and fifth were written during the episcopate of victor (a.d. - or ). but in his partiality for late dates he forgets that the weapon which he wields is double-edged. if the fourth and fifth books 'must,' as he confidently asserts, have been written some years after the third, it follows by parity of reasoning, that the first and second must have been written some years before it. yet, with a strange inconsistency, he assumes in the very same sentence that the two first books cannot have been written till the latest years of eleutherus, because on his showing the third must date from that epoch [ : ]. with the respective dates of the several books however we need not concern ourselves; for they all exhibit the same phenomena, so far as regards the attitude of the author towards the canonical writings of the new testament. on this point, it is sufficient to say that the authority which irenæus attributes to the four gospels, the acts of the apostles, the epistles of st paul, several of the catholic epistles, and the apocalypse, falls short in no respect of the estimate of the church catholic in the fourth or the ninth or the nineteenth century. he treats them as on a level with the canonical books of the old testament; he cites them as scripture in the same way; he attributes them to the respective authors whose names they bear; he regards them as writings handed down in the several churches from the beginning; he fills his pages with quotations from them; he has not only a very thorough knowledge of their contents himself, but he assumes an acquaintance with and a recognition of them in his readers [ : ]. in the third book especially he undertakes to refute the opinions of his valentinian opponents directly from the scriptures. this leads him to be still more explicit. he relates briefly the circumstances under which our four gospels were written. he points out that the writings of the evangelists arose directly from the oral gospel of the apostles. he shows that the traditional teaching of the apostles has been preserved by a direct succession of elders which in the principal churches can be traced man by man, and he asserts that this teaching accords entirely with the evangelical and apostolic writings. he maintains on the other hand, that the doctrine of the heretics was of comparatively recent growth. he assumes throughout, not only that our four canonical gospels alone were acknowledged in the church in his own time, but that this had been so from the beginning. his valentinian antagonists indeed accepted these same gospels, paying especial deference to the fourth evangelist; and accordingly he argues with them on this basis. but they also superadded other writings, to which they appealed, while heretics of a different type, as marcion for instance, adopted some one gospel to the exclusion of all others. he therefore urges not only that four gospels alone have been handed down from the beginning, but that in the nature of things there could not be more nor less than four. there are four regions of the world, and four principal winds; and the church therefore, as destined to be conterminous with the world, must be supported by four gospels, as four pillars. the word again is represented as seated on the cherubim, who are described by ezekiel as four living creatures, each different from the other. these symbolize the four evangelists, with their several characteristics. the predominance of the number four again appears in another way. there are four general covenants, of noah, of abraham, of moses, of christ. it is therefore an act of audacious folly to increase or diminish the number of the gospels. as there is fitness and order in all the other works of god, so also we may expect to find it in the case of the gospel. what is the historical significance of this phenomenon? can we imagine that the documents which irenæus regards in this light had been produced during his own lifetime? that they had sprung up suddenly full-armed from the earth, no one could say how? and that they had taken their position at once by the side of the law and the psalmist and the prophets, as the very voice of god? the author of _supernatural religion_ seems to think that no explanation is needed. 'the reasons,' he writes, 'which he [irenæus] gives for the existence of precisely that number [four gospels] in the canon of the church illustrate the thoroughly uncritical character of the fathers, and the slight dependence which can be placed upon their judgments' [ : ]. accordingly he does not even discuss the testimony of irenæus, but treats it as if it were not. he does not see that there is all the difference in, the world between the value of the same man's evidence as to matters of fact, and his opinions as to the causes and bearings of his facts. he does not observe that these fanciful arguments and shadowy analogies are _pro tanto_ an evidence of the firm hold which this quadruple gospel, as a fact, had already obtained when he wrote. above all, i must suppose from his silence that he regards this testimony of irenæus in the isolated opinion of an individual writer, and is unconscious of the historical background which it implies. it is this last consideration which led me to speak of irenæus as the most important witness to the early date and authorship of the gospels, and to which i wish to direct attention. the birth of irenæus has been placed as early as a.d. by dodwell, and as late as a.d. by our author and some others, while other writers again have adopted intermediate positions. i must frankly say that the very early date seems to me quite untenable. on the other hand, those who have placed it as late as a.d. have chosen this date on the ground of the relation of irenæus to polycarp in his old age [ : ], and on the supposition that polycarp was martyred about a.d. . since however it has recently been shown that polycarp suffered a.d. or [ : ], it may be presumed that these critics would now throw the date of his pupil's birth some ten or twelve years farther back, _i.e._ to about a.d. or . but there is no reason why it should not have been some few years earlier. if the suggestion which i have thrown out in a previous paper deserves attention [ : ], he was probably born about a.d. . but the exact date of his birth is a matter of comparatively little moment. the really important fact is, that he was connected directly with the apostles and the apostolic age by two distinct personal links, if not more. of his connection with polycarp i have already spoken [ : ]. polycarp was the disciple of st john; and, as he was at least eighty-six years old when he suffered martyrdom (a.d. ), he must have been close upon thirty when the apostle died. irenæus was young when he received instruction from polycarp. he speaks of himself in one passage as 'still a boy,' in another as 'in early life.' if we reckon his age as from fifteen to eighteen, we shall probably not be far wrong, though the expressions themselves would admit some latitude on either side. at all events, he says that he had a vivid recollection of his master's conversations; he recalled not only the substance of his discourses, but his very expressions and manner; more especially he states that he remembers distinctly his descriptions of his intercourse with john and other personal disciples of christ together with their account of the lord's life and teaching; and he adds that these were 'altogether in accordance with the scriptures' [ : ]. but irenæus was linked with the apostolic age by another companionship also. he was the leading presbyter in the church of lyons, of which pothinus was bishop, and succeeded to this see on the martyrdom of the latter in a.d. or . with pothinus therefore he must have had almost daily intercourse. but pothinus lived to be more than ninety years old, and must have been a boy of ten at least, when the apostle st john died. moreover there is every reason to believe, as we have already seen [ : ], that like irenæus himself pothinus came originally from asia minor. under any circumstances, his long life and influential position would give a special value to his testimony respecting the past history of the church; and, whether he was uncritical or not (of which we are ignorant), he must have known whether certain writings attributed to the evangelists and apostles had been in circulation as long as he could remember, or whether they came to his knowledge only the other day, when he was already advanced in life. in one passage in his extant work, irenæus gives an account of elaborate discourses which he had heard from an elder who had himself 'listened to those who had seen the apostles and to those who had been disciples,' _i.e._ personal followers of christ [ : ]. it seems most natural to identify this anonymous elder with pothinus. in this case the 'disciples' whom he had heard would be such persons as aristion and john the presbyter, who are mentioned in this same way by papias; while under the designation of 'those who had seen the apostles' polycarp more especially might be intended. but, if he were not pothinus, then he forms a third direct link of connection between irenæus and the apostolic age. whoever he was, it is clear that the intercourse of irenæus with him was frequent and intimate. 'the elder,' writes irenæus, 'used to say,' 'the elder used to refresh us with such accounts of the ancient worthies,' 'the elder used to discuss.' indeed the elaborate character of these discourses suggests, as i have stated in a former paper [ : ], that irenæus is here reproducing notes of lectures which he had heard from this person. with the references direct or indirect to the canonical writings in this anonymous teacher i am not concerned here; nor indeed is it necessary to add anything to what has been said in a previous paper [ : ]. i wish now merely to call attention to these discourses as showing, that through his intercourse with this elder irenæus could not fail to have ascertained the mind of the earlier church with regard to the evangelical and apostolic writings. nor were these the only exceptional advantages which irenæus enjoyed. when he speaks of the recognition of the canonical writings his testimony must be regarded as directly representing three churches at least. in youth he was brought up, as we saw, in asia minor. in middle life he stayed for some time in rome, having gone there on an important public mission [ : ]. before and after this epoch he for many years held a prominent position in the church of gaul. he was moreover actively engaged from the beginning to the end of his public career in all the most important controversies of the day. he gave lectures as we happen to know; for hippolytus attended a course on 'all the heresies,' delivered perhaps during one of his sojourns at rome [ : ]. he was a diligent letter-writer, interesting himself in the difficulties and dissensions of distant churches, and more than one notice of such letters is preserved. he composed several treatises more or less elaborate, whose general character may be estimated from his extant work. the subjects moreover, with which he had to deal, must have forced him to an examination of the points with which we are immediately concerned. he took a chief part in the montanist controversy; and the montanist doctrine of the paraclete, as i have before had occasion to remark [ : ], directly suggested an investigation of the promise in the fourth gospel. he was equally prominent in the paschal dispute, and here again the relation between the narratives of st john and the synoptists must have entered largely into the discussion. he was contending all his life with gnostics, or reactionists against gnosticism, and how large a part the authority and contents of the gospels and epistles must have played in these controversies generally we see plainly from his surviving work against the valentinians. thus irenæus does not present himself before us as an isolated witness, but is backed by a whole phalanx of past and contemporaneous authority. all this our author ignores. he forecloses all investigation by denouncing, as usual, the uncritical character of the fathers; and irenæus is not even allowed to enter the witness-box. the truth is that, speaking generally, the fathers are neither more nor less uncritical on questions which involve the historical sense, than other writers of their age. now and then we meet with an exceptional blunderer; but for the most part christian writers will compare not unfavourably with their heathen contemporaries. if clement of rome believes in the story of the phoenix, so do several classical writers of repute. if justin martyr affirms that simon magus received divine honours at rome, heathen historians and controversialists make statements equally false and quite as ridiculous with reference to the religion and history of the jews [ : ]. even the credulity of a papias may be more than matched by the credulity of an apion or an Ælian. the work of the sceptical pliny himself abounds in impossible stories. on the other hand individual writers may be singled out among the christian fathers, whom it would be difficult to match in their several excellences from their own or contiguous generations. no heathen contemporary shows such a power of memory or so wide an acquaintance with the classical literature of greece in all its branches as clement of alexandria. no heathen contemporary deserves to be named in the same day with origen for patience and accuracy in textual criticism, to say nothing of other intellectual capacities, which, notwithstanding all his faults, distinguish him as the foremost writer of his age. and again, the investigations of theophilus of antioch, the contemporary of irenæus, in comparative chronology are far in advance of anything which emanates from heathen writers of his time, however inadequate they may appear in this nineteenth century, which has discovered so many monuments of primeval history. there are in fact as many gradations among the christian fathers as in any other order of men; and here, as elsewhere, each writer must be considered on his own merits. it is a gross injustice to class the authors whom i have named with such hopeless blunderers as epiphanius and john malalas, for whom nothing can be said, but in whom nevertheless our author places the most implicit confidence, when their statements serve his purpose. now irenæus is not one whose testimony can be lightly set aside. he possessed, as we have seen, exceptional opportunities of forming an opinion on the point at issue. his honesty is, i think, beyond the reach of suspicion. he is a man of culture and intelligence. he possesses a considerable knowledge of classical literature, though he makes no parade of it. he argues against his opponents with much patience. his work is systematic, and occasionally shows great acuteness. his traditions, no doubt, require sifting, like other men's, and sometimes dissolve in the light of criticism. he has his weak points also, whether in his interpretations or in his views of things. but what then? who refuses to listen to the heathen rhetorician aristides or the apostate emperor julian on matters of fact because they are both highly superstitious--the one paying a childish deference to dreams, the other showing himself a profound believer in magic? in short, irenæus betrays no incapacity which affects his competency as a witness to a broad and comprehensive fact, such as that with which alone we are concerned. and his testimony is confirmed by evidence from all sides. the recognition of these four gospels from a very early date is the one fact which explains the fragmentary notices and references occurring in previous writers. moreover his contemporaries in every quarter of the church repeat the same story independently. the old latin version, already existing when irenæus published his work and representing the canon of the african christians, included these four gospels, and these only. the author of the muratorian fragment, writing a few years before him, and apparently representing the church of rome, recognizes these, and these alone. clement, writing a few years later, as a member of the alexandrian church, who had also travelled far and wide, and sat at the feet of divers teachers, in greece, in asia minor, in palestine, in italy, doubts the authenticity of a story told in an apocryphal writing, on the ground that it was not related in any of the four gospels handed down by the church [ : ]. what is the meaning of all this coincidence of view? it must be borne in mind that the canon of the new testament was not made the subject of any conciliar decree till the latter half of the fourth century. when therefore we find this agreement on all sides in the closing years of the second, without any formal enactment, we can only explain it as the convergence of independent testimony showing that, though individual writers might allow themselves the use of other documents, yet the general sense of the church had for some time past singled out these four gospels by tacit consent, and placed them in a position of exceptional authority. one other remark on the testimony of irenæus suggests itself before closing. irenæus is the first extant writer in whom, from the nature of his work, we have a right to expect explicit information on the subject of the canon. earlier writings, which have been preserved entire, are either epistolary, like the letters of the apostolic fathers, where any references to the canonical books must necessarily be precarious and incidental (to say nothing of the continuance of the oral tradition at this early date as a disturbing element); or devotional, like the shepherd of hermas, which is equally devoid of quotations from the old testament and from the new; or historical, like the account of the martyrdoms at vienne and lyons, where any such allusion is gratuitous; or apologetic, like the great mass of the extant christian writings of the second century, where the reserve of the writer naturally leads him to be silent about authorities which would carry no weight with the jewish or heathen readers whom he addressed. but the work of irenæus is the first controversial treatise addressed to christians on questions of christian doctrine, where the appeal lies to christian documents. and here the testimony to our four gospels is full and clear and precise. if any reader is really in earnest on this matter, i will ask him to read irenæus and judge for himself. he will find many things for which perhaps he is not prepared, and which will jar with his preconceived ideas; but on the one point at issue i have no fear that i shall be accused of exaggeration. indeed it is impossible to convey in a few paragraphs the whole force of an impression which is deepened by each successive page of a long and elaborate work. ix. tatian's diatessaron [ : ]. [may, .] all that is known of the life of tatian can be soon told. he was an assyrian by birth, as he himself distinctly states. if other writers call him a syrian, the discrepancy may be explained by the common confusion between the two nationalities; or possibly it should be accounted for by his place of residence during the later years of his life. as a heathen he exercised the profession of a sophist, and in this capacity travelled far and wide. his mind was first turned towards christianity by reading the scriptures, which impressed him greatly. as a christian he became the hearer--in some sense the disciple--of justin martyr, doubtless at rome; and when crescens, the cynic, succeeded in bringing about his master's death, tatian's life also was imperilled by the plots of this machinator. while he remained in the metropolis he had among his disciples rhodon, who in later years undertook to refute one of his heretical works. subsequently he left rome, and seems to have spent the remainder of his life in the east, more especially in syria and the neighbouring countries. after the death of justin martyr--how soon after we do not know--his opinions underwent a change. hitherto he had been regarded as strictly orthodox; but now he separated himself from the church, and espoused views closely allied to those of the encratites. a leading tenet of his new ascetic creed was the rejection of marriage as an abomination. but he is stated also to have adopted opinions from gnostic teachers, more especially the doctrine of Æons, which he derived from the valentinian school [ : ]. the author of _supernatural religion_ further says that, 'although tatian may have been acquainted with some of his (st paul's) epistles, it is certain that he did not hold the apostle in any honour, and permitted himself the liberty of altering his phraseology' [ : ]. where did he learn this 'certain' piece of information that tatian thought lightly of st paul? assuredly not from any ancient writer. it is quite true that tatian is stated to have mutilated some of st paul's epistles and rejected others. but so did marcion, who held the apostle in extravagant honour. and the motive was the same in both cases. the apostle's actual language did not square with their favourite tenets in all respects, and therefore they assumed that his text must have been corrupted or interpolated. so far from its being at all doubtful, as our author seems to suggest, whether tatian was acquainted with any of st paul's epistles, we have positive evidence that he did receive some [ : ]; and moreover one or two coincidences in his extant work point to an acquaintance with the apostle's writings. his leanings, like those of marcion and valentinus, were generally in the opposite direction to judaism. his tendency would be not to underrate but to overrate st paul. at the same time such passages as tim. iv. , where the prohibition of marriage is denounced as a heresy, were a stumbling-block. they must therefore be excised as interpolations, or the epistles containing them must be rejected as spurious. the date of tatian is a matter of some uncertainty. he was a hearer, as we have seen, of justin martyr in rome; and if the chronology of this father had been established beyond the reach of doubt, we should be treading on firm ground. on this point however there has been much variety of opinion. the prevailing view is, or was, in favour of placing justin's death as late as a.d. - , on the authority of eusebius; but the most careful investigations of recent criticism have tended towards a much earlier date [ : ]. the literary activity of tatian seems to have begun about the time of justin martyr's death; and after this we have to allow for his own career, first as an orthodox christian, and then as a heretic. when irenæus wrote his first book, tatian was no longer living, as may be inferred from the language of this father [ : ]: and this book must have been written before a.d. , and may have 'been written as early as a.d. [ : ]. again, if we may assume that the 'assyrian,' whom the alexandrian clement mentions among his teachers [ : ], was tatian, as seems highly probable, we have another indication of date. the first book of the _stromateis_, in which this fact is recorded, was itself written about a.d. or ; and clement there speaks of the assyrian as one of his earlier masters, whom he had met with in the east, before he settled down under the tuition of pantænus at alexandria. in like manner tatian's connection with rhodon would point roughly to the same conclusion. on the whole, we shall perhaps not be far wrong if we place the literary activity of tatian at about a.d. - . it may have begun some few years earlier, or it may have extended some few years later. tatian was a voluminous writer; but of several writings mentioned by the ancients only one has come down to us, his _apology_ or _address to the greeks_. it was written after the death of justin, but apparently not very long after. at all events it would seem to have been composed before he had separated from the church and set himself up as a heretical teacher. its date therefore is dependent on the uncertain chronology of justin. the author of _supernatural religion_ speaks of it as 'generally dated between a.d. - ,' and seems himself to acquiesce in this view. though i think this date probably several years too late, the point is not worth contending for. as a rule, the early apologies abstain from quotations, whether from the old testament or from the new. the writers are dealing with gentiles, who have no acquaintance with and attribute no authority to their sacred books, and therefore they make little or no use of them [ : ]. thus the _apologeticus_ of tertullian does not contain a single passage from the new testament, though his writings addressed to christians teem with quotations from our canonical books. hence it is not in this extant work that we should expect to obtain information as to tatian's canon of the scriptures. any allusion to them will be purely incidental. as regards our synoptical gospels, the indications in tatian's apology are not such that we can lay much stress on them. but the evidence that he knew and accepted the fourth gospel is beyond the reach of any reasonable doubt. the passages are here placed side by side:-- tatian. | st john. | 'god is a spirit' ([greek: pneuma ho | 'god is a spirit' ([greek: pneuma theos]), § . | ho theos]), iv. . | 'and this then is the saying | 'and the light shineth in the ([greek: to eirêmenon]); the | darkness, and the darkness darkness comprehendeth not the light'| comprehended it not' ([greek: hê skotia to phôs ou | ([greek: kai hê skotia auto ou katalambanei]), § . | katelaben]), i. . | 'follow ye the only god. all things |'all things were made through have been made by him, and apart | him, and apart from him was from him hath been made no one thing'| made no one thing' ([greek: panta ([greek: panta hup' autou kai chôris | di' autou egeneto kai chôris autou gegonen oude hen]), § . | autou egeneteo oude hen]), i. . in the last passage from st john i have stopped at the words [greek: oude hen], because the earliest christian writers universally punctuated in this way, taking [greek: ho gegonen k.t.l.] with the following sentence, 'that which hath been made was life in him.' besides these passages there are other coincidences of exposition, with which however i need not trouble the reader, as they may fairly be disputed. it is difficult to see how any one can resist coincidences like these; and yet the author of _supernatural religion_ does resist them. the first passage our author has apparently overlooked, for he says nothing about it. if it had stood alone i should certainly not have regarded it as decisive. but the epigrammatic form is remarkable, and it is a characteristic passage of the fourth gospel. of the second passage it should be noticed that tatian introduces it with the expression ([greek: to eirêmenon]), which is used in the new testament in quoting the scriptures (luke ii. , acts ii. , xiii. , rom. iv. ); that in the context he explains 'the word' (logos) to be 'the light of god,' and 'the darkness' to be 'the unintelligent soul;' that this use of [greek: katalambanein] is very peculiar, and has caused perplexity to interpreters of st john, being translated variously 'comprehended' or 'surprised' or 'overcame;' that the passage in the fourth gospel here again is highly characteristic, and occurs in its most characteristic part; and lastly, that the changes made by tatian are just such as a writer would make when desiring to divest the saying of its context and present it in the briefest form. on the other hand, the author of _supernatural religion_ has nothing to allege against this coincidence; he can produce nothing like it elsewhere; but he falls back on 'the constant use of the same similitude of light and darkness,' and other arguments of the kind, which are valueless because they do not touch the point of the resemblance. on the third passage he remarks that, unlike the author of the fourth gospel, 'tatian here speaks of god, and not of the logos.' just so; but then he varies the preposition accordingly, substituting [greek: hupo] for the evangelist's [greek: dia] to suit his adaptation. our author also refers to 'the first chapters of genesis;' but where is there any language in the first chapters of genesis which presents anything like the same degree of parallelism? here again, he is unable to impugn the coincidence, which is all the more remarkable because the words are extremely simple in themselves, and it is their order and adaptation which gives a character of uniqueness to the expression. so much for the individual coincidences. but neither here nor elsewhere does our author betray any consciousness of the value of cumulative evidence. it is only necessary to point to the enormous improbability that any two writers should exhibit accidentally three such resemblances as in the passages quoted; and the inference will be plain. it is not however in this testimony which his extant work bears to the fourth gospel, however decisive this may be, that the chief importance of tatian consists. ancient writers speak of him as the author of a harmony or digest of the four gospels, to which accordingly he gave the name of _diatessaron_. this statement however has been called in question by some recent critics, among whom the author of _supernatural religion_ is, as usual, the most uncompromising. it is necessary therefore to examine the witnesses:-- . in the first place then, eusebius states definitely [ : ]--'tatian composed a sort of connection and compilation, i know not how, of the gospels, and called it the _diatessaron_ ([greek: sunapheian tina kai sunagôgên ouk oid' hopôs tôn euangeliôn suntheis to dia tessarôn touto prosônomasen]). this work is current in some quarters (with some persons) even to the present day.' this statement is explicit; yet our author endeavours to set it aside on the ground that 'not only is it based upon mere hearsay, but it is altogether indefinite as to the character of the contents, and the writer admits his own ignorance ([greek: ouk oid' hopôs]) regarding them' [ : ]. his inference however from the expression 'i know not how' is altogether unwarranted. so far from implying that eusebius had no personal knowledge of the work, it is constantly used by writers in speaking of books where they are perfectly acquainted with the contents, but do not understand the principles or do not approve the method. in idiomatic english it signifies 'i cannot think what he was about,' and is equivalent to 'unaccountably,' 'absurdly,' so that, if anything, it implies knowledge rather than ignorance of the contents. i have noticed at least twenty-six examples of its use in the treatise of origen against celsus alone [ : ], where it commonly refers to celsus' work which he had before him, and very often to passages which he himself quotes in the context. it is not ignorance of the contents, but disparagement of the plan of tatian's work, which the expression of eusebius implies. the _diatessaron_ was commonly current, as we shall see presently, in the neighbouring districts: and it would be somewhat strange if eusebius, who took a special interest in apocryphal literature, should have remained unacquainted with it. . our next witness is overlooked by the author of _supernatural religion_. yet the testimony is not unimportant. in the _doctrine of addai_, an apocryphal syriac work, which professes to give an account of the foundation and earliest history of christianity at edessa, the new converts are represented as meeting together to hear read, along with the old testament, the new (testament) of the _diatessaron_' [ : ]. it seems clear from this notice that, at the time when the writer composed this fiction, the form in which the evangelical narratives were commonly read in the churches with which he was best acquainted was a _diatessaron_, or _harmony of four gospels_. from internal evidence however it is clear that the work emanated from edessa or its neighbourhood. the date of the fiction is less certain; but it is obviously an early writing. the st petersburgh ms containing it is assigned to the sixth century, and the british museum mss to the fifth or sixth century [ : ]; while there exists an armenian version said to have been made as early as the fifth century. the work itself therefore must have been written much earlier than this. there is indeed no good reason for doubting that it is the very syriac document to which eusebius refers as containing the correspondence of our lord with abgarus, and preserved among the archives of edessa, and which therefore cannot have been very recent when he wrote, about a.d. [ : ]. at the same time it contains gross anachronisms and misstatements respecting earlier christian history, which hardly allow us to place it much earlier than the middle of the third century [ : ]. whatever may be its date, the fact is important that the writer uses _diatessaron_, adopted from the greek into the syriac, as the familiar name for the gospel narrative which was read in public. of the authorship of this work however he says nothing. this information we have to seek from other sources. nor is it far to seek. . we are told that the most famous of the native syrian fathers, ephraem, the deacon of edessa (who died a.d. [ : ]), wrote a commentary on the _diatessaron_ of tatian. our informant is dionysius bar-salibi, who flourished in the last years of the twelfth century, and died a.d. . in his own commentary on the gospels, he writes as follows [ : ]:-- tatian, the disciple of justin, the philosopher and martyr, selected and patched together from the four gospels and constructed a gospel, which he called _diatessaron_, that is _miscellanies_. on this work mar ephraem wrote an exposition; and its commencement was--_in the beginning was the word_. elias of salamia, who is also called aphthonius, constructed a gospel after the likeness of the _diatessaron_ of ammonius, mentioned by eusebius in his prologue to the canons which he made for the gospel. elias sought for that diatessaron and could not find it, and in consequence constructed this after its likeness. and the said elias finds fault with several things in the canons of eusebius, and points out errors in them, and rightly. but this copy (work) which elias composed is not often met with. this statement is explicit and careful. the writer distinguishes two older works, bearing the name of _diatessaron_, composed respectively by tatian and ammonius. in addition he mentions a third, composed at a later date by this elias. of the work of ammonius of alexandria (about a.d. ) eusebius, as bar-salibi correctly states, gives an account in his _letter to carpianus_, prefixed to his canons. it was quite different in its character from the _diatessaron_ of tatian. the _diatessaron_ of tatian was a patchwork of the four gospels, commencing with the preface of st john. the work of ammonius took the gospel of st matthew as its standard, preserving its continuity, and placed side by side with it the parallel passages from the other gospels [ : ]. the principle of the one work was _amalgamation_; of the other, _comparison_. no one who had seen the two works could confuse them, though they bore the same name, _diatessaron_. eusebius keeps them quite distinct. so does bar-salibi. later on in his commentary, we are told, he quotes both works in the same place [ : ]. when therefore he relates that ephraem wrote a commentary on the _diatessaron_ of tatian, he is worthy of all credit. from the last witness we have learnt that the _diatessaron_ was commonly read in the churches of edessa; and it was therefore most natural that this famous edessan father should choose it for commenting upon. it is quite true that other syrian writers have confused these two _diatessarons_ [ : ]. but this fact is only valid to show that confusion was possible; it is powerless to impugn the testimony of this particular author, who shows himself in this passage altogether trustworthy. who would think of throwing discredit on lord macaulay or mr freeman, because robertson or hume may be inaccurate? . our next witness is more important than any. the famous greek father theodoret became bishop of cyrus or cyrrhus, near the euphrates, in the year or according to different computations, and held this see till his death, which occurred a.d. or . in the year he wrote his treatise on _heresies_, in which he makes the following statement:-- he (tatian) composed the gospel which is called _diatessaron_, cutting out the genealogies [ : ] and such other passages as show the lord to have been born of the seed of david after the flesh. this work was in use not only among persons belonging to his sect, but also among those who follow the apostolic doctrine, as they did not perceive the mischief of the composition, but used the book in all simplicity on account of its brevity. and i myself found more than two hundred such copies held in respect in the churches in our parts ([greek: tais par' hêmin ekklêsiais]). all these i collected and put away, and i replaced them by the gospels of the four evangelists. the churches to which he refers were doubtless those belonging to his diocese of cyrrhestice, which contained eight hundred parishes [ : ]. the proportion of copies will give some idea of the extent of its circulation in these parts. it is vain, in the teeth of these facts, to allege the uncritical character of the father as discrediting the evidence. the materials before theodoret were ample; the man himself was competent to form a judgment; and the judgment is explicit. neither can there be any reasonable doubt, considering the locality, that the _diatessaron_ here mentioned is the same which is named in the _doctrine of addai_, and the same which was commented on by ephraem syrus. when the author of _supernatural religion_ argues that theodoret does not here regard this _diatessaron_ as patched together from the four canonical gospels, it is unnecessary to follow him. this point may be safely left to the intelligence of the reader. here then we have the testimony of four distinct witnesses, all tending to the same result. throughout large districts of syria there was in common circulation from the third century down to the middle of the fifth a _diatessaron_ bearing the name of tatian [ : ]. it was a compilation of our four gospels, which recommended itself by its concise and convenient form, and so superseded the reading of the evangelists themselves in some churches. it commenced, as it naturally could commence, with the opening words of the fourth gospel--a gospel which, as we have seen, tatian quotes in his extant work. it was probably in the main a fairly adequate digest of the evangelical narratives, for otherwise it would not have maintained its grounds; but passages which offended tatian's encratic and gnostic views, such as the genealogies, were excised; and this might easily be done without attracting notice under cover of his general plan. all this is consistent and probable in itself. moreover the range of circulation attributed to it is just what might have been expected; for syria and mesopotamia are especially mentioned as the scene of tatian's labours [ : ]. in this general convergence of testimony however, there are two seemingly discordant voices, of which the author of _supernatural religion_ makes much use. let us see what they really mean. . epiphanius was bishop of constantia, in cyprus, in the latter half of the fourth century. in his book on _heresies_, which he commenced a.d. , he writes of tatian, 'the _diatessaron_ gospel is said to have been composed by him; it is called by some _according to the hebrews_' [ : ]. here then our author supposes that he has discerned the truth. this _diatessaron_ was not a digest of our four gospels, but a distinct evangelical narrative, the _gospel according to the hebrews_. of this gospel according to the hebrews he says that 'at one time it was exclusively used by the fathers.' i challenge him to prove this assertion in the case of one single father, greek or latin or syrian. but this by the way. if indeed this hebrew gospel had been in its contents anything like what our author imagines it, it would have borne some resemblance at all events to the _diatessaron_; for, wherever he meets with any evangelical passage in any early writer, which is found literally or substantially in any one of our four gospels (whether characteristic of st matthew, or of st luke, or of st john, it matters not) he assigns it without misgiving to this hebrew gospel. but his hebrew gospel is a pure effort of the imagination. the only 'gospel according to the hebrews' known to antiquity was a very different document. it was not co-extensive with our four gospels; but was constructed on the lines of the first alone. indeed so closely did it resemble the canonical st matthew--though with variations, omissions, and additions--that jerome, who translated it, supposed it to be the hebrew original [ : ], of which papias speaks. such a gospel does not answer in any single particular, unless it be the omission of the genealogy (which however does not appear to have been absent from all copies of this gospel), to the notices of tatian's _diatessaron_. more especially the omission of all reference to the davidic descent of christ would be directly opposed to the fundamental principle of this gospel, which, addressing itself to the jews, laid special stress on his messianic claims. how then can we explain the statement of epiphanius? it is a simple blunder, not more egregious than scores of other blunders which deface his pages. he had not seen the _diatessaron_: this our author himself says. but he had heard that it was in circulation in certain parts of syria; and he knew also that the gospel of the hebrews was current in these same regions, there or thereabouts. hence he jumped at the identification. to a writer who can go astray so incredibly about the broadest facts of history, as we have seen him do in the succession of the roman emperors [ : ], such an error would be the easiest thing in the world. yet it was perfectly consistent on the part of our author, who in another instance prefers john malalas to the concurrent testimony of all the preceding centuries [ : ], to set aside the direct evidence of a theodoret, and to accept without hesitation the hearsay of an epiphanius. . 'tatian's gospel,' writes the author of _supernatural religion_, 'was not only called _diatessaron_, but according to victor of capua, it was also called _diapente_ ([greek: dia pente]) "by five," a complication which shows the incorrectness of the ecclesiastical theory of its composition.' this is not a very accurate statement. if our author had referred to the actual passage in victor of capua, he would have found that victor does not himself call it _diapente_, but says that eusebius called it _diapente_. this makes all the difference. victor, who flourished about a.d. , happened to stumble upon an anonymous harmony or digest of the gospels [ : ], and began in consequence to investigate the authorship. he found two notices in eusebius of such harmonies; one in the _epistle to carpianus_ prefixed to the canons, relating to the work of ammonius; another in the _ecclesiastical history_, relating to that of tatian. assuming that the work which he had discovered must be one or other, he decides in favour of the latter, because it does not give st matthew continuously and append the passages of the other evangelists, as eusebius states ammonius to have done. all this victor tells us in the preface to this anonymous harmony, which he publishes in a latin dress. there can be no doubt that victor was mistaken about the authorship; for, though the work is constructed on the same general plan as tatian's, it does not begin with john i. , but with luke i. , and it does contain the genealogies. it belongs therefore, at least in its present form, neither to tatian nor to ammonius. but we are concerned only with the passage relating to tatian, which commences as follows:-- ex historia quoque ejus (_i.e._ eusebii) comperi quod tatianus vir eruditissimus et orator illius temporis clarus unum ex quatuor compaginaverit evangelium cui titulum _diapente_ imposuit. thus victor gets his information directly from eusebius, whom he repeats. he knows nothing about tatian's _diatessaron_, except what eusebius tells him. but we ourselves have this same passage of eusebius before us, and find that eusebius does not call it _diapente_ but _diatessaron_. this is not only the reading of all the greek mss without exception, but likewise of the syriac version [ : ], which was probably contemporary with eusebius and of which there is an extant ms belonging to the sixth century, as also of the latin version which was made by rufinus a century and a half before victor wrote. about the text of eusebius therefore there can be no doubt. moreover victor himself, who knew greek, says _ex quatuor_, which requires _diatessaron_, and the work which he identifies with tatian's harmony is made up of passages from our four gospels alone. therefore he can hardly have written _diapente_ himself; and the curious reading is probably due to the blundering or the officiousness of some later scribe [ : ]. thus we way safely acquiesce in the universal tradition, or as our author, [greek: ouk oid' hopôs], prefers to call it, the 'ecclesiastical theory,' respecting the character and composition of tatian's diatessaron [ : ]. * * * * * [the actual _diatessaron_ of tatian has since been discovered, though not in the original language, so that no doubt can now remain on the subject. the history of this discovery has been given in the careful and scholarly work of prof. hemphill of dublin (_the diatessaron of tatian_ ), where (see esp. p. xx sq) full information will be found. ephraem's commentary exists in an armenian translation of some works of this syrian father, which had been published in venice as early as . i had for some years possessed a copy of this work in four volumes, and the thought had more than once crossed my mind that possibly it might throw light on ephraem's mode of dealing with the gospels, as i knew that it contained notes on st paul's epistles or some portion of them. i did not however then possess sufficient knowledge of armenian to sift its contents, but i hoped to investigate the matter when i had mastered enough of the language. meanwhile a latin translation was published by moesinger under the title of _evangelii concordantis expositio facta a sancto ephraemo doctore syro_ venet. , just about the time when i wrote the above article; but it was not known in england till some years after. later still an arabic translation of the _diatessaron_ itself has been discovered and published in rome by ciasca (_tatiani evangeliorum harmoniae arabice nunc primum etc._, ). on the relation of victor's _diatessaron_, which seems to be shown after all not to be independent of tatian, and for the quotations in aphraates, etc., see hemphill's _diatessaron_. thus the 'ecclesiastical theory'--the only theory which was supported by any sound continuous tradition--is shown to be unquestionably true, and its nineteenth century critical rivals must all be abandoned.] appendix _the following paper has no reference to the work entitled 'supernatural religion'; but, as it is kindred in subject and appeared in the same review, i have given it a place here._ discoveries illustrating the acts of the apostles. [may, .] in a former volume m. renan declared his opinion that 'the author of the third gospel and the acts was verily and indeed (_bien réellement_) luke, a disciple of st paul [ : ]. in the last instalment of his work he condemns as untenable the view that the first person plural of the later chapters is derived from some earlier document inserted by the author, on the ground that these portions are identical in style with the rest of the work [ : ]. such an expression of opinion, proceeding from a not too conservative critic, is significant; and this view of the authorship, i cannot doubt, will be the final verdict of the future, as it has been the unbroken tradition of the past. but at a time when attacks on the genuineness of the work have been renewed, it may not be out of place to call attention to some illustrations of the narrative which recent discoveries have brought to light. no ancient work affords so many tests of veracity; for no other has such numerous points of contact in all directions with contemporary history, politics, and topography, whether jewish or greek or roman. in the publications of the year cyprus and ephesus have made important contributions to the large mass of evidence already existing. . the government of the roman provinces at this time was peculiarly dangerous ground for the romance-writer to venture upon. when augustus assumed the supreme power he divided the provinces under the roman dominion with the senate. from that time forward there were two sets of provincial governors. the ruler of a senatorial province was styled a proconsul ([greek: anthupatos]), while the officer to whom an imperatorial province was entrusted bore the name of proprætor ([greek: antistratêgos]) or legate ([greek: presbeutês]). thus the use of the terms 'proconsul' and 'proprætor' was changed; for, whereas in republican times they signified that the provincial governors bearing them had previously held the offices of consul and prætor respectively at home, they were now employed to distinguish the superior power under which the provinces were administered without regard to the previous rank of the governors administering them. moreover, the original subdivision of the provinces between the emperor and senate underwent constant modifications. if disturbances broke out in a senatorial province and military rule was necessary to restore order, it would be transferred to the emperor as the head of the army, and the senate would receive an imperatorial province in exchange. hence at any given time it would be impossible to say without contemporary, or at least very exact historical knowledge, whether a particular province was governed by a proconsul or a proprætor. the province of achaia is a familiar illustration of this point. a very few years before st paul's visit to corinth, and some years later, achaia was governed by a proprætor. just at this time, however, it was in the hands of the senate, and its ruler therefore was a proconsul as represented by st luke. cyprus is a less familiar, but not less instructive, example of the same accuracy. older critics, even when writing on the apologetic side, had charged st luke with an incorrect use of terms; and the origin of their mistake is a significant comment on the perplexities in which a later forger would find himself entangled in dealing with these official designations. they fell upon a passage in strabo [ : ] where this writer, after mentioning the division of the provinces between the emperor and the senate, states that the senate sent consuls to the two provinces of asia and africa but prætors to the rest on their list,--among which he mentions cyprus; and they jumped at the conclusion--very natural in itself--that the governor of cyprus would be called a proprætor. accordingly baronio [ : ] suggested that cyprus, though a prætorian province, was often handed over _honoris causa_ to be administered by the proconsul of cilicia, and he assumed therefore that sergius paulus held this latter office; while grotius found a solution in the hypothesis that proconsul was a title bestowed by flatterers on an official whose proper designation was proprætor. the error illustrates the danger of a little learning, not the less dangerous when it is in the hands of really learned men. asia and africa, the two great prizes of the profession, exhausted the normal two consuls of the preceding year; and the senate therefore were obliged to send ex-prætors and other magistrates to govern the remaining provinces under their jurisdiction. but it is now an unquestioned and unquestionable fact that all the provincial governors who represented the senate in imperial times, whatever magistracy they might have held previously, were styled officially proconsuls [ : ]. the circumstances indeed, so far as regards cyprus, are distinctly stated by dion cassius. at the original distribution of the provinces (b.c. ) this island had fallen to the emperor's share; but the historian, while describing the assignment of the several countries in the first instance, adds that the emperor subsequently gave back cyprus and gallia narbonensis to the senate, himself taking dalmatia in exchange [ : ]; and at a later point, when he arrives at the time in question (b.c. ), he repeats the information respecting the transfer. 'and so,' he adds, 'proconsuls began to be sent to those nations also' [ : ]. of the continuance of cyprus under the jurisdiction of the senate, about the time to which st luke's narrative refers we have ample evidence. contemporary records bear testimony to the existence of proconsuls in cyprus not only before and after but during the reign of claudius. the inscriptions mention by name two proconsuls who governed the province in this emperor's time (a.d. , ) [ : ]; while a third, and perhaps a fourth, are recorded on the coins [ : ]. at a later date, under hadrian, we come across a proprætor of cyprus [ : ]. the change would probably be owing to the disturbed state of the province consequent on the insurrection of the jews. but at the close of the same century (a.d. )--under severus--it is again governed by a proconsul [ : ]; and this was its normal condition. thus the accuracy of st luke's designation is abundantly established; but hitherto no record had been found of the particular proconsul mentioned by him. this defect is supplied by one of general cesnola's inscriptions. it is somewhat mutilated indeed, so that the meaning of parts is doubtful; but for our purpose it is adequate. a date is given as [greek: epi paulou [anth]upatou], 'in the proconsulship of paulus.' on this cesnola remarks: 'the proconsul paulus may be the sergius paulus of the acts of the apostles (chap. xiii.), as instances of the suppression of one of two names are not rare' [ : ]. an example of the suppression in this very name sergius paulus will be given presently, thus justifying the identification of the proconsul of the acts with the proconsul of this inscription. of this sergius paulus, the proconsul of cyprus, dean alford says that 'nothing more is known.' but is it certain that he is not mentioned elsewhere? in the index of contents and authorities which forms the first book of pliny's natural history, this writer twice names one sergius paulus among the latin authors to whom he was indebted. may not this have been the same person? the name is not common. so far as i have observed, only one other person bearing it [ : ]--probably a descendant of this cyprian proconsul--is mentioned, of whom i shall have something to say hereafter; and he flourished more than a century later. only one test of identity suggests itself. the sergius paulus of pliny is named as an authority for the second and eighteenth books of that writer. now on the hypothesis that the proconsul of cyprus is meant, it would be a natural supposition that, like sir j. emerson tennent or sir rutherford alcock, this sergius paulus would avail himself of the opportunities afforded by his official residence in the east to tell his roman fellow-countrymen something about the region in which he had resided. we therefore look with interest to see whether these two books of pliny contain any notices respecting cyprus, which might reasonably be explained in this way; and our curiosity is not disappointed. in the second book, besides two other brief notices (cc. , ) relating to the situation of cyprus, pliny mentions (c. ) an area in the temple of venus at paphos on which the rain never falls. in the eighteenth book again, besides an incidental mention of this island (c. ), he gives some curious information (c. ) with respect to the cyprian corn, and the bread made therefrom. it should be added that for the second book, in which the references to cyprus come late, sergius paulus is the last-mentioned latin authority; whereas for the eighteenth, where they are early, he occupies an earlier, though not very early, place in the list. these facts may be taken for what they are worth. in a work, which contains such a multiplicity of details as pliny's natural history, we should not be justified in laying too much stress on coincidences of this kind. from the sergius paulus of luke the physician we turn to the sergius paulus of galen the physician. soon after the accession of m. aurelius (a.d. ) galen paid his first visit to rome, where he stayed for three or four years. among other persons whom he met there was l. sergius paulus, who had been already consul suffectus about a.d. , and was hereafter to be consul for the second time in a.d. (on this latter occasion as the regular consul of the year), after which time he held the prefecture of the city [ : ]. he is probably also the same person who is mentioned elsewhere as proconsul of asia in connection with a christian martyrdom [ : ]. this later sergius paulus reproduces many features of his earlier namesake. both alike are public men; both alike are proconsuls; both alike show an inquisitive and acquisitive disposition. the sergius paulus of the acts, dissatisfied (as we may suppose) alike with the coarse mythology of popular religion and with the lifeless precepts of abstract philosophies, has recourse first to the magic of the sorcerer elymas, and then to the theology of the apostles barnabas and saul, for satisfaction. the sergius paulus of galen is described as 'holding the foremost place in practical life as well as in philosophical studies;' he is especially mentioned as a student of the aristotelian philosophy; and he takes a very keen interest in medical and anatomical learning. moreover, if we may trust the reading, there is another striking coincidence between the two accounts. the same expression, 'who is also paul' ([greek: ho kai paulos]), is used to describe saul of tarsus in the context of the acts, and l. sergius in the account of galen. not the wildest venture of criticism could so trample on chronology as to maintain that the author of the acts borrowed from these treatises of galen; and conversely i have no desire to suggest that galen borrowed from st luke. but if so, the facts are a warning against certain methods of criticism which find favour in this age. to sober critics, the coincidence will merely furnish an additional illustration of the permanence of type which forms so striking a feature in the great roman families. one other remark is suggested by galen's notices of his friend. having introduced him to us as 'sergius who is also paulus,' he drops the former name altogether in the subsequent narrative, and speaks of him again and again as paulus simply. this illustrates the newly-published cyprian inscription, in which the proconsul of that province is designated by the one name paulus only. . the transition from general cesnola's _cyprus_ to mr wood's _ephesus_ carries us forward from the first to the third missionary journey of st paul. here, again, we have illustrative matter of some importance. the main feature in the narrative of the acts is the manner in which the cultus of the ephesian artemis dominates the incidents of the apostle's sojourn in that city. as an illustration of this feature, it would hardly be possible to surpass one of the inscriptions in the existing collection [ : ]. we seem to be reading a running commentary on the excited appeal of demetrius the silversmith, when we are informed that 'not only in this city but everywhere temples are dedicated to the goddess, and statues erected and altars consecrated to her, on account of the manifest epiphanies which she vouchsafes' ([greek: tas hup' autês geinomenas enargeis epiphaneias]); that 'the greatest proof of the reverence paid to her is the fact that a month bears her name, being called artemision among ourselves, and artemisius among the macedonians and the other nations of greece and their respective cities;' that during this month 'solemn assemblies and religious festivals are held, and more especially in this our city, which is the nurse of its own ephesian goddess' ([greek: tê trophô tês idias theou tês ephesias]); and that therefore 'the people of the ephesians, considering it meet that the whole of this month which bears the divine name ([greek: ton epônumon tou theiou onomatos]) should be kept holy, and dedicated to the goddess,' has decreed accordingly. 'for so,' concludes this remarkable document, 'the cultus being set on a better footing, our city will continue to grow in glory and to be prosperous to all time.' the sense of special proprietorship in this goddess of world-wide fame, which pervades the narrative in the acts, could not be better illustrated than by this decree. but still the newly-published inscriptions greatly enhance the effect. the patron deity not only appears in these as 'the great goddess artemis,' as in the acts, but sometimes she is styled 'the supremely great goddess ([greek: hê megistê theos]) artemis.' to her favour all men are indebted for all their choicest possessions. she has not only her priestesses, but her temple-curators, her essenes, her divines ([greek: theologoi]), her choristers ([greek: humnôdoi]), her vergers ([greek: skêptouchoi]), her tire-women or dressers ([greek: kosmêteirai]), and even her 'acrobats,' whatever may be meant by some of these terms. fines are allocated to provide adornments for her; endowments are given for the cleaning and custody of her images; decrees are issued for the public exhibition of her treasures. her birthday is again and again mentioned. she is seen and heard everywhere. she is hardly more at home in her own sanctuary than in the great theatre. this last-mentioned place--the scene of the tumult in the acts--is brought vividly before our eyes in mr wood's inscriptions. the theatre appears as the recognized place of public assembly. here edicts are proclaimed, and decrees recorded, and benefactors crowned. when the mob, under the leadership of demetrius, gathered here for their demonstration against st paul and his companions, they would find themselves surrounded by memorials which might stimulate their zeal for the goddess. if the 'town-clerk' had desired to make good his assertion, 'what man is there that knoweth not that the city of the ephesians is sacristan of the great goddess artemis?' he had only to point to the inscriptions which lined the theatre for confirmation. the very stones would have cried out from the walls in response to his appeal. nor is the illustration of the magistracies which are named by st luke less complete. three distinct officers are mentioned in the narrative--the roman proconsul ([greek: anthupatos]), the governor of the province and supreme administrator of the law, translated 'deputy' in our version; the recorder ([greek: grammateus]) or chief magistrate of the city itself, translated 'town-clerk;' and the asiarchs ([greek: asiarchai]), or presidents of the games and of other religious ceremonials, translated 'the chief of asia.' all these appear again and again in the newly-discovered inscriptions. sometimes two of the three magistracies will be mentioned on the same stone. sometimes the same person will unite in himself the two offices of recorder and asiarch, either simultaneously or not. the mention of the recorder is especially frequent. his name is employed to authenticate every decree and to fix every date. but besides these more general illustrations of the account in the acts, the newly-discovered inscriptions throw light on some special points in the narrative. thus where the chief magistrate pronounces st paul and his companions to be 'neither sacrilegious ([greek: hierosulous]) nor blasphemers of our goddess' [ : ], we discover a special emphasis in the term on finding from these inscriptions that certain offences (owing to the mutilation of the stone, we are unable to determine the special offences) were treated as constructive sacrilege against the goddess. 'let it be regarded as sacrilege and impiety' ([greek: estô hierosulia kai asebeia]), says an inscription found in this very theatre [ : ], though not yet set up at the time when the 'town-clerk' spoke. so again, where the same speaker describes the city of ephesus as the 'neocoros,' the 'temple sweeper,' or 'sacristan of the great goddess artemis,' we find in these inscriptions for the first time a direct example of this term so applied. though the term 'neocoros' in itself is capable of general application, yet as a matter of fact, when used of ephesus on coins and inscriptions (as commonly in the case of other asiatic cities), it has reference to the cultus not of the patron deity, but of the roman emperors. in this sense ephesus is described as 'twice' or 'thrice sacristan,' as the case may be, the term being used absolutely. there was indeed every probability that the same term would be employed also to describe the relation of the city to artemis. by a plausible but highly precarious conjecture it had been introduced into the lacuna of a mutilated inscription [ : ]. by a highly probable but not certain interpretation it had been elicited from the legend on a coin [ : ]. there were analogies too which supported it. thus the magnesians are styled on the coins 'sacristans of artemis' [ : ]; and at ephesus itself an individual priest is designated by the same term 'sacristan of artemis' [ : ]. nor did it seem unlikely that a city which styled itself 'the nurse of artemis' should also claim the less audacious title of 'sacristan' to this same goddess. still probability is not certainty; and (so far as i am aware) no direct example was forthcoming. mr wood's inscriptions supply this defect. on one of these 'the city of the ephesians' is described as 'twice sacristan of the augusti according to the decrees of the senate and sacristan of artemis' [ : ]. one other special coincidence deserves notice. the recorder, desirous of pacifying the tumult, appeals to the recognized forms of law. 'if demetrius and his fellow-craftsmen,' he says, 'have a matter against any one, assizes are held, and there are proconsuls [ : ]. let them indict one another. but if you have any further question (_i.e._, one which does not fall within the province of the courts of justice), it shall be settled in the lawful (regular) assembly.' by a 'lawful (regular) assembly' ([greek: ennomos ekklêsia]) he means one of those which were held on stated days already predetermined by the law, as opposed to those which were called together on special emergencies out of the ordinary course, though in another sense these latter might be equally 'lawful.' an inscription, found in this very theatre in which the words were uttered, illustrates this technical sense of 'lawful.' it provides that a certain silver image of athene shall be brought and 'set at every lawful (regular) assembly ([greek: kata pasan nomimon ekklêsian]) above the bench where the boys sit' [ : ]. with these facts in view, we are justified in saying that ancient literature has preserved no picture of the ephesus of imperial times--the ephesus which has been unearthed by the sagacity and perseverance of mr wood--comparable for its life-like truthfulness to the narrative of st paul's sojourn there in the acts. i am tempted to add one other illustration of an ancient christian writer, which these inscriptions furnish. ignatius, writing to the ephesians from smyrna in the early years of the second century, borrows an image from the sacred pageant of some heathen deity, where the statues, sacred vessels, and other treasures, of the temple are borne in solemn procession. he tells his christian readers that they all are marching in festive pomp along the via sacra--the way of love--which leads to god; they all are bearers of treasures committed to them,--for they carry their god, their christ, their shrine, their sacred things, in their heart [ : ]. the image was not new. it is found in stoic writers. it underlies the surname theophorus, the 'god-bearer,' which ignatius himself adopted. but he had in his company several ephesian delegates when he wrote; and the newly-discovered inscriptions inform us that the practice which supplies the metaphor had received a fresh impulse at ephesus shortly before this letter was written. the most important inscriptions in mr wood's collection relate to a gift of numerous valuable statues, images, and other treasures to the temple of artemis, by one c. vibius salutaris, with an endowment for their custody. in one of these (dated a.d. ) it is ordained that the treasures so given shall be carried in solemn procession from the temple to the theatre and back 'at every meeting of the assembly, and at the gymnastic contests, and on any other days that may be directed by the council and the people.' orders are given respecting the persons forming the procession, as well as respecting its route. it must pass through the length of the city, entering by the magnesian gate and leaving by the coressian [ : ]. [footnotes] [ : ] _supernatural religion; an inquiry into the reality of divine revelation._ two vols. second edition, . [subsequent editions are as follows, third and fourth editions ( ), fifth and sixth editions ( ), third volume ( ), complete edition, in three vols. ( ).] [ : ] iren. v. . , . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. sq. [ : ] _canon_ p. , note . [ : ] the greek is [greek: einai de tên diastolên tautên tês oikêseôs ... kai dia touto _eirêkenai ton kurion_ en tois tou patros mou monas einai pollas k.t.l.] [ : ] [tacitly corrected in ed. (ii. p. ) where the sentence runs: 'but ... there is this distinction etc.' see below, p. .] [ : ] [the author's defence is dealt with, pp. sq, sq.] [ : ] [the question is discussed below, p. sq, where the author's subsequent explanation is considered.] [ : ] [this charge is withdrawn in ed. (ii. p. n. ), but objection is still taken to the words 'they taught' as conveying 'too positive a view of the case.' on the character of this withdrawal see below, p. sq.] [ : ] our author has already (ii. p. ) accused tischendorf of 'deliberately falsifying the text by inserting, "say they."' tischendorf's words are, 'und deshalb sagen sie habe der herr den ausspruch gethan.' he might have spared the 'sagen sie,' because the german idiom 'habe' enables him to express the main fact that the words are not irenæus' own, without this addition. but he has not altered any idea which the original contains; whereas our author himself has suppressed this all-important fact in his own translation. [on this treatment of tischendorf see below, pp. sq, , . the language is modified in ed. (ii. p. ) 'tischendorf renders the oblique construction of the text by inserting "say they" referring to the presbyters of papias,' where the point of grammar is silently conceded.] the reader may compare _s.r._ ii. p. , 'the lightness and inaccuracy with which the "great african" proceeds is all the better illustrated by the fact, that not only does he accuse marcion falsely, but he actually defines the motives for which he expunged the passage which never existed etc.... he actually repeats the same charge on two other occasions.' [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] [on the wording of this footnote in ed. see below, p. . it is omitted in ed. , where see ii. p. .] [ : ] [see further on this subject below, pp. sq, sq.] [ : ] _c. cels._ i. . [ : ] _c. cels._ viii. . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. sq. [so also the complete edition ( ) ii. p. sq.] [ : ] there is also another aorist in the part of the sentence, which our author has not quoted, [greek: allo suntagma ... en hô didaxein epêngeilato.] [ : ] [tacitly corrected in ed. (ii. p. ).] [ : ] [some of the grammatical errors are corrected in ed. (ii. p. ), where however new mistranslations are introduced, as [greek: pollachôs] 'in divers parts', and [greek: houtô makarizetai ... hoti opsetai ton theon] 'becomes so blessed that he shall see god'.] [ : ] [[greek: to rhêma] from 'reason' becomes 'word' in ed. , but [greek: zêtêsantes] still remains 'they who inquire' (ii. p. ).] [ : ] ii. p. sq. [corrected in ed. .] [ : ] ii. p. . [corrected in ed. .] [ : ] i. p. , comp. p. . [the latter passage is struck out in ed. (see i. p. ); the former becomes 'committed no error'. see below, p. .] [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] [but in ed. (ii. p. ) i see that my translation is tacitly substituted.] [ : ] [defended as a 'paraphrase' (see below, p. ), but corrected in ed. , which also omits the first clause.] [ : ] [other errors in translation are given below, p. .] [ : ] i. p. . the last words ran 'certainly a late interpolation' in the first edition (i. p. ). thus the passage has undergone revision, and yet the author has not discovered the contradiction. [the author's own explanation of this discrepancy is given below, p. . in ed. (i. p. ) the sentence ends, 'and it is argued that it was probably a later interpolation,' while in the complete edition (i. p. ) it is further qualified 'argued by some.'] [ : ] ii. p. . [the argument in favour of the genuineness is expanded in the complete edition (ii. pp. - ).] [ : ] [see below, p. sq.] [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [and so throughout all the editions.] [ : ] [see below, p. .] [ : ] i. pp. - . [ : ] [the subject is treated at length below, p. sq.] [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] [on hegesippus see below, pp. sq, .] [ : ] [on justin martyr see below, p. .] [ : ] in i. p. , there is a foot-note, 'for the arguments of apologetic criticism the reader may be referred to canon westcott's work _on the canon_ pp. - . dr westcott does not attempt to deny the fact that justin's quotations are different from the text of our gospels; but he accounts for his variations on grounds which are' ['seem to us' ed. ] 'purely imaginary.' i can hardly suppose that our author had read the passage to which he refers. otherwise the last sentence would doubtless have run thus, 'but he accounts for his variations by arguments which it would give me some trouble to answer.' [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] our author himself refers to this saying for a wholly different purpose later on (ii. p. ). [ : ] ii. p. . our author says, 'it is clear that paul is referred to in the address to the church of ephesus: "and thou didst try them which say that they are apostles and are not, and didst find them false."' he seems to forget what he himself has said (p. ), 'no result of criticism rests upon a more secure basis ... than the fact that the apocalypse was written in a.d. , ,' _i.e._, after st paul's death. this theory moreover is directly at variance with the one definite fact which we know respecting the personal relations between the two apostles; namely, that they gave to each other the right hands of fellowship (gal. ii. ). it is surprising therefore that this extravagant paradox should have been recently reproduced in an english review of high character. [ : ] cor. x. , , , . when the season of persecution arrived, and the constancy of christians was tested in this very way, st paul's own principles would require a correspondingly rigid abstinence from even apparent complicity in idolatrous rites. there is every reason therefore to believe that, if st paul had been living when the apocalypse was written, he would have expressed himself not less strongly on the same side. on the other hand these early gnostics who are denounced in the apocalypse seem, like their successors in the next generation, to have held that a christian might conform to gentile practices in these matters to escape persecution. st paul combats this spirit of license, then in its infancy, in the first epistle to the corinthians. [ : ] [on the diction of the fourth gospel see below, p. sq.] [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] [_the authorship and historical character of the fourth gospel_ ( ). macmillans.] [ : ] our author (ii. p. ) speaks of 'the works of imagination of which the world is full, and the singular realism of many of which is recognized by all.' is this a true description of the world in the early christian ages? if not, it is nothing to the purpose. [ : ] ii. p. . 'apologists' lay stress on the _difference_ of theme. [see below, p. sq.] [ : ] [he does however mention the term elsewhere; see below, p. .] [ : ] ii. p. , and elsewhere. [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] [these passages are added without comment in the complete edition in a note on ii. p. .] [ : ] [on this point see below, p. .] [ : ] ii, p. sq; comp. pp. sq, . [the statement stands unchanged in the complete edition (ii. p. sq).] [ : ] [see further, p. sq.] [ : ] ii. p. . travellers and 'apologists' alike now more commonly identify sychar with the village bearing the arabic name askar. this fact is not mentioned by our author. he says moreover, 'it is admitted' ['evident' ed. ] 'that there was no such place [as sychar, [greek: suchar]], and apologetic ingenuity is severely taxed to explain the difficulty.' this is altogether untrue. others besides 'apologists' point to passages in the talmud which speak of 'the well of suchar (or sochar, or sichar);' see neubauer _la géographie du talmud_ p. sq. our author refers in his note to an article by delitzsch _zeitschr. f. luth. theol._ p. sq. he cannot have read the article, for these talmudic references are its main purport. [ : ] [the whole question of sychar in treated at length below, p. sq, where also the author's explanation of his meaning is given.] [ : ] ii. p. . [this whole section is struck out in the complete edition (see ii. p. ), but the error survived ed. (ii. p. ).] [ : ] ['never once' ed. (ii. p. ).] [ : ] ii. p. sq. [ : ] credner _einl._ i. p. '...hat er es nicht für nöthig gefunden, den täufer johannes von dem gleichnamigen apostel johannes auch nur ein einziges mal durch den zusatz [greek: ho baptistês] zu unterscheiden (i. , , , , , , , , ; iii. , , , , ; iv. ; v. , ; x. , ).' [ : ] [for the author's own explanation of this error see below, p. sq.] [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] _canon_ p. . the words of clement (_strom._ vii. ) to which dr westcott refers, are: [greek: kathaper ho basileidês, kan glaukian epigraphêtai didaskalon, hôs auchousin autoi, ton petrou hermênea]. [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. sq. the words which i have enclosed in brackets were inserted in the second edition. a frank withdrawal would have been worth something; but this insertion only aggravates the offence. [after having been partly re-written in ed. (ii. p. ), the whole section is cut out in the complete edition (see ii. p. ).] [ : ] [for the author's explanation of his language see below, p. sq.] [ : ] [this point is reverted to below, pp. , sq.] [ : ] [our author's explanation of the term is given below, p. .] [ : ] [one such list is dealt with in full, p. sq.] [ : ] _essays in criticism_ p. . [ : ] _paulus_ p. sq ( st ed.). [ : ] _nachapost. zeitalter_ ii. p. . [ : ] _theolog. jahrb._ xv. p. sq, xvi. p. sq. [ : ] _zur kritik paulinischer briefe._ leipzig, . the author's conclusions are supported by an appeal to the hebrew, arabic, syriac, and armenian languages. the learning of this curious pamphlet keeps pace with its absurdity. if the reader is disposed to think that this writer must be laughing in his sleeve at the methods of the modern school to which he belongs, he is checked by the obviously serious tone of the whole discussion. indeed it is altogether in keeping with hitzig's critical discoveries elsewhere. to this same critic we owe the suggestion, that the name of the fabulist Æsop is derived from solomon's "_hyssop_ that springeth out of the wall," kings iv. : _die sprüche salomo's_ p. xvi. sq. [ : ] _e.g._ respecting the date of the book of judith, on which depends the authenticity of clement's epistle (i. p. ), the date of celsus (ii. p. ), etc. [ : ] [see further, p. .] [ : ] [our author objects to this conclusion; see below, p. sq.] [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] ii. p. sq. [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] ii. p. sq. [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. xiv. [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] i. p. . the references throughout this article are given to the fourth edition. but, with the single exception which i shall have occasion to notice at the close, i have not observed any alterations from the second, with which i have compared it in all the passages here quoted. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iv. , . [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] i. p. sq. i must leave it to others to reconcile the statement respecting the apocalypse in the text with another which i find elsewhere in this work (i. p. ): 'andrew, a cappadocian bishop of the fifth century, mentions that papias, amongst others of the fathers, considered the apocalypse inspired. _no reference is made to this by eusebius_; but although, from his millenarian tendencies, it is very probable that papias regarded the apocalypse with peculiar veneration as a prophetic book, _this evidence is too vague and isolated to be of much value_.' the difficulty is increased when we compare these two passages with a third (ii. p. ): 'andrew of cæsarea, in the preface to his commentary on the apocalypse, mentions that papias maintained 'the credibility' [greek: to axiopiston] of that book, or in other words, its apostolic origin.... apologists _admit the genuineness of this statement_, nay, claim it as undoubted evidence of the acquaintance of papias with the apocalypse.... now _he must therefore have recognised the book as the work of the apostle john_.' the italics, i ought to say, are my own, in all the three passages quoted. [ : ] ['regarding the composition of the first two gospels' ed. (i. p. ). the error is acknowledged in the preface to that edition (p. xxi).] [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] ['so far as we know' inserted in ed. .] [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] ['said anything interesting about' complete edition (ii. p. ).] [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] ['to state what the fathers say about' ed. . on the ambiguity of this expression see below, p. sq.] [ : ] ['mention' ed. .] [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] ['said anything regarding the composition or authorship' ed. .] [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] [so also ed. . in the complete edition (ii. p. ) the sentence ends 'did not find anything regarding the fourth gospel in the work of papias, and that papias was not acquainted with it.'] [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] [in ed. the sentence ends here.] [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] ['said anything about' ed. . the whole sentence is omitted in the complete edition.] [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iii. . the important words are [greek: _tines_ tôn kata chronous ekklêsiastikôn sungrapheôn _hopoiais kechrêntai_ tôn antilegomenôn, _tina te peri_ tôn endiathêkôn kai homologoumenôn graphôn kai _hosa peri_ tôn mê toioutôn autois eirêtai.] the words spaced will show the two different modes of treatment; ( ) the mention of references or testimonies in the case of the disputed writings only; ( ) the record of anecdotes in the case of acknowledged and disputed writings alike. the double relative in the first clause, [greek: tines ... hopoiais], is incapable of literal translation in english; but this does not affect the question. the two modes are well illustrated in the case of irenæus. eusebius gives from this father _testimonies_ to the epistle to the hebrews etc., and _anecdotes_ respecting the gospel and apocalypse alike. [ : ] [quoted by _s.r._ ed. , p. xiv. for his criticism upon this essay see below, p. sq.] [ : ] _h.e._ iii. . [ : ] see lardner _credibility_ ii. p. sq ( ). for the sake of economising space i shall refer from time to time to this work, in which the testimonies of ancient writers are collected and translated, so that they are accessible to english readers. any one, whose ideas have been confused by reading _supernatural religion_, cannot fail to obtain a clearer view of the real state of the case by referring to this book. it must be remembered, however, that recent discovery has added to the amount of evidence, more especially in reference to the fourth gospel. i refer, of course, to the quotations in the gnostic fragments preserved by hippolytus, and in the clementine homilies. [ : ] clem. rom. . [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] clem. rom. . 'take up the epistle of the blessed paul the apostle. what first did he write to you in the beginning of the gospel? of a truth he gave injunctions to you in the spirit [greek: pneumatikôs] concerning himself and cephas and apollos, because even then ye had made parties ([greek: proskliseis]). [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iii. . [ : ] _polyc._ ; comp. matt. x. . [ : ] _ephes._ ; comp. matt. xii. . [ : ] _smyrn._ ; comp. matt. xix. . [ : ] _philad._ ; comp. john iii. . [ : ] _magn._ ; comp. john viii. . [ : ] _rom._ . [ : ] _ephes._ . [ : ] see lardner ii. p. sq for the testimonies in ignatius generally. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iii. . [ : ] _de vir. illustr._ c. . [ : ] _ephes._ ; comp. _rom._ . [ : ] _ephes._ ; comp. _ephes._ , _polyc._ , _rom._ etc. [ : ] _magn._ - ; comp. _philad._ . [ : ] see lardner ii. p. sq for the passages. [ : ] _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] _h.e._ iii. . [ : ] i. _apol._ . [ : ] see semisch _justin martyr_ i. [ : ] _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] lardner ii. p. sq. [ : ] _ad autol._ ii. . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] lardner ii. p. sq. [ : ] _h.e._ v. . [ : ] _h.e._ v. . [ : ] _h.e._ v. . [ : ] _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] _h.e._ v. . [ : ] _h.e._ vi. . [ : ] _h.e._ vi. , . [ : ] iren. iii. . . [ : ] iren. iii. . . [ : ] iren. ii. , cited in euseb. _h.e._ iii. . [ : ] polyc. _phil._ . [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] [the author's mode of dealing with this passage in his later editions is commented upon below, p. sq. in the complete edition ( ) the words 'as elsewhere' still remain. the last sentence however, which survived ed. , is at length withdrawn, and with it the offending note.] [ : ] _s.r._ ii. pp. - , - . [ : ] [on this matter see below, p. sq.] [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] [see below, p. sq.] [ : ] [see above, pp. sq, sq.] [ : ] ii. p. . in the quotations which follow, i have italicised some portions to show the difference of interpretation in the earlier and later editions. [ : ] i see that it was pointed out in the _inquirer_ of nov. th [ ]. [ : ] [_s.r._ (ed. ) . p. .] [ : ] [_s.r._ (ed. ) . p. .] [ : ] [_s.r._ ii. p. .] [ : ] [_s.r._ ii. p. . see above, p. .] [ : ] [the essay on the ignatian epistles represents the writer's views at the time when it was written. in the course of the essay he has stated that at one time he had entertained misgivings about the seven vossian letters. his maturer opinions establishing their genuineness will be found in his volumes on the _apostolic fathers_ part ii. s. ignatius, s. polycarp, (london, macmillan and co.), to which he refers his readers.] [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] ['many' ed. (i. p. ); the reading 'most' is explained in the preface to that edition (p. xxvi) as a misprint.] [ : ] i. p. sq. [ : ] _die ignatianischen briefe etc., eine streitschrift gegen herrn bunsen_, tübingen, . [ : ] _apostelgeschichte_ p. . he declares himself 'ganz einverstanden' with baur's view. [ : ] _apostol. väter_ p. ; _zeitschrift_ ( ) p. sq. [ : ] _meletemata ignatiana_ ( ). [ : ] _die ält. zeugn._ p. . [ : ] _evangelien_ ( ) p. . [ : ] volkmar himself, in the passage to which the last note refers, supposes that the seven epistles date about a.d. . [ : ] for the earlier opinion of lipsius, see _aechtheit d. syr. recens. d. ign. briefe_ p. ; for his later opinion, _hilgenfeld's zeitschrift_ ( ), p. sq. [ : ] p. (ed. ). [ : ] the references in the case of lipsius are to his earlier works, where he still maintains the priority and genuineness of the curetonian letters. [ : ] see pearson's _vindiciæ ignatianæ_ p. (ed. churton). [ : ] the reader will find the opinions of these writers given in jacobson's _patres apostolici_ i. p. xxvii; or more fully in pearson's _vindiciæ ignatianæ_ p. sq, from whom russel's excerpts, reprinted by jacobson, are taken. [ : ] [in his preface to ed. (p. xxxiii) our author admits his error in the case of rivet, whose name is struck out from the note on i. p. in that edition.] [ : ] see jacobson _patres apostolici_ i. p. xlvi, where the passage is given. [ : ] [our author (ed. , p. xxxv sq) falls foul of my criticism of his references. it is contrary to my purpose to reopen the question, but i confidently leave it to those who will examine the passages for themselves to say whether he is justified in his inferences. he however 'gives up' wotton and weismann.] [ : ] p. xxxiv (reprint of ). [ : ] _fortnightly review_, january, , p. . [ : ] he mentions an earlier edition of this version printed at constantinople in , but had not seen it; _corp. ign._ p. xvi. [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] the roman epistle indeed has been separated from its companions, and is imbedded in the martyrology which stands at the end of this collection in the latin version, where doubtless it stood also in the greek, before the ms of this latter was mutilated. otherwise the vossian epistles come together, and are followed by the confessedly spurious epistles in the greek and latin mss. in the armenian all the vossian epistles are together, and the confessedly spurious epistles follow. see zahn _ignatius von antiochien_ p. . [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] p. . [ : ] ign. _rom._ , where the words [greek: egô ginôskô nun archomai mathêtês einai] are found in eusebius as in the vossian epistles, but are wanting in the curetonian. there are other smaller differences. [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] this objection is well discussed by zahn _ignatius von antiochien_ p. sq ( ), where our author's arguments are answered by anticipation substantially as i have answered them in the text. i venture to call attention to this work (which does not appear yet to have attracted the notice of english writers) as the most important contribution to the ignatian literature which has appeared since cureton's publications introduced a new era in the controversy. zahn defends the genuineness of the vossian epistles. [ : ] ruinart _acta martyrum sincera_ p. sq. (ratisbon, .) [ : ] ruinart p. . 'praepositus carceris, qui nos magni facere coepit ... multos fratres ad nos admittebat, ut et nos et illi invicem refrigeraremus,' p. . 'tribunus ... jussit illos humanius haberi, ut fratribus ejus et ceteris facultas fieret introeundi et refrigerandi cum eis.' [ : ] _de morte peregr._ . [ : ] see zahn _ignatius_ p. . lucian says of peregrinus (now no longer a christian, but a cynic), c. , [greek: phasi de pasais schedon tais endoxois polesin epistolas diapempsai auton, diathêkas tinas kai paraineseis kai nomous; kai tinas epi toutô presbeutas tôn hetairôn echeirotonêse nekrangelous kai _nerterodromous_ prosagoreusas.] this description exactly corresponds to the letters and delegates of ignatius. see especially _polyc._ , [greek: _cheirotonêsai_ tina ... hos dunêsetai _theodromous_ kaleisthai.] the christian bystanders reported that a dove had been seen to issue from the body of polycarp when he was martyred at the stake (_martyr. polyc._ c. ). similarly lucian represents himself as spreading a report, which was taken up and believed by the cynic's disciples, that a vulture was seen to rise from the pyre of peregrinus when he consigned himself to a voluntary death by burning. it would seem that the satirist here is laughing at the credulity of these simple christians, with whose history he appears to have had at least a superficial acquaintance. [ : ] as a corollary to this argument, our author says that the epistles themselves bear none of the marks of composition under such circumstances. it is sufficient to reply that even the vossian epistles are more abrupt than the letters written by st paul, when chained to a soldier. the abruptness of the curetonian epistles is still greater--indeed so great as to render them almost unintelligible in parts. i write this notwithstanding that our author, following cureton, has expressed a different opinion respecting the style of the curetonian letters. our author speaks also of the length of the letters. the curetonian letters occupy five large octavo pages in cureton's translation, p. . even the seven vossian letters might have been dictated in almost as many hours; and it would be strange indeed if, by bribe or entreaty, ignatius could not have secured this indulgence from one or other of his guards during a journey which must have occupied months rather than weeks. he also describes the epistles as purporting to be written 'at every stage of his journey.' 'every stage' must be interpreted 'two stages,' for all the seven vossian epistles profess to have been written either at smyrna or at troas. [ : ] this, as more than one writer has pointed out, seems to be the meaning of [greek: oi kai euergetoumenoi cheirous ginontai] ign. _rom._ . [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] _a few words on supernatural religion_ p. xx sq, a preface to the fourth edition of dr westcott's _history of the canon_, but published separately. [ : ] _handbuch der einleitung in die apokryphen_ i. pp. sq, sq. [ : ] p. (ed. bonn.). [ : ] in st chrysostom's age it appears to have been kept at quite a different time of the year--in june; see zahn, p. . [ : ] the one first published by ruinart from a colbert ms, and the other by dressel from a vatican ms. the remaining martyrologies, those of the metaphrast, of the bollandists, and of the armenian version, have no independent value, being compacted from these two. [ : ] the authorities for these statements will be found in cureton's _corpus ignatianum_, p. sq. [ : ] see lipsius _ueber das verhältniss des textes der drei syrischen briefe etc._ p. . [ : ] pp. , (ed. bonn.). [ : ] the former explanation is suggested by lipsius, _l.c._; the latter by zahn, p. . [ : ] the testimonies to which i refer in this paragraph will be found in cureton's _corpus ignatianum_ p. sq. [the question of the credibility of malalas, and of the meaning of [greek: epi traïanou], is treated more fully in my _apostolic fathers_, part ii. s. ignatius, s. polycarp, ii. pp. - (ed. ).] [ : ] [this pledge is fulfilled below, p. sq.] [ : ] ign. _rom._ . in the syriac version the expression is watered down (perhaps to get rid of the gnostic colouring), and becomes 'fire for another love;' and similarly in the long greek [greek: philoun ti] is substituted for [greek: philoülon]. compare _rom._ , 'neque per materiam seducatis,' a passage which is found in the latin translation, but has accidentally dropped out, or been intentionally omitted, from the greek. [ : ] _e.g._ philippians p. sq. [ : ] ign. magn. . [greek: hos estin autou logos [aïdios, ouk] apo sigês proelthôn.] [ : ] cureton's _corp. ign._ p. . [ : ] euseb. _eccl. theol._ ii. , etc. see on this subject a paper in the _journal of philology_, no. ii. p. sq. [ : ] see below, p. sq. [ : ] _mart. polyc._ . [greek: ogdoêkonta kai hex etê echô douleuôn autô]. this expression is somewhat ambiguous in itself, and for [greek: echô douleuôn] eusebius reads [greek: douleuô]. [ : ] papias in euseb. _h.e._ iii. ; iren. ii. . (and elsewhere); polycrates in euseb. _h.e._ v. ; clem. alex. _quis div. salv._ (p. ); apollonius in euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] _muratorian fragment_ p. , ed. tregelles (written about a.d. - ). [ : ] john i. , xii. sq. [ : ] papias in euseb. _h.e._ iii. ; polycrates in euseb. _h.e._ iii. , v. ; caius (hippolytus?) in euseb. _h.e._ iii. . i have given reasons for believing that the philip who lived at hierapolis was the apostle and not the evangelist in _colossians_ p. sq. [ : ] papias, _l.c._ [ : ] pet. i. . [ : ] iren. iii. . . [ : ] iren. ii. . , iii. . . [ : ] _e.g._ tertull. _de præscr. hær._ . [ : ] ign. _polyc._ - . [ : ] _ib._ § . [ : ] polyc. _phil._ . see below, p. sq. [ : ] this supposition is quite consistent with his using certain writings as authoritative. thus he appeals to the _oracles of the lord_ (§ ), and he treats st paul as incomparably greater than himself or others like him (§ ). [ : ] the question of the jewish or gentile origin of clement has been much disputed. my chief reason for the view adopted in the text is the fact that he shows not only an extensive knowledge of the old testament, but also an acquaintance with the traditional teaching of the jews. i find the name borne by a jew in a sepulchral inscription (orell. inscr. ): d.m. clemeti. caesarvm. n.n. servo. castellario. aqvae. clavdiae. fecit. clavdia. sabbathis. et. sibi. et. svis. if a conjecture may be hazarded, i venture to think that our clement was a freedman or the son of a freedman in the household of flavius clemens, the cousin of domitian, whom the emperor put to death for his profession of christianity. it is a curious fact, that clement of alexandria bears the name _t. flavius clemens_. he also was probably descended from some dependent belonging to the household of one or other of the flavian princes. [ : ] lardner _credibility_ pt. ii. c. vi. [ : ] _phil._ § . 'eleemosyna de morte liberat,' from tobit iv. , xii. . [ : ] _phil._ § . 'ut his scripturis dictum est; _irascimini, et nolite peccare_, et _sol non occidat super iracundiam vestram_,' evidently taken from ephes. iv. . [ : ] _ib._ § . [greek: hon êgeiren ho theos lusas tas ôdinas tou hadou], from acts ii. . [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] the unrepresented epistles are titus and philemon. the reference to colossians is uncertain; and in one or two other cases the coincidence is not so close as to remove all possibility of doubt. [ : ] _phil._ § . [ : ] [greek: tôn autoptôn tês zôês tou logou.] i would gladly translate this 'the eye-witnesses of the word of life' (comp. john i. ), as it is commonly taken; but i cannot get this out of the greek order. possibly there is an accidental transposition in the common text. the syriac translator has 'those who saw with their eyes the living word.' [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] dodwell and grabe explain the reference by a visit of hadrian to asia, which the former places a.d. , and the latter a.d. (grabe _proleg._ sect. ); but both these dates seem too early, even if there were no other objections. massuet (_diss. in iren._ ii. sect. ) considers that the expression does not imply the presence of the imperial court in asia, but signifies merely that florinus was a courtier in high favour with the emperor. but irenæus could hardly have expressed himself so, if he had meant nothing more than this. the succeeding emperor, antoninus pius (a.d. - ), spent his time almost entirely in italy. capitolinus says of him: 'nec ullas expeditiones obiit, nisi quod ad agros suos profectus et ad campaniam,' _vit. anton._ . he appears however to have gone to egypt and syria in the later years of his reign (aristid. _op._ i. p. , ed. dind.), and the account of john malalas would seem to imply that he visited asia minor on his return (p. , ed. bonn.). but m. waddington (_vie du rhéteur Ælius aristide_ p. sq) shows that he was still at antioch in the early part of the year ; so that this visit, if it really took place, is too late for our purpose. as no known visit of a reigning emperor will suit, i venture to offer a conjecture. about the year , t. aurelius fulvus was proconsul of asia (waddington _fastes des provinces asiatiques_ p. ). within two or three years from his proconsulate he was raised to the imperial throne, and is known as antoninus pius. florinus may have belonged to his suite, and irenæus in after years might well call the proconsul's retinue, in a loose way, the 'royal court' by anticipation. this explanation gives a visit of sufficient length, and otherwise fits in with the circumstances. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ v. , . [ : ] this at least seems to be the most probable meaning of [greek: parechôrêse tên eucharistian.] [ : ] _h.e._ v. . [ : ] iren. iii. . . [ : ] quoted anonymously in euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] lipsius _chronologie der römischen bischöfe_ p. . [ : ] see jacobson's _patres apostolici_ ii. p. . [ : ] see his _mémoire sur la chronologie de la vie du rhéteur Ælius aristide_ in the _mémoires de l'académie des inscriptions_ xxvi. p. sq; and his _fastes des provinces asiatiques_ in le bas and waddington's _voyage archéologique en grèce et en asie mineure_. [ : ] _l'antéchrist_ p. . [ : ] lipsius in the _zeitsch. f. wissensch. theol._ xvii. p. ( ); hilgenfeld _ib._ p. sq. [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] it should be mentioned also that we have another exceptional guarantee in the fact that polycarp's epistle was read in the church of asia; jerome _vir. ill._ , 'usque hodie in asiæ conventu legitur.' [ : ] _phil._ § . [ : ] i believe that the facts stated in the text are strictly correct; but i may have overlooked some passages. at all events a careful reader will, if i mistake not, observe a marked difference in the ordinary theological language of the two writers. [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] ign. _magn._ is given by lardner (p. ) as a coincidence with pet. v. . but the expression in question, 'to be subject one to another,' occurs also in ephes. v. , even if any stress could be laid on the occurrence of these few obvious words. [ : ] _altkatholische kirche_ p. sq (ed. ). [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] [see above, p. .] [ : ] ritschl (_l.c._ p. ), though himself condemning the thirteenth chapter as an interpolation, treats this objection as worthless, and says very decidedly that the corresponding greek must have been [greek: tôn met' autou]. [ : ] _fortnightly review_, january, , p. . [ : ] i have collected several instances in _philippians_ p. sq. [see also below, p. .] [ : ] polyc. _phil._ § . [ : ] [see above, pp. , sq.] [ : ] the words of irenæus are, [greek: kai autos de ho polukarpos markiôni pote eis opsin autô elthonti k.t.l.] zahn (_ignatius_ p. ) remarks on this that the [greek: pote] refers us to another point of time than the sojourn of polycarp in rome mentioned in the preceding sentence. i could not feel sure of this; but it separates this incident from the others, and leaves the time indeterminate. [ : ] in the _letter to florinus_, quoted above, p. sq. [ : ] polyc. _phil._ § . [ : ] _e.g._ iren. i. . , ; iii. . . [ : ] iren. i. . . [ : ] this seems to be the form of heresy attacked in the ignatian letters: _magn._ ; _trall._ ; _smyrn._ . [ : ] john iv. , , 'every spirit that confesseth jesus christ come ([greek: elêluthota]) in the flesh is of god; and every spirit that confesseth not jesus is not of god.' i cannot refrain from expressing the suspicion that the correct reading in this second clause may be [greek: luei], 'divideth' or 'dissolveth,' instead of [greek: mê homologei], 'confesseth not.' it is the reading of the old latin, of irenæus, of tertullian, and of origen; and socrates (_h.e._ vii. ) says that it was found 'in the old copies.' though the passages of irenæus and origen are only extant in latin versions, yet the contexts clearly show that the authors themselves so read it. it is difficult to conceive that the very simple [greek: mê homologei] would be altered into [greek: luei], whereas the converse change would be easy. at all events [greek: luei] must represent a very early gloss, dating probably from a time when the original reference of st john was obvious; and it well describes the christology of cerinthus. see the application in irenæus, iii. , 'sententia eorum homicidialis... _comminuens et per multa dividens_ filium dei; quos... ioannes in praedicta epistola fugere eos praecepit dicens' etc. [ : ] die ältesten zeugnisse p. . [ : ] _e.g._ cor. vi. - , viii. sq, etc. [ : ] rev. ii. , , , , . [ : ] cor. xv. . [ : ] tim. ii. . [ : ] iren. ii. . ; tertull. _de resurr. carn._ . [ : ] iren. i. . , tertull. _adv. marc._ v. , _de præscr. hær._ . [ : ] see neander _church history_ ii. p. ; and to the references there given add iren. iii. . 'alterum quidem _judicare_ et alterum quidem salvare dixerunt,' and sect. , 'marcion igitur ipse dividens deum in duo, alterum quidem bonum et alterum _judicialem_ dicens,' with the context. [ : ] i might add also that it is directly stated in the account of his martyrdom (§ ), that he was treated with every honour, [greek: kai pro tês polias], 'even before his grey hairs,' as the words ran in eusebius, _h.e._ iv. . the common texts substitute [greek: kai pro tês marturias]. [ : ] hilgenfeld (_apost. väter_ p. ) evidently feels this difficulty, and apologises for it. [ : ] this reference to tim. ii. is pointed out in jacobson's note. [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] _s.r._ . p. . [ : ] credner _einleitung_ p. sq. [ : ] the author, in his reply, calls attention to the fact that the language of the other writers to whom he gives references in his footnote is too clear to be misunderstood. [ : ] i do not think i can have misapprehended our author's meaning, but it is best to give his own words: 'now even tischendorf does not pretend that this [a saying cited in the epistle of barnabas] is a quotation of matt. xx. , "thus the last shall be first, and the first last" ([greek: outôs esontai oi eschatoi prôtoi kai oi prôtoi eschatoi]), the sense of which is quite different. the application of the saying in this place in the first synoptic gospel is evidently quite false, and depends merely on the ring of words and not of ideas. strange to say, _it is not found in either of the other gospels_; but, like the famous phrase which we have been considering, it nevertheless appears twice quite irrelevantly, in two places of the first gospel. in xix. , it is quoted again with slight variation: "but many first shall be last, and last first,"' etc. _s.r._ i. p. . the italics are my own. [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. sq. [ : ] rom. xv. ; cor. xii. . the point to be observed is, that st paul treats the fact of his working miracles as a matter of course, to which a passing reference is sufficient. [ : ] [see above, p. .] [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] _fortnightly review_, january, , p. sq. [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] [see below, p. sq.] [ : ] _fortnightly review_, _l.c._ p. . the author states that he 'actually inserted in the text the opening words, [greek: einai de tên diastolên tautên tês oikêseôs], for the express purpose of showing the construction.' the impression however which his own language left on my mind was quite different. it suggested that he inserted the words not for this purpose, but for quite another, namely, to show that there was nothing corresponding to tischendorf's 'they say,' or dr westcott's 'they taught,' in the original, and so to justify his charge of 'falsification.' if the reader will refer to the context, and more especially to note on p. of the second volume of _supernatural religion_ (in the editions before the fourth), he will see what strong justification i had for taking this view. [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] i ought to add that these alterations do not appear to have been made in all copies of the fourth edition. i am informed by a correspondent that in his copy the whole passage stands as in the earlier editions. [ : ] _inquirer_, nov. , . 'elsewhere a blunder on the part of the writer is made the occasion of a grave charge against dr tischendorf and canon westcott. they are accused of deliberately falsifying etc.... his own translation however overlooks the important fact that at the critical point in question irenæus passes from the direct to the indirect speech. this is made obvious by the employment of the infinitive in place of the indicative. the english language affords no means of indicating this change except by the introduction of some such phrases as those employed by tischendorf and westcott, which simply denote the transition to the _obliqua oratio_. to neglect this is to throw the whole passage into confusion; and the writer's attempt to fasten a suspicion of dishonesty on the critics whose views he is combating recoils in the shape of a suggestion of imperfect scholarship upon himself.' this occurs in a highly favourable review of the book. [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] _fortnightly review_, _l.c._ p. . [ : ] [corresponding to about a page in this reprint, pp. , 'these two examples ... commentaries of cæsar.'] [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [tacitly corrected in ed. .] [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [tacitly corrected in ed. .] [ : ] _fortnightly review, l.c._ p. sq. i need not stop to inquire whether tischendorf's 'nicht geschrieben hat' conveys exactly the same idea which is conveyed in english, 'has not written,' as our author assumes in his reply. [ : ] [see above, p. .] [ : ] _fortnightly review, l.c._ p. , note. [ : ] _fortnightly review, l.c._ p. . [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] iren. ii. . . the passover of the passion cannot have been later than a.d. , because before the next passover pilate had been superseded. this is the only _terminus ad quem_, so far as i am aware, which is absolutely decisive; and it would allow of a ministry of eight years. the probability is that it was actually much shorter, but it is only a probability. [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] i am afraid however that our author would not agree with me in regarding it as plainly the language of a man accustomed to think in hebrew. he himself says (_s.r._ ii. p. ), 'its hebraisms are not on the whole greater than was almost invariably the case with hellenic greek.' though the word is printed 'hellenic,' not only in the four editions, but likewise in the author's own extract in the _fortnightly review_ (p. ), i infer from the context, that it ought to be read 'hellenistic,' [which word is tacitly substituted in ed. ]. by 'hellenic' would be meant the common language, as ordinarily spoken by the mass of the greeks, and as distinguished from a literary dialect like the attic; by 'hellenistic,' the language of hellenists, _i.e._, greek-speaking jews. the two things are quite different. [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] _fortnightly review_, _l.c._ p. . [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. ; ii. pp. , , , . [the last reference should be omitted: the words had been already withdrawn (ed. ) before this essay was written; but the language in the other references remains unaltered through six editions, and is only slightly modified in the complete edition.] [ : ] [_s.r._ ii. p. ; and so ed. . the complete edition substitutes 'evident' for 'admitted.'] [ : ] stanley _sinai and palestine_ p. . [ : ] john iv. . [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] _fortnightly review_, _l.c._ p. . [ : ] [see above, pp. , , .] [ : ] [see above, p. .] [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . the italics are mine. [ : ] towards the close of his reply the author makes some remarks on a 'personal god,' in which he accuses me of misunderstanding him. it may be so, but then i venture to think that he does not quite understand himself, as he certainly does not understand me. i do not remember that he has anywhere defined the terms 'personal' and 'anthropomorphic,' as applied to deity; and without definition, so many various conceptions may be included under the terms as to entangle a discussion hopelessly. no educated christian, i imagine, believes in an anthropomorphic deity in the sense in which this anthropomorphism is condemned in the noble passage of xenophanes which he quotes in the first part of his work. in another sense, our author himself in his concluding chapter betrays his anthropomorphism; for he attributes to the divine being wisdom and beneficence and forethought, which are conceptions derived by man from the study of himself. indeed, i do not see how it is possible to conceive of deity except through some sort of anthropomorphism in this wider sense of the term, and certainly our author has not disengaged himself from it. in spite of our author's repudiation in his reply, i boldly claim the writer of the concluding chapter of _supernatural religion_ as a believer in a personal god, in the only sense in which i understand personality as applied to the divine being. he distinctly attributes will and mind to the divine being, and this is the very idea of personality, as i conceive the term. he not only commits himself to a belief in a personal god, but also in a wise and beneficent personal god who cares for man. on the other hand, the writer of the first part of the work seemed to me to use arguments which were inconsistent with these beliefs. [ : ] iren. v. . [greek: iôannou men akoustês, polukarpou de hetairos gegonôs]. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iii. [greek: ouk oknêsô de soi kai hosa pote para tôn presbuterôn kalôs emathon kai kalôs emnêmoneusa sunkatataxai] [v.l. [greek: suntaxai]] [greek: tais hermêneiais, diabebaioumenos huper autôn alêtheian, k.t.l.] this same reference will hold for all the notices from eusebius which are quoted in this article, unless otherwise stated. [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] _hær._ iv. . , ; iv. . ; iv. . ; v. . ; v. . ; v. . , . [ : ] _ref. hær._ vi. , , 'the blessed elder irenæus.' clement of alexandria uses the same phrase of pantænus; euseb. _h.e._ vi. . [ : ] _h.e._ iii. ; v. ; vi. . [ : ] heb. xi. . [ : ] weiffenbach _das papias-fragment_ (giessen, ) has advocated at great length the view that papias uses the term as a title of office throughout, p. sq; but he has not succeeded in convincing subsequent writers. his conclusions are opposed by hilgenfeld _papias von hierapolis_ p. sq (in his _zeitschrift_, ), and by leimbach _das papias-fragment_ p. sq. weiffenbach supposes that the elders are distinguished from the apostles and personal disciples whose sayings papias sets himself to collect. this view demands such a violent wresting of the grammatical connection in the passage of _papias_ that it is not likely to find much favour. [ : ] in illustration of this use, it may be mentioned that in the letter of the gallican churches (euseb. _h.e._ v. ) the term is applied to the zacharias of luke i. sq. [ : ] tim. v. , , , . [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] see clinton, _fast. rom._ ii. p. . [ : ] this difficulty however cannot be regarded as serious. at the last (the sixtieth) anniversary of the battle of waterloo, the _times_ gave the names of no fewer than seventy-six waterloo officers as still living. [ : ] _chron. pasch._ p. sq (ed. bonn.); euseb. _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] there is no indication that the author of this chronicle used any other document in this part besides the history of eusebius and the extant martyrology of polycarp which eusebius here quotes. [ : ] the martyrdom of papias is combined with that of polycarp in the syriac epitome of the _chronicon of eusebius_ (p. , ed. schöne). the source of the error is doubtless the same in both cases. [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . [ : ] i had taken the latter view in an article on papias which i wrote for the _contemporary review_ some years before these essays; but i think now that the apostle is meant, as the most ancient testimony points to him. i have given my reasons for this change of opinion in _colossians_ p. sq. [ : ] acts xxi. . [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] the chapter relating to papias is the thirty-ninth of the third book; those relating to polycarp are the fourteenth and fifteenth of the fourth book, where they interpose between chapters assigned to justin martyr and events connected with him. [ : ] it is true that he uses the present tense once, [greek: ha te aristiôn kai ho presbuteros iôannês ... _legousin_] [see above, p. ], and hence it has been inferred that these two persons were still living when the inquiries were instituted. but this would involve a chronological difficulty; and the tense should probably be regarded as a historic present introduced for the sake of variety. [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. , 'about the middle of the second century.' elsewhere (ii. p. ) he speaks of papias as 'flourishing in the second half of the second century.' [ : ] justin martyr _dial._ sq (p. sq), sq (p. ); irenæus _hær._ v. sq; tertullian _adv. marc._ iii. , _de resurr. carn._ . [ : ] _ep. barn._ § . [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] these are the expressions employed elsewhere of this gospel; _h.e._ iii. , ; iv. . [ : ] _h.e._ iii. [greek: hên to kat' hebraious euangelion periechei]. [ : ] clem. _strom._ ii. (p. ). our author says, 'clement of alexandria quotes it [the gospel according to the hebrews] with quite the same respect as the other gospels' (_s.r._ i. p. ). he cannot have remembered, when he wrote this, that clement elsewhere refuses authority to a saying in an apocryphal gospel because 'we do not find it in the four gospels handed down to us' (_strom._ iii. , p. ). 'origen,' writes our author again, 'frequently made use of the gospel according to the hebrews' (_l.c._). yes; but origen draws an absolute line of demarcation between our four gospels and the rest. he even illustrates the relation of these canonical gospels to the apocryphal by that of the true prophets to the false under the jewish dispensation. _hom. i. in luc._ (iii. p. ). any reader unacquainted with the facts would carry away a wholly false impression from our author's account of the use made of the gospel according to the hebrews. [ : ] _s.r._ i. pp. sq, sq. the fact that eusebius did not know the source of this quotation (_h.e._ iii. ), though he was well acquainted with the gospel according to the hebrews, seems to me to render this very doubtful. [ : ] boeckh _corp. inscr._ , [greek: papia dii sôtêri]. [ : ] boeckh , a app.: mionnet iv. p. . [ : ] boeckh . [ : ] galen _op._ xii. p. (ed. kühn). [ : ] one rabbi papias is mentioned in the mishna _shekalim_ iv. ; _edaioth_ vii. . i owe these references to zunz _namen der juden_ p. . [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] [greek: ho panu, ho polus]. the first passage will be found in the original greek in routh _rel. sacr._ i. p. (comp. migne _patr. græc._ lxxxix. p. , where only the latin 'clarissimus' is given); the second in migne _ib._ p. (comp. routh _l.c._ p. , where again only the latin 'celebris' is given). [ : ] whether the first word should be singular or plural, 'exposition' ([greek: exêgêsis]) or 'expositions' ([greek: exêgêseis]), i need not stop to inquire. the important points are ( ) that papias uses [greek: logiôn], not [greek: logôn], 'oracles,' not 'words' or 'sayings'; ( ) that he has [greek: kuriakôn logiôn], not [greek: logiôn tou kuriou]--'dominical oracles,' not 'oracles of the lord.' i shall have occasion hereafter to call attention to both these facts, which are significant, as they give a much wider range to his subject-matter than if he had used the alternative expressions. [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. sq. [ : ] so again, i. p. sq, 'whatever books papias knew, however, it is certain, from his own express declaration, that he ascribed little importance to them, and preferred tradition as a more reliable source of information regarding evangelical history,' etc. see also ii. p. sq. [ : ] _h.e._ iv. , v. . [ : ] see below, p. . [ : ] the references will be found above, p. . [ : ] the proper word, if the work had been what our author supposes, was not [greek: exêgêsis] but [greek: diêgêsis], which eusebius uses several times of the anecdotes related by papias; _h.e._ iii. . [ : ] this attempt has recently been made by weiffenbach _das papias-fragment_ p. sq; and it is chiefly valuable as a testimony to the real significance of the words, which can only be set aside by such violent treatment. weiffenbach is obliged to perform two acts of violence on the sentence: ( ) he supposes that there is an anacoluthon, and that the [greek: _kai hosa pote_] here is answered by the words [greek: _ei_ de pou _kai_ parêkolouthêkôs], which occur several lines below. ( ) he interprets [greek: tais hermêneiais] 'the interpretations belonging to them.' each of these by itself is harsh and unnatural in the extreme; and the combination of the two may be safely pronounced impossible. even if his grammatical treatment could be allowed, the fact will still remain that the _interpretations are presupposed_. weiffenbach's constructions of this passage are justly rejected by the two writers who have written on the subject since his essay appeared, hilgenfeld and leimbach. [ : ] hær. v. . sq. [ : ] it may be observed in passing, as an illustration of the looseness of early quotations, that this passage, as given by irenæus, does not accord with any one of the synoptic evangelists, but combines features from all the three. [ : ] the view that papias took _written_ gospels as the basis of his interpretations is maintained by no one more strongly than by hilgenfeld in his recent works; _papias von hierapolis_ (_zeitschrift_, ) p. sq; _einleitung in das neue testament_ ( ), pp. sq, sq. but it seems to me that he is not carrying out this view to its logical conclusion, when he still interprets [greek: biblia] of evangelical narratives, and talks of papias as holding these written records in little esteem. [ : ] _hær._ præf. ; see also i. . : 'not only do they attempt to make their demonstrations from the evangelical and apostolic [writings] by perverting the interpretations and falsifying the expositions [greek: exêgêseis], but also from the law and the prophets; as ... being able to wrest what is ambiguous into many [senses] by their exposition' [greek: dia tês exêgêseôs]. [ : ] clem. alex. _strom._ vii. , p. . [ : ] compare also the language of hippolytus respecting the books of the naassenes; _hær._ v. , 'these are the heads of very numerous discourses ([greek: pollôn panu logôn]), which they say that james,' etc. [ : ] this same epithet 'foreign' ([greek: allotrios]) is applied several times in the ignatian epistles to the gnostic teaching which the writer is combating; _rom._ inscr., _trall._ , _philad._ . [ : ] reasons are given by dr westcott in the fourth edition of his _history of the canon_ p. . [footnote ] _strom._ iv. , p. . [ : ] the following passage in _supernatural religion_ is highly instructive, as showing the inconsistencies involved in the author's view (i. p. ): 'it is not possible that he [papias] could have found it better to inquire "what john or matthew, or what any other of the disciples of the lord ... say," if he had known of gospels such as ours,' ['and believed them to have been' inserted in the complete edition] 'actually written by them, deliberately telling him what they had to say. the work of matthew which he mentions being, however, a mere collection of discourses of jesus, he might naturally inquire what the apostle himself said of the history of the master.' here the author practically concedes the point for which i am contending, and which elsewhere he resists; for he states that papias as a sane man must, and as a matter of fact did, prefer _a book_ to oral tradition. in other words, he allows that when papias disparages books (meaning evangelical records, such as the st matthew of papias was on _any_ showing), he cannot intend all books of this class, but only such as our author himself arbitrarily determines that he shall mean. this point is not at all affected by the question whether the st matthew of papias did or did not contain doings, as well as sayings, of christ. the only escape from these perplexities lies in supposing that a wholly different class of books is intended, as i have explained in the text. [ : ] _s.r._ i. p. . it is not likely that our author would appreciate the bearing of these references to st mark, because, as i pointed out in my first article [see above, p. ], he mistranslated [greek: ouden hêmarte] 'did no wrong,' instead of 'made no mistake,' thus obscuring the testimony of papias to the perfect accuracy of the result of st mark's conscientious labours. the translation is altered in the last edition, but the new rendering, 'committed no error in thus writing,' is ambiguous, though not incorrect. [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] i. p. . [so too ed. ; but struck out in the complete edition.] [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] i. p. . [so also ed. ; the word 'ever' disappears in the complete edition.] [ : ] i. p. . this criticism is given above, p. sq. [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] the manner in which eusebius will tear a part of a passage from its context is well illustrated by his quotation from irenæus, ii. . :--'a quadragesimo autem et quinquagesimo anno declinat jam in aetatem seniorem, quam habens dominus noster docebat, sicut evangelium [et omnes seniores testantur, qui in asiâ apud joannem discipulum domini convenerunt] id ipsum [tradidisse eis joannem. permansit autem cum eis usque ad trajani tempora]. quidam autem eorum non solum joannem, sed et alios apostolos viderunt, et haec eadem ab ipsis audierunt et testantur de hujusmodi relatione.' eusebius gives only the part which i have enclosed in brackets: _h.e._ iii. . [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] [i. p. . so also ed. ; modified in the complete edition.] [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] _introduction to the new testament_, i. p. sq (eng. transl.), where there is more to the same effect. [ : ] _einleitung in das neue testament_, p. sq. 'an eine blosse aufzeichnung der reden jesu hat er nicht einmal gedacht.... nicht eine blosse redensammlung, sondern ein vollständiges evangelium lässt schon papias den matthäus hebräisch geschrieben haben.' see also pp. sq, sq. [ : ] i. p. sq, 'that irenæus did not derive his information solely from papias maybe inferred,' etc.... 'the evidence furnished by pantænus in certainly independent of papias.' [ : ] _einleitung_ pp. sq, sq. [ : ] photius _bibl._ . [ : ] i. p. . [and so all later editions.] [ : ] _de conj. erud. grat._ (p. ); _de profug._ (p. ). elsewhere he says that all things which are written in the sacred books (of moses) are oracles ([greek: chrêsmoi]) pronounced ([greek: chrêsthentes]) through him; and he proceeds to distinguish different kinds of [greek: logia] (_vit. moys._ iii. , p. ). [ : ] clem. rom. [greek: enkekuphate eis ta _logia_ tou [theou].] elsewhere (§ ) he uses the expression [greek: enkuptein eis tas graphas]. [ : ] polyc. _phil._ . [ : ] iren. _hær._ i. . . [ : ] clem. alex. _coh. ad gent._ p. (ed. potter), _strom._ i. p. . [ : ] _de princ_. iv. (i. p. , delarue), _in matth._ x. § (iii. p. ). [ : ] _hom._ xi. (ii. p. ); _ib._ xii. (p. ). [ : ] see p. . [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] our author has not mentioned the various reading [greek: logôn] for [greek: logiôn] here, though hilgenfeld speaks of it as the reading of the 'best editions.' if it were correct, it would upset his argument; but the most recent critical editor, laemmer, has adopted [greek: logiôn]. [ : ] iren. _hær._ v. . ; dion. cor. in euseb. _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] _ep. barn._ , . the bearing of this fact on the testimony of papias is pointed out in an able and scholarly article on _supernatural religion_ in the april [ ] number of the _dublin review_, p. . [ : ] [the essay on the epistle of barnabas was never written; see the preface to this reprint.] [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] [see above, pp. sq, sq.] [ : ] [preface to _s.r._ ed. , pp. xi--xxiii.] [ : ] [the passage quoted occurs above, p. 'eusebius therefore proposes--however precise.'] [ : ] preface to _s.r._ ed. , p. xv. [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] preface to ed. , p. xxi. [ : ] iren. _hær._ iii. . . [ : ] preface to ed. , p. xxi. so again he says (ii. p. ): it is scarcely probable that when papias collected from the presbyter the facts concerning matthew and mark he would not also have inquired about the gospel of john, if he had known it, and recorded what he had heard,' etc. [ : ] iren. _hær._ iii. . . [ : ] preface to ed. , p. xvi. [ : ] preface to ed. , p. xix. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] [attention has been drawn to these passages above, p. sq.] [ : ] ii. p. . [ : ] [the sixth edition.] [ : ] i. p. . [ : ] ii. p. . [see above, p. .] [ : ] ii. p. . [see above, p. .] [ : ] the passage is given below, p. sq. [ : ] in justification of this statement, i must content myself for the present with referring to an able and (as it seems to me) unanswerable article on marcion's gospel by mr sanday, in the june [ ] number of the _fortnightly review_, in reply to the author of _supernatural religion_. [ : ] john xix. ; xx. . [ : ] this fragment may be conveniently consulted in the edition of tregelles (oxford, ), or in westcott's _history of the canon_ p. sq (ed. ). it must be remembered, _first_, that this document is an unskilful latin translation from a lost greek original; and, _secondly_, that the extant copy of this translation has been written by an extremely careless scribe, and is full of clerical errors. these facts however do not affect the question with which i am concerned, since on all the points at issue the bearing of the document is clear. [ : ] i venture to offer a conjectural emendation of the text, which is obviously corrupt or defective. it runs--'et ide prout asequi potuit ita et ad nativitate johannis incipet dicere.' i propose to insert 'posuit ita' after 'potuit ita,' supposing that the words have dropped out owing to the homoeoteleuton. the text will then stand, 'et idem, prout assequi potuit, ita posuit. ita et ab nativitate,' etc. ([greek: kai autos, kathôs hêdunato parakolouthein, outôs ethêke, k.t.l.]), 'and he too [like mark] set down events according as he had opportunity of following them' (see luke i. ). but the general meaning of the passage is quite independent of any textual conjectures. [ : ] 'johannis ex. discipulis, i.e. [greek: tou ek tôn mathêtôn], where [greek: mathêtês], 'a disciple,' is applied, as in papias and irenæus, in conformity with the language of the gospels, to those who had been taught directly by christ. [ : ] the plural appears to be used here, as not uncommonly, of a single letter. see above, p. . the sentence runs in the latin (when some obvious errors of transcription are corrected):--'quid ergo mirum si johannes singula etiam in epistulis suis proferat dicens in semet ipsum, _quae vidimus_,' etc.; and so i have translated it. but i cannot help suspecting that the order in the original was, [greek: hekasta propherei, kai en tais epistolais autou legôn eis heauton, k.t.l.] 'puts forward each statement (_i.e._ in the gospel), as he says in his epistle also respecting himself,' etc.; and that the translator has wrongly attached the words [greek: kai en tais epistolais k.t.l] to the former part of the sentence. [ : ] i am glad to find that mr matthew arnold recognizes the great importance of this tradition in the muratorian fragment (_contemporary review_, may, , p. ). though i take a somewhat different view of its bearing, it has always seemed to me to contain in itself a substantially accurate account of the circumstances under which this gospel was composed. [ : ] i. p. . he uses similar language in another passage also, ii. p. . [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] preface to ed. , p. xv. [ : ] [_s.r._ i. p. (ed. ); the whole passage including the note is omitted in the complete edition.] [ : ] [the passage is quoted above, p. .] [ : ] iren. _hær._ v. . , . [ : ] [see above, pp. sq, sq, sq.] [ : ] after two successive alterations, our author has at length, in his last [sixth] edition, translated the oblique infinitives correctly, though from his reluctance to insert the words 'they say,' or 'they teach,' which the english requires, his meaning is somewhat obscure. but he has still left two strange errors, within four lines of each other, in his translation of this passage, ii. p. . ( ) he renders [greek: en tois tou patros mou], 'in the (heavens) of my father,' thus making [greek: tois] masculine, and understanding [greek: ouranois] from [greek: ouranous] which occurs a few lines before. he seems not to be aware that [greek: ta tou patros mou] means 'my father's _house_' (see lobeck _phryn._ p. ; wetstein on luke ii. ). thus he has made the elders contradict themselves; for of the 'many mansions' which are mentioned only the first is 'in the heavens,' the second being in paradise, and the third on earth. [in the complete edition the passage runs 'in the ... (plural) of my father.'] ( ) he has translated 'omnia enim dei sunt, qui omnibus aptam habitationem praestat, quemadmodum verbum ejus ait, omnibus _divisum esse_ a patre,' etc., 'for all things are of god, who prepares for all the fitting habitation as his word says, _to be allotted_' ['that distribution is made,' compl. ed.] 'to all by the father,' etc. he can hardly plead that this is 'a paraphrase,' for indeed it is too literal. a few pages before (ii. pp. , ), i find, '_mag sie_ aber daher stammen,' translated 'whether _they are_ derived from thence,' ['whether this be its origin or not,' compl. ed. ii. p. ]. a few pages after (p. ), i find the work of irenæus, _de ogdoade_, cited instead of the _epistle to florinus_, for the relations between irenæus and polycarp. [this error is likewise tacitly corrected in the compl. ed. ii. p. .] it might have been supposed that any one who had looked into the subject at all must have been aware that this _locus classicus_ was in the _epistle to florinus_. but eusebius happens to quote the treatise _de ogdoade_ in the same chapter; and hence the mistake. such errors survive, though these pages have undergone at least two special revisions, and though this 'sixth' edition is declared on the title page to be 'carefully revised.' [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. ( ). [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. ( ). [ : ] iren. _hær._ iv. . sq; iv. . ; iv. . ; iv. . . even in this case there remains the possibility that we have a report of lectures taken down at the time. the early work of hippolytus on heresies was drawn up from a synopsis which he had made of the lectures of irenæus (photius _bibl._ ). galen again speaks of his pupils taking down his lectures as he delivered them (_op._ xix. p. , ed. kühn). the discourses which irenæus reports from the lips of this anonymous elder (perhaps melito or pothinus) are so long and elaborate, that the hypothesis of lecture notes seems almost to be required to account for them. [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] iren. _hær._ v. . . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] [see above, p. .] [ : ] _patrol. græc._ lxxxix. p. (ed. migne). [ : ] under this 'spiritual' interpretation, anastasius includes views as wide apart as those of philo, who interprets paradise as a philosophical allegory, and irenæus, who regards it as a supramundane abode; for both are named. but they have this in common, that they are both opposed to a terrestrial region; and this is obviously the main point which he has in view. [ : ] _patrol. græc._ lxxxix. p. sq. [ : ] cramer _catena_ p. sq. [ : ] routh (_rel. sacr._ i. p. ) would end the quotation from papias at 'their array came to nought;' but the concluding sentence seems to be required as part of the quotation, which otherwise would be very meaningless. papias, adopting the words of the apocalypse, emphasizes the fact that satan was cast down to the earth, because this shows that paradise was a supramundane region. as i have said before (p. ), the only saying of our lord to which we can conveniently assign this exposition is luke x. . st luke is also the only evangelist who mentions paradise (xxiii. ). [ : ] anastasius _hex_. p. . [ : ] hippolytus _ref. hær._ vi. , . [ : ] _apost. const._ ii. . [ : ] j.s. mill _three essays_ p. . [ : ] ewald _die johanneischen schriften_ p. . [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] [see above, p. .] [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] routh _rel. sacr._ i. p. . [ : ] euseb. _quæst. ad marin._ , iv. p. (ed. migne). jerome, who seems to have had eusebius before him, says more plainly (epist. , _ad hedib._ i. p. ):--'mihi videtur evangelista matthaeus qui evangelium hebraeo sermone conscripsit, non tam _vespere_ dixisse quam _sero_, et eum qui interpretatus est, verbi ambiguitate deceptum, non _sero_ interpretatum esse sed _vespere_.' [ : ] iren. ii. . ; euseb. _h.e._ iii. . [ : ] preface to ed. , p. xvii. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iii. [greek: eph' has tous philomatheis anapempsantes _anankaiôs_ nun prosthêsomen, k.t.l.], and again, [greek: tauta d' hêmin _anankaiôs_ pros tois ektetheisin epitetêrêsthô]. [ : ] this argument to st john's gospel was published long ago by cardinal thomasius (_op._ i. p. ); but it lay neglected until attention was called to it by aberle _theolog. quartalschr._ xlvi. p. sq ( ), and by tischendorf _wenn wurden etc._ [ : ] overbeck's article is in hilgenfeld's _zeitschr. f. wissensch. theol._ p. sq ( ). the notice relating to the four maries will be found in routh _rel. sacr._ i. p. . [ : ] _einleitung_ p. ( ); comp. _zeitschr. f. wissensch. theol._ xviii. p. ( ). [ : ] i verified this for myself ten years ago, and published the result in the first edition of my _galatians_, p. sq ( ). about the same time dr. westcott ascertained the fact from a friend, and announced it in the second edition of his _history of the canon_. [ : ] this fragment was first published by nolte _theolog. quartalschr._ xliv. p. ( ). it will be found in the collection of fragments of papias given by hilgenfeld _zeitschr. f. wissensch. theol._ ( ), p. . [ : ] this solution of the difficulty by means of a lacuna was suggested to me by a friend. in following up the suggestion, i have inserted the missing words from the parallel passage in origen, to which georgius hamartolos refers in this very context: _in matth._ tom. xvi. (iii. p. sq, delarue), [greek: pepôkasi de potêrion kai to baptisma ebaptisthêsan hoi tou zebedaiou huioi, epeiper hêrôdês men apekteinen iakôbon ton iôannou machaira, ho de rhômaiôn basileus, hôs hê paradosis didaskei, katedikase ton iôannên marturounta dia ton tês alêtheias logon eis patmon tên nêson.] it must be noticed that georgius refers to this passage of origen as testimony that _st john suffered martyrdom_, thus mistaking the sense of [greek: marturounta]. this is exactly the error which i suggested as an explanation of the blundering notice of john malalas respecting the death of ignatius (see above p. ). [ : ] see lipsius _die quellen der aeltesten ketzergeschichte_ p. ( ). though the notice in clem. alex. _strom._ vii. (p. ) makes marcion a contemporary of the apostles, there is obviously some error in the text. all other evidence, which is trustworthy, assigns him to a later date. the subject is fully discussed by lipsius in the context of the passage to which i have given a reference. see also zahn in _zeitschr. f. hist. theol._ p. . [ : ] aberle suggested 'exegeseos,' for which hilgenfeld rightly substituted 'exegeticis.' this was before he adopted overbeck's suggestion of the spurious papias. [ : ] the photographs, nos. , , , , in the series published by the palæographical society, will show fairly what i mean. [ : ] in the _catena patr. græc. in s. joann._ prooem. (ed. corder), [greek: haireseôn anaphueisôn deinôn hupêgoreuse to euangelion tô heautou mathêtê papia eubiôtô] (_sic_) [greek: tô hierapolitê, k.t.l.]. [ : ] or, the confusion may have been between [greek: apegrapsâ (apegrapsan)], and [greek: apegrapsa]. [ : ] [see above, p. .] [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] the passage of andreas of cæsarea will be found in routh _rel. sacr._ i. p. . it is not there said that papias ascribed the apocalypse to st john the apostle, or even that he quoted it by name. our author's argument therefore breaks down from lack of evidence. it seems probable however, that he would ascribe it to st john, even though he may not have said so distinctly. suspicion is thrown on the testimony of andreas by the fact that eusebius does not directly mention its use by papias, as his practice elsewhere would demand. but i suppose that eusebius omitted any express mention of this use, because he had meant his words to be understood of the apocalypse, when, speaking of the chiliastic doctrine of papias higher up, he said that this father 'had mistaken the apostolic statements,' and 'had not comprehended what was said by them mystically and in figurative language' [greek: en hupodeigmasi]. [ : ] [see above, pp. sq, .] [ : ] these persons are discussed at great length by epiphanius (_hær._ li.), who calls them _alogi_. they are mentioned also, with special reference to the gospel, by irenæus (iii. . ). hippolytus wrote a work 'in defence of the gospel and apocalypse of john,' which was apparently directed against them. it may be suspected that epiphanius is largely indebted to this work for his refutation of them. [ : ] _einleitung_ p. ; comp. p. sq. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ vii. . gaius the roman presbyter, who wrote about a.d. , is often cited as an earlier instance. i gave reasons some years ago for suspecting that the dialogue bearing this name was really written by hippolytus (_journal of philology_, i. p. , ); and i have not seen any cause since to change this opinion. but whether this be so or not, the words of gaius reported by eusebius (_h.e._ iii. ) seem to be wrongly interpreted as referring to the apocalypse. [the important discovery of prof. gwynn (_hermathena_, vol. vi. p. sq, ), showing as it does, that there was a gaius different from hippolytus, does not allow me to speak now as i spoke in about the identity of gaius the roman presbyter and hippolytus.] [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] iren. ii. . ; iii. . . [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] clem. alex. _strom._ i. (p. ) [greek: ho men epi tês hellados, ho iônikos]. [ : ] clem. alex. _quis div. salv._ , p. . [ : ] iren. ii. . . [ : ] iren. iii. . . [ : ] iren. v. . . [ : ] iren. v. . . [ : ] _ep. ad flor._ in euseb. _h.e._ v. . see above, p. . [ : ] iren. iv. . . [ : ] iren. v. . . [ : ] see above, pp. sq, sq. [ : ] _martyr. polyc._ § . [ : ] _martyr. polyc._ § [greek: ho keklêrômenos to auto onoma, hêrôdês epilegomenos], where [greek: keklêrômenos] (not [greek: kai klêronomos]) is the right reading, 'who chanced to have the same name,' _i.e._, with the tyrant of the gospels. [ : ] _ib._ § . it is right to add however, that the meaning of the expression 'great sabbath' here has been questioned. [ : ] _ib._ § [greek: oi prodidontes auton oikeioi hupêrchon]. [ : ] _ib._ § . [ : ] _ib._ § [greek: hos epi lêstên]; comp. matt. xxvi. ; mark xiv. ; luke xxii. . [ : ] _ib._ § ; comp. matt. xxvi. ; acts xxi. . [ : ] the objections which have been urged against this narrative are not serious. see above, p. . [ : ] _martyr. polyc._ § . see deut. xxxi. , . [ : ] john xii. . [ : ] _martyr. polyc_. § . [ : ] _ib._ § [greek: edei gar to tês ... optasias plêrôthênai hote ... eipen, k.t.l.] [ : ] john xii. . [ : ] john xviii. [greek: hina ho logos tou 'iêsou plêrôthê, hon eipen sêmainôn k.t.l.] the coincidence extends to the language used when the change is brought about. in polycarp's case philippus the asiarch says (§ ), [greek: _mê einai exon_ autô, k.t.l.]; in our lord's case, the language of the jews is (xviii. ), [greek: _hêmin ouk exestin_ apokteinai oudena.] [ : ] _martyr. polyc._ § [greek: exêlthe [peristera kai] plêthos haimatos]. it is unnecessary for my purpose to inquire whether the words [greek: peristera kai] should be altered into [greek: peri sturaka] according to bishop wordsworth's ingenious emendation, or omitted altogether as in the text of eusebius. [ : ] john xix. sq. [ : ] _martyr. polyc._ § . [ : ] john xix. , . [ : ] _martyr. polyc._ § . [ : ] _ib._ § ; comp. john v. , xvii. . [ : ] quoted in euseb. _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] _fastes des provinces asiatiques_ p. , in le bas and waddington's _voyage archéologique etc._ borghesi (_oeuvres_ viii. p. ) had placed it between a.d. - . [ : ] euseb. _l.c._ see otto _corp. apol. christ._ ix. p. sq. [ : ] he writes--[greek: epi pasi kai to pros antôninon biblidion]. the meaning assigned in the text to [greek: epi pasi] is generally accepted, but cannot be considered quite certain. [ : ] quoted by euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] [greek: peri tou pascha.] the author of _supernatural religion_ speaks of it as 'melito's work on the passion' (ii. p. ). this error survives to the sixth edition [but is tacitly corrected in the complete edition]. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iv. . this reference serves for all the facts relating to melito, which are derived from eusebius, unless otherwise stated. there is a little difficulty respecting the exact titles of the works in one or two cases owing to various readings; but the differences are not important enough to be considered here. [ : ] these titles are taken from anastasius of sinai, and from the syriac fragments. [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. sq. [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] see above, p. sq, where the arguments of our author against the genuineness of the epistle are refuted. [ : ] justin martyr _apol._ i. [greek: ta apomnêmoneumata tôn apostolôn ê ta sungrammata tôn prophêtôn anaginôsketia k.t.l.], compared with _ib._ [greek: oi apostoloi en tois genomenois hup' autôn apomnêmoneumasin ha kaletai euangelia]. [ : ] quoted by euseb. _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] the only complete collection of the fragments of melito is in otto _corp. apol. christ._ ix. p. sq. [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] for an account of these writings see otto, p. sq, p. sq. [ : ] quoted by jerome _vir. ill._ . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] migne's _patrol. græc._ xxxix. p. sq. [ : ] st luke iii. . [ : ] given in pitra's _spicil. solesm._ ii. p. lix. sq, and in cureton's _spicil. syr._ p. sq. see also otto, p. . [ : ] the translators hitherto (renan, cureton, sachau) have rendered this expression by the singular '_in voce_, in the voice.' but this makes no sense; and i can hardly doubt that it should be translated as i have given it, though the _ribui_, the sign of the plural, seems to have disappeared in the existing syriac text. we have here the distinction between [greek: phonê] and [greek: logos], on which writers of the second and third centuries delighted to dwell. it occurs as early as ignatius _rom._ (the correct reading). they discovered this distinction in john i. , , , where the baptist is called [greek: phonê boôntos], while christ is [greek: ho logos]. [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . our author has stated just before: 'it is well known that there were many writers' ['other writers' compl. ed.] 'in the early church bearing the names of melito and miletius or meletius, which were frequently confounded.' it is dangerous always to state a sweeping negative; but i am not aware of any other writer in the early church bearing the name of melito. [ : ] justin martyr _dial._ § (p. ). [ : ] justin martyr _dial._ § (p. ). [ : ] justin martyr _dial._ § (p. ). [ : ] justin martyr _dial._ § (p. ). [ : ] see _spicil. solesm._ i. p. . the syriac abridgment commences in the same way. see _ib._ p. . [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] _spicil. solesm._ i. p. . [ : ] rom. i. , xvi. . [ : ] phil. ii. . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iv. . this is the reference for all the facts relating to apollinaris given by eusebius, unless otherwise mentioned. [ : ] see otto _corp. apol. christ._ ix. p. sq. [ : ] quoted by eusebius, _h.e._ v. . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iv. [greek: pollôn para pollois sôzomenôn, ta eis hêmas elthonta esti tade.] [ : ] photius _bibl._ [greek: legetai de autou kai hetera sungrammata axiomnêmoneuta einai, ois oupô hêmeis enetuchomen.] [ : ] _chron. pasch._ p. (ed. dind.). [ : ] theodoret, _h.f._ i. . [ : ] serapion, _l.c._; eusebius, _h.e._ iv. ; jerome, _ep._ (i. p. ); theodoret, _h.f._ iii. ; socrates, _h.e._ iii. ; photius, _l.c._ [ : ] [see above, p. ]. [ : ] our author says (n. p. ): 'the two fragments have by many been conjecturally ascribed to pierius of alexandria, a writer of the third century, who composed a work on easter;' and in his note he gives references to four persons, tillemont, lardner, donaldson, and routh, apparently as supporting this view. routh however mentions it only to reject it, and distinctly ascribes the fragments to apollinaris (_rel. sacr._ i. p. ). neither have i yet found any passage in tillemont, where he assigns them to pierius. lardner indeed states this of tillemont; but in the only reference which he gives (t. ii. p. iii. p. , ed. bruxelles), nothing of the kind is said. tillemont there refers in the margin to 's. pierre d'alex.,' because this _peter_ of alexandria is likewise quoted in the preface of the _chronicon paschale_, and the question of the genuineness of the fragments ascribed to apollinaris is reserved to be discussed afterwards in connection with this peter (_ib._ p. sq). but he does not ascribe them to peter, and he does not mention pierius there at all, so far as i have observed. it should be added that the title of pierius' work was 'a discourse relating to the passover and hosea' [greek: ho eis to pascha kai Ôsêe logos]; see photius _bibl._ cxix. so far as we can judge from the description of photius, it seems to have been wholly different in subject and treatment from the works of melito and apollinaris. it was perhaps an exposition of hosea ii. - . [in the complete edition tillemont and routh are tacitly omitted from the note, and 'some' substituted for 'many' in the text.] our author also by way of discrediting the _chronicon paschale_ as a witness, rejects (ii. p. ) a passage of melito quoted on the same authority (p. , ed. dind.); but he gives no reasons. the passage bears every mark of genuineness. it is essentially characteristic of an apologist in the second century, and indeed is obviously taken from the apology of melito, as the chronicler intimates. otto accepts it without hesitation. [ : ] _die ält. zeugn._ p. , quoted by otto. [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [this paragraph is rewritten in the complete edition.] [ : ] theodoret _h. f._ i. ; iii. . [ : ] 'epist. ad magnum ep. p. .' [ : ] jerome _vir. ill._ . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ iv. . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ vi. . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [rewritten in the complete edition.] [ : ] our author himself says elsewhere (ii. p. ): 'a violent discussion arose as to the day upon which "the true passover of the lord" should be celebrated, the church in asia minor maintaining that it should be observed on the th nisan, etc.' this is exactly what apollinaris does. by incidentally quoting the words of apollinaris ([greek: to alêthinon tou kuriou pascha]), he has unconsciously borne testimony to the true interpretation of the passage, though himself taking the opposite view. [ : ] iren. _hær._ ii. . [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] [see above, p. sq.] [ : ] i observe also that melito, while commenting on the sacrifice of isaac, lays stress on the fact that our lord was [greek: teleios], not [greek: neos], at the time of the passion, as if he too had some adversary in view; _fragm._ (p. ). this is an incidental confirmation of the statement of irenæus respecting the asiatic elders. [ : ] see above, p. . reasons are there given for identifying this elder with papias. [ : ] iren. _hær._ iv. . . see john viii. . [ : ] iren. _hær._ iv. sq. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] john xxi. ; comp. xiii. . [ : ] acts v. . [ : ] tim. iv. . gaul was almost universally called 'galatia' in greek at this time and for many generations afterwards. [ : ] they are called 'trilingues,' varro in isid. _etym._ xv. . [ : ] it is preserved in great part by eusebius, _h.e._ v. , and may be read conveniently in routh _rel. sacr._ i. p. sq. [ : ] see the references in tillemont _mémoires_ ii. p. . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . in earlier editions the words are translated 'the testimony of the elder zacharias;' but in the sixth i find substituted 'the testimony borne to the elder zacharias.' the adoption of this interpretation therefore is deliberate. [in the complete edition (ii. p. sq) the rendering 'borne by the elder zacharias' is substituted for the above, and defended at some length.] [ : ] _protev._ . see tischendorf _evang. apocr._ p. . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . so previously (p. ), 'his martyrdom, _which luke does not mention_.' i have already had occasion to point out instances where our author's forgetfulness of the contents of the new testament leads him into error; see above, p. . yet he argues throughout on the assumption that the memory of early christian writers was perfect. [the whole section is struck out in the complete edition.] the _protevangelium_ bears all the characteristics of a romance founded partly on notices in the canonical gospels. some passages certainly are borrowed from st luke, from which the very words are occasionally taken (_e.g._ §§ , ); and the account of the martyrdom of zacharias is most easily explained as a fiction founded on the notice in luke xi. , the writer assuming the identity of this zacharias with the baptist's father. i have some doubts about the very early date sometimes assigned to the _protevangelium_ (though it may have been written somewhere about the middle of the second century); but, the greater its antiquity, the more important is its testimony to the canonical gospels. at the end of § the writer obviously borrows the language of st thomas in john xx. . this, as it so happens, is the part of the _protevangelium_ to which clement of alexandria (_strom._ vii. p. ) refers, and therefore we have better evidence for the antiquity of this, than of any other portion of the work. [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. ; 'the two communities [of vienne and lyons] some time after addressed an epistle to their brethren in asia and phrygia, and also to eleutherus, bishop of rome, relating the events which had occurred.... this epistle has in great part been preserved by eusebius;' and again, ii. p. ; 'we know that he [irenæus] was deputed by the church of lyons to bear to eleutherus, then bishop of rome, the epistle of that christian community describing their sufferings during the persecution,' etc. [so also in the complete edition.] accordingly in the index, pp. , , irenæus is made the bearer of the epistle. this is a confusion of two wholly distinct letters--the letter to the churches of phrygia and asia, containing an account of the persecution, which is in great part preserved by eusebius, but of which irenæus was certainly not the bearer; and the letter to eleutherus, of which irenæus was the bearer, but which had reference to the montanist controversy, and of which eusebius has preserved only a single sentence recommending irenæus to the roman bishop. this latter contained references to the persecutions, but was a distinct composition: euseb. _h.e._ v. , . [ : ] iren. iii. . . [ : ] iren. iii. . . [ : ] _de pond. et mens._ , . epiphanius states that antoninus pius was succeeded by caracalla, who also bore the names of geta and m. aurelius verus, and who reigned seven years; that l. aurelius commodus likewise reigned these same seven years; that pertinax succeeded next, and was followed by severus; that in the time of severus symmachus translated the lxx; that 'immediately after him, that is, in the reign of the second commodus, who reigned for thirteen years after the before-mentioned l. aurelius commodus,' theodotion published his translation; with more of the same kind. the _chronicon paschale_ also assigns this version to the reign of commodus, and even names the year a.d. ; but the compiler's testimony is invalidated by the fact that he repeats the words of epiphanius, from whom he has obviously borrowed. i should be sorry to say (without thoroughly sifting the matter), that even in this mass of confusion there may not be an element of truth; but it is strange to see how our author's habitual scepticism deserts him just where it would be most in place. [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. , 'we are therefore brought towards the end of the episcopate of eleutherus as the earliest date at which the _first three books_ of his work against heresies can well have been written, and the rest _must_ be assigned to a later period under the episcopate of victor (+ - ).' [so also in the complete edition.] the italics are my own. [ : ] our author sums up thus (ii. p. sq); 'the state of the case, then, is as follows: we find a coincidence in a few words in connection with zacharias between the epistle [of the churches of vienne and lyons] and our third gospel; but so far from the gospel being in any way indicated as their source, the words in question are, on the contrary, in association with' ['connected with' compl. ed.] 'a reference to events unknown to our gospel, but which were indubitably chronicled elsewhere. it follows clearly, and _few venture to doubt the fact_, that the allusion in the epistle is to a gospel different from ours, and not to our third synoptic at all.' of 'the events unknown to our gospel' i have disposed in the text. but the statement which i have italicized is still more extraordinary. i am altogether unable to put any interpretation upon the words which is not directly contradictory to the facts, and must therefore suppose that we have here again one of those extraordinary misprints, which our author has pleaded on former occasions. as a matter of fact, the references to the third and fourth gospels in this letter are all but universally allowed, even by critics the least conservative. they are expressly affirmed, for instance, by hilgenfeld (_einleitung_ p. ) and by scholten (_die ältesten zeugnisse_ p. sq). [in the complete edition the last sentence is considerably modified and runs as follows; 'as part of the passage in the epistle, therefore, could not have been derived from our third synoptic, the natural inference is that the whole emanates from a gospel, different from ours, which likewise contained that part.'] [ : ] _s.r._ ii. p. . [ : ] iren. iii. . , 'whom we also saw in early life ([greek: en tê prôtê hêmôn hêlikia)]; for he survived long ([greek: epipolu gar paremeine]), and departed this life at a very great age ([greek: panu gêraleos]) by a glorious and most notable martyrdom.' this passage suggests the inference that, if polycarp had not had a long life, irenæus could not have been his hearer; but it cannot be pressed to mean that polycarp was already in very advanced years when irenæus saw him, since the words [greek: panu gêraleos] refer, not to the period of their intercourse, but to the time of his martyrdom. a comparison with a parallel expression relating to st john in ii. . , [greek: paremeine gar autois mechri k.t.l], will show that the inference, even when thus limited, is precarious, and that the [greek: gar] does not necessarily imply as much. extreme views with respect to the bearing of this passage are taken on the one hand by ziegler _irenæus der bischof von lyon_ p. sq, and on the other by leimbach _wann ist irenäus geboren_ p. sq (in _stud. u. krit._ ), in answer to ziegler. [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] see above, p. , note . [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] see the last reference, where the passage is given in full. [ : ] see above, p. . [ : ] iren. iv. . sq. [ : ] see above, p. , note. [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] see above, p. . the author of _supernatural religion_ himself (ii. p. ) writes: 'it is not known how long irenæus remained in rome, but there is every probability that he must have made a somewhat protracted stay, for the purpose of making himself acquainted with the various tenets of gnostic and other heretics,' etc. there is reason to think that this was not his first visit to rome. the notice at the end of the moscow ms of the _martyrium polycarpi_, recently collated by gebhardt (see _zeitschr. f. hist. theol._ , p. sq), states that irenæus, 'being in rome at the time of the martyrdom of polycarp, taught many,' and that it was recorded in his writings how at the precise time of his master's death he heard a voice announcing the occurrence. this story is not unlikely to have had some foundation in fact. [ : ] photius _bibl._ ; see above, p. . it is not stated where these lectures were delivered; but inasmuch as we know hippolytus only as the bishop of portus and as dwelling in rome and the neighbourhood, the metropolis is the most likely place, in the absence of direct evidence. [ : ] [see above, p. .] [ : ] it is only necessary to refer to the account of jews given by an intelligent author like tacitus (_hist._ v. . sq). it is related, he says, that the jews migrated to libya from ida in crete, about the time when saturn was expelled from his kingdom by jupiter, and were thence called _iudæi, i.e. idæi_. some persons, he adds, say that egypt being over-populated in the reign of isis, a multitude, led by their chieftains hierosolymus and judas, settled in the neighbouring lands. he states it, moreover, as an account in which 'plurimi auctores consentiunt,' that the jews consecrated an image of an ass in their temple, because a herd of these animals had disclosed to them copious springs of water in their wanderings; these wanderings lasted six days continuously; on the seventh they obtained possession of the land, where they built their city and temple; with more to the same effect. all this he writes, though at the time the jews in rome counted by tens of thousands, any one of whom would have set him right. the comparatively venial error of justin, who mistook the sabine deity _semo sancus_ for _simo sanctus_, cannot be judged harshly in the face of these facts. [ : ] clem. alex. _strom._ iii. , p. . [ : ] [see the note at the close of this essay.] [ : ] the principal ancient authorities for the life of tatian are the following:--tatian _orat. ad græc._ , , , ; irenæus i. . ; rhodon, in euseb. _h.e._ v. ; clement of alexandria _strom._ iii. , p. ; _exc. theod._ , p. ; eusebius _h.e._ iv. , , ; epiphanius _hær._ xlvi.; theodoret _hær. fab._ i. . the statements in the text are justified by one or other of these references. [ : ] all the references to _supernatural religion_ in this article will be found in ii. pp. sq, sq. [ : ] _e.g._ clement of alexandria (_l.c._ p. ) gives tatian's comment on cor. vii. ; and jerome writes (_pref. ad tit._ vii. p. ), 'tatianus, encratitarum patriarches, qui et ipse nonnullas pauli epistolas repudiavit, hanc vel maxime, hoc est, ad titum, apostoli pronuntiandam credidit.' [ : ] hort (_journal of philology_, iii. p. sq, _on the date of justin martyr_) places it as early as a.d. . [ : ] iren. i. . . [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] clem. alex. _strom_. i. (p. ). [ : ] see westcott _history of canon_ p. sq, where this point is brought out. many erroneous deductions have been drawn from the reserve of the apologists by writers who have overlooked it. [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ v. . [ : ] [this sentence is omitted in the complete edition, where see i. p. .] [ : ] the references are: pref. ; i. , , , , , ; ii. , , , ; iii. ; iv. , , , ; v. , ; vi. , ; vii. , ; viii. , , , . [ : ] this work first appeared in a mutilated form in cureton's posthumous volume, _ancient syriac documents_ p. sq (london, ), from mss in the british museum, and has recently been published entire by dr phillips, _the doctrine of addai_ (london, ), from a st petersburgh ms. in the british museum ms which contains this part, the word is corrupted into _ditornon_, which has no meaning; but cureton conjectured that the reading was _diatessaron_ (see pp. ; ), and his conjecture is confirmed by the st petersburgh ms, which distinctly so reads (see phillips, p. ). in the armenian version (_lettre d'abgare_, venise, , p, ), a mention of the _trinity_ is substituted. this would seem to be a still further corruption; and, if so, it presents a parallel to the _diapente_ in the text of victor of capua, mentioned below. [ : ] wright's _catalogue_ pp. , . [ : ] euseb. _h.e._ i. . [ : ] see a valuable article by zahn in the _götting. gelehrte anzeigen_, february , , p. sq. on this document i am unable to accept the conclusion of cureton and of dr phillips, that the work itself is a much earlier and authentic document, and that the passages containing these anachronisms are interpolations. [ : ] the exact date of his death is given in a syriac ms in the british museum (wright's _catalogue_ p. ) as 'ann. græc. .' [ : ] assem. _bibl. orient._ ii. p. sq. the english reader should be warned that assemani's translations are loose and often misleading. more correct renderings are given here. [ : ] euseb. _op._ iv. p. (ed. migne) [greek: ammônios men ho alexandreus ... to dia tessarôn hêmin kataleloipen euangelion, tô kata matthaion tas homophônous tôn loipôn euangelistôn perikopas paratheis, hos ex anankês sumbênai ton tês akolouthias heirmon tôn triôn diaphtharânai, hoson epi tô huphei anagnôseôs]--_i.e._ 'he placed side by side with the gospel according to matthew the corresponding passages of the other evangelists, so that as a necessary result the connection of sequence in the three was destroyed, so far as regards the order (texture) of reading.' [ : ] assem. _bibl. orient._ ii. p. . see hilgenfeld _einleitung_ p. . [ : ] the confusion of later syrian writers may be explained without difficulty:-- (i) bar-hebræus in the latter half of the thirteenth century (assem. _bibl. orient._ i. p. sq) writes: 'eusebius of cæsarea, seeing the corruptions which ammonius of alexandria introduced into the gospel of the _diatessaron_, that is _miscellanies_, which commenced, _in the beginning was the word_, and which mar ephraem expounded, kept the four gospels in their integrity, etc.' it is tolerably plain, i think, from the language of this writer, that he had before him the passage of bar-salibi (or some corresponding passage), and that he misunderstood him, as if he were speaking of the same work throughout. from the coincidence in the strange interpretation of diatessaron, it is clear that the two passages are not independent. assemani has omitted this interpretation in his translation in both cases, and has thus obliterated the resemblance. (ii) to the same source also we may refer the error of ebed-jesu in the beginning of the fourteenth century, who not only confuses the books but the men. he writes (assem. _bibl. orient._ iii. p. ): 'a gospel which was compiled by a man of alexandria, ammonius, who is also tatian; and he called it _diatessaron_.' he too supposed the two independent sentences of bar-salibi to refer to the same thing. in the preface to his collection of canons however, he gives a description of tatian's work which is substantially correct: 'tatianus quidam philosophus cum evangelistarum loquentium sensum suo intellectu cepisset, et scopum scriptionis illorum divinae in mente sua fixisset, unum ex quatuor illis admirabile collegit evangelium, quod et diatessaron nominavit, in quo cum cautissime seriem rectam eorum, quae a salvatore dicta ac gesta fuere, servasset, ne unam quidem dictionem e suo addidit' (mai _script. vet. nov. coll._ x. pp. , ). (iii) in bar-bahlul's syriac lexicon, _s.v._ (see payne smith _thes. syr._ p. ), _diatessaron_ is defined as 'the compiled gospel (made) from the four evangelists,' and it is added: 'this was composed in alexandria, and was written by tatian the bishop.' the mention of alexandria suggests that here also there is some confusion with ammonius, though neither ammonius nor tatian was a bishop. bar-bahlul flourished in the latter half of the tenth century; and if this notice were really his, we should have an example (doubtful however) of this confusion, earlier than bar-salibi. but these syrian lexicons have grown by accretion; the mss, i am informed, vary considerably; and we can never be sure that any word or statement emanated from the original compiler. since writing the above, i am able to say, through the kindness of dr hoffmann, that in the oldest known ms of bar-bahlul, dated a.h. , _i.e._, a.d. , this additional sentence about tatian is wanting, as it is also in another ms of which he sends me an account through professor wright. it is no part therefore of the original bar-bahlul. thus all the instances of confusion in syriac writers are later than bar-salibi, and can be traced to a misunderstanding of his language. [ : ] _h.e._ i. . the syrian lexicographer bar ali also, who flourished about the end of the ninth century, mentions that tatian omitted both the genealogies: see payne smith's _thes. syr. s.v._ p. sq. [ : ] theodoret _epist._ (iv. p. , ed. schulze). [ : ] zahn (_gött. gel. anz._ p. ) points out that aphraates also, a somewhat older syrian father than ephraem, appears to have used this _diatessaron_. in his first homily (p. , ed. wright) he says, 'and christ is also the word and the speech of the lord, as it is written in the beginning of the gospel of our saviour--_in the beginning was the word._' the date of this homily is a.d. . [ : ] epiphan. _hær._ xlvi. . [ : ] see the reference in the last note. [ : ] all the remains of the hebrew gospel, and the passages of jerome relating to it, will be found in westcott's _introduction to the gospels_ p. sq. [ : ] see above, p. , where this specimen of his blundering is given. [ : ] see above, p. sq. [ : ] _patrol. lat._ lxviii. p. (ed. migne). an old frankish translation of this harmony is also extant. it has been published more than once; _e.g._ by schmeller (vienna, ). [ : ] the syriac version is not yet published, but i have ascertained this by inquiry. [ : ] this seems to be hilgenfeld's opinion also (_einleitung_ p. ); and curious as the result is, i do not see how any other explanation is consistent with the facts. [ : ] [an important monograph on tatian's _diatessaron_ by zahn has been published since this article was written (erlangen, ).] [ : ] _les apôtres_ p. xviii. [ : ] _les Évangiles_ p. . [ : ] xvii. p. . [ : ] sub ann. . [ : ] see becker u. marquardt _röm. alterth._ iii. i. p. sq. even de wette has not escaped the pitfall, for he states that 'according to strabo cyprus was governed by proprætors,' and he therefore supposes that strabo and dion cassius are at variance. de wette's error stands uncorrected by his editor, overbeck. [ : ] dion cassius liii. . [ : ] dion cassius liv. . [ : ] q. julius cordus and l. annius bassus in boeckh _corp. inscr. græc._ , . [ : ] cominius proclus, and perhaps quadratus: see akerman's _numismatic illustrations of the new testament_ p. . [ : ] _corp. inscr. lat._ iii. , an ephesian inscription discovered by mr wood. [ : ] _corp. inscr. lat._ iii. . [ : ] cesnola's _cyprus_ p. . [ : ] dean alford indeed (on acts xiii. ), following some previous writers, mentions a sergius paulus, intermediate in date between the two others--the authority of pliny and the friend of galen--whom he describes as 'one of the consules suffecti in a.d. .' this however is a mistake. a certain inscription, mentioning l. sergius paullus as consul, is placed by muratori (p. cccxiv. ) and others under the year ; but there is good reason to believe that it refers to the friend of galen, and must be assigned to the year when he was consul for the first time, as suffectus, _i.e._ about a.d. . see marini _atti e monumenti de' fratelli arvali_ p. ; waddington _fastes des provinces asiatiques_ p. . [ : ] this person is twice mentioned by galen _de anat. admin._ i. (_op._ ii. p. , ed. kühn): [greek: toude tou nun eparchou tês rhômaiôn poleôs, andros ta panta prôteuontos ergois te kai logois tois en philosophia, sergiou paulou hupatou]: _de prænot_. (_op._ ii. p. ), [greek: aphikonto sergios te ho kai paulos, hos ou meta polun chronon huparchos] (l. [greek: eparchos) egeneto tês poleôs, kai phlabios, hupatikos men ôn êdê kai autos, espeukôs de peri tên aristotelous philosophian, hôsper kai ho paulos, hois diêgêsamenos, k.t.l.] in this latter passage the words stand [greek: sergios te kai ho paulos] in kühn and other earlier printed editions which i have consulted, but they are quoted [greek: sergios te ho kai paulos] by wetstein and others. i do not know on what authority this latter reading rests, but the change in order is absolutely necessary for the sense; for ( ) in this passage nothing more is said about sergius as distinct from paulus, whereas paulus is again and again mentioned, so that plainly one person alone is intended. ( ) in the parallel passage sergius paulus is mentioned, and the same description is given of him as of paulus here. the alternative would be to omit [greek: kai ho] altogether, as the passage is tacitly quoted in borghesi _oeuvres_ viii. p. . [ : ] melito in euseb. _h.e._ iv. : see waddington _fastes des provinces asiatiques_ p. . [see above, p. .] [ : ] boeckh _corp. inscr. græc._ . the first sentence which i have quoted is slightly mutilated; but the sense is clear. the document bears only too close a resemblance to the utterances of lourdes in our own day. [ : ] acts xix. , where [greek: hierosulous] is oddly translated 'robbers of churches.' [ : ] _inscr._ vi. , p. . [ : ] boeckh _corp. inscr._ , [greek: t[ois neôkorôn tôn sebastôn, monô]n hapa[sôn] de tês artemidos.] [ : ] eckhel _doctr. num._ ii. p. . the legend is--[greek: ephesiÔn tris neÔkorÔn kai tÊs artemidos.] [ : ] mionnet, iii. p. , _suppl._ vi. pp. , , , . [ : ] xen. _anab._ v. , . [ : ] _inscr._ vi. , p. . [ : ] acts xix. , [greek: agoraioi] [sc. [greek: hêmerai]] [greek: agontai kai anthupatoi eisin], translated 'the law is open, and there are deputies,' in the authorised version, but the margin, 'the court days are kept,' gives the right sense of the first clause. in the second clause 'proconsuls' is a rhetorical plural, just as _e.g._ in euripides (_iph. taur._ ) orestes and pylades are upbraided for 'stealing from the land its images and priestesses' ([greek: kleptontes ek gês xoana kai thuêpolous]), though there was only one image and one priestess. [ : ] _inscr._ vi. , p. . [ : ] ign. _ephes._ . [ : ] _inscr._ vi. , p. . indices. i. index of subjects. ii. index of passages. index of subjects. aberle, , n abgarus, achaia, vicissitudes as a roman province, _acts of peter_, acts of the apostles; eusebius' method with regard to, ; used by polycarp, ; by polycrates, ; ascribed by irenæus to st luke, ; quoted in the _letter of the gallican churches_, ; renan on its authorship, ; recent discoveries illustrating, sq addai; see _doctrine of addai_ Ælian, credulity of, Æsop, hitzig's derivation of the name, n african martyrs, , agathonice, alcibiades, alexander, alford, , , n alogi, n ambrosius, the friend of origen, ammonius of alexandria; his date, ; his harmony of the gospels, ; eusebius' account of it, ; its scope distinct from tatian's _diatessaron_, sq; but confused with it by syrian writers, sq anastasius of sinai; his high estimate of papias, , , sq; quotes melito, n, sq andreas of cæsarea, mentions papias, n, andrew (st), at ephesus, , , , , , , anger, anicetus, , , , anthropomorphism, n antinomianism, sq antioch; trajan at, ; antoninus pius at, n; earthquake at, sq antoninus pius; proconsul of asia as t. aurelius fulvus, n; his movements as emperor, n aphraates, his acquaintance with tatian's _diatessaron_, n, [ ] aphthonius, apion, as a critic, apocalypse; its date, n, ; its differences from the fourth gospel, , sq, sq; the term logos in, , ; supposed allusions to st paul in, sq; the form of gnosticism denounced in, n; its position in the canon of eusebius, ; eusebius' treatment of patristic notices of, n, , , , sq; papias on its authorship, n, ; justin martyr, , ; irenæus, , , ; eusebius, ; the johannine authorship admitted by the early fathers, sq; notices in justin martyr, , , ; in melito, ; his commentary on it, ; in the muratorian canon, ; in theophilus, , , , ; in apollonius, _apocalypse of peter_, , apollinaris, claudius, of hierapolis; a contemporary of melito, ; his date, sq; his literary activity, , , , ; his orthodoxy, sq; his writings, , sq; eusebius' list of them incomplete, , sq; his _apology_, ; his work against the montanists, , ; against the severians, ; on the paschal festival, sq, sq; the assumed silence of the fathers on this work considered, sq; not an antagonist of melito, , , ; but a quartodeciman, sq; genuineness of the extant fragments of, sq; references to the gospels in them, , ; to the fourth gospel, ; follows the chronology of the fourth gospel, ; mentions the miracle of the thundering legion, ; his prominence in the school of st john, apollonius; notice of the apocalypse in, ; extracts in eusebius from, n apologies, absence of scriptural quotations in christian, , , arethas, arianism, and the ignatian controversy, , , aristides, the rhetorician, n, , aristion, and papias, , , sq, , n, , arnold, matthew, , n artemis, cultus of the ephesian, sq asia minor; imperial visits to, ; the proconsulate of, ; the proconsular fasti of, sq, , , , n; its connexion with southern gaul, , asia minor, the churches of; importance of, sq, sq; apostles resident in, , ; episcopacy in, , ; solidarity of, ; the arena of controversy, , ; literary activity of, , ; testimony to the fourth gospel from, ; the church of southern gaul a colony of, ; intimate relations between them, , sq; polycarp's epistle publicly read in, n asiarchs, n, askar and sychar, n, sq assemani, n, n athanasius, quotes the ignatian epistles, attalus, the pergamene martyr, , aubertin, , augustus, the division of roman provinces by, sq balaam, as a type of st paul, bar-ali, the lexicographer; his date, n; mentions tatian, n bar-bahlul; his date, n; ammonius and tatian confused in late mss of his lexicon, n bar-hebræus; his date, n; confuses ammonius and tatian, n bar-salibi; his date, ; his testimony to tatian's _diatessaron_, sq barnabas, epistle of; its date, ; quotes st matthew's gospel as 'scripture,' , ; employed by clement of alexandria, ; chiliasm in, baronio, basil (st), basilides; his date, , ; his work _on the gospel_, ; fragments preserved in hippolytus, ; his appeal to the fourth gospel, , ; the vossian epistles silent on, ; his allusion to glaucias, , basnoge, , bassus, l. annius, proconsul of cyprus, n baumgarten-crusius, , baur, , , , beausobre, , bethesda, the pool of, , bleek, , , , blondel, , bochart, , , böhringer, borghesi, n bunsen, , , , , calvin, and the ignatian controversy, , carpus, capitolinus, n casaubon, , celsus, sq, n cerinthus; encountered by st john, , ; his separationism, ; attacked in st john's first epistle, ; according to irenæus, the fourth gospel aimed at, , ; the fourth gospel and apocalypse ascribed to, ; the question of the canon involved in the controversy with, ; confused with marcion, , cesnola's explorations in cyprus, , chemnitz, , chiliasm; of papias, sq, sq, , , n; of the early church generally, christian literature; compared with the classics as regards external evidence for documents, ; plagiarisms in, christian martyrs; coincidence with the passion of christ in the sufferings of, ; zeal for martyrdom exhibited by, sq christian prisoners, the treatment of, sq christology; of the synoptists and fourth gospel, sq; of cerinthus, ; of ignatius, , sq, , ; of polycarp, , ; of justin martyr, ; of melito, , , sq christ's ministry, the duration of, sq, , , sq _chronicon paschale_; see _paschal chronicle_ chrysostom, the panegyric on ignatius of, [ciasca, ] claudius apollinaris; see _apollinaris_ clemens, flavius, cousin of domitian, n clement of alexandria; coincidence in the name, n; a pupil of pantænus, ; perhaps of melito, , ; perhaps also of tatian, ; quotes from tatian, n; his wide learning, ; compared with his heathen contemporaries, ; his travels, ; his testimony to the four gospels, ; to st mark, ; to the fourth gospel, ; to the labours of st john, ; accepts the identity of authorship of the fourth gospel and apocalypse, ; employs the epistle of clement of rome, ; the epistle of barnabas, ; the _apocalypse of peter_, ; the _gospel according to the hebrews_, ; quotes basilides, ; his treatise on the paschal festival, sq; date of his _stromateis_, ; his use of the word 'oracles,' clement of rome; his name, n; probably a hellenist jew, ; and a freedman, ; his position compared with that of polycarp, ; scriptural quotations in his epistle, , , ; eusebius' method tested on it, , , ; its testimony to the epistle of the hebrews, , , ; employed by clement of alexandria, ; its date and that of the book of judith, n; his use of the canon and that of polycarp, , ; his use of the word 'oracles,' ; the story of the phoenix in, ; his place in modern german theories, clementines; as a romance, ; gnostic fragments preserved in the, n; quote and employ the narrative of the fourth gospel, , cook, , cordus, q. julius, proconsul of cyprus, n cramer's _catena_, credner, , , sq, crescens, the cynic, , cureton, , , , , , sq, n, , n, n, n curetonian epistles, sq; see also _ignatian epistles_ cyprian; his correspondence, ; accepts identity of authorship of the fourth gospel and apocalypse, cyprus; its vicissitudes as a roman province, sq; the evidence of inscriptions on this, ; source of pliny's information regarding, ; proconsuls and proprætors of, ; recent excavations at, sq cyrrhestice, , dallæus, , de wette, , n decian persecution, delitzsch, , , , demetrius, the silversmith of ephesus, , , denzinger, , _diapente_, n, sq _diatessaron_; see _tatian_ dion cassius, dionysius of alexandria; his critical insight, ; assigns the fourth gospel to st john, ; but separates the authorship of the apocalypse, , dionysius of corinth; his evidence to the canon, , , ; the silence of eusebius respecting, sq, , docetism, attacked in the ignatian epistles, n _doctrine of addai_; discovery of the document, n; its subject, ; its date, ; its country, ; noticed in eusebius, ; mentions tatian's _diatessaron_, ; the armenian version, dodwell, n, dogma and morality, sq donaldson, n dressel, n dutch school of criticism, , , ebionism; no trace in the ignatian epistles, ; nor in polycarp, , sq, sq; nor in papias, , , sq edessa, sq elders; quoted by papias, sq, , , , , , , , sq; by irenæus, , , , , , , , sq, , , , sq; who both reports their conversations, and cites their works, sq; identification of some of them, sq, n, , n, eleutherus, bishop of rome, , ; irenæus sent as delegate to, , n elias of salamia; his _diatessaron_, ; his name aphthonius, encratites; apollinaris' treatises against the, , ; tatian's connexion with the, , ephesus; st john at, , , sq, sq; other apostles at, ; wood's excavations at, , n, sq; cultus of artemis at, sq; the great theatre at, sq; the designation of magistrates, ; the title neocoros, ; the lawful assemblies, ; image-processions at, sq; gates of, ephraem of antioch, ephraem syrus; date of his death, ; his commentary on tatian's _diatessaron_, sq; [an armenian version discovered, ] epiphanius; date of his work on _heresies_, ; his treatise against the alogi, n; his obligations to hippolytus, n; his historical blunders, , , ; confuses tatian's _diatessaron_ with the _gospel according to the hebrews_, episcopacy; in the time of st john, ; in asia minor in the time of ignatius, ; stress laid upon it in the ignatian epistles, ; especially in the vossian letters, ; the ignatian controversy centres round the question of, ; not mentioned in the epistle of polycarp, , sq, ; prominent in the writings of irenæus, ernesti, euodia and syntyche, extravagant german theories respecting, sq eusebius; sources of his history, sq; his rule of procedure in dealing with the canon, sq, sq, sq, sq, sq; tested on extant literature, sq; what his silence means, sq; its value as a direct testimony, ; his trustworthiness and moderation, sq, ; his habit of incomplete and combined quotations, , ; on the ignatian epistles, sq, , ; on papias, sq, , sq, , , , sq; his estimate of papias, ; on john the presbyter, sq; his lists of the works of melito not exhaustive, sq, ; nor those of the works of apollinaris, , ; dependent upon pamphilus' library, ; on the paschal controversy, , ; attempts to harmonize the gospel narrative, , ; for this purpose perhaps borrows from papias, evagrius, ewald, , , , [greek: epi traïanou], [greek: epistolai], of a single letter, , [greek: exêgêsis], n, , n, sq; and [greek: diêgêsis], n fathers, early; compared in historical accuracy with classical writers, sq; considered as critics, , , , ; the dearth of scriptural quotations in their works accounted for, , ; explanation of their literary plagiarisms, , felicitas, florinus; a pupil of polycarp, sq; irenæus' letter to, sq, n; date of his connexion with the royal court, sq; his subsequent history, four gospels; that number only recognized in the muratorian canon, , ; in irenæus, , , , , sq; in eusebius, fourth gospel; its spirit, ; its hebraic character, ; the minuteness of its details, sq; the narrative of an eye-witness, sq; compared with the apocalypse, in diction, , n, sq, sq; in christology, sq; the bearing of montanism on this question, , , ; compared with the synoptists in chronology and narrative, , , , , sq; the relation of the paschal controversy to this question, , , , sq, ; historical and geographical allusions considered, sq; the personality of its author, sq; association of others with him in the work, ; anecdotes with regard to its composition, , , , sq, , ; probably dictated, , ; its wide acceptance among orthodox and heretics, sq; testimony given by the growth of various readings and interpolations, sq, ; by the commentary of heracleon, ; the evidence of the ignatian epistles, ; of papias, sq, , sq, sq; of the _martyrdom of polycarp_, sq; of the elders in irenæus, ; of the muratorian canon, , sq, sq; of claudius apollinaris, ; of the school of st john generally, sq; of the _letter of the gallican churches_, ; of tatian, sq, sq; of origen, ; of gaius, n; irenæus on its purpose, , ; quoted by theophilus of antioch, , , , , ; significance of the silence of eusebius, sq, sq; ascribed to cerinthus, ; its connexion with the first epistle of st john, sq, , gaius; on the authorship of the epistle to the hebrews, ; of the apocalypse and fourth gospel, n; his date, n; his relation to hippolytus considered, n, n galen, , , n, n, sq gallican churches; a colony from the churches of asia minor, , sq; intimate connexion between the two bodies, , , sq; persecuted under m. aurelius, sq; their letter to the brethren in asia and phrygia, n, , sq, n, ; its date, ; scriptural quotations in it, sq; their letters on the montanist controversy, ; their letter to victor on the paschal controversy, sq gaul, called galatia, georgius hamartolos, sq gfrörer, glaucias, gnosticism; the development of antinomian, ; the literature of, sq; the exegesis of, sq, , ; the opponents of, sq, , ; the scene of the conflict with, ; attacked in st paul's epistles, ; in the apocalypse, n, ; in the epistle of polycarp, sq; not alluded to in the ignatian epistles, ; an appeal to the canon requisite in the conflict with, gobarus, _gospel of peter_, _gospel according to the hebrews_; see _hebrews, gospel according to the_ gospels; see _matthew's (st) gospel_, _mark's (st) gospel_, _luke's (st) gospel_, _fourth gospel_, _four gospels_ grabe, n griesbach, , [gwynn's (prof.) discovery of a gaius distinct from hippolytus, n] hadrian, hagenbach, harless, hase, _hebrews, gospel according to the_; employed by hegesippus, , ; by other fathers, ; perhaps quoted by ignatius, sq, ; papias not proved to have employed, , sq; translated by jerome, , ; statements of jerome about it, , ; confused with the hebrew original of st matthew, , ; with tatian's _diatessaron_, ; distinct scope of the last-named work, hebrews, epistle to the; in the notices of eusebius, , , , , ; the testimony of clement of rome, , , ; of irenæus, , ; of gaius, hefele, hegesippus; his lost ecclesiastical history, , ; the silence of eusebius respecting, sq, , ; his attitude towards st paul, ; towards tradition, ; employs the _gospel according to the hebrews_, , 'hellenic' and 'hellenistic,' n [hemphill, , ] henke, heracleon's commentary on the fourth gospel, hermas, the _shepherd_ of; its devotional character, ; hence does not quote scripture, ; the citations in eusebius, , , sq; quoted by irenæus, , , herodes, the magistrate, , heumann, hierapolis, , , , , , , hilgenfeld, , , , , , n, n, n, , , , n, , , , n, n hippolytus; pupil of irenæus, , , n, ; probably at rome, n; opposes gnosticism, n, ; defends the fourth gospel against the alogi, n; plagiarisms of, ; plagiarisms from, n; gnostic fragments preserved in, , ; his relation to gaius considered, n, n hitzig, sq hoffmann, n hort, on the elate of justin martyr, n ignatian epistles; date, place of writing and subject, , ; three forms: ( ) long recension, ; documents, ; date of the forgery, ; ( ) vossian epistles, sq; mss and versions, ; history of their discovery, ; ( ) curetonian epistles, ; their discovery, ; questions raised (a) whether the vossian or curetonian epistles are prior, ; the view of _s.r._, , ; the real balance of modern authorities, sq; arguments against the priority of the curetonian epistles from (i) the armenian version, ; a translation from the syriac version of the curetonian epistles, , ; (ii) the abruptness of the curetonian epistles, n, ; the counter-argument from the confessedly spurious letters answered, , , sq; the argument from quotations considered, sq; (b) whether any form is genuine, ; denied by _s.r._, , ; (i) internal evidence considered, (_a_) ignatius' treatment as a prisoner, sq; (_b_) the journey to rome, sq; (_c_) ignatius' zeal for martyrdom, ; (_d_) supposed anachronisms, ; (_e_) evidence of style, ; (ii) external evidence, ; result, , ; relation of the vossian epistles, sq; argument from silence, sq; limit of their date, ; arguments for their genuineness, sq; result, , [ n]; scriptural quotations in the, ; eusebius' method tested on the, ; theological controversies which have centred round, sq; christology of, , sq, , ; a metaphor of image-processions illustrated, ignatius; the name theophorus, ; his letters (see _ignatian epistles_); his journey to rome, ; its probability considered, , sq, ; his route, , ; his treatment as a prisoner, sq; his intercourse with polycarp, sq, sq, ; the notice in the epistle of polycarp, , , sq; his zeal for martyrdom, ; not martyred at antioch, sq, n, ; date of his martyrdom, ; days of commemoration of, ; extant martyrologies of, n, irenæus; date of his birth, n, ; a pupil of polycarp, date, , sq; his letter to florinus, sq, n; represents three churches, ; his connexion with the _letter of the gallican churches_, ; sent as delegate to rome, , n, ; at rome more than once, n; his lectures there, ; his pupil hippolytus, , , n, ; date of his episcopate, ; his remonstrance addressed to victor, ; his literary activity, ; date of his _refutation_, , ; the first great controversial treatise, ; its importance as evidence to the canon, ; his profuse scriptural quotations, sq, , , , ; eusebius' method illustrated, , , ; importance of his testimony to the canon, , , , , sq; appeals to the elders (see _elders_); his evidence to the fourth gospel, sq, , , sq; to the motive of the fourth gospel, , ; to four gospels, , , , , sq; to the ignatian epistles, , ; to the epistle of polycarp, , , sq; his appeal to the gospels against the valentinians, , sq, ; his controversial treatises, ; his conflict with gnosticism, , ; on the paschal question, , sq, ; on the duration of christ's ministry, ; on his age at the time of the passion, sq; on the apocalypse, , , ; on the old age of st john, , , ; on polycarp, sq, , ; on papias, sq, , sq, , sq, , sq, n; on the hebrew original of st matthew, ; his chiliasm, , ; his evidence for episcopacy, ; his use of the word 'oracles,' ; his literary obligations to papias, ; to melito, sq; considered as a critic, sq jacobson, , , n, , n, n jerome; on the hebrew original of st matthew, n, ; on the _gospel according to the hebrews_, , , , ; on the public reading of polycarp's epistle, n; on tatian's treatment of st paul's epistles, n; on apollinaris, , jerusalem, results to the christian church from the fall of, sq, john (st); at ephesus, , , sq; his church organisation, ; the founder of a school, sq; the repositary of apostolic doctrine and practice, ; his encounter with cerinthus, , ; his connexion with polycarp, , ; with papias, sq, , , , sq; with his namesake john the presbyter, sq, ; his longevity, , , , , , , ; a story of his martyrdom explained, sq; traditions respecting him, , , sq, , ; see also _fourth gospel_ john (st), the epistles of; their position in the canon of eusebius, , sq; two mentioned in the muratorian canon, ; the first epistle employed by polycarp, sq, , sq, ; by papias, , , , sq, , ; by irenæus, ; a postscript to the fourth gospel, sq, , ; the evidence of papias, and of the muratorian canon, to this fact, , john malalas; represents ignatius as martyred at antioch, sq, n, ; his historical blunders, sq, , , ; on a visit of antoninus pius to asia minor, n john the baptist; his designation in the fourth gospel, sq, sq; his father zacharias, n, sq; the [greek: phônê], n john the presbyter; in asia minor, ; his connexion with papias, sq, , n, , sq, ; with pothinus, ; with the apostle st john, sq, judith, date of the book of, n julian, the emperor, justa, the syrophoenician, justin martyr; his pupil tatian, , ; his accuser crescens, , ; his martyrdom, , ; the account in eusebius, ; his evangelical quotations, ; looseness of his quotations from the o.t., , ; his lost writings, ; eusebius' method tested upon his extant works, ; his chiliasm, ; his error as to simon magus, ; his logos doctrine compared with melito, ; his references to the virgin mary, ; his evidence to the authorship of the apocalypse, ; to the public use of the gospels, kestner, , lampe, lardner, , n, n, , , n, n, n lechler, leimbach, n, n linus, lipsius, , , , n, n, , n, , , n logos; the expression common to the apocalypse and fourth gospel, ; as distinct from [greek: phônê], n; the doctrine in the ignatian epistles, sq; in justin martyr, ; in valentinus, ; in melito, , sq; in marcellus of ancyra, ; its importance a characteristic of the second century, lucian; illustrates the ignatian epistles, sq; the epistle of polycarp, n luke's (st) gospel; the source of marcion's gospel, , ; papias acquainted with, sq, ; the evidence of the muratorian canon, ; quoted in the _letter of the gallican churches_, sq; renan on its authorship, luthardt, , [greek: leopardos], , [greek: logia], n, , , , sq magdeburg centuriators, , malalas; see _john malalas_ manes, mansel, marcellus of ancyra, the logos doctrine of, marcion; his date, , , n; confused with cerinthus, , ; his gospel, n, , ; his canon, , , , ; papias' acquaintance with it, ; his attitude towards st paul, ; his high moral character, ; his distinctive views, sq; not alluded to in the ignatian epistles, ; nor in polycarp's epistle, , , ; a supposed allusion considered, , sq; opposed by justin martyr, ; by melito, ; scene of his heresy, , , ; the question of the canon raised by it, , ; his views on the resurrection and judgment, maries, the four, in papias the lexicographer, sq mark's (st) gospel; the account and criticism of papias, , , , sq, sq, , sq; the motive of papias' allusion, ; compared by papias with the fourth gospel, , sq; identification of papias' st mark, , , , , sq; evidence of the muratorian canon to, , sq marseilles, _martyrdom of polycarp_; see _polycarp, martyrdom of_ massuet, n matthew (st), and papias, , matthew's (st) gospel; the account in papias, , sq, ; his testimony to the hebrew original, , ; its character, sq; a greek st matthew in existence in his day, sq; identical with the extant gospel, sq; relation of the hebrew to the greek gospel, ; confused with the _gospel according to the hebrews_, by jerome, ; perhaps by papias, ; motive of papias' allusion, ; quoted in the epistle of barnabas as 'scripture,' meletius, confused with melito, melito; his date, , ; a contemporary of polycarp and papias, ; perhaps one of the elders quoted in irenæus, n, ; perhaps a teacher of clement of alexandria, , ; his travels, , ; his learning, ; his orthodoxy, ; range of his literary works, , , ; their popularity, , , ; his lost works, , , ; his _apology_, , n; the preface to his _selections_, ; ( ) the extant greek fragments, their genuineness, sq; supported by the evidence of tertullian and hippolytus to his style, sq, ; not the work of meletius, ; their direct evidence to the gospels, ; ( ) the syriac fragments, sq; their theology, sq; his doctrine of the logos, ; his references to the virgin mary, sq; passages from his works incorporated into irenæus, sq; armenian version of a fragment and its syriac abridgment, sq; a quotation in _chronicon paschale_, n; his work on the paschal controversy, , , n, sq; evidence to the fourth gospel therefrom, ; notice of the apocalypse in, , ; coincidences with st paul's epistles, ; his treatise against marcion, ; date and manner of his death, merx, , mill (j.s.), sq, milman, ministry, the duration of our lord's, sq, , , sq miracles, sq [moesinger, ] montanism; its centre in asia minor, ; correspondence between the churches of asia and gaul relating to, ; irenæus' mission to rome respecting, , n; not referred to in the ignatian epistles, ; nor in the epistle of polycarp, ; opposed by apollinaris, ; by irenæus, ; the question of the canon involved in the controversy with, , , morality and dogma, sq mosheim, mozley, muratori, n muratorian canon; date, ; original language, n; english translation, sq; emendations in the text, n; represents the church of rome, , ; its evidence to st mark's gospel, , sq; to st luke's gospel, , ; to the fourth gospel, sq, , sq, , ; to four gospels, , sq, sq, ; its testimony compared with that of papias, sq; perhaps borrowed from him, ; matthew arnold's estimate of, n naassenes, n nature; two meanings of the term, sq; its relation to a personal god, sq neander, , , n, , neocoros, neubauer, n, , , nicolaitans, , niebuhr, nolte, n oecumenius, onesimus, the friend of melito, ophites, , , , origen; on celsus, ; on the authorship of the fourth gospel, ; of the apocalypse, ; uses the _gospel according to the hebrews_, n; quotes the ignatian epistles, , ; his accuracy in textual criticism, ; his use of the word 'oracles', otto, n, n, , n, n oudin, overbeck, , n, n owen, [greek: ouk oid' hopôs], sq pamphilus, pantænus, n, , papias; his date, , sq; his name and namesakes, , ; of heathen origin, ; a companion of polycarp, , , , ; perhaps not a hearer of st john, , sq, , , , sq; his _expositions_, , , ; its title, n, , sq, sq; its date, ; its nature, , ; directed against gnostic exegesis, sq, , ; as affecting his attitude towards the written gospels, , n, ; the extant gospels the text for his exegesis, sq; his method illustrated, , sq, , ; his informants the 'elders', sq, , , , , , , sq; especially aristion and john the presbyter, sq, , n, sq, ; his chiliasm, sq, sq, , sq, n; not an ebionite, sq; his attitude towards st paul, sq; his use of the _gospel according to the hebrews_ considered, , sq; his orthodoxy, ; story of his martyrdom explained, sq, sq; his mention of st matthew's gospel, , sq, , ; character of the original hebrew, sq, sq; the greek extant in his time, , ; his mention of st mark's gospel, , , , sq, sq, , sq; his acquaintance with st luke's gospel, sq, ; with the fourth gospel, sq, , sq, sq; evidenced by his acquaintance with john, sq, sq; by other indications, sq, sq; eusebius' method illustrated upon, sq, , sq; his testimony to the apocalypse, n, ; his testimony to the canon supported by that of the muratorian fragment, sq; which perhaps borrowed from him, ; obligations of irenæus to, ; of eusebius, ; not the amanuensis of the fourth gospel, sq, sq; nor author of exoteric books, sq; confusion of the name, sq, ; quotations in irenæus, sq, , , n; the pericope adulterae and other interpolations in the gospels perhaps from his work, sq; his position as an authority, , ; his credulity considered, papias, the lexicographer, papylus, confused with papias, sq paraclete; the montanist doctrine of the, , ; in the _letter of the gallican churches_, , parker, , _paschal chronicle_; confuses papias and papylus, sq; preserves quotations from apollinaris, , sq; from melito, n; sources of its information, n, n; on the date of theodotion's version of the lxx, n paschal controversy; silence of the ignatian epistles upon, ; of the epistle of polycarp, ; asia minor the scene of, ; polycarp's visit to rome respecting, sq, ; the account in eusebius, , ; the treatise of melito on, , , n, sq; of apollinaris, sq; of clement of alexandria, sq; of pierius of alexandria, n; of irenæus, , sq, ; action of the gallican churches with respect to, sq; the attitude of victor upon, , , , , sq; remonstrance of irenæus, ; of polycrates, ; the error of _s.r._ regarding its character, , sq, ; its relation to the canon, , , , sq, paul (st); in cyprus, sq; at ephesus, sq; his attack on gnosticism, sq; his treatment as a prisoner, , ; his claim to work miracles, ; his directions as to idol-sacrifices, ; his connexion with gaul, ; not aimed at in the apocalypse, sq; attitude of clement of rome towards, ; of the ignatian epistles, , ; of polycarp, sq, sq, sq; of hegesippus, ; of papias, sq; of marcion, , , , ; of the elders in irenæus, ; of melito, ; of tatian, ; of the school of st john generally, ; of the churches in gaul, ; position of his writings in the canon of eusebius, , , sq; see also _tübingen school_ _paul, acts of_, pearson, in the ignatian controversy, , pella, , peregrinus proteus, sq pergamum, , pericope adulterae, an insertion from papias, sq perpetua, , petau, , _peter, acts of_, _peter, apocalypse of_, , _peter, gospel of_, _peter, preaching of_, peter (st), the epistles of; their position in the canon of eusebius, sq, ; eusebius' method tested on, , , , ; the first epistle largely quoted by polycarp, , sq, , , sq; employed by papias, , sq; by irenæus, peter of alexandria, n petermann, , , sq philip (st), the apostle; at hierapolis, , , ; his daughters, , , ; his intercourse with papias, , , , ; his identity, n philip, the asiarch, n philippi, the church at; ignatius' visit to, , ; polycarp's correspondence with, sq, , sq, (see _polycarp, epistle of_); episcopacy at, , philippians, german theories as to the pauline epistle to the, sq phillips, n philo, sq, n photius, n, , , n, , , n pierius of alexandria, n pliny; his credulity and that of the early fathers, ; his informant sergius paulus, sq polycarp of smyrna; date of his birth, ; born at a crisis, sq; of christian parents, ; reared in the centre of christianity, sq; under the influence of st john, , ; bishop of smyrna, ; entertains ignatius, , ; his age at this time, ; his letter to the philippians (see _polycarp, epistle of_); a companion of papias, , , , ; his old age, ; his pupils florinus and irenæus, sq, , ; his journey to rome, sq, ; preaches at rome, ; his encounter with marcion, , , ; his attitude in the paschal controversy, sq; date of his martyrdom, , , sq, , ; details of it, n, , sq; document preserving it (see _polycarp, martyrdom of_); his position and that of clement of rome, , ; the depositary of apostolic tradition, sq, ; the link with irenæus, , sq; the reverence inspired by, n; characteristic expressions of, , sq; his use of the word 'oracles', polycarp, epistle of; date and circumstances of writing, sq, , sq, ; incomplete in the greek, ; its genuineness, sq; ( ) external evidence for, ; ( ) internal evidence, sq; from (i) its formula of evangelical quotations, , ; (ii) its picture of church order, , sq, ; (iii) its christology, , ; (iv) the argument from silence, ; (v) its style and subject-matter compared with the ignatian epistles, sq; ritschl's theory of interpretations considered, sq; further objections dealt with, (_a_) the martyr journey of ignatius, ; (_b_) alleged anachronisms, , sq, ; (_c_) the ignatian epistles appended, sq; (_d_) the thirteenth chapter, ; (_e_) a supposed reference to marcion, sq; (_f_) the age of the writer, ; scriptural quotations in, sq, sq, sq, , , ; eusebius' method tested on, sq, ; the quotations from peter, , sq, , , sq; coincidence with john, ; relation to the pauline epistles, sq, sq; its testimony to the ignatian epistles, , , sq _polycarp, martyrdom of_; the document, , ; its date, ; emphasizes the coincidences with the passion, sq; its evidence to the fourth gospel, sq; employed by the _paschal chronicle_, n polycrates of ephesus; his place in the school of st john, ; his work on the paschal controversy, , sq; scriptural quotations in his letter to victor, , ; quotes the fourth gospel, ; his reference to melito, pontius pilate, date of the termination of the procuratorship of, n pothinus; probably a native of asia minor, , ; date of his martyrdom, , ; perhaps one of the elders of irenæus, n, presbyter john; see _john the presbyter_ presbyters in irenæus; see _elders_ proclus, cominius, proconsul of cyprus, n proconsuls; the title in imperial times, sq; the greek equivalent, ; of cyprus, proprætors; the title in imperial times, ; the greek equivalent, _protevangelium_, , sq quadratus, proconsul of cyprus, n quadratus, statius, the asiatic proconsulship of, sq quartodeciman; see _paschal controversy_ renan, , n, rhodon, , n, ritschl, , , sq rivetus, , roman church, its influence in the time of ignatius, roman prisoners, treatment of, sq roman provinces; augustus' division of, sq; the titles of their governors, ; interchange of imperial and senatorial provinces, ; asia and africa the most sought after, rosenmüller, routh, n, n, n, n, n rufinus, rufus, ruinart, n, sachau, n salutaris, c. vibius, sanday; on the fourth gospel, ; on marcion's gospel, n saturus, saumaise, schleiermacher, schliemann, schmidt, scholten, , , , n schroeckh, , schwegler, second century; its voluminous ecclesiastical literature, , ; meagre literary remains of the first three quarters, , , , ; small bearing on the canon of the extant works, , ; importance of irenæus at the close of the century, , semler, serapion, sergius paulus, proconsul of cyprus; perhaps an informant of pliny, sq; cyprian inscription mentioning him, , sergius paulus, l.; the friend of galen, ; proconsul of asia, , ; his date, ; his cursus honorum, ; his resemblance in character to his namesake in the acts, ; his scientific studies, ; identification of an unknown, n severians, apollinaris' treatise against the, , severus of antioch, shechem and sychar, , sq silence, its place in the gnostic systems, sq siloam, , simon magus, simonians, , _smyrnæans, letter of the_; see _polycarp, martyrdom of_ socinus, , socrates, the historian, stephanus gobarus, strabo, , n _supernatural religion_; criticisms on his grammar and scholarship, sq, sq, sq; on his impartiality, sq, sq, sq, sq, sq; on the plan of his book, , sq; his charges against opponents, sq, sq; his lists of references, , sq; his theological position, n; on the silence of eusebius, sq; on the paschal controversy, , sq, ; clerical and other errors, and ambiguities in, sq, sq, supernatural, meaning of the term, sq sychar, identification of, sq, sq synoptists; their points of contrast with the fourth gospel, sq; recognized by the early fathers, sq, ; their chronology compared, , , , sq, sq; see also _fourth gospel_ tacitus, , n tatian; an assyrian, ; a heathen sophist, ; his travels, ; his conversion, ; a pupil of justin martyr, , ; his disciples at rome, , ; removes to the east, ; his subsequent heretical opinions, ; his attitude towards st paul and the pauline epistles, , ; his views anti-judaic, ; date of his literary activity, ; his extant _apology_, ; its date, ; quotes from the fourth gospel, , ; his formula of quotation, ; his _diatessaron_, sq; its description in eusebius, ; who knew but disparaged it, ; the evidence of the _doctrine of addai_, sq; the commentary of ephraem syrus, , ; [discovery of an armenian version, ;] bar-salibi's statements, sq; theodoret's testimony to its circulation, sq; summary of evidence, sq; counter-statement of epiphanius, sq; of victor of capua, sq; read in the churches of edessa, sq; of cyrrhestice, sq; its opening words, , n, ; its plan, sq; other than that of ammonius' _diatessaron_, sq, ; confusion of the two works, n; aphraates' knowledge of it, n, [ ]; the range of its circulation, ; confused with the _gospel according to the hebrews_, sq; [recent discovery of an arabic version, ] tertullian; gives evidence to the fourth gospel, ; his _apologeticum_, ; on the episcopate of polycarp, n; on the style of melito, ; chiliasm of, theodoret; date of his episcopate, ; his treatise on heresies, ; his evidence for the ignatian epistles, ; for tatian's _diatessaron_, sq; for apollinaris, , , sq theodotion's version of the lxx, theophilus of antioch; his works, extant and lost, ; quotes the fourth gospel, , , , , ; eusebius' method tested on his _autolycus_, , , ; his testimony to the apocalypse, , , ; his investigations in comparative chronology, thiersch, thomas (st), , thomasius, n tillemont, n, n tischendorf; defended against _s.r.'s_ charges, sq, sq, n, n, n, ; other references to, , , , , tübingen school, criticised, , , , , , sq, sq, sq, sq, sq, uhlhorn, , ussher, , valens, the presbyter, valentinianism; its expressions anticipated in the ignatian epistles, , sq; opposed by irenæus, , , , sq, ; by hippolytus, ; its appeal to the canon, , , ; to the fourth gospel, ; to uncanonical books, ; its bearing on the chronology of our lord's life, sq; its exegesis, vettius epagathus, , victor of capua; his date, ; discovers an anonymous harmony of the gospel, ; frankish translation of this harmony, n; assigns it to tatian, ; [perhaps rightly, ;] the word _diapente_ in his notice of tatian, n, sq victor of rome; his date, ; his attitude in the paschal controversy, , , , , sq vienne and lyons, churches of; see _gallican churches_ virgin mary, character of the allusions in justin martyr and melito to the, sq volkmar, sq, , , sq voss, vossian epistles; see _ignatian epistles_ waddington, n, sq, , , , n, n weiffenbach, n, n weismann, , weiss, , , westcott; defended against the attacks of _s.r._, sq, sq, sq, sq, sq, n, sq; other references to, , , , n, n, sq, n; his reply to _s.r._, n whiston, _wisdom of solomon_, wood's discoveries at ephesus, n, sq wordsworth, bishop christopher, n wright, n zacharias, n, sq, n zahn, , , n, n, n, n, n, n, n, n, [ ] zeller, ziegler, , n zosimus, zunz, n index of passages. page genesis iv. exodus xxxii. sq deuteronomy ix. sq x. xxxi. , kings iv. psalms iv. isaiah xi. sq lxv. sq lxvi. , ezekiel xxviii. xxviii. , hosea ii. - tobit iv. xii. st matthew v. x. xi. sq xii. xiii. xix. xix. xix. xx. xxiii. xxiii. , xxvi. , xxvi. xxvi. xxviii. st mark x. , x. xiv. st luke i. i. i. sq i. i. ii. iii. x. , , xi. xiii. xiii. , xiii. , xiv. , xviii. xxi. xxii. xxiii. st john i. , , , , , i. i. i. i. iii. iv. , iv. iv. iv. v. , , , v. vii. vii. sq vii. vii. -viii. viii. sq viii. , viii. viii. viii. viii. , ix. xii. sq xii. xii. xiii. xiv. , , , xvi. xvii. xviii. , xix. , xix. sq xix. xx. xx. xx. xxi. acts ii. ii. v. vii. xiii. , , xiii. xix. sq xix. xix. , xix. , , xxi. xxi. romans i. iii. iv. sq iv. viii. xv. xvi. corinthians vi. - vii. viii. sq x. sq x. , , , xi. sq xv. corinthians xii. galatians ii. iv. sq ephesians iv. v. vi. vi. philippians ii. ii. iii. iv. timothy ii. iii. iv. iv. , v. , , , vi. vi. timothy ii. iv. hebrews v. xi. peter i. i. i. i. ii. , ii. , ii. , iii. iv. , iv. v. , v. john i. , iv. , revelation i. ii. ii. , , , , ii. xii. xix. anastasius of sinai , , , , , andreas of cæsarea aphraates _hom._ i. p. (ed. wright) _apost. constit._ ii. aristides op. i. p. (ed. dind.) _barnabæ ep._ , basil (st) _hom._ xi. _hom._ xii. capitol. _vit. anton._ _chronicon pasch._ p. (ed. dind.) p. claudius apollinaris clemens alexandrinus _coh. ad gent._ p. (ed. potter) _exc. theod._ _strom._ i. , _strom._ i. p. _strom._ ii. _strom._ iii. _strom._ iii. , _strom._ iv. _strom._ vii. p. _strom._ vii. , , _quis div. salv._ , clem. rom. dion cassius liii. liv. euripides _iph. taur._ l. epiphanius _de pond. et mens._ , _hær._ xlvi. , _hær._ li. sq eusebius _chron._ (syr. epit.) p. (ed. schöne) _eccl. theol._ ii. _hist. eccl._ i. iii. , iii. , , iii. iii. , iii. , iii. , , iii. iii. , , , , , , iv. , , , iv. , , , , , sq iv. iv. iv. iv. , iv. , , iv. iv. , , , , , iv. , iv. iv. , v. , v. , , v. v. , , v. v. v. , v. v. , , , , v. , , , , , v. v. , vi. , , vi. , vi. vii. _quæst. ad marin._ , iv. _quæst. ad steph._ op. iv. p. (ed. migne) galen _de anat. admin._ i. _de prænot._ op. xix. p. (ed. kühn) hippolytus _ref. hær._ v. _ref. hær._ vi. , , ignatius _ephes_. _ephes_. _ephes_. _ephes._ , _ephes._ _ephes._ _magn._ , , _magn._ _magn._ _trall._ _trall._ _rom._ inscr. _rom._ _rom._ , , _rom._ , , _rom._ , _rom._ _philad._ _philad._ _philad._ _smyrn._ _smyrn._ _polyc._ - _polyc._ _polyc._ , _polyc._ , irenæus _hær. pref._ i. i. . i. . i. . i. . i. . , i. . , ii. . , , , , , , , , , ii. . iii. . , iii. . iii. . , , , , , iii. . , iii. . iii. . iii. . iii. . iii. . iii. . iv. . iv. . sq , , , iv. . , iv. . , , iv. . v. . , , v. . v. . v. . sq v. . v. . , v. . v. . , , , , , , jerome _de vir. illust._ _de vir. illust._ _de vir. illust._ _de vir. illust._ _ep. ad magnum_ (p. ) _ep._ (i. p. ) _ep._ _ad hedib._ (i. p. ) _præf. ad tit._ vii. john malalas p. (ed. bonn.) p. justin martyr _apol._ i. _apol._ i. , , _dial._ _dial._ sq _dial._ _dial._ sq _dial._ , lucian _de morte peregr._ _de morte peregr._ _martyr. polyc._ , , , , , origen _c. cels._ pref. etc. _c. cels._ i. _c. cels._ viii. _de princ._ iv. _in matth._ x. _in matth._ xvi. _in luc. hom._ i. philo _de conj. erud. grat._ _de profug._ _vit. moys._ iii. photius _bibl._ , _bibl._ _bibl._ , pliny _nat. hist._ ii. , , _nat. hist._ xviii. , polycarp _phil._ , _phil._ _phil._ , , , _phil._ _phil._ , _phil._ , , , , , _phil._ _phil._ , _phil._ , _phil._ , , _phil._ , , , _protevangelium_ , socrates _hist. eccl._ iii. vii. tacitus _hist._ v. sq tatian _orat. ad græc._ , _orat. ad græc._ , _orat. ad græc._ , , tertullian _adv. marc._ iii. _adv. marc._ iv. _adv. marc._ v. _de præscr. hær._ _de præscr. hær._ _de resurr. carn._ _de resurr. carn._ theodoret _hær. fab._ i. , _hær. fab._ i. , _hær. fab._ iii. , _ep._ theophilus _ad autol._ ii. victor cap. _præf. ad anon. harm. evang._ xenophon _anab._ v. , the complete prose works of martin farquhar tupper, esq. comprising the crock of gold, the twins, an author's mind, heart, probabilities, etc. revised expressly for this edition by w. c. armstrong. hartford: published by silas andrus & son . +-----------------------------------------------------------------------+ |transcriber's note: obvious printer errors have been corrected. this | |omnibus edition consists of four separately published works which | |contain many inconsistencies. these are as in the originals. | +-----------------------------------------------------------------------+ publishers' preface. mr. tupper has achieved a popularity for his works, which has rarely been enjoyed by any one at so early a period of life; he being now only between thirty-five and forty years of age. where all are so intrinsically valuable, it is difficult to determine which particular work has contributed most to his rapid and enviable advancement; yet, were an award indispensable, we should feel constrained to make it in favour of his '_proverbial philosophy_.' it is one of those unique productions which commends itself to all classes of readers, and from the perusal of which _all_ cannot but derive substantial means of improvement. familiar truths are so cogently treated therein, as to leave an indelible impression upon the mind, which could not, perhaps, have been so thoroughly made in any other manner; and the "thoughts and arguments" may be perused and rëperused with an advantage but few other writings are capable of yielding. the rapid and extensive sale of several editions, issued in other places--some of them of rather an indifferent character, as regards mechanical execution--and the increasing demand still manifested for them, has induced the present publishers to collect the entire works of mr. tupper, and to stereotype them in a style worthy of their excellence. each work has been thoroughly revised, and the errors which disfigure some other editions have been carefully corrected--an advantage readily appreciable by those who discriminate in their selections for the library or the centre-table. * * * * * the crock of gold; a rural novel. by martin farquhar tupper, esq., m.a., author of "proverbial philosophy." * * * * * contents. chap. page. . the labourer; and his dawning discontent . the family; the home; and more repinings . the contract . the lost theft . the inquest . the bailiff; and a bitter trial . wrongs and ruin . the covetous dream . the poacher . ben burke's strange adventure . sleep . love . the discovery . jonathan's store . another discovery, and the earnest of good things . how the home was blessed thereby . care . investment . calumny . the bailiff's visit . the capture . the aunt and her nephew . schemes . the devil's counsel . the ambuscade . preliminaries . robbery . murder . the reward . second thoughts . mammon; and contentment . next morning . the alarm . doubts . fears . prison comforts . good counsel . experience . jonathan's troth . suspicions . grace's alternative . the dismissal . simon alone . the trial . roger's defence . the witness . mr. sharp's advocacy . sentence and death . righteous mammon . the crock a blessing . popularity . roger at the swan . roger's triumph . sir john's parting speech chapter i. the labourer; and his dawning discontent. roger acton woke at five. it was a raw march morning, still dark, and bitterly cold, while at gusty intervals the rain beat in against the crazy cottage-window. nevertheless, from his poor pallet he must up and rouse himself, for it will be open weather by sunrise, and his work lies two miles off; master jennings is not the man to show him favour if he be late, and roger cannot afford to lose an hour: so he shook off the luxury of sleep, and rose again to toil with weary effort. "honest roger," as the neighbours called him, was a fair specimen of a class which has been britain's boast for ages, and may be still again, in measure, but at present that glory appears to be departing: a class much neglected, much enduring; thoroughly english--just, industrious, and patient; true to the altar, and loyal to the throne; though haply shaken somewhat now from both those noble faiths--warped in their principles, and blunted in their feelings, by lying doctrines and harsh economies; a class--i hate the cold cant term--a race of honourable men, full of cares, pains, privations--but of pleasures next to none; whose life at its most prosperous estate is labour, and in death we count him happy who did not die a pauper. through them, serfs of the soil, the earth yields indeed her increase, but it is for others; from the fields of plenty they glean a scanty pittance, and fill the barns to bursting, while their children cry for bread. not that roger for his part often wanted work; he was the best hand in the parish, and had earned of his employers long ago the name of steady acton; but the fair wages for a fair day's labour were quite another thing, and the times went very hard for him and his. a man himself may starve, while his industry makes others fat: and a liberal landlord all the winter through may keep his labourers in work, while a crafty, overbearing bailiff mulcts them in their wages. for the outward man, acton stood about five feet ten, a gaunt, spare, and sinewy figure, slightly bent; his head sprinkled with gray; his face marked with those rigid lines, which tell, if not of positive famine, at least of too much toil on far too little food; in his eye, patience and good temper; in his carriage, a mixture of the sturdy bearing, necessary to the habitual exercise of great muscular strength, together with that gait of humility--almost humiliation--which is the seal of oppression upon poverty. he might be about forty, or from that to fifty, for hunger, toil, and weather had used him the roughest; while, for all beside, the patched and well-worn smock, the heavily-clouted high-laced boots, a dingy worsted neck-tie, and an old felt hat, complete the picture of externals. but, for the matter of character within, roger is quite another man. if his rank in this world is the lowest, many potentates may envy him his state elsewhere. his heart is as soft, as his hand is horny; with the wandering gipsy or the tramping beggar, thrust aside, perhaps deservedly, as impudent impostors from the rich man's gate, has he often-times shared his noon-day morsel: upright and sincere himself, he thinks as well of others: he scarcely ever heard the gospels read in church, specially about eastertide, but the tears would trickle down his weather-beaten face: he loves children--his neighbour's little ones as well as his own: he will serve any one for goodness' sake without reward or thanks, and is kind to the poor dumb cattle: he takes quite a pride in his little rod or two of garden, and is early and late at it, both before and after the daily sum of labour: he picks up a bit of knowledge here and there, and somehow has contrived to amass a fund of information for which few would give him credit from his common looks; and he joins to that stock of facts a natural shrewdness to use his knowledge wisely. though with little of what is called sentiment, or poetry, or fancy in his mind (for harsh was the teaching of his childhood, and meagre the occasions of self-culture ever since), the beauty of creation is by no means lost upon him, and he notices at times its wisdom too. with a fixed habit of manly piety ever on his lips and ever in his heart, he recognises providence in all things, just, and wise, and good. more than so; simply as a little child who endures the school-hour for the prospect of his play-time, roger acton bears up with noble meekness against present suffering, knowing that his work and trials and troubles are only for a little while, but his rest and his reward remain a long hereafter. he never questioned this; he knew right well who had earned it for him; and he lived grateful and obedient, filling up the duties of his humble station. this was his faith, and his works followed it. he believed that god had placed him in his lot, to be a labourer, and till god's earth, and, when his work is done, to be sent on better service in some happier sphere: the where, or the how, did not puzzle him, any more than divers other enigmatical whys and wherefores of his present state; he only knew this, that it would all come right at last: and, barring sin (which he didn't comprehend), somehow all was right at present. what if poverty pinched him? he was a great heir still; what if oppression bruised him? it would soon be over. he trusted to his pilot, like the landsman in a storm; to his father, as an infant in the dark. for guilt, he had a saviour, and he thought of him in penitence; for trouble, a guardian, and he looked to him in peace; and as for toil, back-breaking toil, there was another master whom he served with spade, and mattock, and a thankful heart, while he only seemed to be working for the landlord or his bailiff. such a man then had been roger acton from his youth up till now, or, if sadness must be told, nearly until now; for, to speak truth, his heart at times would fail him, and of late he had been bitter in repinings and complaint. for a day or two, in particular, he had murmured loudly. it was hard, very hard, that an honest, industrious man, as he was, should so scantily pick a living out of this rich earth: after all said, let the parson preach as he will, it's a fine thing to have money, and that his reverence knows right well, or he wouldn't look so closely for his dues. [n.b. poor mr. evans was struggling as well as he could to bring up six children, on a hundred and twenty pounds per annum.] roger, too, was getting on in years, with a blacker prospect for the future than when he first stood behind a plough-tail. then there were many wants unsatisfied, which a bit of gold might buy; and his wife teased him to be doing something better. thus was it come at length to pass, that, although he had endured so many years, he now got discontented at his penury;--what human heart can blame him?--and with murmurings came doubt; with doubt of providence, desire of lucre; so the sunshine of religion faded from his path;--what mortal mind can wonder? chapter ii. the family; the home; and more repinings. now, if malthus and martineau be verily the pundits that men think them, roger had twice in his life done a very foolish thing: he had sinned against society, statistics, and common sense, by a two-fold marriage. the wife of his youth (i am afraid he married early) had once been kitchen-maid at the hall; but the sudden change from living luxuriously in a great house, to the griping poverty of a cotter's hovel, had changed, in three short years, the buxom country girl into an emaciated shadow of her former self, and the sorrowing husband buried her in her second child-bed. the powers of the parish clapped their hands; political economy was glad; prudence chuckled; and a coarse-featured farmer (he meant no ill), who occasionally had given roger work, heartlessly bade him be thankful that his cares were the fewer and his incumbrance was removed; "ay, and heaven take the babies also to itself," the herodian added. but acton's heart was broken! scarcely could he lift up his head; and his work, though sturdy as before, was more mechanical, less high-motived: and many a year of dreary widowhood he mourned a loss all the greater, though any thing but bitterer, for the infants so left motherless. to these, now grown into a strapping youth and a bright-eyed graceful girl, had he been the tenderest of nurses, and well supplied the place of her whom they had lost. neighbours would have helped him gladly--sometimes did; and many was the hinted offer (disinterested enough, too, for in that match penury must have been the settlement, and starvation the dower), of giving them a mother's kindly care; but roger could not quite so soon forget the dead: so he would carry his darlings with him to his work, and feed them with his own hard hands; the farmers winked at it, and never said a word against the tiny trespassers; their wives and daughters loved the little dears, bringing them milk and possets; and holy angels from on high may have oft-times hovered about this rude nurse, tending his soft innocents a-field, and have wept over the poor widower and his orphans, tears of happy sorrow and benevolent affection. yea, many a good angel has shed blessings on their heads! within the last three years, and sixteen from the date of his first great grief, roger had again got married. his daughter was growing into early womanhood, and his son gave him trouble at times, and the cottage wanted a ruling hand over it when he was absent, and rheumatism now and then bade him look out for a nurse before old age, and mary alder was a notable middle-aged careful sort of soul, and so she became mary acton. all went on pretty well, until mrs. acton began to have certain little ones of her own; and then the step-mother would break out (a contingency poor roger hadn't thought of), separate interests crept in, and her own children fared before the others; so it came to pass that, however truly there was a ruling hand at home, and however well the rheumatism got nursed (for mary was a good wife in the main), the grown-up son and daughter felt themselves a little jostled out. grace, gentle and submissive, found all her comforts shrunk within the space of her father and her bible; thomas, self-willed and open-hearted, sought his pleasure any where but at home, and was like to be taking to wrong courses through domestic bickering: grace had the dangerous portion, beauty, added to her lowly lot, and attracted more admiration than her father wished, or she could understand; while the frank and bold spirit of thomas acton exposed him to the perilous friendship of ben burke the poacher, and divers other questionable characters. of these elements, then, are our labourer and his family composed; and before roger acton goes abroad at earliest streak of dawn, we will take a casual peep within his dwelling. it consists of four bare rubble walls, enclosing a grouted floor, worn unevenly, and here and there in holes, and puddly. there were but two rooms in the tenement, one on the ground, and one over-head; which latter is with no small difficulty got at by scaling a ladder-like stair-case that fronts the cottage-door. this upper chamber, the common dormitory, for all but thomas, who sleeps down stairs, has a thin partition at one end of it, to screen off the humble truckle-bed where grace acton forgets by night the troubles of the day; and the remainder of the little apartment, sordid enough, and overhung with the rough thatch, black with cobweb, serves for the father and mother with their recent nursery. each room has its shattery casement, to let in through linchened panes, the doubtful light of summer, and the much more indubitable wind, and rain, and frost of wintry nights. a few articles of crockery and some burnished tins decorate the shelves of the lower apartment; which used to be much tidier before the children came, and trimmer still when grace was sole manager: in a doorless cupboard are apparent sundry coarse edibles, as the half of a huge unshapely home-made loaf, some white country cheese, a mass of lumpy pudding, and so forth; beside it, on the window-sill, is better bread, a well-thumbed bible, some tracts, and a few odd volumes picked up cheap at fairs; an old musket (occasionally ben's companion, sometimes tom's) is hooked to the rafters near a double rope of onions; divers gaudy little prints, tempting spoil of pedlars, in honour of george barnwell, the prodigal son, the sailor's return, and the death of nelson, decorate the walls, and an illuminated christmas carol is pasted over the mantel-piece: which, among other chattels and possessions, conspicuously bears its own burden of albert and victoria--two plaster heads, resplendently coloured, highly varnished, looking with arched eye-brows of astonishment on their uninviting palace, and royally contrasting with the sombre hue of poverty on all things else. the pictures had belonged to mary, no small portion of her virgin wealth; and as for the statuary, those two busts had cost loyal roger far more in comparison than any corporation has given to p.r.a., for majesty and consortship in full. there is, moreover, in the room, by way of household furniture, a ricketty, triangular, and tri-legged table, a bench, two old chairs with rush-bottoms, and a yard or two of matting that the sexton gave when the chancel was new laid. i don't know that there is any thing else to mention, unless it be a gaunt lurcher belonging to ben burke, and with all a dog's resemblance to his master, who lies stretched before the hearth where the peaty embers never quite die out, but smoulder away to a heap of white ashes; over these is hanging a black boiler, the cook of the family; and beside them, on a substratum of dry heather, and wrapped about with an old blanket, nearly companioned by his friend, the dog, snores thomas acton, still fast asleep, after his usual extemporaneous fashion. as to the up-stairs apartment, it contained little or nothing but its living inmates, their bedsteads and tattered coverlids, and had an air of even more penury and discomfort than the room below; so that, what with squalling children, a scolding wife, and empty stomach, and that cold and wet march morning, it is little wonder maybe (though no small blame), that roger acton had not enough of religion or philosophy to rise and thank his maker for the blessings of existence. he had just been dreaming of great good luck. poor people often do so; just as ugolino dreamt of imperial feasts, and bruce, in his delirious thirst on the sahara, could not banish from his mind the cool fountains of shiraz, and the luxurious waters of old nile. roger had unfortunately dreamt of having found a crock of gold--i dare say he will tell us his dream anon--and just as he was counting out his treasure, that blessed beautiful heap of shining money--cruel habit roused him up before the dawn, and his wealth faded from his fancy. so he awoke at five, anything but cheerfully. it was grace's habit, good girl, to read to her father in the morning a few verses from the volume she best loved: she always woke betimes when she heard him getting up, and he could hear her easily from her little flock-bed behind the lath partition; and many a time had her dear religious tongue, uttering the words of peace, soothed her father's mind, and strengthened him to meet the day's affliction; many times it raised his thoughts from the heavy cares of life to the buoyant hopes of immortality. hitherto, roger had owed half his meek contentedness to those sweet lessons from a daughter's lips, and knew that he was reaping, as he heard, the harvest of his own paternal care, and heaven-blest instructions. however, upon this dark morning, he was full of other thoughts, murmurings, and doubts, and poverty, and riches. so, when grace, after her usual affectionate salutations, gently began to read, "the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory--" her father strangely stopped her on a sudden with-- "enough, enough, my girl! god wot, the sufferings are grievous, and the glory long a-coming." then he heavily went down stairs, and left grace crying. chapter iii. the contrast. thus, full of carking care, while he pushed aside the proffered consolation, roger acton walked abroad. there was yet but a glimmer of faint light, and the twittering of birds told more assuringly of morning than any cheerful symptom on the sky: however, it had pretty well ceased raining, that was one comfort, and, as roger, shouldering his spade, and with the day's provision in a handkerchief, trudged out upon his daily duty, those good old thoughts of thankfulness came upon his mind, and he forgot awhile the dream that had unstrung him. turning for a moment to look upon his hovel, and bless its inmates with a prayer, he half resolved to run back, and hear a few more words, if only not to vex his darling child: but there was now no time to spare; and then, as he gazed upon her desolate abode--so foul a casket for so fair a jewel--his bitter thoughts returned to him again, and he strode away, repining. acton's cottage was one of those doubtful domiciles, whose only recommendation it is, that they are picturesque in summer. at present we behold a reeking rotting mass of black thatch in a cheerless swamp; but, as the year wears on, those time-stained walls, though still both damp and mouldy, will be luxuriantly overspread with creeping plants--honeysuckle, woodbine, jessamine, and the everblowing monthly rose. many was the touring artist it had charmed, and suffolk-street had seen it often: spectators looked upon the scene as on an old familiar friend, whose face they knew full well, but whose name they had forgotten for the minute. many were the fair hands that had immortalized its beauties in their albums, and frequent the notes of admiration uttered by attending swains: particularly if there chanced to be taken into the view a feathery elm that now creaked overhead, and dripped on the thatch like the dropping-well at knaresborough, and (in the near distance) a large pond, or rather lake, upon whose sedgy banks, gay--not now, but soon about to be--with flowering reeds and bright green willows, the pretty cottage stood. in truth, if man were but an hibernating animal, invisible as dormice in the winter, and only to be seen with summer swallows, acton's cottage at hurstley might have been a cantle cut from the elysian-fields. but there are certain other seasons in the year, and human nature cannot long exist on the merely "picturesque in summer." some fifty yards, or so, from the hither shore, we discern a roughly wooded ait, pike island to wit, a famous place for fish, and the grand rendezvous for woodcocks; which, among other useful and ornamental purposes, serves to screen out the labourer's hovel, at this the narrowest part of the lake, from a view of that fine old mansion on the opposite shore, the seat of sir john vincent, a baronet just of age, and the great landlord of the neighbourhood. toward this mansion, scarcely yet revealed in the clear gray eye of morning, our humble hero, having made the long round of the lake, is now fast trudging; and it may merit a word or two of plain description, to fill up time and scene, till he gets nearer. a smooth grassy eminence, richly studded with park-like clumps of trees, slopes up from the water's very edge to--hurstley hall; yonder goodly, if not grand, elizabethan structure, full of mullioned windows, carved oak panels, stone-cut coats of arms, pinnacles, and traceries, and lozenges, and drops; and all this glory crowned by a many-gabled, high-peaked roof. a grove of evergreens and american shrubs hides the lower windows from vulgarian gaze--for, in the neighbourly feeling of our ancestors, a public way leads close along the front; while, behind the house, and inaccessible to eyes profane, are drawn terraced gardens, beautifully kept, and blooming with a perpetual succession of the choicest flowers. the woods and shrubberies around, attempted some half a century back to be spoilt by the meddlesome bad taste of capability brown, have been somewhat too resolutely robbed of the formal avenues, clipped hedges, and other topiarian adjuncts which comport so well with the starch prudery of things elizabethan; but they are still replete with grotto, fountain, labyrinth, and alcove--a very paradise for the more court-bred rank of sylphs, and the gentler elves of queen titania. however, we have less to do with the gardens than, probably, the elves have; and as roger now, just at breaking day, is approaching the windows somewhat too curiously for a poor man's manners, it may not be amiss if we bear him company. he had pretty well recovered of his fit of discontent, for morning air and exercise can soon chase gloom away; so he cheerily tramped along, thinking as he went, how that, after all, it is a middling happy world, and how that the raindrops, now that it had cleared up, hung like diamonds on the laurels, when of a sudden, as he turned a corner near the house, there broke upon his ear, at that quiet hour, such a storm of boisterous sounds--voices so loud with oaths and altercation--such a calling, clattering, and quarrelling, as he had never heard the like before. so no wonder that he stepped aside to see it. the noise proceeded from a ground-floor window, or rather from three windows, lighted up, and hung with draperies of crimson and gold: one of the casements, flaring meretriciously in the modest eye of morn, stood wide open down to the floor, probably to cool a heated atmosphere; and when roger acton, with a natural curiosity, went on tiptoe, looked in, and just put aside the curtain for a peep, to know what on earth could be the matter, he saw a vision of waste and wealth, at which he stood like one amazed, for a poor man's mind could never have conceived its equal. evidently, he had intruded on the latter end of a long and luxurious revel. wax-lights, guttering down in gilded chandeliers, poured their mellow radiance round in multiplied profusion--for mirrors made them infinite; crimson and gold were the rich prevailing tints in that wide and warm banqueting-room; gayly-coloured pictures, set in frames that roger fancied massive gold, hung upon the walls at intervals; a wagon-load of silver was piled upon the sideboard; there blazed in the burnished grate such a fire as poverty might imagine on a frozen winter's night, but never can have thawed its blood beside: fruits, and wines, and costly glass were scattered in prodigal disorder on the board--just now deserted of its noisy guests, who had crowded round a certain green table, where cards and heaps of sovereigns appeared to be mingled in a mass. roger had never so much as conceived it possible that there could be wealth like this: it was a fairy-land of mammon in his eyes: he stood gasping like a man enchanted; and in the contemplation of these little hills of gold--in their covetous longing contemplation, he forgot the noisy quarrel he had turned aside to see, and thirsted for that rich store earnestly. in an instant, as he looked (after the comparative lull that must obviously have succeeded to the clamours he had first heard), the roar and riot broke out worse than ever. there were the stormy revellers, as the rabble rout of comus and his crew, filling that luxurious room with the sounds of noisy execration and half-drunken strife. young sir john, a free and generous fellow, by far the best among them all, has collected about him those whom he thought friends, to celebrate his wished majority; they had now kept it up, night after night, hard upon a week; and, as well became such friends--the gambler, the duellist, the man of pleasure, and the fool of fashion--they never yet had separated for their day-light beds, without a climax to their orgie, something like the present scene. henry mynton, high in oath, and dashing down his cards, has charged sir richard hunt with cheating (it was _sauter la coupe_ or _couper la saut_, or some such mystery of iniquity, i really cannot tell which): sir richard, a stout dark man, the patriarch of the party, glossily wigged upon his head, and imperially tufted on his chin, retorts with a pungent sarcasm, calmly and coolly uttered; that hot-headed fool silliphant, clearly quite intoxicated, backs his cousin mynton's view of the case by the cogent argument of a dice-box at sir richard's head--and at once all is struggle, strife, and uproar. the other guests, young fellows of high fashion, now too much warmed with wine to remember their accustomed mohican cold-bloodedness--those happy debtors to the prowess of a stultz, and walking advertisers of nugee--take eager part with the opposed belligerents: more than one decanter is sent hissing through the air; more than one bloody coxcomb witnesses to the weight of a candle-stick and its hurler's clever aim: uplifted chairs are made the weapons of the chivalric combatants; and along with divers other less distinguished victims in the melée, poor sir john vincent, rushing into the midst, as a well-intentioned host, to quell the drunken brawl, gets knocked down among them all; the tables are upset, the bright gold runs about the room in all directions--ha! no one heeds it--no one owns it--one little piece rolled right up to the window-sill where roger still looked on with all his eyes; it is but to put his hand in--the window is open to the floor--nay a finger is enough: greedily, one undecided moment, did he gaze upon the gold; he saw the hideous contrast of his own dim hovel and that radiant chamber--he remembered the pining faces of his babes, and gentle grace with all her hardships--he thought upon his poverty and well deserts--he looked upon wastefulness of wealth and wantonness of living--these reflections struck him in a moment; no one saw him, no one cared about the gold; that little blessed morsel, that could do him so much good; all was confusion, all was opportunity, and who can wonder that his fingers closed upon the sovereign, and that he picked it up? chapter iv. the lost theft. stealthily and quickly "honest roger" crept away, for his conscience smote him on the instant: he felt he had done wrong; at any rate, the sovereign was not his--and once the thought arose in him to run back, and put it where he found it: but it was now become too precious in his sight, that little bit of gold--and they, the rioters there, could not want it, might not even miss it; and then its righteous uses--it should be well spent, even if ill-got: and thus, so many mitigations crowded in to excuse, if not to applaud the action, that within a little while his warped mind had come to call the theft a god-send. o roger, roger! alas for this false thought of that wrong deed! the poisonous gold has touched thy heart, and left on it a spot of cancer: the asp has bitten thee already, simple soul. this little seed will grow into a huge black pine, that shall darken for a while thy heaven, and dig its evil roots around thy happiness. put it away, roger, put it away: covet not unhallowed gold. but roger felt far otherwise; and this sudden qualm of conscience once quelled (i will say there seemed much of palliation in the matter), a kind of inebriate feeling of delight filled his mind, and steady acton plodded on to the meadow yonder, half a mile a-head, in a species of delirious complacency. here was luck indeed, filling up the promise of his dreams. his head was full of thoughts, pleasant holiday thoughts, of the many little useful things, the many small indulgences, that bit of gold should buy him. he would change it on the sly, and gradually bring the shillings home as extra pay for extra work; for, however much his wife might glory in the chance, and keep his secret, well he knew that grace would have a world of things to say about it, and he feared to tell his daughter of the deed. however, she should have a ribbon, so she should, good girl, and the pedlar shouldn't pass the door unbidden; mary, too, might have a cotton kerchief, and the babes a doll and a rattle, and poor thomas a shilling to spend as he liked; and so, in happy revery, the kind father distributed his ill-got sovereign. for a while he held it in his hand, as loth to part from the tangible possession of his treasure; but manual contact could not last all day, and, as he neared his scene of labour--he came late after all, by the by, and lost the quarter-day, but it mattered little now--he began to cogitate a place of safety; and carefully put it in his fob. poor fellow--he had never had enough to stow so well away before: his pockets had been thought quite trust-worthy enough for any treasures hitherto: never had he used that fob for watch, or note, or gold--and his predecessor in the cast-off garment had probably been quite aware how little that false fob was worthy of the name of savings' bank; it was in the situation of the irishman's illimitable rope, with the end cut off. so while roger was brewing up vast schemes of nascent wealth, and prosperous days at last, the filched sovereign, attracted by centripetal gravity, had found a passage downwards, and had straightway rolled into a crevice of mother-earth, long before its "brief lord" had commenced his day's labour. yes, it had been lost a good hour ere he found it out, for he had fancied that he had felt it there, and often did he feel, but his fancy was a button; and when he made the dread discovery, what a sting of momentary anguish, what a sickening fear, what an eager search! and, as the grim truth became more evident, that, indeed, beyond all remedy, his new-got, ill-got, egg of coming wealth was all clean gone--oh! this was worm-wood, this was bitter as gall, and the strong man well-nigh fainted. it was something sad to have done the ill--but misery to have done it all for nothing: the sin was not altogether pleasant to his taste, but it was aloe itself to lose the reward. and when, pale and sick, leaning on his spade, he came to his old strength again, what was the reaction? compunction at incipient crime, and gratitude to find its punishment so mercifully speedy, so lenient, so discriminative? i fear that if ever he had these thoughts at all, he chased them wilfully away: his disappointment, far from being softened into patience, was sharpened to a feeling of revenge at fate; and all his hope now was--such another chance, gold, more gold, never mind how; more gold, he burnt for gold, he lusted after gold! we must leave him for a time to his toil and his reflections, and touch another topic of our theme. chapter v. the inquest. just a week before the baronet came of age, and a fortnight from the present time, an awful and mysterious event had happened at the hall: the old house-keeper, mrs. quarles, had been found dead in her bed, under circumstances, to say the very least, of a black and suspicious appearance. the county coroner had got a jury of the neighbours impanelled together; who, after sitting patiently on the inquest, and hearing, as well as seeing, the following evidence, could arrive at no verdict more specific than the obvious fact, that the poor old creature had been "found dead." the great question lay between apoplexy and murder; and the evidence tended to a well-matched conflict of opinions. first, there lay the body, quietly in bed, tucked in tidily and undisturbed, with no marks of struggling, none whatever--the clothes lay smooth, and the chamber orderly: yet the corpse's face was of a purple hue, the tongue swollen, the eyes starting from their sockets: it might, indeed, possibly have been an apoplectic seizure, which took her in her sleep, and killed her as she lay; _but_ that the gripe of clutching fingers had left their livid seals upon the throat, and countenanced the dreadful thought of strangulation! secondly, a surgeon (one mr. eager, the union doctor, a very young personage, wrong withal and radical) maintained that this actual strangulation might have been effected by the hands of the deceased herself, in the paroxysm of a rush of blood to the brain; and he fortified his wise position by the instance of a late statesman, who, he averred, cut his throat with a pen-knife, to relieve himself of pressure on the temples: while another surgeon--stephen cramp, he was farrier as well, and had been, until lately, time out of mind, the village Æsculapius, who looked with scorn on his pert rival, and opposed him tooth and nail on all occasions--insisted that it was not only physically impossible for poor mrs. quarles so to have strangled herself, but more particularly that, if she had done so, she certainly could not have laid herself out so decently afterwards; therefore, that as some one else had kindly done the latter office for her, why not the former too? thirdly, sarah stack, the still-room maid, deposed, that mrs. quarles always locked her door before she went to bed, but that when she (deponent) went to call her as usual on the fatal morning, the door was just ajar; and so she found her dead: while parallel with this, tending to implicate some domestic criminal, was to be placed the equally uncommon fact, that the other door of mrs. quarles's room, leading to the lawn, was open too:--be it known that mrs. quarles was a stout woman, who could'nt abide to sleep up-stairs, for fear of fire; moreover, that she was a nervous woman, who took extraordinary precautions for her safety, in case of thieves. thus, unaccountably enough, the murderer, if there was any, was as likely to have come from the outside, as from the in. fourthly, the murderer in this way is commonly a thief, and does the deed for mammon-sake; but the new house-keeper, lately installed, made her deposition, that, by inventories duly kept and entered--for her honoured predecessor, rest her soul! had been a pattern of regularity--all mrs. quarles's goods and personal chattels were found to be safe and right in her room--some silver spoons among them too--ay, and a silver tea-pot; while, as to other property in the house, with every room full of valuables, nothing whatever was missing from the lists, except, indeed, what was scarce worth mention (unless one must be very exact), sundry crocks and gallipots of honey, not forthcoming; these, however, it appeared probable that mrs. quarles had herself consumed in a certain mixture she nightly was accustomed too, of rum, horehound, and other matters sweetened up with honey, for her hoarseness. it seemed therefore clear she was not murdered for her property, nor by any one intending to have robbed the house. against this it was contended, and really with some show of reason, that as mrs. quarles was thought to have a hoard, always set her face against banks, railway shares, speculations, and investments, and seemed to have left nothing behind her but her clothes and so forth, it was still possible that the murderer who took the life, might have also been the thief to take the money. fifthly, simon jennings--butler in doors, bailiff out of doors, and general factotum every where to the vincent interest--for he had managed to monopolize every place worth having, from the agent's book to the cellar-man's key--the said simon deposed, that on the night in question, he heard the house-dog barking furiously, and went out to quiet him; but found no thieves, nor knew any reason why the dog should have barked so much. now, the awkward matter in this deposition (if mr. jennings had not been entirely above suspicion--the idea was quite absurd--not to mention that he was nephew to the deceased, a great favourite with her, and a man altogether of the very strictest character), the awkward matters were these: the nearest way out to the dog, indeed the only way but casement windows on that side of the house, was through mrs. quarles's room: she had had the dog placed there for her special safety, as she slept on the ground floor; and it was not to be thought that mr. jennings could do so incorrect a thing as to pass through her room after bed-time, locked or unlocked--indeed, when the question was delicately hinted to him, he was quite shocked at it--quite shocked. but if he did not go that way, which way did he go? he deposed, indeed, and his testimony was no ways to be doubted, that he went through the front door, and so round; which, under the circumstances, was at once a very brave and a very foolish thing to do; for it is, first, little wisdom to go round two sides of a square to quiet a dog, when one might have easily called to him from the men-servants' window; and secondly, albeit mr. jennings was a strict man, an upright man, shrewd withal, and calculating, no one had ever thought him capable of that roman virtue, courage. still, he had reluctantly confessed to this one heroic act, and it was a bold one, so let him take the credit of it--mainly because-- sixthly, jonathan floyd, footman, after having heard the dog bark at intervals, surely for more than a couple of hours, thought he might as well turn out of his snug berth for a minute, just to see what ailed the dog, or how many thieves were really breaking in. well, as he looked, he fancied he saw a boat moving on the lake, but as there was no moon, he might have been mistaken. _by a juryman._ it might be a punt. _by another._ he did'nt know how many boats there were on the lake-side: they had a boat-house at the hall, by the water's edge, and therefore he concluded something in it; really did'nt know; might be a boat, might be a punt, might be both--or neither. _by the coroner._ could not swear which way it was moving; and, really, if put upon his bible oath, wouldn't be positive about a boat at all, it was so dark, and he was so sleepy. not long afterwards, as the dog got still more violent, he turned his eyes from straining after shadows on the lake, to look at home, and then all at once noticed mr. jennings trying to quiet the noisy animal with the usual blandishments of "good dog, good dog--quiet, don, quiet--down, good dog--down, don, down!" _by a juryman._ he would swear to the words. but don would not hear of being quiet. after that, knowing all must be right if mr. jennings was about, he (deponent) turned in again, went to sleep, and thought no more of it till he heard of mrs. quarles's death in the morning. if he may be so bold as to speak his mind, he thinks the house-keeper, being fat, died o' the 'plexy in a nateral way, and that the dog barking so, just as she was a-going off, is proof positive of it. he'd often heard of dogs doing so; they saw the sperit gliding away, and barked at it; his (deponent's) own grandmother-- at this juncture--for the court was getting fidgetty--the coroner cut short the opinions of jonathan floyd: and when mr. crown, summing up, presented in one focus all this evidence to the misty minds of the assembled jurymen, it puzzled them entirely; they could not see their way, fairly addled, did not know at all what to make of it. on the threshold, there was no proof it was a murder--the union doctor was loud and staunch on this; and next, there seemed to be no motive for the deed, and no one to suspect of it: so they left the matter open, found her simply "dead," and troubled their heads no more about the business. good mr. evans, the vicar, preached her funeral sermon, only as last sunday, amplifying the idea that she "was cut off in the midst of her days:" and thereby encouraging many of the simpler folks, who knew that mrs. quarles had long passed seventy, in the luminous notion that house-keepers in great establishments are privileged, among other undoubted perquisites, to live to a hundred and forty, unless cut off by apoplexy or murder. mr. simon jennings, as nephew and next of kin, followed the body to its last home in the capacity of chief mourner; to do him justice, he was a real mourner, bewailed her loudly, and had never been the same man since. moreover, although aforetime not much given to indiscriminate charity, he had now gained no small credit by distributing his aunt's wardrobe among the poorer families at hurstley. it was really very kind of him, and the more so, as being altogether unexpected: he got great praise for this, did mr. jennings; specially, too, because he had gained nothing whatever from his aunt's death, though her heir and probable legatee, and clearly was a disappointed man. chapter vi. the bailiff; and a bitter trial. jennings--mr. simon jennings--for he prided himself much both on the mr. and the simon, was an upright man, a very upright man indeed, literally so as well as metaphorically. he was not tall certainly, but what there was of him stood bolt upright. many fancied that his neck was possessed of some natural infirmity, or rather firmity, of unbendableness, some little-to-be-envied property of being a perpetual stiff-neck; and they were the more countenanced in this theory, from the fact that, within a few days past, mr. jennings had contracted an ugly knack of carrying his erect head in the comfortless position of peeping over his left shoulder; not always so, indeed, but often enough to be remarkable; and then he would occasionally start it straight again, eyes right, with a nervous twitch, any thing but pleasant to the marvelling spectator. it was as if he was momentarily expecting to look upon some vague object that affrighted him, and sometimes really did see it. mr. jennings had consulted high medical authority (as hurstley judged), to wit, the union doctor of last scene, an enterprising practitioner, glib in theory, and bold in practice--and it had been mutually agreed between them that "stomach" was the cause of these unhandsome symptoms; acridity of the gastric juice, consequent indigestion and spasm, and generally a hypochondriacal habit of body. mr. jennings must take certain draughts thrice a day, be very careful of his diet, and keep his mind at ease. as to simon himself, he was, poor man, much to be pitied in this ideal visitation; for, though his looks confessed that he saw, or fancied he saw, a something, he declared himself wholly at a loss to explain what that something was: moreover, contrary to former habits of an ostentatious boldness, he seemed meekly to shrink from observation: and, as he piously acquiesced in the annoyance, would observe that his unpleasant jerking was "a little matter after all, and that, no doubt, the will of providence." independently of these new grimaces, simon's appearance was little in his favour: not that his small dimensions signified--cæsar, and buonaparte, and wellington, and nelson, all were little men--not that his dress was other than respectable--black coat and waistcoat, white stiff cravat, gray trowsers somewhat shrunk in longitude, good serviceable shoe-leather (of the shape, if not also of the size, of river barges), and plenty of unbleached cotton stocking about the gnarled region of his ankles. all this was well enough; nature was beholden to that charity of art which hides a multitude of failings; but the face, where native man looks forth in all his unadornment, that it was which so seldom pre-possessed the many who had never heard of jenning's strict character and stern integrity. the face was a sallow face, peaked towards the nose, with head and chin receding; lit withal by small protrusive eyes, so constructed, that the whites all round were generally visible, giving them a strange and staring look; elevated eye-brows; not an inch of whisker, but all shaved sore right up to the large and prominent ear; and lank black, hair, not much of it, scantily thatching all smooth. then his arms, oscillating as he walked (as if the pendulum by which that rigid man was made to go his regular routine), were much too long for symmetry: and altogether, to casual view, mr. jennings must acknowledge to a supercilious, yet sneaking air--which charity has ere now been kind enough to think a conscious rectitude towards man, and a soft-going humility with god. when the bailiff takes his round about the property, as we see him now, he is mounted--to say he rides would convey far too equestrian a notion--he is mounted on a rough-coated, quiet, old, white shooting-pony; the saddle strangely girded on with many bands about the belly, the stirrups astonishingly short, and straps never called upon to diminish that long whity-brown interval between shoe and trowser: mr. jennings sits his steed with nose aloft, and a high perch in the general, somewhat loosely, and, had the pony been a bucephalus rather than a rozinante, not a little perilously. simon is jogging hitherwards toward roger acton, as he digs the land-drain across this marshy meadow: let us see how it fares now with our poor hero. occupation--yes, duteous occupation--has exerted its wholsesome influences, and, thank god! roger is himself again. he has been very sorry half the day, both for the wicked feelings of the morning, and that still more wicked theft--a bad business altogether, he cannot bear to think of it; the gold was none of his, whosesoever it might be--he ought not to have touched it--vexed he did, but cannot help it now; it is well he lost it too, for ill-got money never came to any good: though, to be sure, if he could only get it honestly, money would make a man of him. i am not sure of that, roger, it may be so sometimes; but, in my judgment, money has unmade more men than made them. "how now, acton, is not this drain dug yet! you have been about it much too long, sir; i shall fine you for this." "please you, muster jennings, i've stuck to it pretty tightly too, barring that i make to-day three-quarters, being late: but it's heavy clay, you see, mr. simon--wet above and iron-hard below: it shall all be ready by to-morrow, mr. simon." whether the "mr. simon" had its softening influence, or any other considerations lent their soothing aid, we shall see presently; for the bailiff added, in a tone unusually indulgent, "well, roger, see it is done, and well done; and now i have just another word to say to you: his honour is coming round this way, and if he asks you any questions, remember to be sure and tell him this--you have got a comfortable cottage, very comfortable, just repaired, you want for nothing, and are earning twelve shillings a week." "god help me, muster jennings: why my wages are but eight, and my hovel scarcely better than a pig-pound." "look you, acton; tell sir john what you have told me, and you are a ruined man. make it twelve to his honour, as others shall do: who knows," he added, half-coaxing, half-soliloquizing, "perhaps his honour may really make it twelve, instead of eight." "oh, muster jennings! and who gets the odd four?" "what, man! do you dare to ask me that? remember, sir, at your peril, that you, and all the rest, _have had_ twelve shillings a-week wages whenever you have worked on this estate--not a word!--and that, if you dare speak or even think to the contrary, you never earn a penny here again. but here comes john vincent, my master, as i, simon jennings, am yours: be careful what you say to him." sir john devereux vincent, after a long minority, had at length shaken off his guardians, and become master of his own doings, and of hurstley hall. the property was in pretty decent order, and funds had accumulated vastly: all this notwithstanding a thousand peculations, and the suspicious incident that one of the guardians was a "highly respectable" solicitor. sir john, like most new brooms, had with the best intentions resolved upon sweeping measures of great good; especially also upon doing a great deal with his own eyes and ears; but, like as aforesaid, he was permitted neither to hear nor see any truths at all. just now, the usual night's work took him a little off the hooks, and we must make allowances; really, too, he was by far the soberest of all those choice spirits, and drank and played as little as he could; and even, under existing disadvantages, he managed by four o'clock post meridiem to inspect a certain portion of the estate duly every day, under the prudential guidance of his bailiff jennings. there, that good-looking, tall young fellow on the blood mare just cantering up to us is sir john; the other two are a couple of the gallant youths now feasting at the hall: ay, two of the fiercest foes in last night's broil. those heated little matters are easily got over. "hollo, jennings! what the devil made you give that start? you couldn't look more horrified if ghosts were at your elbow: why, your face is the picture of death; look another way, man, do, or my mare will bolt." "i beg your pardon, sir john, but the spasm took me: it is my infirmity; forgive it. this meadow, you perceive, sir john, requires drainage, and afterwards i propose to dress it with free chalk to sweeten the grass. next field, you will take notice, the guano--" "well, well--jennings--and that poor fellow there up to his knees in mud, is he pretty tolerably off now?" "oh, your honour," said the bailiff, with a knowing look, "i only wish that half the little farmers hereabouts were as well to do as he is: a pretty cottage, sir john, half an acre of garden, and twelve shillings a week, is pretty middling for a single man." "aha--is it?--well; but the poor devil looks wretched enough too--i will just ask him if he wants any thing now." "don't, sir john, pray don't; pray permit me to advise your honour: these men are always wanting. 'acton's cottage' is a proverb; and roger there can want for nothing honestly; nevertheless, as i know your honour's good heart, and wish to make all happy, if you will suffer me to see to it myself--" "certainly, jennings, do, do by all means, and thank you: here, just to make a beginning, as we're all so jolly at the hall, and that poor fellow's up to his neck in mud, give him this from me to drink my health with." acton, who had dutifully held aloof, and kept on digging steadily, was still quite near enough to hear all this; at the magical word "give," he looked up hurriedly, and saw sir john vincent toss a piece of gold--yes, on his dying oath, a bright new sovereign--to simon jennings. o blessed vision, and gold was to be his at last! "come along, mynton; hunt, now mind you try and lame that big beast of a raw-boned charger among these gutters, will you? i'm off, jennings; meet me, do you hear, at the croft to-mor--" so the three friends galloped away; and john vincent really felt more light-hearted and happy than at any time the week past, for having so properly got rid of a welcome bit of gold. "roger acton! come up here, sir, out of that ditch: his honour has been liberal enough to give you a shilling to drink his health with." "a shilling, muster jennings?" said the poor astonished man; "why i'll make oath it was a pound; i saw it myself. come, muster jennings, don't break jokes upon a poor man's back." "jokes, acton? sticks, sir, if you say another word: take john vincent's shilling." "oh, sir!" cried roger, quite unmanned at this most cruel disappointment; "be merciful--be generous--give me my gold, my own bit of gold! i'll swear his honour gave it for me: blessings on his head! you know he did, mr. simon; don't play upon me!" "play upon you?--generous--your gold--what is it you mean, man? we'll have no madmen about us, i can tell you; take the shilling, or else--" "'rob not the poor, because he is poor, for the lord shall plead his cause,'" was the solemn answer. "roger acton!"--the bailiff gave a scared start, as usual, and, recovering himself, looked both white and stern: "you have dared to quote the bible against me: deeply shall you rue it. begone, man! your work on this estate is at an end." chapter vii. wrongs and ruin. a very miserable man was roger acton now, for this last trial was the worst of all. the vapours of his discontent had almost passed away--that bright pernicious dream was being rapidly forgotten--the morning's ill-got coin, "thank the lord, it was lost as soon as found," and penitence had washed away that blot upon his soul; but here, an honest pound, liberally bestowed by his hereditary landlord--his own bright bit of gold--the only bit but one he ever had (and how different in innocence from that one!)--a seeming sugar-drop of kindness, shed by the rich heavens on his cup of poverty--to have this meanly filched away by a grasping, grinding task-master--oh, was it not a bitter trial? what affliction as to this world's wealth can a man meet worse than this? acton's first impulse was to run to the hall, and ask to see sir john:--"out; won't be back till seven, and then can see nobody; the baronet will be dressing for dinner, and musn't be disturbed." then he made a vain effort to speak with mr. jennings, and plead with him: yes, even on his knees, if must be. mr. simon could not be so bad; perhaps it was a long joke after all--the bailiff always had a queer way with him. or, if indeed the man meant robbery, loudly to threaten him, that all might hear, to bring the house about his ears, and force justice, if he could not fawn it. but both these conflicting expedients were vetoed. jonathan floyd, who took in acton's meek message of "humbly craved leave to speak with master jennings," came back with the inexplicable mandate, "warn roger acton from the premises." so, he must needs bide till to-morrow morning, when, come what might, he resolved to see his honour, and set some truths before him. acton was not the only man on the estate who knew that he had a landlord, generous, not to say prodigal--a warm-hearted, well-intentioned master, whose mere youth a career of sensuality had not yet hardened, nor a course of dissipation been prolonged enough to distort his feelings from the right. and acton, moreover, was not the only man who wondered how, with such a landlord (ay, and the guardians before him were always well-spoken gentle-folks, kindly in their manners, and liberal in their looks), wages could be kept so low, and rents so high, and indulgences so few, and penalties so many. there were fines for every thing, and no allowances of hedgebote, or housebote, or any other time-honoured right; the very peat on the common must be paid for, and if a child picked a bit of fagot the father was mulcted in a shilling. mr. jennings did all this, and always pleaded his employers' orders; nay, if any grumbled, as men would now and then, he would affect to think it strange that the gentlemen guardians, with the landlord at their head, could be so hard upon the poor: he would not be so, credit him, if he had been born a gentleman; but the bailiff, men, must obey orders, like the rest of you; these are hard times for hurstley, he would say, and we must all rub over them as best we can. according to simon, it was as much as his own place was worth to remit one single penny of a fine, or make the least indulgence for calamity; while, as to lowering a cotter's rent, or raising a ditcher's wages, he dared not do it for his life; folks must not blame him, but look to the landlord. now, all this, in the long absence of any definite resident master at the hall, sounded reasonable, if true; and mr. jennings punctually paid, however bad the terms; so the poor men bode their time, and looked for better days. and the days long-looked-for now were come; but were they any better? the baronet, indeed, seemed bent upon inquiry, reform, redress; but, as he never went without the right-hand man, his endeavours were always unsuccessful. at first it would appear that the bailiff had gone upon his old plan, shrugging up his shoulders to the men at the master's meanness, while he praised to the landlord the condition of his tenants; but this could not long deceive, so he turned instanter on another tack; he assumed the despot, issuing authoritative edicts, which no one dared to disobey; he made the labourer hide his needs, and intercepted at its source the lord's benevolence; he began to be found out, so the bolder spirits said, in filching with both hands from man and master; and, to the mind of more than one shrewd observer, was playing the unjust steward to admiration. but stop: let us hear the other side; it is possible we may have been mistaken. bailiffs are never popular, particularly if they are too honest, and this one is a stern man with a repulsive manner. who knows whether his advice to acton may not have been wise and kind, and would not have conduced to a general rise of wages? who can prove, nay, venture to insinuate, any such systematic roguery against a man hitherto so strict, so punctual, so sanctimonious? even in the case of sir john's golden gift, jennings may be right after all; it is quite possible that roger was mistaken, and had gilt a piece of silver with his longings; and the upright man might well take umbrage at so vile an imputation as that hot and silly speech; it was foolish, very foolish, to have quoted text against him, and no wonder that the labourer got dismissed for it. then again to return to wages--who knows? it might be, all things considered, the only way of managing a rise; the bailiff must know his master's mind best, and acton had been wise to have done as he bade him; perhaps it really was well-meant, and might have got him twelve shillings a-week, instead of eight as hitherto; perhaps simon was a shrewd man, and arranged it cleverly; perhaps roger was an honest man, and couldn't but think others so. any how, though, all was lost now, and he blamed his own rash tongue, poor fellow, for what he could not help fearing was the ruin of himself and all he loved. with a melancholy heart, he shouldered his spade, and slowly plodded homewards. how long should he have a home? how was he to get bread, to get work, if the bailiff was his enemy? how could he face his wife, and tell her all the foolish past and dreadful future? how could he bear to look on grace, too beautiful grace, and torture his heart by fancying her fate? thomas, too, his own brave boy, whom utter poverty might drive to desperation? and the poor babes, his little playful pets, what on earth would become of them? there was the union workhouse to be sure, but acton shuddered at the thought; to be separated from every thing he loved, to give up his little all, and be made both a prisoner and a slave, all for the sake of what?--daily water-gruel, and a pauper's branded livery. or they might perchance go beyond the seas, if some prince edward's company would help him and his to emigrate; ay, thought he, and run new risks, encounter fresh dangers, lose every thing, get nothing, and all the trouble taken merely to starve three thousand miles from home. no, no; at his time of life, he could not be leaving for ever old friends, old habits, old fields, old home, old neighbourhood--where he had seen the saplings grow up trees, and the quick toppings change into a ten-foot hedge; where the very cattle knew his step, and the clods broke kindly to his ploughshare; and more than all, the dear old church, where his forefathers had worshipped from the conquest, and the old mounds where they slept, and--and--and--that one precious grave of his dear lost annie--could he leave it? oh god, no! he had done no ill, he had committed no crime--why should he prefer the convict's doom, and seek to be transported for life? a miserable walk home was that, and full of wretched thoughts. poor roger acton, tossed by much trouble, vexed with sore oppression, i wish that you had prayed in your distress; stop, he did pray, and that vehemently; but it was not for help, or guidance, or patience, or consolation--he only prayed for gold. chapter viii. the covetous dream. once at home, the sad truth soon was told. roger's look alone spoke of some calamity, and he had but little heart or hope to keep the matter secret. true, he said not a word about the early morning's sin; why should he? he had been punished for it, and he had repented; let him be humbled before god, but not confess to man. however, all about the bailiff, and the landlord, and the thieved gift, and the sudden dismissal, the sure ruin, the dismal wayside plans, and fears, and dark alternatives, without one hope in any--these did poor acton fluently pour forth with broken-hearted eloquence; to these grace listened sorrowfully, with a face full of gentle trust in god's blessing on the morrow's interview; these mary, the wife, heard to an end, with--no storm of execration on ill-fortune, no ebullition of unjust rage against a fool of a husband, no vexing sneers, no selfish apprehensions. far from it; there really was one unlooked-for blessing come already to console poor roger; and no little compensation for his trouble was the way his wife received the news. he, unlucky man, had expected something little short of a virago's talons, and a beldame's curse; he had experienced on less occasions something of the sort before; but now that real affliction stood upon the hearth, mary acton's character rose with the emergency, and she greeted her ruined husband with a kindness towards him, a solemn indignation against those who grind the poor, and a sober courage to confront evil, which he little had imagined. "bear up, roger; here, goodman, take the child, and don't look quite so downcast; come what may, i'll share your cares, and you shall halve my pleasures; we will fight it out together." moreover, cross, and fidgetty, and scolding, as mary had been ever heretofore, to her meek step-daughter grace, all at once, as if just to disappoint any preconcerted theory, now that actual calamity was come, she turned to be a kind good mother to her. roger and his daughter could scarcely believe their ears. "grace, dear, i know you're a sensible good girl, try and cheer your father." and then the step-dame added, "there now, just run up, fetch your prayer-book down, and read a little to us all to do us good."--the fair, affectionate girl, unused to the accents of kindness, could not forbear flinging her arms round mary acton's neck, and loving her, as ruth loved naomi. then with a heavenly smile upon her face, and a happy heart within her to keep the smile alight, her gentle voice read these words--it will do us good to read them too: "out of the deep have i called unto thee, o lord: lord, hear my voice. o let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint. if thou, lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss, o lord, who may abide it? because there is mercy with thee; therefore shall thou be feared. i look for the lord, my soul doth wait for him: in his word is my trust. my soul fleeth unto the lord, before the morning watch, before the morning watch. o israel, trust in the lord: for with the lord there is mercy: and with him is plenteous redemption. and he shall redeem israel from all his sins." "isn't the last word 'troubles,' child? look again; i think it's 'troubles' either there, or leastways in the bible-psalm." "no, father, sins, 'from all his sins;' and 'iniquities' in the bible-version--look, father." "well, girl, well; i wish it had been 'troubles;' 'from all his troubles' is a better thought to my mind: god wot, i have plenty on 'em, and a little lot of gold would save us from them all." "gold, father? no, my father--god." "i tell you, child," said roger, ever vacillating in his strong temptation between habitual religion and the new-caught lust of money, "if only on a sudden i could get gold by hook or by crook, all my cares and all your troubles would be over on the instant." "oh, dear father, do not hope so; and do not think of troubles more than sins; there is no deliverance in mammon; riches profit not in the day of evil, and ill-got wealth tends to worse than poverty." "well, any how, i only wish that dream of mine came true." "dream, goodman--what dream?" said his wife. "why, poll, i dreamt i was a-working in my garden, hard by the celery trenches in the sedge; and i was moaning at my lot, as well i may: and a sort of angel came to me, only he looked dark and sorrowful, and kindly said, 'what would you have, roger?' i, nothing fearful in my dream, for all the strangeness of his winged presence, answered boldly, 'money;' he pointed with his finger, laughed aloud, and vanished away: and, as for me, i thought a minute wonderingly, turned to look where he had pointed, and, o the blessing! found a crock of gold!" "hush, father! that dark angel was the devil; he has dropt ill thoughts upon your heart: i would i could see you as you used to be, dear father, till within these two days." "whoever he were, if he brought me gold, he would bring me blessing. there's meat and drink, and warmth and shelter, in the yellow gold--ay, and rest from labour, child, and a power of rare good gifts." "if god had made them good, and the gold were honest gains, still, father, even so, you forget righteousness, and happiness, and wisdom. money gives us none of these, but it might take them all away: dear father, let your loving grace ask you, have you been better, happier, wiser, even from the wishing it so much?" "daughter, daughter, i tell you plainly, he that gives me gold, gives me all things: i wish i found the crock the de--the angel, i mean, brought me." "o father," murmured grace, "do not breathe the wicked wish; even if you found it without any evil angel's help, would the gold be rightfully your own?" "tush, girl!" said her mother; "get the gold, feed the children, and then to think about the right." "ay, grace, first drive away the toils and troubles of this life," added roger, "and then one may try with a free mind to discover the comforts of religion." poor grace only looked up mournfully, and answered nothing. chapter ix. the poacher. a sudden knock at the door here startled the whole party, and mary acton, bustling up, drew the bolt to let in--first, a lurcher, one rover to wit, our gaunt ember-loving friend of chapter ii.; secondly, thomas acton, full flush, who carried the old musket on his shoulder, and seemed to have something else under his smock; and thirdly, ben burke, a personage of no small consequence to us, and who therefore deserves some specific introduction. big ben, otherwise black burke, according to the friendship or the enmity of those who named him, was a huge, rough, loud, good-humoured, dare-devil sort of an individual, who lived upon what he considered common rights. his dress was of the mongrel character, a well-imagined cross between a ploughman's and a sailor's; the bottle-green frock of the former, pattern-stitched about the neck as ingeniously as if a tribe of wisconsin squaws had tailored it--and mighty fishing boots, vast as any french postillion's, acting as a triton's tail to symbolize the latter: a red cotton handkerchief (dirty-red of course, as all things else were dirty, for cleanliness had little part in ben), occupied just now the more native region of a halter; and a rusty fur cap crowned the poacher; i repeat it--crowned the poacher; for in his own estimation, and that of many others too, ben was, if not quite an emperor, at least an agamemnon, a king of men, a natural human monarch; in truth, he felt as much pride in the title burke the poacher (and with as great justice too, for aught i know), as ali-hamet-ghee-the-thug eastwards, or william-of-normandy-the-conqueror westwards, may be thought respectively to have cherished, on the score of their murderous and thievish surnames. there was no small good, after all, in poor ben; and a mountain of allowance must be flung into the scales to counterbalance his deficiencies. however coarse, and even profane, in his talk (i hope the gentle reader will excuse me alike for eliding a few elegant extracts from his common conversation, and also for reminding him characteristically, now and then, that ben's language is not entirely addisonian), however rough of tongue and dissonant in voice, ben's heart will be found much about in the right place; nay, i verily believe it has more of natural justice, human kindness, and right sympathies in it, than are to be found in many of those hard and hollow cones that beat beneath the twenty-guinea waistcoats of a burghardt or a buckmaster. ay, give me the fluttering inhabitant of ben burke's cowskin vest; it is worth a thousand of those stuffed and artificial denizens, whose usual nest is figured satin and cut velvet. ben stole--true--he did not deny it; but he stole naught but what he fancied was wrongfully withheld him: and, if he took from the rich, who scarcely knew he robbed them, he shared his savoury booty with the poor, and fed them by his daring. like robin hood of old, he avenged himself on wanton wealth, and frequently redressed by it the wrongs of penury. not that i intend to break a lance for either of them, nor to go any lengths in excusing; slight extenuation is the limit for prudent advocacy in these cases. robin hood and benjamin burke were both of them thieves; bold men--bad men, if any will insist upon the bad; they sinned against law, and order, and providence; they dug rudely at the roots of social institutions; they spoke and acted in a dangerous fashion about rights of men and community of things. but set aside the statutes of foresting and venery, disfranchise pheasants, let it be a cogent thing that poverty and riches approach the golden mean somewhat less unequally, and we shall not find much of criminality, either in ben or robin. for a general idea, then, of our poaching friend:--he is a gigantic, black-whiskered, humorous, ruddy mortal, full of strange oaths, which we really must not print, and bearded like the pard, and he tumbles in amongst our humble family party, with-- "bless your honest heart, roger! what makes you look so sodden? i'm a lord, if your eyes a'n't as red as a hedge-hog's; and all the rest o' you, too; why, you seem to be pretty well merry as mutes. ha! i see what it is," added ben, pouring forth a benediction on their frugal supper; "it's that precious belly-ache porridge that's a-giving you all the 'flensy. tip it down the sink, dame, will you now? and trust to me for better. your tom here, roger, 's a lad o' mettle, that he is; ay, and that old iron o' yours as true as a compass; and the pheasants would come to it, all the same as if they'd been loadstoned. here, dame, pluck the fowl, will you: drop 'em, tom."--and thomas acton flung upon the table a couple of fine cock-pheasants. roger, mary, and grace, who were well accustomed to ben burke's eloquent tirades, heard the end of this one with anxiety and silence; for tom had never done the like before. grace was first to expostulate, but was at once cut short by an oath from her brother, whose evident state of high excitement could not brook the semblance of reproof. mary acton's marketing glance was abstractedly fixed upon the actual _corpus delicti_; each fine plump bird, full-plumaged, young-spurred; yes, they were still warm, and would eat tender, so she mechanically began to pluck them; while, as for poor downcast roger, he remembered, with a conscience-sting that almost made him start, his stolen bit of money in the morning--so, how could he condemn? he only looked pityingly on thomas, and sighed from the bottom of his heart. "why, what's the matter now?" roared ben; "one 'ud think we was bailiffs come to raise the rent, 'stead of son tom and friendly ben; hang it, mun, we aint here to cheat you out o' summut--no, not out o' peace o' mind neither; so, if you don't like luck, burn the fowls, or bury 'em, and let brave tom risk limbo for nothing." "oh, ben!" murmured grace, "why will you lead him astray? oh, brother! brother! what have you done?" she said, sorrowfully. "miss grace,"--her beauty always awed the poacher, and his rugged caliban spirit bowed in reverence before her ariel soul--"i wish i was as good as you, but can't be: don't condemn us, grace; leastways, first hear me, and then say where's the harm or sin on it. twelve hundred head o' game--i heard john gorse, the keeper, tell it at the jerry--twelve hundred head were shot at t'other day's battew: sir john--no blame to him for it--killed a couple o' hundred to his own gun: and though they sent away a coachful, and gave to all who asked, and feasted themselves chuckfull, and fed the cats, and all, still a mound, like a haycock, o' them fine fat fowl, rotted in a mass, and were flung upon the dungpit. now, miss grace, that ere salt pea-porridge a'n't nice, a'n't wholesome; and, bless your pretty mouth, it ought to feed more sweetly. look at acton, isn't he half-starved. is tom, brave boy, full o' the fat o' the land? who made fowl, i should like to know, and us to eat 'em? and where's the harm or sin in bringing down a bird? no, miss, them ere beaks, dammem (beg humble pardon, miss, indeed i won't again) them ere justices, as they call themselves, makes hard laws to hedge about their own pleasures; and if the poor man starves, he starves; but if he stays his hunger with the free, wild birds of heaven, they prison him and punish him, and call him poacher." "ben, those who make the laws, do so under god's permission; and they who break man's law, break his law." "nonsense, child,"--suddenly said roger; "hold your silly tongue. do you mean to tell us, god's law and man's law are the same thing! no, grace, i can't stomach that; god makes right, and man makes might--riches go one way, and poor men's wrong's another. money, money's the great law-maker, and a full purse frees him that has it, while it turns the jailor's key on the wretch that has it not: one of those wretches is the hopeless roger acton. well, well," he added, after a despondent sigh, "say no more about it all; that's right, good-wife--why, they do look plump. and if i can't stomach grace's text-talk there, i'm sure i can the birds; for i know what keeps crying cupboard lustily." it was a faint effort to be gay, and it only showed his gloom the denser. truly, he has quite enough to make him sad; but this is an unhealthy sadness: the mists of mammon-worship, rising up, meet in the mid æther of his mind, these lowering clouds of discontent: and the seeming calamity, that should be but a trial to his faith, looks too likely to wreck it. so, then, the embers were raked up, the trivet stuck a-top, the savoury broil made ready; and (all but grace, who would not taste a morsel, but went up straight to bed) never had the actons yet sate down before so rich a supper. chapter x. ben burke's strange adventure. "take a pull, roger, and pass the flask," was the cordial prescription of ben burke, intended to cure a dead silence, generated equally of eager appetites and self-accusing consciences; so saying, he produced a quart wicker-bottle, which enshrined, according to his testimony, "summut short, the right stuff, stinging strong, that had never seen the face of a wishy-washy 'ciseman." but roger touched it sparingly, for the vaunted nectar positively burnt his swallow: till ben, pulling at it heartily himself, by way of giving moral precept the full benefit of a good example, taught roger not to be afraid of it, and so the flask was drained. under such communicative influence, acton's tale of sorrows and oppressions, we may readily believe, was soon made known; and as readily, that it moved ben's indignant and gigantic sympathies to an extent of imprecation on the eyes, timbers, and psychological existence of mr. jennings, very little edifying. one thing, however, made amends for the license of his tongue; the evident sincerity and warmth with which his coarse but kindly nature proffered instant aid, both offensive and defensive. "it's a black and burning shame, honest roger, and right shall have his own, somehow, while big ben has a heart in the old place, and a hand to help his friend." and the poacher having dealt his own broad breast a blow that would have knocked a tailor down, stretched out to acton the huge hand that had inflicted it. "more than that, roger--hark to this, man!" and, as he slapped his breeches pocket, there was the chink as of a mine of money shaken to its foundations: "hark to this, man! and more than hark, have! here, good wife, hold your apron!" and he flung into her lap a handful of silver. roger gave a sudden shout of wonder, joy, and avarice: and then as instantaneously turning very pale, he slowly muttered, "hush, ben! is it bloody money?" and almost shrieked as he added, "and my poor boy tom, too, with you! god-a-mercy, mun! how came ye by it?" "honestly, neighbour, leastways, middling honest: don't damp a good fellow's heart, when he means to serve you." "tell me only that my boy is innocent!--and the money--yes, yes, i'll keep the money;" for his wife seemed to be pushing it from her at the thought. "i innocent, father! i never know'd till this minute that ben had any blunt at all--did i, ben?--and i only brought him and rover here to sup, because i thought it neighbourly and kind-like." poor tom had till now been very silent: some how the pheasants lay heavy on his stomach. "is it true, ben, is it true? the lad isn't a thief, the lad isn't a murderer? oh, god! burke, tell me the truth! "blockhead!" was the courteous reply, "what, not believe your own son? why, neighbour acton, look at the boy: would that frank-faced, open-hearted fellow do worse, think you, than black burke? and would i, bad as i be, turn the bloody villain to take a man's life? no, neighbour; ben kills game, not keepers: he sets his wire for a hare, but wouldn't go to pick a dead man's pocket. all that's wrong in me, mun, the game-laws put there; but i'm neither burglar, murderer, highwayman--no, nor a mean, sneaking thief; however the quality may think so, and even wish to drive me to it. neither, being as i be no rogue, could i bear to live a fool; but i should be one, neighbour, and dub myself one too, if i didn't stoop to pick up money that a madman flings away." "madman? pick up money? tell us how it was, ben," interposed female curiosity. "well, neighbours, listen: i was a-setting my night-lines round pike island yonder, more nor a fortnight back; it was a dark night and a mizzling, or morning rather, 'twixt three and four; by the same token, i'd caught a power of eels. all at once, while i was fixing a trimmer, a punt came quietly up: as for me, roger, you know i always wades it through the muddy shallow: well, i listens, and a chap creeps ashore--a mad chap, with never a tile to his head, nor a sole to his feet--and when i sings out to ax him his business, the lunatic sprung at me like a tiger: i didn't wish to hurt a little weak wretch like him, specially being past all sense, poor nat'ral! so i shook him off at once, and held him straight out in this here wice." [ben's grasp could have cracked any cocoa-nut.] "he trembled like a wicked thing; and when i peered close into his face, blow me but i thought i'd hooked a white devil--no one ever see such a face: it was horrible too look at. 'what are you arter, mun?' says i; 'burying a dead babby?' says i. 'give us hold here--i'm bless'd if i don't see though what you've got buckled up there.' with that, the little white fool--it's sartin he was mad--all on a sudden flings at my head a precious hard bundle, gives a horrid howl, jumps into the punt, and off again, afore i could wink twice. my head a'n't a soft un, i suppose; but when a lunatic chap hurls at it with all his might a barrow-load of crockery at once, it's little wonder that my right eye flinched a minute, and that my right hand rubbed my right eye; and so he freed himself, and got clear off. rum start this, thinks i: but any how he's flung away a summut, and means to give it me: what can it be? thinks i. well, neighbours, if i didn't know the chap was mad afore, i was sartain of it now; what do you think of a grown man--little enough, truly, but out of long coats too--sneaking by night to pike island, to count out a little lot of silver, and to guzzle twelve gallipots o' honey? there it was, all hashed up in an old shawl, a slimy mesh like birdlime: no wonder my eye was a leetle blackish, when half-a-dozen earthern crocks were broken against it. i was angered enough, i tell you, to think any man could be such a fool as to bring honey there to eat or to hide--when at once i spied summut red among the mess; and what should it be but a pretty little china house, red-brick-like, with a split in the roof for droppings, and ticketed 'savings-bank:' the chink o' that bank you hears now: and the bank itself is in the pond, now i've cleaned the till out." "wonderful sure! but what did you do with the honey, ben?--some of the pots wasn't broke," urged notable mrs. acton. "oh, burn the slimy stuff, i warn't going to put my mouth out o' taste o' bacca, for a whole jawful of tooth-aches: i'll tell you, dame, what i did with them ere crocks, wholes, and parts. there's never a stone on pike island, it's too swampy, and i'd forgot to bring my pocketful, as usual. the heaviest fish, look you, always lie among the sedge, hereabouts and thereabouts, and needs stirring, as your tom knows well; so i chucked the gallipots fur from me, right and left, into the shallows, and thereby druv the pike upon my hooks. a good night's work i made of it too, say nothing of the savings-bank; forty pound o' pike and twelve of eel warn't bad pickings." "dear, it was a pity though to fling away the honey; but what became of the shawl, ben?" perhaps mrs. acton thought of looking for it. "oh, as for that, i was minded to have sunk it, with its mess of sweet-meats and potsherds; but a thought took me, dame, to be 'conomical for once: and i was half sorry too that i'd flung away the jars, for i began to fancy your little uns might ha' liked the stuff; so i dipped the clout like any washerwoman, rinshed, and squeezed, and washed the mess away, and have worn it round my waist ever since; here, dame, i haven't been this way for a while afore to-night; but i meant to ask you if you'd like to have it; may be 'tan't the fashion though." "good gracious, ben! why that's mrs. quarles's shawl, i'd swear to it among a hundred; sarah stack, at the hall, once took and wore it, when mrs. quarles was ill a-bed, and she and our thomas walked to church together. yes--green, edged with red, and--i thought so--a yellow circle in the middle; here's b.q., for bridget quarles, in black cotton at the corner. lackapity! if they'd heard of all this at the inquest! i tell you what, big ben, it's kindly meant of you, and so thank you heartily, but that shawl would bring us into trouble; so please take it yourself to the hall, and tell 'em fairly how you came by it." "i don't know about that poll acton; perhaps they might ask me for the saving-bank, too--eh, roger!" "no, no, wife; no, it'll never do to lose the money! let a bygone be a bygone, and don't disturb the old woman in her grave. as to the shawl, if it's like to be a tell-tale, in my mind, this hearth's the safest place for it." so he flung it on the fire; there was a shrivelling, smouldering, guilty sort of blaze, and the shawl was burnt. roger acton, you are falling quickly as a shooting star; already is your conscience warped to connive, for lucre's sake, at some one's secret crimes. you had better, for the moral of the matter, have burnt your right hand, as scævola did, than that shawl. beware! your sin will bring its punishment. chapter xi. sleep. grace, in her humble truckle-bed, lay praying for her father; not about his trouble, though that was much, but for the spots of sin she could discern upon his soul. alas! an altered man was roger acton; almost since morning light, the leprosy had changed his very nature. the simple-minded christian, toiling in contentment for his daily bread, cheerful for the passing day, and trustful for the coming morrow, this fair state was well-nigh faded away; while a bitterness of feeling against (in one word) god--against unequal partialities in providence, against things as they exist; and this world's inexplicable government--was gnawing at his very heart-strings, and cankering their roots by unbelief. it is a speedy process--throw away faith with its trust for the past, love for the present, hope for the future--and you throw away all that makes sorrow bearable, or joy lovely; the best of us, if god withheld his help, would apostatize like peter, ere the cock crew thrice; and, at times, that help has wisely been withheld, to check presumptuous thoughts, and teach how true it is that the creature depends on the creator. just so we suffer a wilful little child, who is tottering about in leading-strings, to go alone for a minute, and have a gentle fall. and just so roger here, deserted for a time of those angelic ministrations whose efficiency is proved by godliness and meekness, by patience and content, is harassed in his spirit as by harpies, by selfishness and pride, and fretful doublings; by a grudging hate of labour, and a fiery lust of gold. temptation comes to teach a weak man that he was fitted for his station, and his station made for him; that fulfilment of his ignorant desires will only make his case the worse, and that providence alike is wise in what he gives and what denies. meanwhile, gentle grace, on her humble truckle-bed, is full of prayers and tears, uneasily listening to the indistinct and noisy talk, and hearing, now and then, some louder oath of ben's that made her shudder. yes, she heard, too, the smashing sound, when the poacher flung the money down, and she feared it was a mug or a plate--no slight domestic loss; and she heard her father's strange cry, when he gave that wondering shout of joyous avarice, and she did not know what to fear. was he ill? or crazed! or worse--fallen into bad excesses? how she prayed for him! poor ben, too, honest-hearted ben; she thought of him in charity, and pleaded for his good before the throne of mercy. who knows but heaven heard that saintly virgin prayer? there is love in heaven yet for poor ben burke. and if she prayed for ben, with what an agony of deep-felt intercession did she plead for thomas acton, that own only brother of hers, just a year the younger to endear him all the more, her playmate, care, and charge, her friend and boisterous protector. the many sorrowing hours she had spent for his sake, and the thousand generous actions he had done for hers! could she forget how the stripling fought for her that day, when rude joseph green would help her over the style? could she but remember how slily he had put aside, for more than half a year, a little heap of copper earnings--weeding-money, and errand-money, and harvest-money--and then bounteously spent it all at once in giving her a bible on her birth-day? and when, coming across the fields with him after leasing, years ago now, that fierce black bull of squire ryle's was rushing down upon us both, how bravely did the noble boy attack him with a stake, as he came up bellowing, and make the dreadful monster turn away! ah! i looked death in the face then, but for thee, my brother! remember him, my god, for good! "poor father! poor father! well, i am resolved upon one thing: i'll go, with heaven's blessing, to the hall myself, and see sir john, to-morrow; he shall hear the truth, for"--and so grace fell asleep. roger, when he went to bed, came to similar conclusions. he would speak up boldly, that he would, without fear or favour. ben's most seasonable bounty, however to be questioned on the point of right, made him feel entirely independent, both of bailiffs and squires, and he had now no anxieties, but rather hopes, about to-morrow. he was as good as they, with money in his pocket; so he'd down to the hall, and face the baronet himself, and blow his bailiff out o' water: that should be his business by noon. another odd idea, too, possessed him, and he could not sleep at night for thinking of it: it was a foolish fancy, but the dream might have put it in his head: what if one or other of those honey-jars, so flung here and there among the rushes, were in fact another sort of "savings-bank"--a crock of gold? it was a thrilling thought--his very dream, too; and the lot of shillings, and the shawl--ay, and the inquest, and the rumours how that mrs. quarles had come to her end unfairly, and no hoards found--and--and the honey-pots missing. ha! at any rate he'd have a search to-morrow. no bugbear now should hinder him; money's money; he'd ask no questions how it got there. his own bit of garden lay the nearest to pike island, and who knows but ben might have slung a crock this way? it wouldn't do to ask him, though--for burke might look himself, and get the crock--was roger's last and selfish thought, before he fell asleep. as to mrs. acton, she, poor woman, had her own thoughts, fearful ones, about that shawl, and ben's mysterious adventure. no cloudy love of mammon had overspread her mind, to hide from it the hideousness of murder; in her eyes, blood was terrible, and not the less so that it covered gold. she remembered at the inquest--be sure she was there among the gossips--the facts, so little taken notice of till now, the keys in the cupboard, where the honey-pots were not, and how jonathan floyd had seen something on the lake, and the marks of a man's hand on the throat; and, god forgive her for saying so, but mr. jennings was a little, white-faced man. how wrong was it of roger to have burnt that shawl! how dull of ben not to have suspected something! but then the good fellow suspects nobody, and, i dare say, now doesn't know my thoughts. but roger does, more shame for him; or why burn the shawl? ah! thought she, with all the gossip rampart in her breast, if i could only have taken it to the hall myself, what a stir i should have caused! yes, she would have reaped a mighty field of glory by originating such a whirlwind of inquiries and surmises. even now, so attractive was the mare's nest, she would go to the hall by morning, and tell sir john himself all about the burnt shawl, and pike island, and the galli--and so she fell fast asleep. with respect to ben, tom, and rover, a well-matched triad, as any isis, horus, and nepthys, they all flung themselves promiscuously on the hard floor beside the hearth, "basked at the fire their hairy strength," and soon were snoring away beautifully in concert, base, tenor, and treble, like a leash of glee-singers. no thoughts troubled them, either of mammon or murder: so long before the meditative trio up-stairs, they had set a good example, and fallen asleep. chapter xii. love. with the earliest peep of day arose sweet grace, full of cheerful hope, and prayer, and happy resignation. she had a great deal to do that morning; for, innocent girl, she had no notion that it was quite possible to be too early at the hall; her only fear was being too late. then there were all the household cares to see to, and the dear babes to dress, and the place to tidy up, and breakfast to get ready, and, any how, she could not be abroad till half-past eight: so, to her dismay, it must be past nine before ever she can see sir john. let us follow her a little: for on this important day we shall have to take the adventures of our labourer's family one at a time. by twenty minutes to nine, grace had contrived to bustle on her things, give the rest the slip, and be tripping to the hall. it is nearly two miles off, as we already know; and grace is such a pretty creature that we can clearly do no better than employ our time thitherward by taking a peep at her. sweet grace acton, we will not vex thy blushing maiden modesty by elaborate details of form, and face, and feature. perfect womanhood at fair eighteen: let that fill all the picture up with soft and swelling charms; no wadding, or padding, or jigot, or jupe--but all those graceful undulations are herself: no pearl-powder, no carmine, no borrowed locks, no musk, or ambergris--but all those feeble helps of meretricious art excelled and superseded by their just originals in nature. it will not do to talk, as a romancer may, of velvet cheeks and silken tresses; or invoke, to the aid of our inadequate description, roses, and swans, and peaches, and lilies. take the simple village beauty as she is. did you ever look on prettier lips or sweeter eyes--more glossy natural curls upon a whiter neck? and how that little red-riding-hood cloak, and the simple cottage hat tied down upon her cheeks, and the homely russet gown, all too short for modern fashions, and the white, well-turned ankle, and the tidy little leather shoe, and the bunch of snow drops in her tucker, and the neat mittens contrasting darkly with her fair, bare arms--pretty grace, how well all these become thee! there, trip along, with health upon thy cheek, and hope within thy heart; who can resist so eloquent a pleader? haste on, haste on: save thy father in his trouble, as thou hast blest him in his sin--this rustic lane is to thee the path of duty--heaven speed thee on it! more slowly now, and with more anxious thoughts, more heart-weakness, more misgiving--grace approacheth the stately mansion: and when she timidly touched the "servants'" bell, for she felt too lowly for the "visiters',"--and when she heard how terribly loud it was, how long it rung, and what might be the issue of her--wasn't it ill-considered?--errand--the poor girl almost fainted at the sound. as she leaned unconsciously for strength against the door, it opened on a sudden, and jonathan floyd, in mute amazement, caught her in his arms. "why, grace acton! what's the matter with you?" jonathan knew grace well; they had been at dame's-school together, and in after years attended the same sunday class at church. there had been some talk among the gossips about jonathan and grace, and ere now folks had been kind enough to say they would make a pretty couple. and folks were right, too, as well as kind: for a fine young fellow was jonathan floyd, as any duchess's footman; tall, well built, and twenty-five; antinous in a livery. well to do, withal, though his wages don't come straight to him; for, independently of his place--and the baronet likes him for his good looks and proper manners--he is farmer floyd's only son, on the hill yonder, as thriving a small tenant as any round abouts; and he is proud of his master, of his blue and silver uniform, of old hurstley, and of all things in general, except himself. "but what on earth's the matter, grace?" he was obliged to repeat, for the dear girl's agitation was extreme. "jonathan, can i see the baronet?" "what, at nine in the morning, grace acton! call again at two, and you may find him getting up. he hasn't been three hours a-bed yet, and there's nobody about but sarah stack and me. i wish those lunnun sparks would but leave the place: they do his honour no good, i'm thinking." "not till two!" was the slow and mournful ejaculation. what a damper to her buoyant hopes: and providence had seen fit to give her ill-success. is it so? prosperity may come in other shapes. "why, grace," suddenly said floyd, in a very nervous way, "what makes you call upon my master in this tidy trim?" "to save my father," answered innocence. "how? why? oh don't, grace, don't! i'll save him--i will indeed--what is it? oh, don't, don't!" for the poor affectionate fellow conjured on the spot the black vision of a father saved by a daughter's degradation. "don't, jonathan?--it's my duty, and god will bless me in it. that cruel mr. jennings has resolved upon our ruin, and i wished to tell sir john the truth of it." at this hearing, jonathan brightened up, and glibly said, "ah, indeed, jennings is a trouble to us all: a sad life i've led of it this year past; and i've paid him pretty handsomely too, to let me keep the place: while, as for john page and the grooms, and mr. coachman and the helpers, they don't touch much o' their wages on quarter-day, i know." "oh, but we--we are ruined! ruined! father is forbidden now to labour for our bread." and then with many tears she told her tale. "stop, miss grace," suddenly said jonathan, for her beauty and eloquence transformed the cottager into a lady in his eyes, and no wonder; "pray, stop a minute, miss--please to take a seat; i sha'n't be gone an instant." and the good-hearted fellow, whose eyes had long been very red, broke away at a gallop; but he was back again almost as soon as gone, panting like a post-horse. "oh, grace! don't be angry! do forgive me what i am going to do." "do, jonathan?" and the beauty involuntarily started--"i hope it's nothing wrong," she added, solemnly. "whether right or wrong, grace, take it kindly; you have often bade me read my bible, and i do so many times both for the sake of it and you; ay, and meet with many pretty sayings in it: forgive me if i act on one--'it is more blessed to give than to receive.'" with that, he thrust into her hand a brass-topped, red-leather purse, stuffed with money. generous fellow! all the little savings, that had heretofore escaped the prying eye and filching grasp of simon jennings. there was some little gold in it, more silver, and a lot of bulky copper. "dear jonathan!" exclaimed grace, quite thrown off her guard of maidenly reserve, "this is too kind, too good, too much; indeed, indeed it is: i cannot take the purse." and her bright eyes overflowed again. "well, girl," said jonathan, gulping down an apple in his throat, "i--i won't have the money, that's all. oh, grace, grace!" he burst out earnestly, "let me be the blessed means of helping you in trouble--i would die to do it, grace; indeed i would!" the dear girl fell upon his neck, and they wept together like two loving little sisters. "jonathan"--her duteous spirit was the first to speak--"forgive this weakness of a foolish woman's heart: i will not put away the help which god provides us at your friendly hands: only this, kind brother--let me call you brother--keep the purse; if my father pines for want of work, and the babes at home lack food, pardon my boldness if i take the help you offer. meanwhile, god in heaven bless you, jonathan, as he will!" and she turned to go away. "won't you take a keepsake, grace--one little token? i wish i had any thing here but money to give you for my sake." "it would even be ungenerous in me to refuse you, brother; one little piece will do." jonathan fumbled up something in a crumpled piece of paper, and said sobbingly--"let it be this new half-crown, grace: i won't say, keep it always; only when you want to use that and more, i humbly ask you'll please come to me." now a more delicate, a more unselfish act, was never done by man: along with the half-crown he had packed up two sovereigns! and thereby not only escaped thanks, concealed his own beneficence, and robbed his purse of half its little store; but actually he was, by doing so, depriving himself for a month, or maybe more, of a visit from grace acton. had it been only half-a-crown, and want had pinched the family (neither grace nor jonathan could guess of ben burke's bounty, and for all they knew roger had not enough for the morrow's meals)--had poverty come in like an armed man, and stood upon their threshold a grim sentinel--doubtless she must have run to him within a day or two. how sweet would it have been to have kept her coming day by day, and to a commoner affection how excusable! but still how selfish, how unlike the liberal and honourable feeling that filled the manly heart of jonathan floyd! it was a noble act, and worthy of a long parenthesis. if grace acton had looked back as she hurried down the avenue, she would have seen poor jonathan still watching her with all his eyes till she was out of sight. perhaps, though, she might have guessed it--there is a sympathy in these things, the true animal magnetism--and i dare say that was the very reason why she did not once turn her head. chapter xiii. the discovery. roger acton had not slept well; had not slept at all till nearly break of day, except in the feverish fashion of half dream half revery. there were thick-coming fancies all night long about what ben had said and done: and more than once roger had thought of the expediency of getting up, to seek without delay the realization of that one idea which now possessed him--a crock of gold. when he put together one thing and another, he considered it almost certain that ben had flung away among the lot no mere honey-pot, but perhaps indeed a money-pot: burke hadn't half the cunning of a child; more fool he, and maybe so much the better for me, thought money-bitten, selfish roger. thus, in the night's hot imaginations, he resolved to find the spoil; to will, was then to do: to do, was then to conquer. however, nature's sweet restorer came at last, and, when he woke, the idea had sobered down--last night's fancies were preposterous. so, it was with a heavy heart he got up later than his wont--no work before him, nothing to do till the afternoon, when he might see sir john, except it be to dig a bit in his little marshy garden. when grace ran to the hall, roger was going forth to dig. now, i know quite well that the reader is as fully aware as i am, what is about to happen; but it is impossible to help the matter. if the heading of this chapter tells the truth, a "discovery" of some sort is inevitable. let us preliminarize a thought or two, if thereby we can hang some shadowy veil of excuse over a too naked mystery. first and foremost, truth is strange, stranger, _et-cetera_; and this _et-cetera_, pregnant as one of lyttleton's, intends to add the superlative strangest, to the comparative stranger of that seldom-quoted sentiment. to every one of us, in the course of our lives, something quite as extraordinary has befallen more than once. what shall we say of omens, warnings, forebodings? what of the most curious runs of luck; the most whimsical freaks of fortune; the unaccountable things that happen round us daily, and no one marvels at them, till he reads of them in print? even as macpherson, ingenious, if not ingenuous, gathered ossian from the lips of highland hussifs, and made the world with modern attila to back it, wonder at the stores that are hived on old wives' tongues; even so might any other literary, black-smith hammer from the ore of common gossip a regular vulcan's net of superstitious "facts." never yet was uttered ghost story, that did not breed four others; every one at table is eager to record his, or his aunt's, experience in that line; and the mass of queer coincidences, inexplicable incidents, indubitable seeings, hearings, doings, and sufferings; which you and i have heard of in this popular vein of talk, would amply excuse the wildest fictionist for the most extravagant adventure--the more improbable, the nearer truth. talk of the devil, said our ancestors--let "&c." save us from the consequence. think of any thing vehemently, and it is an even chance it happens: be confident, you conquer; be obstinate in willing, and events shall bend humbly to their lord: nay, dream a dream, and if you recollect it in the morning, and it bother you next day, and you cannot get it out of your head for a week, and the matter positively haunt you, ten to one but it finds itself or makes itself fulfilled, some odd day or other. just so, doubtless, will it prove to be with roger's dream: i really cannot help the matter. again, it is more than likely that the reader is clever, very clever, and that any attempts at concealment would be merely futile. from the first page he has discovered who is the villain, and who the victim: the title alone tells him of the golden hinge on which the story turns: he can look through stone walls, if need be, or mesmerically see, without making use of eyes: no peep-holes for him, as for pyramus and thisbe: no initiation requisite for any hidden mysteries; all arcana are revealed to him, every sanctum is a highway. no art of mortal pen can defeat this mischief of acuteness: character is character; oaks grow of acorns, and the plan of a life may be detected in a microscopic speech. the career of mr. jennings is as much predestined by us to iniquity, from the first intimation that he never makes excuse, as honest roger is to trouble and temptation from the weary effort wherewithal he woke. and, even now, pretty grace and young sir john, the reader thinks that he can guess at nature's consequence; while, with respect to roger's going forth to dig this morning, he sees it straight before him, need not ask for the result. well, if the shrewd reader has the eye of lieuenhöeck, and can discern, cradled in the small triangular beech-mast, a noble forest-tree, with silvery trunk, branching arms, and dark-green foliage, he deserves to be complimented indeed, for his own keen skill; but, at the same time, nature will not hurry herself for him, but will quietly educe results which he foreknew--or thought he did--a century ago. and is there not the highest art in this unveiled simplicity: to lead the reader onwards by a straight road, with the setting sun a-blaze at the end of it, knowing his path, knowing its object, yet still borne on with spirits unexhausted and unflagging foot? trust me, there is better praise in this, than in dazzling the distracted glance with a perpetual succession of luminous fire-flies, and dragging your fair novel-reader, harried and excited, through the mazes of a thousand incidents. thirdly, and lastly, in this prefatorial say, there is to be considered that inevitable defeator of all printed secrets--impatience. nothing is easier, nothing commoner (most wise people do it, whose fate is, that they must keep up with the race of current publication, and therefore must keep down the still-increasing crowd of authorial creations), nothing is more venial, more laudable, than to read the last chapter first; and so, finding out all mysteries at once, to save one's self a vast deal of unnecessary trouble. and, for mere tale-telling, this may be sufficient. what need to burden memory with imaginary statements, or to weary out one's sympathies on trite fictitious woes?--come to the catastrophe at once: the uncle hanged; the heir righted; the heroine, an orange-flowered bride; and the white-headed grandmother, after all her wrongs, winding up the story with a prudent moral. now, this may all be very well with histories that merely carry a sting in the tail, whose moral is the warning of the rattlesnake, and whose hot-exciting interest is posted with the scorpion's venom. they are the dragon of wantley, with one caudal point--a barbed termination: we, like moore of moore hall, all point, covered with spikes: every where we boast ourselves an ethical hedge-hog, all-over-armed with keen morals--a rumour painted full of tongues, echoing all around with revealing of secrets. the feelings of our humble hero, altered roger acton, are worthy to be studied by the great, to be sifted by the rich; and grace's simple tongue may teach the sage, for its wisdom cometh from above; and jonathan, for all his shoulder-knot and smart cockade, is worthy to give lessons to his master: that master, also, is far better than you think him; and poor burke too, for true humanity's sake: so we get a mint of morals, set aside the story. it is not raw material, but the workmanship, that gives its value to the flowered damask; our grand-dames' sumptuous taffeties and stand-alone brocades are but spun silk-worms' interiors; the fairest statue is intrinsically but a mass of clumsy stone, until, indeed, the sculptor has rough-hewn it, and shaped it, and chiselled it, and finished all the touches with sand-paper. this story of '_the crock of gold_' purports to be a dutch picture, as becometh boors, their huts, their short and simple annals; so that, after its moralities, the mass of minute detail is the only thing that gives it any value. now, whilst all of you have been yawning through these egotistic phrases, roger has been digging in his garden; there he is, pecking away at what once was the celery-bed, but now are fallow trenches; celery, as we all know, is a water-loving plant, doing best in marshy-land, so no wonder the trenches open on the sedge, and the muddy shallow opposite pike island puddles up to them. there needs be no suspense, no mystery at all; roger's dream had clearly sent him thither, for he should not have levelled those trenches yet awhile, it was a little too soon--bad husbandry; and, barring the appearance of a devil, roger's dream came true. yes, under the roots of a clump of bullrush, he lifted out with his spade--a pot of narbonne honey! when first he spied the pot, his heart was in his mouth--it must be gold, and with tottering knees he raised the precious burden. but, woful disappointment! the word "honey," with plenty of french and fortnum on another pasted label, stared him in the face; it was sweet and slimy too about the neck; there was no sort of jingle when he shook the crock; what though it be heavy?--honey's heavy; and it was tied over quite in a common way with pig's bladder, and his clumsy trembling fingers could not undo that knot; and thus, with a miserable sense of cheated poverty, he threw it down beside the path, and would, perhaps, have flung it right away in sheer disgust, but for the reflection that the little ones might like it. once, indeed, the glorious doubt of maybe gold came back upon his mind, and he lifted up the spade to smash the baffling pot, and so make sure of what it might contain;--make sure, eh? why, you would only lose the honey, whispered domestic economy. so he left the jar to be opened by his wife when he should go in. chapter xiv. jonathan's store. and where has mrs. acton been all this morning? off to the hall, very soon after grace had got away; and she rung at the side entrance, hard by the kitchen, most fortunately caught sarah stack about, and had a good long gossip with her; telling her, open-mouthed, all about ben burke having found a shawl of mrs. quarles's on the island; and how, it being very rotten, yes, and smelling foul, ben had been fool enough to burn it; what a pity! how could the shawl have got there? if it only could ha' spoken what it knew! and the bereaved gossips mourned together over secrets undivulged, and their evidence destroyed. as to the crockery, for a miraculous once in life, mrs. acton held her tongue about a thing she knew, and said not a syllable concerning it. roger would be mad to lose the money. just at parting with her friend mary acton was going out by the wrong door, through the hall, but luckily did no more than turn the handle; or she never could have escaped bouncing in upon the lovers' interview, and thereby occasioning a chaos of confusion. for, be it whispered, the step-dame was not a little jealous of her ready-made daughter's beauty, persisted in calling her a child, and treated her any thing but kindly and sisterly, as her full-formed woman's loveliness might properly have looked for. only imagine, if the hecate had but seen jonathan's lit-up looks, or grace's down-cast blushes; for it really slipped my observation to record that there were blushes, and probably some cause for them when the keep-sake was given and accepted; only conceive if the step-mother had heard jonathan's afterward soliloquy, when he was watching pretty grace as she tripped away--and how much he seemed to think of her eyes and eye-lashes! i am reasonably fearful, had she heard and seen all this--poll acton's nails might have possibly drawn blood from the cheeks of jonathan floyd. as it was, the little god of love kindly warded from his votaries the coming of so crabbed an antagonist. grace has now reached home again, blessing her overruling stars to have escaped notice so entirely both in going and returning; for the mother was hard at washing near the well, having got in half an hour before, and father has not yet left off digging in his garden. so she crept up stairs quietly, put away her sunday best, and is just dropping on her knees beside her truckle-bed, to speak of all her sorrows to her heavenly friend, and to thank him for the kindness he had raised her in an earthly one. she then, with no small trepidation, took out of her tucker, just below those withered snow-drops, the crumpled bit of paper that held jonathan's parting gift. it was surprising how her tucker heaved; she could hardly get at the parcel. she wanted to look at that half-crown; not that she feared it was a bad one, or was curious about coins, or felt any pleasure in possessing such a sum: but there was such a don't-know-what connected with that new half-crown, which made her long to look at it; so she opened the paper--and found its golden fellows! o noble heart! o kind, generous, unselfish--yes, beloved jonathan! but what is she to do with the sovereigns? keep them? no, she cannot keep them, however precious in her sight as proofs of deep affection; but she will call as soon as possible, and give them back, and insist upon his taking them, and keeping them too--for her, if no otherwise. and the dear innocent girl was little aware herself how glad she felt of the excuse to call so soon again at hurstley. meantime, for safety, she put the money in her bible. what hallowed gold was that? gained by honest industry, saved by youthful prudence, given liberally and unasked, to those who needed, and could not pay again; with a delicate consideration, an heroic essay at concealment, a voluntary sacrifice of self, of present pleasure, passion, and affection. and there it lies, the little store, hidden up in grace's bible. she has prayed over it, thanked over it, interceded over it, for herself, for it, for others. how different, indeed, from ordinary gold, from common sin-bought mammon; how different from that unblest store, which roger acton covets; how purified from meannesses, and separate from harms! this is of that money, the scarcest coins of all the world, endued with all good properties in heaven and in earth, whereof it had been written, "the silver is mine, and the gold is mine, saith the lord of hosts." such alone are truly riches--well-earned, well-saved, well-sanctified, well-spent. the wealthiest of european capitalists--the croesus of modern civilization--may be but a pauper in that better currency, whereof a sample has been shown in the store of jonathan floyd. chapter xv another discovery, and the earnest of good things. "dame, here's one o' ben's gallipots he flung away: it's naught but honey, dame--marked so--no crock of gold; don't expect it; no such thing; luck like that isn't for such as me: though, being as it is, the babes may like it, with their dry bread: open it, good-wife: i hope the water mayn't ha' spoilt it." the notable mary acton produced certain scissors, hanging from her pocket by a tape, and cut a knot, which to roger had been gordian's. "why, it's bran, acton, not honey; look here, will you." she tilted it up, and, along with a cloud of saw-dust, dropped out a heavy hail-storm of--little bits of leather! "hallo? what's that?" said roger, eagerly: "it's gold, gold, i'll be sworn!" it was so. every separate bit of money, whatever kind of coins they were, had been tidily sewn up in a shred of leather; remnants of old gloves of all colours; and the narbonne jar contained six hundred and eighty-seven of them. these, of course, were hastily picked up from the path whereon they had first fallen, were counted out at home, and the glittering contents of most of those little leather bags ripped up were immediately discovered. oh dear! oh dear! such a sight! guineas and half-guineas, sovereigns and half-sovereigns, quite a little hill of bright, clean, prettily-figured gold. "hip, hip, hooray!" shouted roger, in an ecstacy; "hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!" and in the madness of his joy, he executed an extravagant pas seul; up went his hat, round went his heels, and he capered awkwardly like a lunatic giraffe. "here's an end to all our troubles, poll: we're as good as gentle-folks now; catch me a-calling at the hall, to bother about jennings and sir john: a fig for bailiffs, and baronets, parsons, and prisons, and all," and again he roared hooray! "i tell you what though, old 'ooman, we must just try the taste of our glorious golden luck, before we do any thing else. bide a bit, wench, and hide the hoard till i return. i'm off to the bacchus's arms, and i'll bring you some stingo in a minute, old gal." so off he ran hot-foot, to get an earnest of the blessing of his crock of gold. the minute that was promised to produce the stingo, proved to be rather of a lengthened character; it might, indeed, have been a minute, or the fraction of one, in the planet herschel, whose year is as long as eighty-five of our terra's, but according to greenwich calculation, it was nearer like two hours. the little tom and jerry shop, that rejoiced in the classical heraldry of bacchus's arms, had been startled from all conventionalities by the unwonted event of the demand, "change for a sovereign?" and when it was made known to the assembled conclave that roger acton was the fortunate possessor, that even assumed an appearance positively miraculous. "why, honest roger, how in the world could you ha' come by that?" was the troublesome inquiry of dick the tanner. "well, acton, you're sharper than i took you for, if you can squeeze gold out of bailiff jennings," added solomon snip; and roger knew no better way of silencing their tongues, than by profusely drenching them in liquor. so he stood treat all round, and was forced to hobanob with each; and when that was gone, he called for more to keep their curiosity employed. now, all this caused delay; and if mary had been waiting for the "stingo," she would doubtless have had reasonable cause for anger and impatience: however, she, for her part, was so pleasantly occupied, like prince arthur's queen, in counting out the money, that, to say the truth, both lord and liquor were entirely forgotten. but another cause that lengthened out the minute, was the embarrassing business of where to find the change. bacchus's didn't chalk up trust, where hard money was flung upon the counter; but all the accumulated wealth of bacchus's high-priest, tom swipey, and of the seven worshippers now drinking in his honour, could not suffice to make up enough of change: therefore, after two gallons left behind him in libations as aforesaid, and two more bottled up for a drink-offering at home, roger was contented to be owed seven and fourpence; a debt never likely to be liquidated. much speculation this afforded to the gossips; and when the treater's back was turned, they touched their foreheads, for the man was clearly crazed, and they winked to each other with a gesture of significance. grace, while musing on her new half-crown--it was strange how long she looked at it--had heard with real amazement that uproarious huzzaing! and, just as her father had levanted for the beer, glided down from her closet, and received the wondrous tidings from her step-mother. she heard in silence, if not in sadness: intuitive good sense proclaimed to her that this sudden gush of wealth was a temptation, even if she felt no secret fears on the score of--shall we call it superstition?--that dream, this crock, that dark angel--and this so changed spirit of her once religious father: what could she think? she meekly looked to heaven to avert all ill. mary acton also was less elated and more alarmed than she cared to confess: not that she, any more than grace, knew or thought about lords of manors, or physical troubles on the score of finding the crock: but mrs. quarles's shawl, and sundry fearful fancies tinged with blood, these worried her exceedingly, and made her look upon the gold with an uneasy feeling, as if it were an unclean thing, a sort of achan's wedge. at last, here comes roger back, somewhat unsteadily i fear, with a stone two-gallon jar of what he was pleased to avouch to be "the down-right stingo." "hooray, poll!" (he had not ceased shouting all the way from bacchus's,) "hooray--here i be again, a gentle-folk, a lord, a king, poll: why daughter grace, what's come to you? i won't have no dull looks about to-day, girl. isn't this enough to make a poor man merry? no more troubles, no more toil, no more 'humble sarvent,' no more a ragged, plodding ploughman: but a lord, daughter grace--a great, rich, luxurious lord--isn't this enough to make a man sing out hooray?--thank the crock of gold for this--oh, blessed crock!" "hush, father, hush! that gold will be no blessing to you; heaven send it do not bring a curse. it will be a sore temptation, even if the rights of it are not in some one else: we know not whom it may belong to, but at any rate it cannot well be ours." "not ours, child? whose in life is it then?" mary acton, made quite meek by a superstitious dread of having money of the murdered, stepped in to grace's help, whom her father's fierce manner had appalled, with "roger, it belonged to mrs. quarles, i'm morally sure on it--and must now be simon jennings's, her heir." "what?" he almost frantically shrieked, "shall that white hell-hound rob me yet again? no, dame--i'll hang first! the crock i found, the crock i'll keep: the money's mine, whoever did the murder." then, changing his mad tone into one of reckless inebriate gayety--for he was more than half-seas over even then from the pot-house toastings and excitement--he added, "but come, wenches, down with your mugs, and help me to get through the jar: i never felt so dry in all my life. here's blessings on the crock, on him as sent it, him as has it, and on all the joy and comfort it's to bring us! come, drink, drink--we must all drink that--but where's tom?" if roger had been quite himself, he never would have asked so superfluous a question: for tom was always in one and the same company, albeit never in one and the same place: he and his pan-like mentor were continually together, studying wood-craft, water-craft, and all manner of other craft connected with the antique trade of picking and stealing. "where's tom?" grace, glad to have to answer any reasonable question, mildly answered, "gone away with ben, father." alas! that little word, ben, gave occasion to reveal a depth in roger's fall, which few could have expected to behold so soon. to think that the liberal friend, who only last night had frankly shared his all with him, whose honest glowing heart would freely shed its blood for him, that he in recollection should be greeted with a loathing! ben would come, and claim some portion of his treasure--he would cry halves--or, who knows? might want all--all: and take it by strong arm, or by threat to 'peach against him:--curse that burke! he hated him. oh, steady acton! what has made thee drink and swear? oh, honest roger! what has planted guile, and suspicion, and malice in thy heart? are these the mere first-fruits of coveting and having? is this the earliest blessing of that luck which many long for--the finding of a crock of gold? we would not enlarge upon the scene; a painful one at all times, when man forgets his high prerogative, and drowns his reason in the tankard: but, in a roger acton's case, lately so wise, temperate, and patient, peculiarly distressing. its chief features were these. grace tasted nothing, but mournfully looked on: once only she attempted to expostulate, but was met--not with fierce oaths, nor coarse chidings, nor even with idiotic drivelling--oh no! worse than that she felt: he replied to her with the maudlin drunken promise, "if she'd only be a good girl, and let him bide, he'd give her a big church-bible, bound in solid gold--that 'ud make the book o' some real value, grace." poor broken-hearted daughter--she rushed to her closet in a torrent of tears. as for mary acton, she was miraculously meek and dumb; all the scold was quelled within her; the word "blood" was the petruchio that tamed that shrew; she could see a plenty of those crimson spots, which might "the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green, one red," dancing in the sun-beams, dotted on the cottage walls, sprinkled as unholy water, over that foul crock. would not the money be a curse to them any how, say nothing of the danger? if things went on as they began, mary might indeed have cause for fear: actually, she could not a-bear to look upon the crock; she quite dreaded it, as if it had contained a "bottled devil." so there she sat ever so long--silent, thoughtful, and any thing but comfortable. what became of roger until next day at noon, neither he nor i can tell: true, his carcase lay upon the floor, and the two-gallon jar was empty. but, for the real man, who could answer to the name of roger acton, the sensitive and conscious soul--that was some where galloping away for fifteen hours in the paradise of fools: the paradise? no--the maëlstrom; tossed about giddily and painfully in one whirl of tumultuous drunkenness. chapter xvi. how the home was blest thereby. it will surprise no one to be told that, however truly such an excess may have been the first, it was by no means the last exploit of our altered labourer in the same vein of heroism. bacchus's was quite close, and he needs must call for his change; he had to call often; drank all quits; changed another sovereign, and was owed again; but, trust him, he wasn't going to be cheated out of that: take care of the pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves. but still it was ditto repeated; changing, being owed, grudging, grumbling: at last he found out the famous new plan of owing himself; and as bacchus's did not see fit to reject such wealthy customers, roger soon chalked up a yard-long score, and grew so niggardly that they could not get a penny from him. it is astonishing how immediately wealth brings in, as its companion, meanness: they walk together, and stand together, and kneel together, as the hectoring, prodigal faulconbridge, the bastard plantagenet in _king john_, does with his white-livered, puny brother, robert. wherefore, no sooner was roger blest with gold, than he resolved not to be such a fool as to lose liberally, or to give away one farthing. to give, i say, for extravagant indulgence is another thing; and it was a fine, proud pleasure to feast a lot of fellows at his sole expense. if meanness is brother to wealth, it is at any rate first cousin to extravagance. when the dowager collects "her dear five hundred friends" to parade before the fresh young heirs her wax-light lovely daughters--when all is glory, gallopade, and gunter--when rubini warbles smallest, and lablanche is heard as thunder on the stairs--speak, tradesmen, ye who best can tell, the closeness that has catered for that feast; tell it out, ye famished milliners, ground down to sixpence on a ball-dress bill; whisper it, ye footmen, with your wages ever due; let gath, let askelon re-echo with the truth, that extortion is the parent of extravagance! now, that episode should have been in a foot note; but no one takes the trouble to read notes; and with justice too; for if a man has any thing to say, let him put it in his text, as orderly as may be. and, if order be sometimes out of the question, as seems but clearly suitable at present to our hero's manner of life, it is wise to go boldly on, without so prim an usher; to introduce our thoughts as they reveal themselves, ignorant of "their own degrees," not "standing on the order of their coming," but, as a pit crowd on a benefit-night, bustling over one another, helter-skelter, "in most admired disorder." this will well comport with roger's daily life: for, notwithstanding the frequent interference of an amazon wife--regardless of poor, dear grace's gentle voice and melancholy eyes--in spite of a conscience pricking in his breast, with the spines of a horse-chestnut, that evil crock appeared from the beginning to have been found for but one sole purpose--_videlicet_, that of keeping alight in roger's brain the fire of mad intoxication. yes, there were sundry other purposes, too, which may as well be told directly. the utter dislocation of all home comforts occupied the foremost rank. true--in comparison with the homes of affluence and halls of luxury--those comforts may have formerly seemed few and far between; yet still the angel of domestic peace not seldom found a rest within the cottage. not seldom? always: if sweet-eyed grace be such an angel, that ever-abiding guest, full of love, duty, piety, and cheerfulness. but now, after long-enduring anguish, vexed in her righteous soul by the shocking sights and sounds of the drunkard and his parasites (for all the idle vagabonds about soon flocked around rich acton, and were freely welcome to his reckless prodigality), grace had been forced to steal away, and seek refuge with a neighbour. here was one blessing the less. another wretched change was in the wife. granted, mary acton had not ever been the pink of politeness, the violet of meekness, nor the rose of entire amiability: but if she were a scold, that scolding was well meant; and her irate energies were incessantly directed towards cleanliness, economy, quiet, and other _notabilia_ of a busy house-wife. she did her best to keep the hovel tidy, to make the bravest show with their scanty chattels, to administer discreetly the stores of their frugal larder, and to recompense the good-man returning from his hard day's work, with much of rude joy and bustling kindness. but now, after the first stupor of amazement into which the crock and its consequences threw her, poll acton grew to be a fury: she raged and stormed, and well she might, at filth and discomfort in her home, at nauseous dregs and noisome fumes, at the orgie still kept up, day by day, and night by night, through the length of that first foul week, which succeeded the fortunate discovery. and not in vain she raged and stormed--and fought too; for she did fight--ay, and conquered: and miserable roger, now in full possession of those joys which he had longed for at the casement of hurstley hall, was glad to betake himself to the bench at bacchus's, whither he withdrew his ragged regiment. thus, that crock had spoilt all there was to spoil in the temper and conduct of the wife. look also at the pretty prattling babes, twin boys of two years old, whom roger used to hasten home to see; who had to say their simple prayers; to be kissed, and comforted, and put to bed; to be made happier by a wild flower picked up on his path, than if the gift had been a coral with gold bells: where were they now? neglected, dirty, fretting in a corner, their red eyes full of wonder at father's altered ways, and their quick minds watching, with astonished looks, the progress of domestic discord. how the crock of gold has nipped those early blossoms as a killing frost! again, there used to be, till this sad week of wealth and riotous hilarity, that constantly recurring blessing of the morn and evening prayer which roger read aloud, and grace's psalm or chapter; and afterwards the frugal meal--too scanty, perhaps, and coarse--but still refreshing, thank the lord, and seasoned well with health and appetite; and the heart-felt sense of satisfaction that all around was earned by honest labour; and there was content, and hope of better times, and god's good blessing over every thing. now, all these pleasures had departed; gold, unhallowed gold, gotten hastily in the beginning, broadcast on the rank strong soil of a heart that coveted it earnestly, had sprung up as a crop of poisonous tares, and choked the patch of wheat; gold, unhallowed gold, light come, light gone, had scared or killed the flock of unfledged loves that used to nestle in the cotter's thatch, as surely as if the cash were stones, flung wantonly by truants at a dove-cot; and forth from the crock, that egg of wo, had been hatched a red-eyed vulture, to tyrannize in this sad home, where but lately the pelican had dwelt, had spread her fostering wing, and poured out the wealth of her affections. chapter xvii. care. but other happy consequences soon became apparent. if acton in his tipsy state was mad, in his intervals of soberness he was thoroughly miserable. and this, not merely on the score of sickness, exhaustion, prostrated spirits, blue-devils, or other the long catalogue of a drunkard's joys; not merely from a raging wife, and a wretched home; not merely from the stings, however sharp, however barbed, of a conscience ill at ease, that would rise up fiercely like a hissing snake, and strike the black apostate to the earth: these all, doubtless, had their pleasant influences, adding to the lucky finder's bliss: but there was another root of misery most unlooked for, and to the poor who dream of gold, entirely paradoxical. the possession of that crock was the heaviest of cares. where on earth was he to hide it? how to keep it safely, secretly? what if he were robbed of it in some sly way! o, thought of utter wo! it made the fortunate possessor quiver like an aspen. or what, if some one or more of those blustering boon companions were to come by night with a bludgeon and a knife, and--and cut his throat, and find the treasure? or, worse still, were to torture him, set him on the fire like a saucepan (he had heard of turpin having done so with a rich old woman), and make him tell them "where" in his extremity of pains, and give up all, and then--and then murder him at last, outright, and afterwards burn the hovel over his head, babes and all, that none might live to tell the tale? these fears set him on the rack, and furnished one inciting cause to that uninterrupted orgie; he must be either mad or miserable, this lucky finder. also, even in his tipsy state, he could not cast off care: he might in his cups reveal the dangerous secret of having found a crock of gold. a secret still it was: grace, his wife, and himself, were the only souls who knew it. dear grace feared to say a word about the business: not in apprehension of the law, for she never thought of that too probable intrusion on the finder: but simply because her unsophisticated piety believed that god, for some wise end, had allowed the evil one to tempt her father; she, indeed, did not know the epigram, the devil now is wiser than of yore: he tempts by making rich--not making poor: but she did not conceive that notion in her mind; she contrasted the wealthy patriarch job, tried by poverty and pain, but just and patient in adversity--with the poor labourer acton, tried by luxury and wealth, and proved to be apostate in prosperity: so she held her tongue, and hitherto had been silent on a matter of so much local wonder as her father's sudden wealth, in the midst of urgent curiosity and extraordinary rumours. mary was kept quiet as we know, by superstition of a lower grade, the dread of having money of the murdered, a thought she never breathed to any but her husband; and to poor uninitiated grace (who had not heard a word of ben's adventure), her answer about mrs. quarles and mr. jennings in the dawn of the crock's first blessing, had been entirely unintelligible: mary, then, said never a word, but looked on dreadingly to see the end. as for roger himself, he was too much in apprehension of a landlord's claims, and of a task-master's extortions, to breath a syllable about the business. so he hid his crock as best he could--we shall soon hear how and where--took out sovereign after sovereign day by day, and made his flush of instant wealth a mystery, a miracle, a legacy, good luck, any thing, every thing but the truth: and he would turn fiercely round to the frequent questioner with a "what's that to you?--nobody's business but mine:" and then would coaxingly add the implied bribe to secresy, in his accustomed invitation--"and now, what'll you take?"--a magical phrase, which could suffice to quell murmurs for the time, and postponed curiosity to appetite. thus the fact was still unknown, and weighed on roger's mind as a guilty concealment, an oppressive secret. what if any found it out? for immediate safety--the evening after his memorable first fifteen hours of joy--he buried the crock deeply in a hole in his garden, filling all up hard with stones and brick-bats; and when he had smoothed it straight and workmanlike, remembered that he surely hadn't kept out enough to last him; so up it had to come again--five more taken out, and the crock was restored to its unquiet grave. scarcely had he done this, than it became dark, and he began to fancy some one might have seen him hide it; those low mean tramps (never before had he refused the wretched wayfarers his sympathy) were always sneaking about, and would come and dig it up in the night: so he went out in the dark and the rain, got at it with infinite trouble and a broken pickaxe, and exultingly brought the crock in-doors; where he buried it a third time, more securely, underneath the grouted floor, close beside the fire in the chimney-corner: it was now nearly midnight, and he went to bed. hardly had he tumbled in, after pulling on a nightcap of the flagon, than the dread idea overtook him that his treasure might be melted! was there ever such a fool as he? well, well, to think he could fling his purse on the fire! what a horrid thought! metallurgy was a science quite unknown to roger; he only considered gold as heavy as lead, and therefore probably as fusible: so down he bustled, made another hole, a deeper one too this time, in the floor under the dresser, where, exhausted with his toil and care, he deposited the crock by four in the morning--and so retired once more. all in vain--nobody ever knew when black burke might be returning from his sporting expeditions--and that beast of a lurcher would be sure to be creeping in this morning, and would scratch it up, and his brute of a master would get it all! this fancy was the worst possible: and roger rose again, quite sick at heart, pale, worn, and trembling with a miser's haggard joys. where should he hide that crock--the epithet "cursed" crock escaped him this time in his vexed impatience. in the house and in the garden, it was equally unsafe. ha! a bright thought indeed: the hollow in the elm-tree, creaking overhead, just above the second arm: so the poor, shivering wretch, almost unclad, swarmed up that slimy elm, and dropped his treasure in the hollow. confusion! how deep it was: he never thought of that; here was indeed something too much of safety: and then those boys of neighbour goode's were birds'-nesting continually, specially round the lake this spring. what an idiot he was not to have remembered this! and up he climbed again, thrust in his arm to the shoulder, and managed to repossess himself a fifth time of that blessed crock. would that the elm had been hollow to its root, and beneath the root a chasm bottomless, and that plutus in that narbonne jar had served as a supper to pluto in the shades! better had it been for thee, my roger. but he had not hid it yet; so, that night--or rather that cold morning about six, the drenched, half-frozen fortunatus carried it to bed with him: and a precious warming-pan it made: for nothing would satisfy the finder of its presence but perpetual bodily contact:--accordingly, he placed it in his bosom, and it chilled him to the back-bone. yes; that was undoubtedly the safest way; to carry the spoil about with him; so, next noon--how could he get up till noon after such a woful night?--next noon he emptied the jar, and tying up its contents in a handkerchief, proceeded to wear it as a girdle; for an hour he clattered about the premises, making as much jingle as a wagoner's team of bells; laden heavily with gold, like the [greek: ibebusto] genius in herodotus: but he soon found out this would not do at all; for, independently of all concealment at an end, so long as his secret store was rattling as he walked, louder than military spurs or sabre-tackle, he soberly reflected that he might--possibly, possibly, though not probably--get a glass too much again, by some mere accident or other; and then to be robbed of his golden girdle, this cincture of all joy! o, terrible thought! as well [this is my fancy, not rogers's] deprive venus of her zone, and see how the beggared queen of beauty could exist without her treasury, the cestus. chapter xviii. investment. next day, the wealthy roger had higher aspirations. why should not he get interest for his money, like lords and gentlefolk? his gold had been lying idle too long; more fool he: it ought to breed money somehow, he knew that; for, like most poor men whose sole experience of investment is connected with the lombard's golden balls, he took exalted views of usury. was he to be "hiding up his talent in a napkin--?" ah!--he remembered and applied the holy parable, but it smote across his heart like a flash of frost, a chilling recollection of good things past and gone. what had he been doing with his talents--for he once possessed the ten? had he not squandered piety, purity, and patience? where were now his gratitude to god, his benevolence to man? the father's duteous care, the husband's industry and kindness, the labourer's faith, the christian's hope--who had spent all these?--till money's love came in, and money-store to feed it, the poor man had been rich: but now, rotten to the core, by lust of gold, the rich is poor indeed. however, such considerations did not long afflict him--for we know that lookers-on see more than players--and if roger had encouraged half our wise and sober thoughts, he might have been a better man: but roger quelled the thoughts, and silenced them; and thoughts are tender intonations, shy little buzzing sounds, soon scared by coarser noise: roger had no mind to cherish those small fowls; so they flew back again to heaven's gate, homeless and uncomforted as weeping peri's. the bank--the county bank--shark, breakem, and company--this was the specious eldorado, the genuine gold-increaser, the hive where he would store his wealth (as honey left for the bees in winter), and was to have it soon returned fourfold. it was indeed a thought to make the rich man glad, that all his shining heap was just like a sample of seed-corn, and the pocket-full should next year fill a sack. how grudgingly he now began to mourn over past extravagance, five pieces gone within the week! how close and careful he resolved to be in future! how he would scrape and economize to get and save but one more of those sweet little seeds, that yield more gold--more gold! and if roger had been privileged in youth to have fed upon the wisdom of the eton latin grammar, he could have now quoted with some experimental unction the "_crescit amor_" line, which every body well knows how to finish. truly, it was growing with his growth, and rioting in strength above his weakness. swollen with this expanding love, he packed up his money in what were, though he knew it not, _rouleaux_, but to his plebeian eyes looked more like golden sausages: and he would take it to the bank, and they should bow to him, and sir him, and give him forthwith more than he had brought; and if those summary gains were middling great--say twice as much, to be moderate--he thought he might afford himself a chaise coming back, and return to hurstley common like a nabob. thus, full of wealthy fancies, after one glass more, off set roger to the county town, with his treasure in a bundle. half-way to it, as hospitality has ordained to be the case wherever there be half-ways, occurred a public-house: and really, notwithstanding all our monied neophyte's economical resolutions, his throat was so "uncommon dry," that he needs must stop there to refresh the muscles of his larynx: so, putting down his bundle on the settle, he called for a foaming tankard, and thanking the crock, as his evil wont now was, sat down to drink and think. here was prosperity indeed, a flood of astonishing good fortune: that he, but a little week agone, a dirty ditcher--so was he pleased to designate his former self--a ragged wretch, little better than a tramp, should be now progressing like a monarch, with a mighty bag of gold to enrich his county town. to enrich, and be thereby the richer; for roger's actions of finance were so simple, as to run the risk of being called sublimely indistinct: he took it as an axiom that "money bred money," but in what way to draw forth its generative properties, whether or not by some new-fangled manure, he was entirely ignorant; and it clearly was his wisdom to leave all that mystery of money-making solely to the banker. all he cared about was this: to come back richer than he came--and, lo! how rich he was already. lolling at high noon, on a wednesday too, in the extremest mode of rustic beauism, with a bag of gold by his side, and a pot of porter in his hand--here was an accumulation of magnificence--all the prepositions pressed into his service. his wildest hopes exceeded, and almost nothing left to wish. blown up with the pride and importance of the moment, and some little oblivious from the potent porter--he had paid and sallied forth, and marched a mile upon his way, full of golden fancies, a rich luxurious lord as he was--when all on a sudden the hallucination crossed his dull pellucid mind, that he had left the store behind him! o, pungent terror!--o, most exquisite torture! was it clean gone, stolen, lost, lost, lost for ever? rushing back in an agony of fear, that made the ruddy hostess think him crazed, with his hair on end, and a face as if it had been white-washed, he flew to the tap-room, and--almost fainted for ecstasy of joy when he found it, where he had laid it, on the settle! better had you lost it, roger; better had your ecstasy been sorrow: there is more trouble yet for you, from that bad crock of gold. but if your lesson is not learnt, and you still think otherwise, go on a little while exultingly as now i see you, and hug the treasure to your heart--the treasure that will bring you yet more misery. and now the town is gained, the bank approached. what! that big barred, guarded place, looking like a mighty mouse-trap? he didn't half like to venture in. at last he pushed the door ajar, and took a peep; there were muskets over the mantel-piece, ostentatiously ticketed as "loaded! beware!" there were leather buckets ranged around the walls: he did not in any degree like it: was he to expose his treasure in this idiot fashion to all the avowed danger of fire and thieves? however, since he had come so far, he would get some interest for his money, that he would--so he'd just make bold to step to the counter and ask a very obsequious bald-headed gentleman, who sired him quite affably, "how much, master, will you be pleased to give me for my gold?" the gentleman looked queerish, as if he did not comprehend the question, and answered, "oh! certainly, sir--certainly--we do not object to give you our notes for it," at the same time producing an extremely dirty bundle of worn-out bits of paper. roger stroked his chin. "but, master, my meaning is, not how many o' them brown bits o' paper you'll sell me for my gold here," and he exhibited a greater store than mr. breakem had seen at once upon his counter for a year, "but how much more gold you'll send me back with than what i've brought? by way of interest, you know, or some such law: for i don't know much about the funds, master." "indeed, sir," replied the civil banker, who wished by any means to catch the clodpole's spoil--"you are very obliging; we shall be glad to allow you two-and-a-half per centum per annum for the deposit you are good enough to leave in our keeping." "leave in your keeping, master! no, i didn't say that! by your leave, i'll keep it myself!" "in that case, sir, i really do not see how i can do business with you." true enough; and roger would never have been such a monetary blockhead, had he not been now so generally tipsy; the fumes of beer had mingled with his plan, and all his usual shrewdness had been blunted into folly by greediness of lucre on the one side, and potent liquors on the other. the moment that the banker's parting speech had reached his ear, the absurdity of roger's scheme was evident even to himself, and with a bare "good day, master," he hurriedly took his bundle from the counter, and scuttled out as quick as he could. his feelings, walking homeward, were any thing but pleasant; the bubble of his ardent hope was burst: he never could have more than the paltry little sum he carried in that bundle: what a miser he would be of it: how mean it now seemed in his eyes--a mere sample-bag of seed, instead of the wide-waving harvest! ah, well; he would save and scrape--ay, and go back to toil again--do any thing rather than spend. got home, the difficulty now recurred, where was he to hide it? the store was a greater care than ever, now those rascally bankers knew of it. he racked his brain to find a hiding-place, and, at length, really hit upon a good one. he concealed the crock, now replenished with its contents, in the thatch just over his bed's head: it was a rescued darling: so he tore a deep hole, and nested it quite snugly. perhaps it did not matter much, but the rain leaked in by that hole all night, and fortunate roger woke in the morning drenched with wet, and racked by rheumatism. chapter xix. calumny. more blessings issue from the crock; pandora's box is set wide open, and all the sweet inhabitants come forth. if apprehensions for its safety made the finder full of care, the increased whisperings of the neighbourhood gave him even deeper reason for anxiety. in vain he told lie upon lie about a legacy of some old uncle in the clouds; in vain he stuck to the foolish and transparent falsehood, with a dogged pertinacity that appealed, not to reason, but to blows; in vain he made affirmation weaker by his oath, and oaths quite unconvincing by his cudgel: no one believed him: and the mystery was rendered more inexplicable from his evidently nervous state and uneasy terror of discovery. he had resolved at the outset, cunningly as he fancied, to change no more than one piece of gold in the same place; though bacchus's undoubtedly proved the rule by furnishing an exception: and the consequence came to be, that there was not a single shop in the whole county town, nor a farm-house in all the neighbourhood round, where roger acton had not called to change a sovereign. true, the silver had seldom been forthcoming; still, he had asked for it; and where in life could he have got the gold? many was the rude questioner, whose curiosity had been quenched in drink; many the insufferable pryer, whom club-law had been called upon to silence. meanwhile, roger steadily kept on, accumulating silver where he could: for his covetous mind delighted in the mere semblance of an increase to his store, and took some untutored numismatic interest in those pretty variations of his idol--money. but if roger's heap increased, so did the whispers and suspicions of the country round; they daily grew louder, and more clamorous; and soon the charitable nature of chagrined wonder assumed a shape more heart-rending to the wretched finder of that golden hoard, than any other care, or fear, or sin, that had hitherto torn him. it only was a miracle that the neighbours had not thought of it before; seldom is the world so unsuspicious; but then honest roger's forty years of character were something--they could scarcely think the man so base; and, above all, gentle grace was such a favourite with all, was such a pattern of purity, and kindliness, and female conduct, that the tongue would have blistered to its roots, that had uttered scorn of her till now. as things were, though, could any thing be clearer? was charity herself to blame in putting one and one together? sir john was rich, was young, gay, and handsome; but grace was poor--but indisputably beautiful, and probably had once been innocent: some had seen her going to the hall at strange times and seasons--for in truth, she often did go there; jonathan and sarah stack, of course, were her dearest friends on earth: and so it came to pass, that, through the blessing of the crock, honest roger was believed to live on the golden wages of his daughter's shame! oh, coarse and heartless imputation! oh, bitter price to pay for secresy and wonderful good fortune! in vain the wretched father stormed, and swore, and knocked down more than one foul-spoken fellow that had breathed against dear grace. none but credited the lie, and many envious wretches actually gloried in the scandal; i grieve to say that women--divers venerable virgins--rejoiced that this pert hussey was at last found out; she was too pretty to be good, too pious to be pure; now at length they were revenged upon her beauty; now they had their triumph over one that was righteous over-much. for other people, they would urge the reasonable question, how else came roger by the cash? and getting no answer, or worse than none--a prevaricating, mystifying mere put-off--they had hardly an alternative in common exercise of judgment: therefore, "shame on her," said the neighbours, "and the bitterest shame on him:" and the gaffers and grand-dames shook their heads virtuously. yet worse: there was another suggestion, by no means contradictory, though simultaneous: what had become of tom? ay--that bold young fellow--thomas acton, ben burke's friend: why was he away so long, hiding out of the country? they wondered. the suspected damon and pythias had gone a county off to certain fens, and were, during this important week, engaged in a long process of ensnaring ducks. old gaffer white had muttered something to gossip heartley, which dick the tanner overheard, wherein tom acton and a gun, and burke, and burglary, and throats cut, and bags of gold, were conspicuous ingredients: so that roger acton's own dear tom, that eagle-eyed and handsome better image of himself, stood accused, before his quailing father's face, of robbery and murder. both--both darlings, dead annie's little orphaned pets, thus stricken by one stone to infamy! grace, scouted as a hussey, an outcast, a bad girl, a wanton--blessed angel! thomas--generous boy--keenly looked for, in his near return, to be seized by rude hands, manacled, and dragged away, and tried on suspicion as a felon--for what? that crock of gold. yet roger heard it all, knew it all, writhed at it all, as if scorpions were lashing him; but still he held on grimly, keeping that bad secret. should he blab it out, and so be poor again, and lose the crock? that our labourer's changed estate influenced his bodily health, under this accumulated misery and desperate excitement, began to be made manifest to all. the sturdy husbandman was transformed into a tremulous drunkard; the contented cottager, into a querulous hypochondriac; the calm, religious, patient christian, into a tumultuous blasphemer. could all this be, and even roger's iron frame stand up against the battle! no, the strength of samson has been shorn. the crock has poured a blessing on its finder's very skin, as when the devil covered job with boils. chapter xx. the bailiff's visit. one day at noon, ere the first week well was over since the fortunate discovery of gold, as roger lay upon his bed, recovering from an overnight's excess, tossed with fever, vexation, and anxiety, he was at once surprised and frightened by a visit from no less a personage than mr. simon jennings. and this was the occasion of his presence: directly the gathering storm of rumours had collected to that focus of all calumny, the destruction of female character and murder charged upon the innocent, grace acton had resolved upon her course; secresy could be kept no longer; her duty now appeared to be, to publish the story of her father's lucky find. grace, we may observe, had never been bound to silence, but only imposed it on herself from motives of tenderness to one, whom she believed to be taken in the toils of a temptation. she, simple soul, knew nothing of manorial rights, nor wotted she that any could despoil her father of his money; but even if such thoughts had ever crossed her mind, she loathed the gold that had brought so much trouble on them all, and cared not how soon it was got rid of. her father's health, honour, happiness, were obviously at stake; perhaps, also, her brother's very life: and, as for herself, the martyr of calumny looked piously to heaven, offered up her outraged heart, and resolved to stem this torrent of misfortune. accordingly, with a noble indignation worthy of her, she had gone straightway to the hall, to see the baronet, to tell the truth, fling aside a charge which she could scarcely comprehend, and openly vindicate her offended honour. she failed--many imagine happily for her own peace, if sir john had not been better than his friends--in gaining access to the lord of hurstley; but she did see mr. jennings, who serenely interposed, and listened to all she came to say--"her father had been unfortunate enough to find a crock of money on the lake side near his garden." when jennings heard the tale, he started as if stung by a wasp: and urging grace to tell it no one else (though the poor girl "must," she said, "for honour's sake"), he took up his hat, and ran off breathlessly to acton's cottage. roger was at home, in bed, and sick; there was no escape; and simon chuckled at the lucky chance. so he crept in, carefully shut the door, put his finger on his lips to hush roger's note of admiration at so little wished a vision; and then, with one of his accustomed scared and fearful looks behind him, muttered under his breath, "man, that gold is mine: i have paid its price to the uttermost; give me the honey-pot." roger's first answer was a vulgar oath; but his tipsy courage faded soon away before old habits of subserviency, and he faltered out, "i--i--muster jennings! i've got no pot of gold!" "man, you lie! you have got the money! give it me at once--and--" he added in a low, hoarse voice, "we will not say a word about the murder." "murder!" echoed the astonished man. "ay, murder, acton:--off! off, i say!" he muttered parenthetically, then wrestled for a minute violently, as with something in the air; and recovering as from a spasm, calmly added, "ay, murder for the money." "i--i!" gasped roger; "i did no murder, muster jennings!" a new light seemed to break upon the bailiff, and he answered with a tone of fixed determination, "acton, you are the murderer of bridget quarles." roger's jaw dropped, dismay was painted on his features, and certainly he did look guilty enough. but simon proceeded in a tenderer tone; "notwithstanding, give me the gold, acton, and none shall know a word about the murder. we will keep all quiet, roger acton, all nice and quiet, you know;" and he added, coaxingly, "come, roger, give me up this crock of gold." "never!" with a fierce anathema, answered our hero, now himself again: the horrid accusation had entranced him for a while, but this coaxing strain roused up all the man in him: "never!" and another oath confirmed it. "acton, give it up, i say!" was shouted in rejoinder, and jennings glared over him with his round and staring eyes as he lay faint upon his bed--"give up the crock, or else--" "else what? you whitened villain." the bailiff flung himself at roger's neck, and almost shrieked, "i'll serve you as i--" there was a tremendous struggle; attacked at unawares, for the moment he was nearly mastered; but acton's tall and wiry frame soon overpowered the excited jennings, and long before you have read what i have written--he has leaped out of bed--seized--doubled up--and flung the battered bailiff headlong down the narrow stair-case to the bottom. this done, roger, looking like don quixote de la mancha in his penitential shirt, mounted into bed again, and quietly lay down; wondering, half-sober, at the strange and sudden squall. chapter xxi. the capture. he had not long to wonder. jennings got up instantly, despite of bruises, posted to the hall, took a search-warrant from sir john's study, (they were always ready signed, and jennings filled one up,) and returned with a brace of constables to search the cottage. then roger, as he lay musing, fancied he heard men's voices below, and his wife, who had just come in, talking to them; what could they want? tramps, perhaps: or ben? he shuddered at the possibility; with tom too; and he felt ashamed to meet his son. so he turned his face to the wall, and lay musing on--he hadn't been drinking too much over-night--oh, no! it was sickness, and rheumatics, and care about the crock; tom should be told that he was very ill, poor father! just as he had planned this, and resolved to keep his secret from that poaching ruffian burke, some one came creeping up the stairs, slided in at the door, and said to him in a deep whisper from the further end of the room, "acton, give me the gold, and the men shall go away; it is not yet too late; tell me where to find the crock of gold." an oath was the reply; and, at a sign from jennings, up came the other two. "we have searched every where, mr. simon jennings, both cot and garden; ground disturbed in two or three places, but nothing under it; in-doors too, the floor is broken by the hearth and by the dresser, but no signs of any thing there: now, master acton, tell us where it is, man, and save us all the trouble." roger's newly-learnt vocabulary of oaths was drawn upon again. "did you look in the ash-pit?" asked jennings. "no, sir." "well, while you two search this chamber, i will examine it myself." mr. jennings apparently entertained a wholesome fear of acton's powers of wrestling. up came simon in a hurry back again, with a lot of little empty leather bags he had raked out, and--the fragment of a shawl! the edges burnt, it was a corner bit, and marked b.q. "what do you call this, sir?" asked the exulting bailiff. "curse that burke!"--thought roger; but he said nothing. and the two men up stairs had searched, and pried, and hunted every where in vain; the knotty mattress had been ripped up, the chimney scrutinized, the floor examined, the bed-clothes overhauled, and as for the thatch, if it hadn't been for roger acton's constant glance upwards at his treasure in the roof, i am sure they never would have found it. but they did at last: there it was, the crock of gold, full proof of robbery and murder! "aha!" said simon, in a complacent triumph, "mrs. quarles's identical honey-pot, full of her clean bright gold, and many pieces still encased in those tidy leather bags;" and his round eyes glistened again; but all at once, with a hurried look over his left shoulder, he exclaimed, involuntarily, in a very different tone, "ha! away, i say!--" then he snatched the crock up eagerly, and nursed it like a child. "come along with us, master acton, you're wanted somewhere else; up, man, look alive, will you?" and roger dressed himself mechanically. it was no manner of use, not in the least worth while resisting, innocent though he was; his treasure had been found, and taken from him; he had nothing more to live for; his gold was gone--his god; where was the wisdom of fighting for any thing else; let them take him to prison if they would, to the jail, to the gallows, to any-whither, now his gold was gone. so he put on his clothes without a murmur, and went with them as quiet as a lamb. never was there a clearer case; the housekeeper's hoard had been found in his possession, with a fragment of her shawl; and sir john vincent was very well aware of the mystery attending the old woman's death; besides, he was in a great hurry to be off; for pointer, and silliphant, and lord george pypp, were to have a hurdle race with him that day, for a heavy bet; so he really had not time to go deep into the matter; and the result of five minutes' talk before the magisterial chairs (squire ryle having been summoned to assist) was, that, on the accusation of simon jennings, roger acton was fully committed to the county jail, to be tried at next assizes, for bridget quarles's murder. thank god! poor roger, it has come to this. what other way than this was there to save thee from thy sin--to raise thee from thy fall? where else, but in a prison, could you get the silent, solitary hours leading you again to wholesome thought and deep repentance? where else could you escape the companionship of all those loose and low associates, sottish brawlers, ignorant and sensual unbelievers, vagabond radicals, and other lewd fellows of the baser sort, that had drank themselves drunk at your expense, and sworn to you as captain! the place, the time, the means for penitence are here. the crisis of thy destiny is come. honest roger, steady acton, did i not see thy guardian angel--after all his many tears, aggrieved and broken spirit!--did i not see him lift his swollen eyes in gratitude to heaven, and benevolence to thee, and smile a smile of hopeful joy when that damned crock was found? gladly could he thank his lord, to behold the temptation at an end. did i not see the devil slink away from thee abashed, issuing like an adder from thy heart, and then, with a sudden protean change, driven from thy hovel as a thunder-cloud dispersing, when simon jennings seized the jar, hugged it as his household-god--and took it home with him--and counted out the gold--and locked the bloody treasure in his iron-chest? fitly did the murderer lock up curses with his spoil. and when god smote thine idol, dashing dagon to the ground, and thy heart was sore with disappointment, and tender as a peeled fig--when hope was dead for earth, and conscience dared not look beyond it--ah! roger, did i judge amiss when i saw, or thought i saw, those eyes full of humble shame, those lips quivering with remorseful sorrow? we will leave thee in the cold stone cell--with thy well-named angel grace to comfort thee, and pray with thee, and help thee back to god again, and so repay the debt that a daughter owes her father. happy prison! where the air is sweetened by the frankincense of piety, and the pavement gemmed with the flowers of hope, and the ceiling arched with heaven's bow of mercy, and the walls hung around with the dewy drapery of penitence! happy prison! where the talents that were lost are being found again, gathered in humility from this stone floor; where poor-making riches are banished from the postern, and rich-making poverty streameth in as light from the grated window; where care vexeth not now the labourer emptied of his gold, and calumny's black tooth no longer gnaws the heart-strings of the innocent. hark! it is the turnkey, coming round to leave the pittance for the day: he is bringing in something in an earthern jar. speak, roger acton, which will you choose, man--a prisoner's mess of pottage--or a crock of gold? chapter xxii. the aunt and her nephew. while we leave roger acton in the jail, waiting for the very near assizes, and wearing every hour away in penitence and prayer, it will be needful to our story that we take a retrospective glance at certain events, of no slight importance. i must now speak of things, of which there is no human witness; recording words, and deeds, whereof heaven alone is cognizant, heaven alone--and hell! for there are secret matters, which the murdered cannot tell us, and the murderer dare not--let him confess as fully as he will. therefore, with some omnipresent sense, some invisible ubiquity, i must note down scenes as they occurred, whether mortal eye has witnessed them or not; i must lay bare secret thoughts, unlatch the hidden chambers of the heart, and duly set out, as they successively arose, the idea which tongue had not embodied, the feeling which no action had expressed. hitherto, we have pretty well preserved inviolate the three grand unities--time, place, circumstance; and even now we do not sin against the first and chiefest, however we may seem so to sin; for, had it suited my purpose to have begun with the beginning, and to have placed the present revelations foremost, the strictest stickler for the unities would have only had to praise my orthodox adherence to them. as it is, i have chosen, for interest sake, to shuffle my cards a little; and two knaves happen to have turned up together just at this time and place. the time is just three weeks ago--a week before the baronet came of age, and a fortnight antecedent to the finding of the crock; which, as we know, after blessing roger for a se'nnight, has at last left him in jail. the place is the cozy house-keepers room at hurstley: and the brace of thorough knaves, to enact then and there as _dramatis personæ_, includes mistress bridget quarles, a fat, sturdy, bluffy, old woman, of a jolly laugh withal, and a noisy tongue--and our esteemed acquaintance mister simon jennings. the aunt, house-keeper, had invited the nephew, butler, to take a dish of tea with her, and rum-punch had now succeeded the souchong. "well, aunt quarles, is it your meaning to undertake a new master?" "don't know, nephy--can't say yet what he'll be like: if he'll leave us as we are, won't say wont." "ay, as we are, indeed; comfortable quarters, and some little to put by, too: a pretty penny you will have laid up all this while, i'll be bound: i wager you now it is a good five hundred, aunt--come, done for a shilling." "get along, foolish boy; a'n't you o' the tribe o' wisdom too--ha, ha, ha!" "i will not say," smirked simon, "that my nest has not a feather." "it's easy work for us, nep; we hunt in couples: you the men, and i the maids--ha, ha!" "tush, aunt bridget! that speech is not quite gallant, i fear." and the worshipful extortioners giggled jovially. "but it's true enough for all that, simon: how d'ye manage it, eh, boy? much like me, i s'pose; wages every quarter from the maids, dues from tradesmen christmas-tide and easter, regular as parson evans's; pretty little bits tacked on weekly to the bills, beside presents from every body; and so, boy, my poor forty pounds a-year soon mounts up to a hundred." "ay, ay, aunt bridget--but i get the start of you, though you probably were born a week before-hand: talk of parsons, look at me, a regular grand pluralist monopolist, as any bishop can be; butler in doors, bailiff out of doors, land-steward, house-steward, cellar-man, and pay-master. i am not all this for naught, aunt quarles: if so much goes through my fingers, it is but fair that something stick." "true, simon--o certainly; but if you come to boasting, my boy, i don't carry this big bunch o' keys for nothing neither. lord love you! why merely for cribbings in the linen-line for one month, john draper swapped me that there shawl: none o' my clothes ever cost me a penny, and i a'n't quite as bare as a new-born baby neither. look at them trunks, bless you!" "ay, ay, aunt, i'll be bound the printer of your prayer-book has left out a 'not,' before the 'steal,' eh?--ha! ha!" "fie, naughty simon, fie! them's not stealings, them's parquisites. where's the good o' living in a great house else? but come, si, haven't you struck out the 'not,' for yourself, though the printer did his duty, eh, nep?" "not a bit, aunt--not a bit: all sheer honesty and industry. look at my pretty little truck-shop down the village. wo betide the labourer that leaves off dealing there! not one that works at hurstley, but eats my bread and bacon; besides the 'tea, coffee, tobacco, and snuff.'" "pretty fairish articles, eh? i never dealt with you, si: no, nep, no--you never saw the colour o' my money." jennings gave a start, as if a thought had pricked him; but gayly recovering himself, said, "oh, as to pretty fairish, i know there is one thing about the bacon good enough; ay, and the bread too--the very best of prices; ha! ha! is not that good? and for the other genuine articles, i don't know that much of the tea comes from china--and the coffee is sold ground, because it is burnt maize--and there's a plenty of wholesome cabbage leaf cut up in the tobacco--while as for snuff, i give them a dry, peppery, choky, sneezy dust, and i dare say that it does its duty." it was astonishing how innocently the worthy couple laughed together. "my only trouble, aunt quarles, is where to keep my gains--what to do with them. i am quite driven to the strong-box system, interest is so bad; and as to speculations, they are nervous things, and sicken one. i invest in the great western one day--a tunnel falls in, so i sell my shares the next, and send the proceeds to australia; then, looking at the map, i see the island isn't clean chalked out all round, and beginning to fear that the sea will get in where it a'n't made water-tight by the admiralty, i call the money home again. you see i don't know what to do with gold when i get it. where do you keep yours now, aunt, i wonder?" "o, nep, never mind me; you rattle on so i can't get in never a word. i'll only tell you where i don't keep it. not at breakem's bank, for they're brewers, and hosiers, and chandlers, and horse-dealers--ay, and swindlers too, the whole 'company' on 'em; not in mortgages, for i hate the very smell of a lawyer, with all his pounce and parchment; not in gover'me't 'nuities, for i'm an old 'ooman, boy; and not in the three per cents, nor any other per cents, for i've sense enough to know that my highest interest lies in counting out, as my first principle is dropping in." and the fat female laughed herself purple at the venerable joke. simon was a courtier, and laughed too, as immoderately as possible. "ah! i dare say now you have got a chubb's patent somewhere full of gold?" he asked somewhat anxiously; "take your punch, aunt, wont you? i do not see you drink." "simon, mark me; fools who want to be robbed put their money into an iron chest, that thieves may know exactly where to find it; they might as well ticket it 'cash,' and advertise to newgate--come and steal. i know a little better than to be such a fool." "yes, certainly--i dare say now you keep it in your work-box, or sew it up in your stays, or hide it in the mattress, or in an old tea-pot, maybe." and jennings eyed her narrowly. "nephew, what rhymes to money?" "money?--well i can't say i am a poet--stony, perhaps. at least," added the benevolent individual, "when i have raised a wretch's rent to gain a little more by him, stony is not a bad shield to lift against prayers, and tears, and orphans, and widows, and starvation, and all such nonsense." "not bad, neither, nep: but there's a better rhyme than that." "you cannot mean honey, aunt? when i guessed stony, i thought you might have some snug little cash cellar under the flags. but honey? are you such a thorough mrs. rundle as to pickle and preserve your very guineas, the same as you do strawberries or apricots in syrup?" "oh, you clever little fool! how prettily you do talk on: your tongue's as tidy as your cash-book: when you've any money to put by, come to aunt bridget for a crock to hide it in: mayn't one use a honey-pot, as teddy rourke would say, barring the honey?" "ha! and so you hide the hoard up there, aunt, eh? along with the preserves in a honey-pot, do you?" "we'll see--we'll see, some o' these long days; not that the money's to be yours, nep--you're rich enough, and don't want it; there's your poor sister scott with her fourteen children, and aunt bridget must give her a lift in life: she was a good niece to me, simon, and never left my side before she married: maybe she'll have cause to bless the dead." jennings hardly spoke a word more; but drained his glass in silence, got up a sudden stomach-ache, and wished his aunt good-night. chapter xxiii. schemes. we must follow simon jennings to his room. he felt keenly disappointed. money was the idol of his heart, as it is of many million others. he had robbed, lied, extorted, tyrannized; he had earned scorn, ill-report, and hatred; nay, he had even diligently gone to work, and lost his own self-love and self-respect in the service of his darling idol. he was at once, for lucre's sake, the mean, cringing fawner, and the pitiless, iron despot; to the rich he could play supple parasite, while the poor man only knew him as an unrelenting persecutor; with the good, and they were chiefly of the fairer, softer sex, he walked in meekness, the spiritual hypocrite; the while, it was his boast to over-reach the worst in low duplicity and crooked dealing. all this he was for gold. when the eye of the world was on him, and intuition warned him of the times, he was ever the serene, the correct, with a smooth tongue and an oily smile; but in the privacy of some poor hovel, where his debtor sued for indulgence, or some victim of his passions (he had more depravities than one) threw her wretched self upon his pity, then could simon jennings lash sternness into rage, and heat his brazen heart with the embers of inveterate malice. it was as if the serpent, that voluble, insinuating reptile, which had power to fascinate poor eve, turned to rend her when she had fallen, erect, with flashing eyes, and bristling crest, with venomed fangs, and hissing. behold, snake-worshippers of mexico, the prototype of your grim idol, in mammon's model slave and specimen disciple! such a man was simon jennings, a soul given up to gold--exclusively to gold; for although, as we have hinted, and as hereafter may appear, he could sell himself at times to other sins, still these were but as stars in his evil firmament, while covetousness ruled it like the sun; or, if the beauteous stars and blessed sun be an image too hallowed for his wickedness, we may find a fitter in some stagnant pool, where the pestilential vapour over all is mammonism, and the dull, fat weeds that rot beneath, are pride, craftiness, and lechery. in fact, to speak of passions in a heart such as his, were a palpable misnomer; all was reduced to calculation; his rage was fostered to intimidate, and where the wretch seemed kinder, his kindnesses were aimed at power, as an object, rather than at pleasure--the power to obtain more gold. for it is a dreadful truth (which i would not dare to utter if such crimes had never been), that a reprobate of the bailiff jennings's stamp may, by debts, or fines, or kind usurious loans, entrap a beggared creature in his toils; and then lyingly propose remission at the secret sacrifice of honour, in some one, over whom that dastard beggar has control; and having this point gained, the seducer is quite capable of using, for still more extortion, the power which a threatening of exposure gives, when the criminally weak has stooped to sin, on promises of silence and delivery from ruin. i wish there may be no poor yeoman in this broad land, of honourable name withal, he and his progenitors for ages, who can tell the tale of his own base fears, a creditor's exactions, and some dependant victim's degradation: some orphaned niece, some friendless ward, immolated in her earliest youth at the shrine of black-hearted mammon; i wish there may be no sleek middle-man guilty of the crimes here charged upon simon jennings. this worthy, then, had been introduced at hurstley by his aunt, mrs. quarles, on the occurrence of a death vacancy in the lad-of-all-work department, during the long ungoverned space of young sir john's minority. as the precious "lad" grew older, and divers in-door potentates died off, the house-keeper had power to push her nephew on to pageship, footmanship, and divers other similar crafts, even to the final post of butler; while his own endeavours, backed by his aunt's interest, managed to secure for him the rule out of doors no less than in, and the closest possible access to guardians and landlords, to the tenants--and their rent. now, the amiable mrs. quarles had contrived the elevation of her nephew, and connived at his monopolies, mainly to fit in cleverly with her own worldly weal; for it would never have done to have risked the loss of innumerable perquisites, and other peculations, by the possible advent of an honest butler. but, while the worshipful simon, to do him only justice, fully answered mrs. bridget's purpose, and even added much to her emoluments; still he was no mere derivative scion, but an independent plant, and entertained views of his own. he had his own designs, and laid himself out to entrap his aunt's affections; or rather, for i cannot say he greatly valued these, to secure her good graces, and worm himself within the gilded clauses of her will; she was an old woman, rolling in gold, no doubt had a will; and as for himself, he was younger by five-and-thirty years, so he could afford to wait a little, before trying on her shoes. the petty schemes of thievery and cheating, which he in his quotem capacities had practised, were to his eyes but as driblets of wealth in comparison with the mighty stream of his old aunt's savings. not that he had done amiss, trust him! but then he knew the amount of his own hoard to a farthing, while of hers he was entirely ignorant; so, on the principle of '_omne ignotum pro mirifico_,' he pondered on its vastness with indefinite amazement, although probably it might not reach the quarter of his own. for it should in common charity be stated, that, with all her hiding and hiving propensities, mrs. quarles, however usually a screw, was by fits and starts an extravagant woman, and besides spending on herself, had occasionally helped her own kith and kin; poor niece scott, in particular, had unconsciously come in for many pleasant pilferings, and had to thank her good aunt for innumerable filched groceries, and hosieries, and other largesses, which (the latter in especial) really had contributed, with sundry other more self indulgent expenses, to make no small havoc of the store. still, this store was simon's one main chance, the chief prize in his hope's lottery; and it was with a pang, indeed, that he found all his endeavours to compass its possession had been vain. was that endless cribbage nothing, and the weary bible-lessons on a sunday, and the constant fetchings and carryings, and the forced smiles, sham congratulations, and other hypocritical affections--fearing for his dear aunt's dropsy, and inquiring so much about her bunions--was all this dull servitude to meet with no reward? with none? worse than none! fool that he was! had he schemed, and plotted, and flattered, and cozened--ay, and given away many pretty little presents, lost decoys, that had cost hard money, all for nothing--less than nothing--to be laughed at and postponed to his methodist sister scott? the impudence of deliberately telling him he "didn't want it, and was rich enough!" as if "enough" could ever be good grammar after such a monosyllable as "rich;" and "want it" indeed! of course he wanted it; if not, why had he slaved so many years? want it, indeed! if to hope by day, and to dream by night--if to leave no means untried of delicately showing how he longed for it--if to grow sick with care, and thin with coveting--if this were to want the gold, good sooth, he wanted it. don't tell him of starving brats, his own very bowels pined for it; don't thrust in his face the necessities of others--the necessity is his; he must have it--he will have it--talk of necessity! wait a bit: is there no way of managing some better end to all this? no mode of giving the right turn to that wheel of fortune, round which his cares and calculations have been hovering so long? is there no conceivable method of possessing that vast hoard? bless me! how huge it must be! and simon turned whiter at the thought: only add up mother quarles's income for fifty-five years: she is seventy-five at least, and came here a girl of twenty. simon's hair stood on end, and his heart went like a mill-clapper, as he mentally figured out the sum. is there no possibility of contriving matters so that i may be the architect of my own good luck, and no thanks at all to the old witch there? dear--what a glorious fancy--let me think a little. cannot i get at the huge hoard some how? chapter xxiv. the devil's counsel. "steal it," said the devil. simon was all of a twitter; for though he fancied his own heart said it, still his ear-drum rattled, as if somebody had spoken. simon--that ear-drum was to put you off your guard: the deaf can hear the devil: he needs no tympanum to commune with the spirit: listen again, simon; your own thoughts echo every word. "steal it: hide in her room; you know she has a shower-bath there, which nobody has used for years, standing in a corner; two or three cloaks in it, nothing else: it locks inside, how lucky! ensconce yourself there, watch the old woman to sleep--what a fat heavy sleeper she is!--quietly take her keys, and steal the store: remember, it is a honey-pot. nothing's easier--or safer. who'd suspect you?" "splendid! and as good as done," triumphantly exclaimed the nephew, snapping his fingers, and prancing with glee;--"a glorious fancy! bless my lucky star!" if there be a planet lucifer, that was simon's lucky star. and so, mrs quarles the biter is going to be bit, eh? it generally is so in this world's government. you, who brought in your estimable nephew to aid and abet in your own dishonest ways, are, it seems, going to be robbed of all your knavish gains by him. this is taking the wise in their own craftiness, i reckon: and richly you deserve to lose all your ill-got hoard. at the same time, mrs. quarles--i will be just--there are worse people in the world than you are: in comparison with your nephew, i consider you a grosser kind of angel; and i really hope no harm may befall your old bones beyond the loss of your money. however, if you are to lose this, it is my wish that poor mrs. scott, or some other honest body, may get it, and not simon; or rather, i should not object that he may get it first, and get hung for getting it, too, before the sister has the hoard. our friend, simon jennings, could not sleep that night; his reveries and scheming lasted from the rum-punch's final drop, at ten p.m., to circiter two a.m., and then, or thenabouts, the devil hinted "steal it;" and so, not till nearly four, he began to shut his eyes, and dream again, as his usual fashion was, of adding up receipts in five figures, and of counting out old bridget's hoarded gold. next day, notwithstanding nocturnal semi-sleeplessness, he awoke as brisk as a bee, got up in as exhilarated a state as any gas-balloon, and was thought to be either surprisingly in spirits, or spirits surprisingly in him; none knew which, "where each seemed either." that whole day long, he did the awkwardest things, and acted in the most absent manner possible; jonathan thought mr. simon was beside himself; sarah stack, foolish thing! said he was in love, and was observed to look in the glass several times herself; other people did not know what to think--it was quite a mystery. to recount only a few of his unprecedented exploits on that day of anticipative bliss: first, he asked the porter how his gout was, and gave him a thimble-full of whiskey from his private store. secondly, he paid widow soper one whole week's washing in full, without the smallest deduction or per centage. thirdly, he ordered of richard buckle, commonly called dick the tanner, a lot of cart harness, without haggling for price, or even asking it. and, fourthly, he presented old george white, who was coming round with a subscription paper for a dead pig--actually, he presented old gaffer white with the sum of two-pence out of his own pocket! never was such careless prodigality. but the little world of hurstley did not know what we know. they possessed no clue to the secret happiness wherewithal simon jennings hugged himself; they had no inkling of the crock of gold; they thought not he was going to be suddenly so rich; they saw no cause, as we do, why he should feel to be like a great heir on the eve of his majority; they wotted not that sir john devereux vincent, baronet, had scarcely more agreeable or triumphant feelings when his clock struck twenty-one, than simon jennings, butler, as the hour of his hope drew nigh. if a destiny like this man's can ever have a crisis, the hour of his hope is that; but downward still, into a lower gulf, has been continually his bad career; there is (unless a miracle intervene) no stopping in the slope on which he glides, albeit there may be precipices. he that rushes in his sledge down the artificial ice-hills of st. petersburgh, skims along not more swiftly than jennings, from the altitude of infant innocence, had sheered into the depths of full-grown depravity; but even he can fall, and reach, with startling suddenness, a lower deep. as if that russian mountain, hewn asunder midway, were fitted flush to a norwegian cliff, beetling precipitately over the whirlpool; then tilt the sledge with its furred inmate over the slope, let it skim with quicker impetus the smoking ice, let it touch that beetling edge, and, leaping from the tangent, let it dart through the air, let it strike the eddying waters, be sucked hurriedly down that hoarse black throat, wind among the roots of the everlasting hills, and split upon the loadstone of the centre. even such a fate, "down, down to hell," will come to simon jennings; wrapped in the furs of complacency, seated in the sledge of covetousness, a-down the slippery launch of well-worn evil habit--over the precipice of crime--into the billows of impenitent remorse--to be swallowed by the vortex of gehenna! chapter xxv. the ambuscade. night came, and with it all black thoughts. not that they were black at once, any more than darkness leaps upon the back of noon, without the intervening cloak of twilight. oh dear, no! simon's thoughts accommodated themselves fitly to the time of day. they had been, for him, at early morning, pretty middling white, that is whity-brown; thence they passed, with the passing hour kindly, through the shades of burnt sienna, raw umber, and bistre; until, just as we may notice in the case of marking-ink; that which, five minutes ago, was as water only delicately dirtied, has become a fixed and indelible black. simon was resolved upon the spoil, come what might; although his waking sensations of buoyancy, his noon-day cogitations of a calmer kind, and his even-tide determined scheming, had now given way to a nervous and unpleasant trepidation. so he poured spirits down to keep his spirits up. very early after dark, he had watched his opportunity while mrs. quarles was scolding in the kitchen, had slipped shoeless and unperceived, from his pantry into the housekeeper's room, and locked himself securely in the shower bath. hapless wight! it was very little after six yet, and there he must stand till twelve or so: his foresight had not calculated this, and the devil had already begun to cheat him. but he would go through with it now; no flinching, though his rabbit back is breaking with fatigue, and his knocked knees totter with exhaustion, and his haggard eyes swim dizzily, and his bad heart is failing him for fear. yes, fear, and with good reason too for fear; "nothing easier, nothing safer," said his black adviser; how easily for bodily pains, how safely for chances of detection, was he getting at the promised crock of gold! "mr. jennings! mr. simon! where in the world was mr. jennings?" nobody knew; he must have gone out somewhere. strange, too--and left his hat and great-coat. here's a general for an ambuscade; oh, simon, simon! you have had the whole day to think of it--how is it that both you and your dark friend overlooked in your calculations the certainty of search, and the chance of a discovery? the veriest school-boy, when he hid himself, would hide his hat. i am half afraid that you are in that demented state, which befits the wretch ordained to perish. but where is mr. jennings? that was the continued cry for four agonizing hours of dread and difficulty. sarah, the still-room maid, was sitting at her work, unluckily in mrs. quarles's room; she had come in shortly after simon's secret entry; there she sat, and he dared not stir. and they looked every where--except in the right place; to do the devil justice, it was a capital hiding-corner that; rooms, closets, passages, cellars, out-houses, gardens, lofts, tenements, and all the "general words," in a voluminous conveyance, were searched and searched in vain; more than one groom expected (hoped is a truer word) to find mr. jennings hanging by a halter from the stable-lamp; more than one exhilarated labourer, hastily summoned for the search, was sounding the waters with a rake and rope, in no slight excitement at the thought of fishing up a deceased bailiff. it was a terrible time for the ensconced one: sometimes he thought of coming out, and treating the affair as a bit of pleasantry: but then the devil had taken off his shoes--as a glascow captain deals with his cargo of refractory irishers; how could he explain that? his abominable old aunt was shrewd, and he knew how clearly she would guess at the truth; if he desired to make sure of losing every chance, he could come out now, and reveal himself; but if he nourished still the hope of counting out that crock of gold, he'll bide where he is, and trust to--to--to fate. the wretch had "providence" on his blistered tongue. if, under the circumstances, any thing could be added to simon's gratification, such pleasing addition was afforded in overhearing, as lord brougham did, the effect which his rumoured death produced on the minds of those who best had known him. it so happened, sarah was sick, and did not join the universal hunt; accordingly, being the only audience, divers ambassadors came to tell her constantly the same most welcome news, that jennings had not yet been found. "lawk, sally," said a helper, "what a blessing it'll be, if that mean old thief's dead; i'll go to town, if 'tis so, get a dozen guy's-day rockets, tie 'em round with crape, and spin 'em over the larches: that'll be funeral fun won't it? and it'll sarve to tell the neighbours of our luck in getting rid on him." "i doan't like your thought, tom," said another staider youth: "it's ill-mirth playing leap-frog over tomb-stones, and poor bravery insulting the dead. besides, i'm thinking the bad man that's taken from us an't a going up'ards, so it's no use lending him a light. i wish we may all lie in a cooler grave than he does, and not have to go quite so deep down'ard." "gee up for lady-day!" exclaimed the emancipated coachman; "why, sall, i shall touch my whole lump of wages free for the fust time: and i only wish the gals had our luck." "here, sarah," interposed a kind and ruddy stable youth, "as we're all making free with mr. simon's own special ale, i've thought to bring you a nogging on't: come, you're not so sick as you can't drink with all the rest on us--the bailiff, and may none on us never see his face no more!" these, and similar testimonials to the estimation in which simon's character was held, must have gratified not a little the hearer of his own laudations: now and then, he winced so that sarah might have heard him move: but her ear was alive to nothing but the news-bringers, and her eyes appeared to be fixed upon the linen she was darning. that jennings vowed vengeance, and wreaked it afterwards too, on the youths that so had shown their love, was his solitary pleasure in the shower-bath. but his critics were too numerous for him to punish all: they numbered every soul in the house, besides the summoned aiders--only excepting three: sarah, who really had a head-ache, and made but little answers to the numerous glad envoys; jonathan floyd, whose charity did not altogether hate the man, and who really felt alarmed at his absence; and chiefest, mrs. quarles, who evinced more affection for her nephew than any thought him worthy of exciting--she wrung her hands, wept, offered rewards, bustled about every where, and kept calling blubberingly for "simon--poor dear simon." at length, that fearful hue and cry began to subside--the hubbub came to be quieter: neighbour-folks went home, and inmates went to bed. sarah stack put aside her work, and left the room. what a relief to that hidden caitiff! his feet, standing on the cold, damp iron so many hours, bare of brogues, were mere ice--only that they ached intolerably: he had not dared to move, to breathe, and was all over in one cramp: he did not bring the brandy-bottle with him, as he once had planned; for calculation whispered--"don't, your head will be the clearer; you must not muddle your brains;" and so his caution over-reached itself, as usual; his head was in a fog, and his brains in a whirlwind, for lack of other stimulants than fear and pain. o simon, how your prudence cheats you! five mortal hours of anguish and anxiety in one unalterable posture, without a single drop of creature-comfort; and all this preconcerted too! chapter xxvi. preliminaries. at last, just as the nephew was positively fainting from exhaustion, in came his kind old aunt to bed. she talked a good deal to herself, did mrs. quarles, and simon heard her say, "poor fellow--poor, dear simon, he was taken bad last night, and has seemed queerish in the head all day: pray god nothing's amiss with the boy!" the boy's heart (he was forty) smote him as he heard: yes, even he was vexed that aunt bridget could be so foolishly fond of him. but he would go on now, and not have all his toil for nothing. "i'm in for it," said he, "and there's an end." ay, simon, you are, indeed, in for it; the devil has locked you in--but as to the end, we shall see, we shall see. "i shouldn't wonder now," the good old soul went on to say, "if simon's wentured out without his hat to cool a head-ache: his grand-father--peace be with him! died, poor man, in a lunacy 'sylum: alack, si, i wish you mayn't be going the same road. no, no, i hope not--he's always so prudent-like, and wise, and good; so kind, too, to a poor old fool like me:" and the poor old fool began to cry again. "silly boy--but he'll take cold at any rate: sarah!" (here mrs. quarles rung her bell, and the still-maid answered it.) "sarah stack, sit up awhile for mr. jennings, and when he comes in, send him here to me. poor boy," she went on soliloquizing, "he shall have a drop or two to comfort his stomach, and keep the chill out." the poor boy, lying _perdu_, shuddered at the word chill, and really wished his aunt would hold her tongue. but she didn't. "maybe now," the affectionate old creature proceeded, "maybe simon was vexed at what i let drop last night about the money. i know he loves his sister scott, as i do: but it'll seem hard, too, to leave him nothing. i must make my will some day, i 'spose; but don't half like the job: it's always so nigh death. yes--yes, dear si shall have a snug little corner." the real simon pure, in his own snug little corner, writhed again. mrs. quarles started at the noise, looked up the chimney, under the bed, tried the doors and windows, and actually went so near the mark as to turn the handle of the shower-bath; "drat it," said she, "sarah must ha' took away the key: well, there can't be nothing there but cloaks, that's one comfort." last of all, a thought struck her--it must have been a mouse at the preserves. and mrs. quarles forthwith opened the important cupboard, where jennings now well knew the idol of his heart was shrined. then another thought struck mrs. quarles, though probably no unusual one, and she seemed to have mounted on a chair, and to be bringing down some elevated piece of crockery. simon could see nothing with his eyes, but his ears made up for them: if ever dr. elliotson produced clairvoyance in the sisters okey, the same sharpened apprehensions ministered to the inner man of simon jennings through the instrumental magnet of his inordinately covetous desires. therefore, though his retina bore no picture of the scene, the feelers of his mind went forth, informing him of every thing that happened. down came a narbonne honey-pot--simon saw that first, and it was as the lamp of aladdin in his eyes: then the bladder was whipped off, and the crock set open on the table. jennings, mad as darius's horse at the sight of the object he so longed for, once thought of rushing from his hiding-place, taking the hoard by a _coup de main_, and running off straightway to america: but--deary me--that'll never do; i mustn't leave my own strong-box behind me, say nothing of hat and shoes: and if i stop for any thing, she'd raise the house. while this was passing through the immaculate mind of simon jennings, bridget had been cutting up an old glove, and had made one of its fingers into a very tidy little leather sacklet; into this she deposited a bright half sovereign, spoil of the day, being the douceur of a needy brush-maker, who wished to keep custom, and, of course, charged all these vails on the current bill for mops and stable-sponges. "ha!" muttered she, "it's your last bill here, mr. scrubb, i can tell you; so, you were going to put me off with a crown-piece, were you? and actually that bit of gold might as well have been a drop of blood wrung from you: yes--yes, mr. scrubb, i could see that plainly; and so you've done for yourself." then, having sewed up the clever little bag, she dropped it into the crock: there was no jingle, all dumby: prudent that, in his aunt--for the dear morsels of gold were worth such tender keeping, and leather would hinder them from wear and tear, set aside the clink being silenced. so, the nephew secretly thanked bridget for the wrinkle, and thought how pleasant it would be to stuff old gloves with his own yellow store. ah, yes, he would do that--to-morrow morning. meanwhile, the pig-skin is put on again, and the honey-pot stored away: and simon instinctively stood a tip-toe to peep ideally into that wealthy corner cupboard. his mind's eye seemed to see more honey-pots! mammon help us! can they all be full of gold? why, any one of them would hold a thousand pounds. and simon scratched the palms of his hands, and licked his lips at the thought of so much honey. but see, mrs. quarles has, in her peculiar fashion, undressed herself: that is to say, she has taken off her outer gown, her cap and wig--and then has _added_ to the volume of her under garments, divers night habiliments, flannelled and frilled: while wrappers, manifold as a turbaned turk's, protect ear-ache, tooth-ache, head-ache, and face-ache, from the elves of the night. and now, that the bedstead creaks beneath her weight, (as well it may, for bridget is a burden like behemoth,) simon's heart goes thump so loud, that it was a wonder the poor woman never heard it. that heart in its hard pulsations sounded to me like the carpenter hammering on her coffin-lid: i marvel that she did not take it for a death-watch tapping to warn her of her end. but no: simon held his hand against his heart to keep it quiet: he was so very fearful the pitapating would betray him. never mind, simon; don't be afraid; she is fast asleep already; and her snore is to thee as it were the challenge of a trumpeter calling to the conflict. chapter xxvii. robbery. hush--hush--hush! stealthily on tiptoe, with finger on his lips, that fore-doomed man crept out. "the key is in the cupboard still--ha! how lucky: saves time that, and trouble, and--and--risk! oh, no--there can be no risk now," and the wretch added, "thank god!" the devil loves such piety as this. so simon quietly turned the key, and set the cupboard open: it was to him a bluebeard's chamber, a cave of the forty thieves, a garden of the genius in aladdin, a mysterious secret treasure-house of wealth uncounted and unseen. what a galaxy of pickle-pots! tier behind tier of undoubted currant-jelly, ranged like the houses in algiers! vasty jars of gooseberry! delicate little cupping-glasses full of syruped fruits! yet all these candied joys, which probably enhance a mrs. rundle's heaven, were as nothing in the eyes of simon--sweet trash, for all he cared they might be vulgar treacle. his ken saw nothing but the honey-pots--embarrassing array--a round dozen of them! all alike, all posted in a brown line, like stout dutch sentinels with their hands in their breeches pockets, and set aloft on that same high-reached shelf. must he really take them all? impracticable: a positive sack full. what's to be done?--which is he to leave behind? that old witch contrived this identity and multitude for safety's sake. but what if he left the wrong one, and got clear off with the valuable booty of two dozen pounds of honey? confusion! that'll never do: he must take them all, or none; all, all's the word; and forthwith, as tenderly as possible, the puzzled thief took down eleven pots of honey to his one of gold--all pig-bladdered, all fortnumed--all slimy at the string; "confound that cunning old aunt of mine," said simon, aloud; and took no notice that the snores surceased. then did he spread upon the table a certain shawl, and set the crocks in order on it: and it was quite impossible to leave behind that pretty ostentatious "savings' bank," which the shrewd hoarder kept as a feint to lure thieves from her hidden gold, by an open exhibition of her silver: unluckily, though, the shillings, not being leathered up nor branned, rattled like a mandarin toy, as the trembling hand of jennings deposited the bank beside the crockeries--and, at the well-known sound, i observed (though simon did not, as he was in a trance of addled triumph) or fancied i observed mrs. quarles's head move: but as she said nothing, perhaps i was mistaken. thus stood simon at the table, surveying his extraordinary spoils. and while he looked, the mercy of god, which never yet hath seen the soul too guilty for salvation, spake to him kindly, and whispered in his ear, "poor, deluded man--there is yet a moment for escape--flee from this temptation--put all back again--hasten to thy room, to thy prayers, repent, repent: even thou shalt be forgiven, and none but god, who will forgive thee, shall know of this bad crime. turn now from all thy sins; the gate of bliss is open, if thou wilt but lift the latch." it was one moment of irresolute delay; on that hinge hung eternity. the gate swung upon its pivot, that should shut out hell, or heaven! simon knit his brow--bit his nails--and answered quite out loud, "what! and after all to lose the crock of gold?" chapter xxviii. murder. he had waked her! in an instant the angel form of mercy melted away--and there stood the devil with his arms folded. "murder!--fire!--rape!--thieves!--what, nephew jennings, is that you, with all my honey pots? help! help! help!" "phew-w-w!" whistled the devil: "i tell you what, master simon, you must quiet the old woman, she bellows like a bull, the house'll be about your ears in a twinkling--she'll hang you for this!" yes--he must quiet her--the game was up; he threatened, he implored, but she would shriek on; she slept alone on the ground-floor, and knew she must roar loudly to be heard above the drawing-rooms; she would not be quieted--she would shriek--and she did. what must he do? she'll raise the house!--stop her mouth, stop her mouth, i say, can't you?--no, she's a powerful, stout, heavy woman, and he cannot hold her: ha! she has bitten his finger to the bone, like a very tigress! look at the blood! "why can't you touch her throat; no teeth there, bless you! that's the way the wind comes: bravo! grasp it--tighter! tighter! tighter!" she struggled, and writhed, and wrestled, and fought--but all was strangling silence; they rolled about the floor together, tumbled on the bed, scuffled round the room, but all in horrid silence; neither uttered a sound, neither had a shoe on--but all was earnest, wicked, death-dealing silence. ha! the desperate victim has the best of it; gripe harder, jennings; she has twisted her fingers in your neckcloth, and you yourself are choking: fool! squeeze the swallow, can't you? try to make your fingers meet in the middle--lower down, lower down, grasp the gullet, not the ears, man--that's right; i told you so: tighter, tighter, tighter! again; ha, ha, ha, bravo! bravo!--tighter, tighter, tighter! at length the hideous fight was coming to an end--though a hungry constrictor, battling with the huge rhinoceros, and crushing his mailed ribs beneath its folds, could not have been so fierce or fearful; fewer now, and fainter are her struggles; that face is livid blue--the eyes have started out, and goggle horribly; the tongue protrudes, swollen and black. aha! there is another convulsive effort--how strong she is still! can you hold her, simon?--can he?--all the fiend possessed him now with savage exultation: can he?--only look! gripe, gripe still, you are conquering, strong man! she is getting weaker, weaker; here is your reward, gold! gold! a mighty store uncounted; one more grasp, and it is all your own--relent now, she hangs you. come, make short work of it, break her neck--gripe harder--back with her, back with here against the bedstead: keep her down, down i say--she must not rise again. crack! went a little something in her neck--did you hear it? there's the death-rattle, the last smothery complicated gasp--what, didn't you hear that? and the devil congratulated simon on his victory. chapter xxix. the reward. till the wretch had done the deed, he scarcely knew that it was doing. it was a horrid, mad excitement, where the soul had spread its wings upon the whirlwind, and heeded not whither it was hurried. a terrible necessity had seemed to spur him onwards all the while, and one thing so succeeded to another, that he scarce could stop at any but the first. from the moment he had hidden in the shower-bath (but for god's interposing mercy), his doom appeared to have been sealed--robbery, murder, false witness, and--damnation! crime is the rushing rapid, which, but for some kind miracle, inevitably carries on through circling eddies, and a foamy swinging tide, to the cataract of death and wo: haste, poor fisherman of erie, paddle hard back, stem the torrent, cling to the shore, hold on tight by this friendly bough; know you not whither the headlong current drives? hear you not the roar of many waters, the maddening rush as of an ocean disenthralled? feel you not the earth trembling at the thunder--see you not the heaven clouded o'er with spray? helpless wretch--thy frail canoe has leapt that dizzy water-cliff, niagara! but if, in doing that fell deed, madness raged upon the minutes, now that it was done--all still, all calm, all quiet, terror held the hour-glass of time. there lay the corpse, motionless, though coiled and cramped in the attitude of struggling agony; and the murderer gazed upon his victim with a horror most intense. fly! fly!--he dared not stop to think: fly! fly! any whither--as you are--wait for nothing; fly! thou caitiff, for thy life! so he caught up the blood-bought spoils, and was fumbling with shaky fingers at the handle of the garden-door, when the unseen tempter whispered in his ear, "i say, simon, did not your aunt die of apoplexy?" o, kind and wise suggestion! o, lightsome, tranquillizing thought! thanks! thanks! thanks!--and if the arch fiend had revealed himself in person at the moment, simon would have worshipped at his feet. "but," and as he communed with his own black heart, there needed now no devil for his prompter--"if this matter is to be believed, i must contrive a little that it may look likelier. let me see:--yes, we must lay all tidy, and the old witch shall have died in her sleep; apoplexy! capital indeed; no tell-tales either. well, i must set to work." can mortal mind conceive that sickening office?--to face the strangled corpse, yet warm; to lift the fearful burden in his arms, and order out the heavily-yielding limbs in the ease of an innocent sleep? to arrange the bed, smooth down the tumbled coverlid, set every thing straight about the room, and erase all tokens of that dread encounter? it needed nerves of iron, a heart all stone, a cool, clear head, a strong arm, a mindful, self-protecting spirit; but all these requisites came to simon's aid upon the instant; frozen up with fear, his heart-strings worked that puppet-man rigidly as wires; guilt supplied a reckless energy, a wild physical power, which actuates no human frame but one saturate with crime, or madness; and in the midst of those terrific details, the murderer's judgment was so calm and so collected, that nothing was forgotten, nothing unconsidered--unless, indeed, it were that he out-generalled himself by making all too tidy to be natural. hence, suspicion at the inquest; for the "apoplexy" thought was really such a good one, that, but for so exact a laying out, the fat old corpse might have easily been buried without one surmise of the way she met her end. again and again, in the history of crimes, it is seen that a "judas hangs himself;" and albeit, as we know, the murderer has hitherto escaped detection, still his own dark hour shall arrive in its due place. the dreadful office done, he asked himself again, or maybe took counsel of the devil (for that evil master always cheats his servants), "what shall i do with my reward, this crock--these crocks of gold? it might be easy to hide one of them, but not all; and as to leaving any behind, that i won't do. about opening them to see which is which--" "i tell you what," said the tempter, as the clock struck three, "whatever you do, make haste; by morning's dawn the house and garden will be searched, no doubt, and the crocks found in your possession. listen to me--i'm your friend, bless you! remember the apoplexy. pike island yonder is an unfrequented place; take the punt, hide all there now, and go at your best leisure to examine afterwards; but whatever you do, make haste, my man." then jennings crept out by the lawn-door, thereby rousing the house-dog; but he skirted the laurels in their shadow, and it was dark and mizzling, so he reached the punt both quickly and easily. the quiet, and the gloom, and the dropping rain, strangely affected him now, as he plied his punt-pole; once he could have wept in his remorse, and another time he almost shrieked in fear. how lonesome it seemed! how dreadful! and that death-dyed face behind him--ha! woman, away i say! but he neared the island, and, all shoeless as he was, crept up its muddy bank. "hallo! nybor, who be you a-poaching on my manor, eh? that bean't good manners, any how." ben burke has told us all the rest. but, when burke had got his spoils--when the biter had been bitten--the robber robbed--the murderer stripped of his murdered victim's money--when the bereaved miscreant, sullenly returning in the dark, damp night, tracked again the way he came upon that lonely lake--no one yet has told us, none can rightly tell, the feelings which oppressed that god-forsaken man. he seemed to feel himself even a sponge which, the evil one had bloated with his breath, had soaked it then in blood, had squeezed it dry again, and flung away! he was satan's broken tool--a weed pulled up by the roots, and tossed upon the fire; alone--alone in all the universe, without countenance or sympathy from god, or man, or devil; he yearned to find, were it but a fiend to back him, but in vain; they held aloof, he could see them vaguely through the gloom--he could hear them mocking him aloud among the patter of the rain-drops--ha! ha! ha--the pilfered fool! bitterly did he rue his crime--fearfully he thought upon its near discovery--madly did he beat his miserable breast, to find that he had been baulked of his reward, yet spent his soul to earn it. oh--when the house-dog bayed at him returning, how he wished he was that dog! he went to him, speaking kindly to him, for he envied that dog--"good dog--good dog!" but more than envy kept him lingering there: the wretched man did it for delay--yes, though morn was breaking on the hills--one more--one more moment of most precious time. chapter xxx. second thoughts. for--again he must go through that room! no other entrance is open--not a window, not a door: all close as a prison: and only by the way he went, by the same must he return. he trembled all over, as a palsied man, when he touched the lock: with stiffening hair, and staring eyes, he peeped in at that well-remembered chamber: he entered--and crept close up to the corpse, stealthily and dreadingly--horror! what if she be alive still? she was. not quite dead--not quite dead yet! a gurgling in the bruised throat--a shadowy gleam of light and life in those protruded eyes--an irregular convulsive heaving at the chest: she might recover! what a fearful hope: and, if she did, would hang him--ha! he went nearer; she was muttering something in a moanful way--it was, "simon did it--simon did it--simon did it--si--si--simon did--" he should be found out! yet once again, for the last time, the long-suffering mercy of the lord stood like balaam's angel in the way, pleading with that miserable man at the bed-side of her whom he had strangled. and even then, that guardian spirit came not with chiding on his tongue, but he uttered words of hope, while his eyes were streaming with sorrow and with pity. "most wretched of the sinful sons of men, even now there may be mercy for thee, even now plenteous forgiveness. true, thou must die, and pay the earthly penalty of crimes like thine: but do my righteous bidding, and thy soul shall live. go to that poor, suffocating creature--cherish the spark of life--bind up the wounds which thou hast rent, pouring in oil and wine: rouse the house--seek assistance--save her life--confess thy sin--repent--and though thou diest for this before the tribunal of thy fellows, god will yet be gracious--he will raise again her whom thou hadst slain--and will cleanse thy blood-stained soul." thus in simon's ear spake that better conscience. but the reprobate had cast off faith; he could not pledge the present for the future; he shuddered at the sword of justice, and would not touch the ivory sceptre of forgiveness. no: he meditated horrid iteration--and again the fiend possessed him! what! not only lose the crock of gold, but all his own bright store? and give up every thing of this world's good for some imaginary other, and meekly confess, and meanly repent--and--and all this to resuscitate that hated old aunt of his, who would hang him, and divorce him from his gold? no! he must do the deed again--see, she is moving--she will recover! her chest heaves visibly--she breathes--she speaks--she knows me--ha! down--down, i say! then, with deliberate and damning resolution--to screen off temporal danger, and count his golden hoards a little longer--that awful criminal touched the throat again: and he turned his head away not to see that horrid face, clutched the swollen gullet with his icy hands, and strangled her once more! "this time all is safe," said simon. and having set all smooth as before, he stole up to his own chamber. chapter xxxi. mammon, and contentment. ay, safe enough: and the murderer went to bed. to bed? no. he tumbled about the clothes, to make it seem that he had lain there: but he dared neither lie down, nor shut his eyes. then, the darkness terrified him: the out-door darkness he could have borne, and mrs. quarles's chamber always had a night-lamp burning: but the darkness of his own room, of his own thoughts, pressed him all around, as with a thick, murky, suffocating vapour. so, he stood close by the window, watching the day-break. as for sleep, never more did wholesome sleep rëvisit that atrocious mind: laudanum, an ever-increasing dose of merciless laudanum, that was the only power which ever seemed to soothe him. for a horrid vision always accompanied him now: go where he might, do what he would, from that black morning to eternity, he went a haunted man--a scared, sleepless, horror-stricken wretch. that livid face with goggling eyes, stuck to him like a shadow; he always felt its presence, and sometimes, also, could perceive it as if bodily peeping over his shoulder, next his cheek; it dogged him by day, and was his incubus by night; and often he would start and wrestle, for the desperate grasp of the dying appeared to be clutching at his throat: so, in his ghostly fears, and bloody conscience, he had girded round his neck a piece of thin sheet-iron in his cravat, which he wore continually as armour against those clammy fingers: no wonder that he held his head so stiff. o gold--accursed mammon! is this the state of those who love thee deepest? is this their joy, who desire thee with all their heart and soul--who serve thee with all their might--who toil for thee--plot for thee--live for thee--dare for thee--die for thee? hast thou no better bliss to give thy martyrs--no choicer comfort for thy most consistent worshippers, no fairer fate for those, whose waking thoughts, and dreaming hopes, and intricate schemes, and desperate deeds, were only aimed at gold, more gold? god of this world, if such be thy rewards, let me ever escape them! idol of the knave, false deity of the fool, if this be thy blessing on thy votaries--come, curse me, mammon, curse thou me! for, "the love of money is the root of all evil." it groweth up a little plant of coveting; presently the leaves get rank, the branches spread, and feed on petty thefts; then in their early season come the blossoms, black designs, plots, involved and undeveloped yet, of foul conspiracies, extortions on the weak, rich robbings of the wealthy, the threatened slander, the rewarded lie, malice, perjury, sacrilege; then speedily cometh on the climax, the consummate flower, dark-red murder: and the fruit bearing in itself the seeds that never die, is righteous, wrathful condemnation. dyed with all manner of iniquity, tinged with many colours like the mohawk in his woods, goeth forth in a morning the covetous soul. his cheek is white with envy, his brow black with jealous rage, his livid lips are full of lust, his thievish hands spotted over with the crimson drops of murder. "the poison of asps is under his lips; and his feet are swift to shed blood: destruction and misery are in his ways; and there is no fear of god before his eyes." o, ye thousands--the covetous of this world's good--behold at what a fire ye do warm yourselves! dread it: even now, ye have imagined many deaths, whereby your gains may be the greater; ye have caught, in wishful fancy, many a parting sigh; ye have closed, in a heartless revery, many a glazing eye--yea, of those your very nearest, whom your hopes have done to death: and are ye guiltless? god and conscience be your judges! even now ye have compassed many frauds, connived at many meannesses, trodden down the good, and set the bad on high--all for gold--hard gold; and are ye the honest--the upright? speak out manfully your excuse, if you can find one, ye respectables of merchandise, ye traders, bartering all for cash, ye scribes, ye pharisees, hypocrites, all honourable men. even now, your dreams are full of money-bags; your cares are how to add superfluity to wealth; ye fawn upon the rich, ye scorn the poor, ye pine and toil both night and day for gold, more gold; and are ye happy? answer me, ye covetous ones. yet are there righteous gains, god's blessing upon labour: yet is there rightful hope to get those righteous gains. who can condemn the poor man's care, though faith should make his load the lighter? and who will extenuate the rich man's coveting, whose appetite grows with what it feeds on? "having food and raiment, be therewith content;" that is the golden mean; to that is limited the philosophy of worldliness: the man must live, by labour and its earnings; but having wherewithal for him and his temperately, let him tie the mill-stone of anxiety to the wing of faith, and speed that burden to his god. if wealth come, beware of him, the smooth false friend: there is treachery in his proffered hand, his tongue is eloquent to tempt, lust of many harms is lurking in his eye, he hath a hollow heart; use him cautiously. if penury assail, fight against him stoutly, the gaunt grim foe: the curse of cain is on his brow, toiling vainly; he creepeth with the worm by day, to raven with the wolf by night: diseases battle by his side, and crime followeth his footsteps. therefore fight against him boldly, and be of a good courage, for there are many with thee; not alone the doled alms, the casual aids dropped from compassion, or wrung out by importunity; these be only temporary helps, and indulgence in them pampers the improvident; but look thou to a better host of strong allies, of resolute defenders; turn again to meet thy duties, needy one: no man ever starved, who even faintly tried to do them. look to thy god, o sinner! use reason wisely; cherish honour; shrink not from toil, though somewhile unrewarded; preserve frank bearing with thy fellows; and in spite of all thy sins--forgiven; all thy follies--flung away; all the trickeries of this world--scorned; all competitions--disregarded; all suspicions--trodden under foot; thou neediest and raggedest of labourers' labourers--enough shall be thy portion, ere a week hath passed away. well did agur-the-wise counsel ithiel and ucal his disciples, when he uttered in their ears before his god, this prayerful admonition, "two things have i required of thee; deny me them not before i die: remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither poverty nor riches: feed me with food convenient for me. lest i be full, and deny thee, saying, who is the lord? or lest i be poor, and steal, and dishonour the name of the lord my god." chapter xxxii. next morning. day dawned apace; and a glorious cavalcade of flaming clouds heralded the sun their captain. from far away, round half the wide horizon, their glittering spears advanced. heaven's highway rang with the trampling of their horse-hoofs, and the dust went up from its jewelled pavement as spray from the bottom of a cataract. anon, he came, the chieftain of that on-spurring host! his banner blazed upon the sky; his golden crest was seen beneath, nodding with its ruddy plumes; over the south-eastern hills he arose in radiant armour. fair nature, waking at her bridegroom's voice, arrived so early from a distant clime, smiled upon him sleepily, gladdening him in beauty with her sweet half-opened eyelids, and kissing him in faithfulness with dew-besprinkled lips. and he looked forth upon the world from his high chariot, holding back the coursers that must mount the steep of noon: and he heard the morning hymn of thankfulness to heaven from the mountains, and the valleys, and the islands of the sea; the prayer of man and woman, the praise of lisping tongues, the hum of insect joy upon the air, the sheep-bell tinkling in the distance, the wild bird's carol, and the lowing kine, the mute minstrelsy of rising dews, and that stilly scarce-heard universal melody of wakeful plants and trees, hastening to turn their spring-buds to the light--this was the anthem he, the lord of day, now listened to--this was the song his influences had raised to bless the god who made him. and he saw, from his bright throne of wide derivative glory, hope flying forth upon her morning missions, visiting the lonesome, comforting the sorrowful, speaking cheerfully to care, and singing in the ear of labour: and he watched that ever-welcome friend, flitting with the gleams of light to every home, to every heart; none but gladly let her in; her tapping finger opened the very prison doors; the heavy head of sloth rejoiced to hear her call; and every common folly, every common sin--ay, every common crime--warmed his unconscious soul before her winning beauty. yet, yet was there one, who cursed that angel's coming; and the holy eye of day wept pityingly to see an awful child of man who dared not look on hope. the murderer stood beside his casement, watching that tranquil scene: with bloodshot eyes and haggard stare, he gazed upon the waking world; for one strange minute he forgot, entranced by innocence and beauty; but when the stunning tide of memory, that had ebbed that one strange minute, rolled back its mighty flood upon his mind, the murderer swooned away. and he came to himself again all too soon; for when he arose, building up his weak, weak limbs, as if he were a column of sand, the cruel giant, guilt, lifted up his club, and felled the wretch once more. how long he lay fainting, he knew not then; if any one had vowed it was a century, simon, as he gradually woke, could not have gainsaid the man; but he only lay four seconds in that white oblivious trance--for fear, fear knocked at his heart:--up, man, up!--you need have all your wits about you now;--see, it is broad day--the house will be roused before you know where you are, and then will be shouted out that awful name--simon jennings! simon jennings! chapter xxxiii. the alarm. he arose, held up on either hand that day as if fighting against amalek;--despair buttressed him on one side, and secresy shored him on the other: behind that wall of stone his heart had strength to beat. he arose; and listened at the key-hole anxiously: all silent, quiet, quiet still; the whole house asleep: nothing found out yet. and he bit his nails to the quick, that they bled again: but he never felt the pain. hush!--yes, somebody's about: it is jonathan's step; and hark, he is humming merrily, "hail, smiling morn, that opes the gates of day?" wo, wo--what a dismal gulph between jonathan and me! and he beat his breast miserably. but, jonathan cannot find it out--he never goes to mrs. quarles's room. oh! this suspense is horrible: haste, haste, some kind soul, to make the dread discovery! and he tore his hair away by handfulls. "hark!--somebody else--unlatching shutters; it will be sarah--ha! she is tapping at the housekeeper's room--yes, yes, and she will make it known, o terrible joy!--a scream! it is sarah's voice--she has seen her dead, dead, dead;--but is she indeed dead?" the miscreant quivered with new fears; she might still mutter "simon did it!" and now the house is thoroughly astir; running about in all directions; and shouting for help; and many knocking loudly at the murderer's own door--"mr. jennings! mr. jennings!--quick--get up--come down--quick, quick--your aunt's found dead in her bed!" what a relief to the trembling wretch!--she _was_ dead. he could have blessed the voice that told him his dread secret was so safe. but his parched tongue may never bless again: curses, curses are all its blessings now. and jennings came out calmly from his chamber, a white, stern, sanctimonious man, lulling the storm with his wise presence:--"god's will be done," said he; "what can poor weak mortals answer him?" and he played cleverly the pious elder, the dignified official, the affectionate nephew: "ah, well, my humble friends, behold what life is: the best of us must come to this; my poor, dear aunt, the late house-keeper, rest her soul--i feared it might be this way some night or other: she was a stout woman, was our dear, deceased bridget--and, though a good kind soul, lived much on meat and beer: ah well, ah well!" and he concealed his sentimental hypocrisy in a cotton pocket-handkerchief. "alas, and well-a-day! that it should have come to this. apoplexy--you see, apoplexy caught her as she slept: we may as well get her buried at once: it is unfortunately too clear a case for any necessity to open the body; and our young master is coming down on tuesday, and i could not allow my aunt's corpse to be so disrespectful as to stop till it became offensive. i will go to the vicar myself immediately." "begging pardon, mr. jennings," urged jonathan floyd, "there's a strange mark here about the throat, poor old 'ooman." "ay," added sarah, "and now i come to think of it, mrs. quarles's room-door was ajar; and bless me, the lawn-door's not locked neither! who could have murdered her?" "murdered? there's no murder here, silly wench," said jennings, with a nervous sneer. "i don't know that, mr. simon," gruffly interposed the coachman; "it's a case for a coroner, i'll be bail; so here i goes to bring him: let all bide as it is, fellow-sarvents; murder will out, they say." and off he set directly--not without a shrewd remark from mr. jennings, about letting him escape that way; which seemed all very sage and likely, till the honest man came back within the hour, and a _posse comitatus_ at his heels. we all know the issue of that inquest. now, if any one requests to be informed how jennings came to be looked for as usual in his room, after that unavailing search last night, i reply, this newer, stronger excitement for the minute made the house oblivious of that mystery; and if people further will persist to know, how that mystery of his absence was afterwards explained (though i for my part would gladly have said nothing of the bailiff's own excuse), let it be enough to hint, that jennings winked with a knowing and gallant expression of face; alluded to his private key, and a secret return at two in the morning from some disreputable society in the neighbourhood; made the men laugh, and the women blush; and, altogether, as he might well have other hats and coats, the delicate affair was not unlikely. chapter xxxiv. doubts. and so, this crock of gold--gained through extortion, by the frauds of every day, the meannesses of every hour--this concrete oppression to the hireling in his wages--this mass of petty pilferings from poverty--this continuous obstruction to the charities of wealth--this cockatrice's egg--this offspring of iniquity--had already been baptized in blood before poor acton found it, and slain its earthly victim ere it wrecked his faith; already had it been perfected by crime, and destroyed the murderer's soul, before it had endangered the life of slandered innocence. is there yet more blessing in the crock? more fearful interest still, to carry on its story to an end? must another sacrifice bleed before the shrine of mammon, and another head lie crushed beneath the heel of that monster--his disciple? come on with me, and see the end; push further still, there is a labyrinth ahead to attract and to excite; from mind to mind crackles the electric spark: and when the heart thrillingly conceives, its children-thoughts are as arrows from the hand of the giant, flying through that mental world--the hearts of other men. fervent still from its hot internal source, this fountain gushes up; no sluggish lethe-stream is here, dull, forgetful, and forgotten; but liker to the burning waves of phlegethon, mingling at times (though its fire is still unquenched), with the pastoral rills of tempe, and the river from the mount of god. lower the sail--let it flap idly on the wind--helm a-port--and so to smoother waters: return to common life and humbler thoughts. it may yet go hard with roger acton. jennings is a man of character, especially the farther from his home; the county round take him for a model of propriety, a sample of the strictest conduct. we know the bad man better; but who dare breathe against the bailiff in his power--against the caitiff in his sleek hypocrisy--that, while he makes a show of both humilities, he fears not god nor man? what shall hinder, that the perjured wretch offer up to the manes of the murdered the life-blood of the false-accused? may he not live yet many years, heaping up gold and crime? and may not sweet grace acton--her now repentant father--the kindly jonathan--his generous master, and if there be any other of the hurstley folk we love, may they not all meet destruction at his hands, as a handful of corn before the reaper's sickle? i say not that they shall, but that they might. acton's criminal state of mind, and his hunger after gold--gold any how--have earned some righteous retribution, unless providence in mercy interpose; and young sir john, in nowise unblameable himself, with wealth to tempt the spoiler, lives in the spoiler's very den; and as to jonathan and grace, this world has many martyrs. if heaven in its wisdom use the wicked as a sword, heaven is but just; but if in its vengeance that sword of the wicked is turned against himself, heaven showeth mercy all unmerited. to a criminal like jennings, let loose upon the world, without the clog of conscience to retard him, and with the spur of covetousness ever urging on, any thing in crime is possible--is probable: none can sound those depths: and when we raise our eyes on high to the mighty moral governor, and note the clouds of mystery that thunder round his throne--he may permit, or he may control; who shall reach those heights? chapter xxxv. fears. moreover, innocent of blood, as we know roger acton to be, appearances are strongly against him: and in such a deed as secret, midnight murder, which none but god can witness, multiplied appearances justify the world in condemning one who seems so guilty. the first impression against roger is a bad one, for all the neighbours know how strangely his character had been changing for the worse of late: he is not like the same man; sullen and insubordinate, he was turned away from work for his bold and free demeanor; as to church, though he had worn that little path these forty years, all at once he seems to have entirely forgotten the way hither. he lives, nobody knows how--on bright, clean gold, nobody knows whence: his daughter says, indeed, that her father found a crock of gold in his garden--but she needs not have held her tongue so long, and borne so many insults, if that were all the truth; and, mark this! even though she says it, and declares it on her bible-oath, acton himself most strenuously denied all such findings--but went about with impudent tales of legacy, luck, nobody knows what; the man prevaricated continually, and got angry when asked about it--cudgelling folks, and swearing like--like any one but old-time "honest roger." only look, too, where he lives: in a lone cottage opposite pike island, on the other side of which is hurstley hall, the scene of robbery and murder: was not a boat seen that night upon the lake? and was not the lawn-door open? how strangely stupid in the coroner and jury not to have imagined this before! how dull it was of every body round not to have suspected murder rather more strongly, with those finger-marks about the throat, and not to have opened their eyes a little wider, when the murderer's cottage was within five hundred yards of that open lawn-door! then again--when mr. jennings, in his strict and searching way, accused the culprit, he never saw a man so confused in all his life! and on repeating the charge before those two constables, they all witnessed his guilty consternation: experienced men, too, they were, and never saw a felon if acton wasn't one; the dogged manner in which he went with them so quietly was quite sufficient; innocent men don't go to jail in that sort of way, as if they well deserved it. but, strongest of all, if any shadow of a doubt remained, the most fearful proof of roger's guilt lay in the scrap of shawl--the little leather bags--and the very identical crock of gold! there it was, nestled in the thatch within a yard of his head, as he lay in bed at noon-day guarding it. one proof, weaker than the weakest of all these banded together, has ere now sufficed to hang the guilty; and many, many fears have i that this multitude of seeming facts, conspiring in a focus against roger acton, will be quite enough to overwhelm the innocent. "nothing lies like a fact," said dr. johnson: and statistics prove it, at least as well as circumstantial evidence. the matter was as clear as day-light, and long before the trial came about, our poor labourer had been hanged outright in the just judgment of hurstley-cum-piggesworth. chapter xxxvi. prison comforts. many blessings, more than he had skill to count, had visited poor acton in his cell. his gentle daughter grace, sweet minister of good thoughts--she, like a loving angel, had been god's instrument of penitence and peace to him. he had come to himself again, in solitude, by nights, as a man awakened from a feverish dream; and the hallowing ministrations of her company by day had blest reflective solitude with sympathy and counsel. good-wife mary, too, had been his comforting and cheering friend. immediately the crock of gold had been taken from its ambush in the thatch, it seemed as if the chill which had frozen up her heart had been melted by a sudden thaw. roger acton was no longer the selfish prodigal, but the guiltless, persecuted penitent; her care was now to soothe his griefs, not to scold him for excesses; and indignation at the false and bloody charge made him appear a martyr in her eyes. as to his accuser, jennings, mary had indeed her own vague fancies and suspicions, but there being no evidence, nor even likelihood to support them, she did not dare to breathe a word; she might herself accuse him falsely. ben, who alone could have thrown a light upon the matter, had always been comparatively a stranger at hurstley; he was no native of the place, and had no ties there beyond wire and whip-cord: he would appear in that locality now and then in his eccentric orbit, like a comet, and, soon departing thence, would take away tom as his tail; but even when there, he was mainly a night-prowler, seldom seen by day, and so little versed in village lore, so rarely mingling with its natives, that neither jennings nor burke knew one another by sight. his fame indeed was known, but not his person. at present, he and tom were still fowling in some distant fens, nobody could tell where; so that roger's only witness, who might have accounted for the crock and its finding, was as good as dead to him; to make ben's absence more unusually prolonged, and his rëappearance quite incalculable, he had talked of going with his cargo of wild ducks "either to london or to liverpool, he didn't rightly know which." nevertheless, mary comforted her husband, and more especially herself, by the hope of his return as a saving witness; though it was always doubtful how far burke's numerous peccadilloes against property would either find him at large, or authorize the poacher in walking straight before the judges. still ben's possible interposition was one source of hope and cheerful expectation. then the good wife would leave her babes at home, safely in a neighbour's charge, and stay and sit many long hours with poor roger, taking turns with grace in talking to him tenderly, making little of home-troubles past, encouraging him to wear a stout heart, and filling him with gratitude for all her kindly care. thus did she bless, and thus was made a blessing, through the loss and absence of that crock of gold. for roger himself, he had repented; bitterly and deeply, as became his headlong fall: no sweet luxuries of grief, no soothing sorrow, no chastened meditative melancholy--such mild penitence as this, he thought, could be but a soberer sort of joy for virgins, saints, and martyrs: no--he, bad man, was unworthy of those melting pleasures, and in sturdy self-revenge he flung them from him, choosing rather to feel overwhelmed with shame, contrition, and reproaches. a humbled man with a broken heart within him--such was our labourer, penitent in prison; and when he contrasted his peaceful, pure, and christian course those forty years of poverty, with his blasphemous and infidel career for the one bad week of wealth, he had no patience with himself--only felt his fall the greater; and his judgment of his own guilt, with a natural exaggeration, went the length of saying--i am scarcely less guilty before god and man, than if, indeed, my hands were red with murder, and my casual finding had been robbery. he would make no strong appeals to the bar of justice, as an innocent condemned; not he--not he: innocent, indeed? his wicked, wicked courses--(an old man, too--gray-headed, with no young blood in him to excuse, no inexperience to extenuate), these deserved--did he say hanging? it was a harsher syllable--hell: and the contrite sinner gladly would have welcomed all the terrors of the gibbet, in hope to take full vengeance on himself for his wicked thirst for gold and all its bitter consequences. chapter xxxvii. good counsel. but grace advised him better. "be humbled as you may before god, my father, but stand up boldly before man: for in his sight, and by his law, you are little short of blameless. i would not, dearest father, speak to you of sins, except for consolation under them; for it ill becomes a child to see the failings of a parent. but when i know at once how innocent you are in one sense, and how not quite guiltless in another, i wish my words may comfort you, if you will hear them, father. covetousness, not robbery--excess, not murder--these were your only sins; and concealment was not wise, neither was a false report befitting. money, the idol of millions, was your temptation: its earnest love, your fault; its possession, your misfortune. forgive me, father, if i speak too freely. good mr. evans, who has been so kind to us for years, (never kinder than since you were in prison,) can speak better than i may, of sins forgiven, and a friend to raise the fallen: it is not for poor grace to school her dear and honoured father. if you feel yourself guilty of much evil in the sight of him before whom the angels bow in meekness--i need not tell you that your sorrow is most wise, and well-becoming. but this must not harm your cause with men: though tired of life, though hopeless in one's self, though bad, and weak, and like to fall again, we are still god's servants upon earth, bound to guard the life he gives us. neither must you lightly allow the guilt of unrighteous condemnation to fall upon the judge who tries you; nor let your innocent blood cry to god for vengeance on your native land. manfully confront the false accuser, tell openly the truth, plead your own cause firmly, warmly, wisely:--so, god defend the right!" and as grace acton said these words, in all the fervour of a daughter's love, with a flushed cheek, parted lips, and her right hand raised to him whom she invoked, she looked like an inspired prophetess, or the fair maid of orleans leading on to battle. in an instant afterwards, she humbly added, "forgive me any thing i may have said, that seems to chide my father." "bless you, bless you, dearest one!" was roger's sobbing prayer, who had listened to her wisdom breathlessly. "ah, daughter," then exclaimed the humbled, happy man, "i'll try to do all you ask me, grace; but it is a hard thing to feel myself so wicked, and to have to speak up boldly like a christian man." chapter xxxviii. experience. then, with disjointed sentences, suited to the turmoil of his thoughts, half in a soliloquy, half as talking to his daughter, roger acton gave his hostile testimony to the worth of wealth. "oh, fool, fool that i have been, to set so high a price on gold! to have hungered and thirsted for it--to have coveted earnestly so bad a gift--to have longed for mammon's friendship, which is enmity with god! what has not money cost me? happiness:--ay, wasn't it to have given me happiness? and the little that i had (it was much, grace, not little, very much--too much--god be praised for it!) all, all the happiness i had, gold took away. look at our dear old home--shattered and scattered, as now i wish that crock had been. health, too; were it not for gold, and all gold gave, i had been sturdy still, and capable; but my nights maddened with anxieties, my days worried with care, my head feverish with drink, my heart rent by conscience--ah, my girl, my girl, when i thought much of poverty and its hardships, of toil, and hunger, and rheumatics, i little imagined that wealth had heavier cares and pains: i envied them their wanton life of pleasure at the hall, and little knew how hard it was: well are they called hard-livers who drink, and game, and have nothing to do, except to do wickedness continually. religion--can it bide with money, child? i never knew my wicked heart, till fortune made me rich; not until then did i guess how base, lying, false, and bad was "honest roger;" how sensual, coarse, and brutal, was that hypocrite "steady acton". money is a devil, child, or pretty near akin. then i complained of toil, too, didn't i?--ah, what are all the aches i ever felt--labouring with spade and spud in cold and rain, hungry belike, and faint withal--what are they all at their worst (and the worst was very seldom after all), to the gnawing cares, the hideous fears, the sins--the sins, my girl, that tore your poor old father? wasn't it to be an end of troubles, too, this precious crock of gold? wo's me, i never knew real trouble till i had it! look at me, and judge; what has made me live like a beast, sin like a heathen, and lie down here like a felon? what has made me curse ben burke--kind, hearty, friendly ben?--and given my poor good boy an ill-report as having stolen and slain? all this crock of gold. but o, my grace, to think that the crock's curses touched thee, too! didn't it madden me to hear them? dear, pure, patient child, my darling, injured daughter, here upon my knees i pray, forgive that wrong!" and he fell at her feet beseechingly. "my father," said the noble girl, lifting up his head, and passionately kissing it; "when they whispered so against me, and jonathan heard the wicked things men said, i would have borne it all, all in silence, and let them all believe me bad, father, if i could have guessed that by uttering the truth, i should have seen thee here, in a dungeon, treated as a--murderer! how was i to tell that men could be so base, as to charge such crimes upon the innocent, when his only fault, or his misfortune, was to find a crock of gold? oh! forgive me, too, this wrong, my father!" and they wept in each other's arms. chapter xxxix. jonathan's troth. grace had been all but an inmate of the prison, ever since her father had been placed there on suspicion. early and late, and often in the day, was the duteous daughter at his cell, for the governor and the turn-keys favoured her. who could resist such beauty and affection, entreating to stay with a father about to stand on trial for his life, and making every effort to be allowed only to pray with him? thus did grace spend all the week before those dread assizes. as to her daily maintenance, ever since that bitter morning when the crock was found, her spiritual fears had obliged her to abstain from touching so much as one penny of that unblest store; and, seeing that honest pride would not let her be supported by grudged and common charity, she had thankfully suffered the wages of her now betrothed jonathan to serve as means whereon she lived, and (what cost more than all her humble wants) whereby she could administer many little comforts to her father in his prison. when she was not in the cell, grace was generally at the hall, to the scandal of more than one hurstleyan gossip; but perhaps they did not know how usually kind sarah stack was of the company, to welcome her with jonathan, and play propriety. sarah was a true friend, one for adversity, and though young herself, and not ill-looking, did not envy grace her handsome lover; on the contrary, she did all to make them happy, and had gone the friendly length of insisting to find grace and her family in tea and sugar, while all this lasted. i like that much in sarah stack. however, the remainder of the virtuous world were not so considerate, nor so charitable. many neighbours shunned the poor girl, as if contaminated by the crimes which roger had undoubtedly committed: the more elderly unmarried sisterhood, as we have chronicled already, were overjoyed at the precious opportunity:--"here was the pert vixen, whom all the young fellows so shamelessly followed, turned out, after all, a murderer's daughter;--they wished her joy of her eyes, and lips, and curls, and pretty speeches: no good ever came of such naughty ways, that the men liked so." nay, even the tipsy crew at bacchus's affected to treat her name with scorn:--"the girl had made much noise about being called a trull, as if many a better than she wasn't one; and, after all, what was the prudish wench? a sort of she-butcher; they had no patience with her proud looks." as to farmer floyd, he made a great stir about his boy being about to marry a felon's daughter; and the affectionate mother, with many elaborate protestations, had "vowed to master jonathan, that she would rather lay him out with her own hands, and a penny on each eye, than see a floyd disgrace himself in that 'ere manner." and uncles, aunts, and cousins, most disinterestedly exhorted that the obstinate youth be disinherited--"ay, mr. floyd, i wish your son was a high-minded man like his father; but there's a difference, mr. floyd; i wish he had your true blue yeoman's honour, and the spirit that becomes his father's son: if the lad was mine, i'd cut him off with a shilling, to buy a halter for his drab of a wife. dang it, mrs. floyd, it'll never do to see so queer a mrs. jonathan junior, a standing in your tidy shoes beside this kitchen dresser." these estimable counsels were, i grieve to say, of too flattering a nature to displease, and of too lucrative a quality not to be continually repeated; until, really, jonathan was threatened with beggary and the paternal malediction, if he would persist in his disreputable attachment. nevertheless, jonathan clung to the right like a hero. "granting poor acton is the wretch you think--but i do not believe one word of it--does his crime make his daughter wicked too? no; she is an angel, a pure and blessed creature, far too good for such a one as i. and happy is the man that has gained her love; he should not give her up were she thrice a felon's daughter. my father and mother," jonathan went on to say, "never found a fault in her till now. who was more welcome on the hill than pretty grace? who would oftenest come to nurse some sickly lamb, but gentle grace? who was wont, from her childhood up, to run home with me so constantly, when school was over, and pleased my kinsfolk so entirely with her nice manners and kind ways? hadn't he fought for her more than once, and though he came home with bruises on his face, his mother praised him for it?" then, with a natural divergence from the strict subject-matter of objection, vicarious felony, jonathan went on to argue about other temporal disadvantages. "hadn't he heard his father say, that, if she had but money, she was fit to be a countess? and was money, then, the only thing, whereof the having, or the not having, could make her good or bad?--money, the only wealth for soul, and mind, and body? are affections nothing, are truth and honour nothing, religion nothing, good sense nothing, health nothing, beauty nothing--unless money gild them all? nonsense!" said jonathan, indignantly, warmed by his amatory eloquence; "come weal, come wo, grace and i go down to the grave together; for better, if she can be better--for worse, if she could sin--grace acton is my wealth, my treasure, and possession; and let man do his worst, god himself will bless us!" so, all this knit their loves: she knew, and he felt, that he was going in the road of nobleness and honour; and the fiery ordeal which he had to struggle through, raised that hearty earthly lover more nearly to a level with his heavenly-minded mistress. through misfortune and mistrust, and evil rumours all around, in spite of opposition from false friends, and the scorn of slanderous foes, he stood by her more constantly, perchance more faithfully, than if the course of true-love had been smoother: he was her escort morning and evening to and from the prison; his strong arm was the dread of babbling fools that spoke a word of disrespect against the actons; and his brave tongue was now making itself heard, in open vindication of the innocent. chapter xl. suspicions. yes--jonathan floyd was beginning to speak out boldly certain strange suspicions he had entertained of jennings. it was a courageous, a rash, a dangerous thing to do: he did not know but what it might have jeoparded his life, say nothing of his livelihood: but floyd did it. ever since that inquest, contrived to be so quickly and so quietly got over, he had noticed simon's hurried starts, his horrid looks, his altered mien in all he did and said, his new nervous ways at nightfall--john page to sleep in mr. jennings's chamber, and a rush-light perpetually--his shudder whenever he had occasion to call at the housekeeper's room, and his evident shrinking from the frequent phrase "mrs. quarles's murder." then again, jonathan would often lie awake at nights, thinking over divers matters connected with his own evidence before the coroner, which he began to see might be of great importance. jennings said, he had gone out to still the dog by the front door--didn't he?--"how then, mr. jennings, did you contrive to push back the top bolt? the hall chairs had not come then, and you are a little fellow, and you know that nobody in the house could reach, without a lift, that bolt but me. besides, before sir john came down, the hinges of that door creaked, like a litter o' kittens screaming, and the lock went so hard for want of use and oil, that i'll be sworn your gouty chalkstone fingers could never have turned it: now, i lay half awake for two hours, and heard no creak, no key turned; but i tell you what i did hear though, and i wish now i had said it at that scanty, hurried inquest; i heard what i now believe were distant screams (but i was so sleepy), and a kind of muffled scuffling ever so long: but i fancied it might be a horse in the stable kicking among the straw in a hunter's loose box. i can guess what it was now--cannot you, mr. simon?--i say, butler, you must have gone out to quiet don--who by the way can't abear the sight of you--through mrs. quarles's room: and, for all your threats, i'm not afeard to tell you what i think. first answer me this, mr. simon jennings:--where were you all that night, when we were looking for you?--oh! you choose to forget, do you? i can help your memory, mr. butler; what do you think of the shower-bath in mother quarles's room?" as jonathan, one day at dinner in the servants' hall, took occasion to direct these queries to the presiding simon, the man gave such a horrid start, and exclaimed, "away, i say!" so strangely, that jonathan could doubt no longer--nor, in fact, any other of the household: jennings gave them all round a vindictive scowl, left the table, hastened to his own room, and was seen no more that day. speculation now seemed at an end, it had ripened into probability;--but what evidence was there to support so grave a charge against this rigid man? suspicions are not half enough to go upon--especially since roger acton seemed to have had the money. therefore, though the folks at hurstley, sir john, his guests, and all the house, could not but think that mr. jennings acted very oddly--still, he had always been a strange creature, an unpopular bailiff; nobody understood him. so, floyd, to his own no small danger, stood alone in accusing the man openly. chapter xli. grace's alternative. very shortly after that remarkable speech in the servants' hall, jonathan found another reason for believing that mr. simon jennings was equal to any imaginable amount of human wickedness. that reason will shortly now appear; but we must first of all dig at its roots somewhat deeper than jonathan's mental husbandry could manage. if any trait of character were wanting to complete the desperate infamy of jennings--(really i sometimes hope that his grandfather's madness had a kind of rëawakening in this accursed man)--it was furnished by a new and shrewd scheme for feeding to the full his lust of gold. the bailiff had more than once, as we have hinted, found means to increase his evil hoard, by having secretly gained power over female innocence and honest reputation: similarly he now devised a deep-laid plot, nothing short of diabolical. his plot was this: and i choose to hurry over such foul treason. let a touch or two hint its outlines: those who will, may paint up the picture for themselves. simon looked at sir john--young, gay, wealthy; he coveted his purse, and fancied that the surest bait to catch that fish was fair grace acton: if he could entrap her for his master (to whom he gave full credit for delighting in the plan), he counted surely on magnificent rewards. how then to entrap her? thus:--he, representing himself as prosecutor of roger, the accused, held for him, he averred, the keys of life and death: he would set this idea (whether true or not little mattered, if it served his purpose) before an affectionate daughter, who should have it in her power to save her parent, if, and only if, she would yield herself to jennings: and he well knew that, granting she gave herself secretly to him first, on such a bribe as her father's liberation, he would have no difficulty whatever in selling her second-hand beauty on his own terms to his master. it was a foul scheme, and shall not be enlarged upon: but (as will appear) thus slightly to allude to it was needful to our tale, as well as to the development of character in mammon's pattern-slave, and to the fullness of his due retribution in this world. i may add, that if any thing could make the plan more heinous--if any shade than blackest can be blacker--this extra turpitude is seen in the true consideration, that the promise to grace of her father's safety would be entirely futile--as jennings knew full well; the crown was prosecutor, not he: and circumstantial evidence alone would be sufficient to condemn. again, it really is nothing but bare justice to remark, with reference to sir john, that the deep-dyed villain reckoned quite without his host; for however truly the baronet had oft-times been much less a self-denying scipio than a wanton alcibiades, still the fine young fellow would have flung simon piecemeal to his hounds, if ever he had breathed so atrocious a temptation: the maid was pledged, and vincent knew it. now, it so happened that one evening at dusk, when grace as usual was obliged to leave the prison, there was no jonathan in waiting to accompany her all the dreary long way home: this was strange, as his good-hearted master, privately informed of his noble attachment, never refused the man permission, but winked, for the time, at his frequent evening absence. nevertheless, on this occasion, as would happen now and then, floyd could not escape from the dining-room; probably because--mr. jennings had secretly gone forth to escort the girl himself. accordingly, instead of loved jonathan, sidled up to her the loathsome simon. let me not soil these pages by recording, in however guarded phrase, the grossness of this wretch's propositions; it was a long way to hurstley, and the reptile never ceased tormenting her every step of it, till the village was in sight: twice she ran, and he ran too, keeping up with her, and pouring into her ear a father's cruel fate and his own detestable alternative. she never once spoke to him, but kept on praying in her own pure mind for a just acquittal; not for one moment would she entertain the wicked thought of "doing evil that good might come;" and so, with flushed cheek, tingling ears, the mien of an insulted empress, and the dauntless resolution of a heroine, she hastened on to hurstley. look here! by great good fortune comes jonathan floyd to meet her. "save me, jonathan, save me!" and she fainted in his arms. now, truth to say, though sir john knew it, simon did not, that grace was jonathan's beloved and betrothed; and the cause lay simply in this, that jonathan had frankly told his master of it, when he found the dreadful turn things had taken with poor roger; but as to simon, no mortal in the neighbourhood ever communicated with him, further than as urged by fell necessity. of course, the lovers' meetings were as private as all such matters generally are; and sarah's aid managed them admirably. therefore it now came to pass that simon and jonathan looked on each other in mutual astonishment, and needs must wait until grace acton could explain the "save me." not but that jennings seemed much as if he wished to run away; but he did not know how to manage it. "dear jonathan," she whispered feebly, "save me from simon jennings." in an instant, jonathan's grasp was tightly involved in the bailiff's stiff white neckcloth. and grace, with much maidenly reserve, told her lover all she dared to utter of that base bartering for her father's life. "come straight along with me, you villain, straight to the master!" and the sturdy jonathan, administering all the remainder of the way (a quarter of a mile of avenue made part of it) innumerable kickings and cuffings, hauled the half-mummied bailiff into the servants' hall. "now then, straight before the master! john page, be so good as to knock at the dining-room door, and ask master very respectfully if his honour will be good enough to suffer me to speak to him." chapter xlii. the dismissal. it was after dinner. sir john and his friends had somehow been less jovial than usual; they were absolutely dull enough to be talking politics. so, when the boy of many buttons tapped at the door, and meekly brought in jonathan's message, recounting also how he had got mr. jennings in tow for some inexplicable crime, the strangeness of the affair was a very welcome incident: both host and guests hailed it an adventure. "by all means, let jonathan come in." the trio were just outside; and when the blue and silver footman, hauling in by his unrelinquished throat that scared bailiff, and followed by the blushing village beauty, stood within the room, sir john and his half-dozen friends greeted the _tableau_ with united acclamations. "i say, pypp, that's a devilish fine creature," metaphorically remarked the honorable lionel poynter. "yaas." lord george was a long, sallow, slim young man, with a goatish beard, like the duc d'aumale's; he affected extreme fashion and infinite _sangfroid_. "well, jonathan, what is it?" asked the baronet. "why, in one word, my honoured master, this scoundrel here has been wickedly insulting my own poor dear grace, by promising to save her father from the gallows if--if--" "if what, man? speak out," said mr. poynter. "you don't mean to say, jennings, that you are brute enough to be seducing that poor man roger's daughter, just as he's going to be tried for his life?" asked sir john. simon uttered nothing in reply; but grace burst into tears. "a fair idea that, 'pon my honour," drawled the chivalrous pypp, proceeding to direct his delicate attentions towards the weeping damsel. "simon jennings," said sir john, after pausing in vain for his reply, "i have long wished to get rid of you, sir. silence! i know you, and have been finding out your rascally proceedings these ten days past. i have learnt much, more than you may fancy: and now this crowning villany [what if he had known of the ulterior designs?] gives me fair occasion to say once and for ever, begone!" jennings drew himself up with an air of insufferable impudence, and quietly answered, "john vincent, i am proud to leave your service. i trust i can afford to live without your help." there was a general outcry at this speech, and jonathan collared him again; but the baronet calmly set all straight by saying, "perhaps, sir, you may not be aware that your systematic thievings and extortions have amply justified me in detaining your iron chest and other valuables, until i find out how you may have come by them." this was the _coup de grace_ to jennings, who looked scared and terrified:--what! all gone--all, his own beloved hoard, and that dear-bought crock of gold? then sir john added, after one minute of dignified and indignant silence, "begone!--jonathan put him out; and if you will kick him out of the hall-door on your private account, i'll forgive you for it." with that, the liveried antinous raised the little monster by the small of the back, drew him struggling from the presence, and lifting him up like a football, inflicted one enormous kick that sent him spinning down the whole flight of fifteen marble stairs. this exploit accomplished to the satisfaction of all parties, jonathan naturally enough returned to look for grace; and his master, with a couple of friends who had run to the door to witness the catastrophe, returned immediately before him. "lord george pypp, you will oblige me by leaving the young woman alone;" was sir john's first angry reproof when he perceived the rustic beauty radiant with indignation at some mean offence. "the worthy baronet wa-ants her for himself," drawled pypp. "say that again, my lord, and you shall follow jennings." whilst the noble youth was slowly elaborating a proper answer, jonathan's voice was heard once more: he had long looked very white, kept both hands clenched, and seemed as if, saving his master's presence, he could, and would have vanquished the whole room of them. "master, have i your honour's permission to speak?" "no, jonathan, i'll speak for you; if, that is to say, lord george will--" "paardon me, sir john devereux vincent, your feyllow--and his master, are not fit company for lord george pypp;"--and he leisurely proceeded to withdraw. "stop a minute, pypp, i've just one remark to make," hurriedly exclaimed mr. lionel poynter, "if sir john will suffer me; vincent, my good friend, we are wrong--pypp's wrong, and so am i. first then, let me beg pardon of a very pretty girl, for making her look prettier by blushes; next, as the maid really is engaged to you, my fine fellow, it is not beneath a gentleman to say, i hope that you'll forgive me for too warmly admiring your taste; as for george's imputation, vincent--" "i beyg to observe," enunciated the noble scion, "i'm awf, poynter." he gradually drew himself away, and the baronet never saw him more. "for shame, pypp!" shouted after him the warm-hearted siliphant; "i tell you what it is, vincent, you must let me give a toast:--'grace and her lover!' here, my man, your master allows you to take a glass of wine with us; help your beauty too." the toast was drank with high applause: and before jonathan humbly led away his pleased and blushing grace, he took an opportunity of saying, "if i may be bold enough to speak, kind gentlemen, i wish to thank you: i oughtn't to be long, for i am nothing but your servant; let it be enough to say my heart is full. and i'm in hopes it wouldn't be very wrong in me, kind gentlemen, to propose;--'my noble master--honour and happiness to him!'" "bravo! jonathan, bravo-o-o-o!" there was a clatter of glasses;--and the humble pair of lovers retreated under cover of the toast. chapter xliii. simon alone. jennings gathered himself up, from that jew-of-malta tumble down the steps, less damaged by the fall than could have been imagined possible; the fact being that his cat-like nature had stood him in good stead--he had lighted on his feet; and nothing but a mighty dorsal bruise bore witness to the prowess of a jonathan. but, if his body was comparatively sound, the inner man was bruised all over: he crept back, and retreated to his room, in as broken and despondent a frame of mind, as any could have wished to bless him wherewithal. however, he still had one thing left to live for: his hoard--that precious hoard within his iron box, and then--the crock of gold. he took sir john's threat about detaining, and so forth, as merely future, and calculated on rendering it nugatory, by decamping forthwith, chattels and all; but he little expected to find that the idea had already been acted upon! on that identical afternoon, when simon had gone forth to insult grace acton with his villanous proposals, sir john, on returning from a ride, had commanded his own seal to be placed on all mr. jennings's effects, and the boxes to be forthwith removed to a place of safety: induced thereto by innumerable proofs from every quarter that the bailiff had been cheating him on a most liberal scale, and plundering his tenants systematically. therefore, when jennings hastened to his chamber to console himself for all things by looking at his gold, and counting out a bag or two--it was gone, gone, irrevocably gone! safely stored away for rigid scrutiny in the grated muniment-room of hurstley. oh, what a howl the caitiff gave, when he saw that his treasure had been taken! he was a wild bull in a net; a crocodile caught upon the hooks; a hyena at bay. what could he do? which way should he turn? how help himself, or get his gold again? unluckily--oh, confusion, confusion!--his account-books were along with all his hoard, those tell-tale legers, wherein he had duly noted down, for his own private and triumphant glance, the curious difference between his lawful and unlawful gains; there, was every overcharge recorded, every matter of extortion systematically ranged, that he might take all the tenants in their turn; there, were filed the receipts of many honest men, whom the guardians and sir john had long believed to be greatly in arrear; there, was recorded at length the catalogue of dues from tradesmen; there, the list of bribes for the custom of the hall. it would amply authorize sir john in appropriating the whole store; and jennings thought of this with terror. every thing was now obviously lost, lost! oh, sickening little word, all lost! all he had ever lived for--all which had made him live the life he did--all which made him fear to die. "fear to die--ha! who said that? i will not fear to die; yes, there is one escape left, i will hazard the blind leap; this misery shall have an end--this sleepless, haunted, cheated, hated wretch shall live no longer--ha! ha! ha! ha! i'll do it! i'll do it!" then did that wretched man strive in vain to kill himself, for his hour was not yet come. his first idea was laudanum--that only mean of any thing like rest to him for many weeks; and pouring out all he had, a little phial, nearly half a wine-glass full, he quickly drank it off: no use--no use; the agitation of his mind was too intense, and the habit of a continually increasing dose had made him proof against the poison; it would not even lull him, but seemed to stretch and rack his nerves, exciting him to deeds of bloody daring. should he rush out, like a malay running a muck, with a carving-knife in each hand, and kill right and left:--vengeance! vengeance! on jonathan floyd, and john vincent? no, no; for some of them at last would overcome him, think him mad, and, o terror!--his doom for life, without the means of death, would be solitary confinement. "stay! with this knife in my hand--means of death--yes, it shall be so." and he hurriedly drew the knife across his throat; no use, nothing done; his cowardly skin shrank away from cutting--he dared not cut again; a little bloody scratch was all. but the heart, the heart--that should be easier! and the miscreant, not quite a cato, gave a feeble stab, that made a little puncture. not yet, simon jennings; no, not yet; you shall not cheat the gallows. "ha! hanging, hanging! why had i not thought of that before?" he mounted on a chair with a gimlet in his hand, and screwed it tightly into the wainscotting as high as he could reach; then he took a cord from the sacking of his bed, secured it to the gimlet, made a noose, put his head in, kicked the chair away--and swung by his wounded neck; in vain, all in vain; as he struggled in the agonies of self-protecting nature, the handle of the gimlet came away, and he fell heavily to the ground. "bless us!" said sarah to one of the house-maids, as they were arranging their curl-papers to go to bed: "what can that noise be in mr. jennings's room? his tall chest of drawers has fallen, i shouldn't wonder: it was always unsafe to my mind. listen, jenny, will you?" jenny crept out, and, as laudable females sometimes do, listened at simon's key-hole. "lack-a-daisy, sall, such a groaning and moaning; p'raps he's a-dying: put on your cap again, and tell jonathan to go and see." sarah did as she was bid, and jonathan did as he was bid; and there was mr. jennings on the floor, blue in the face, with a halter round his neck. the house was soon informed of the interesting event, and the bailiff was nursed as tenderly as if he had been a sucking babe; fomentations, applications, hot potations: but he soon came to again, without any hope or wish to repeat the dread attempt: he was kept in bed, closely watched, and stephen cramp, together with his rival, eager, remained continually in alternate attendance: until a day or two recovered him as strong as ever. i told you, simon jennings, that your time was not yet come. chapter xliv. the trial. the trial now came on, and roger acton stood arraigned of robbery and murder. i must hasten over lengthy legal technicalities, which would only serve to swell this volume, without adding one iota to its interest or usefulness. nothing could be easier, nothing more worth while, as a matter of mere book-making, than to tear a few pages out of some musty record of criminal court practice or other newgate calendar-piece of authorship, and wade wearily through the length and breadth of indictments, speeches, examinations, and all the other learned clatter of six hours in the judgment-halls of law. if the reader wishes for all this, let him pore over those unhealthy-looking books, whose exterior is dove-coloured as the kirtle of innocence, but their inwards black as the conscience of guilt; whitened sepulchres, all spotless without; but within them are enshrined the quibbling knavery, the distorted ingenuity, the mystifying learnedness, the warped and warping views of truth, the lying, slandering, bad-excusing, good-condemning principles and practices of those who cater for their custom at the guiltiest felon's cell, and would glory in defending lucifer himself. in the case of sheer innocence, indeed, as roger's was--or in one of much doubt and secresy, where the client denies all guilt, and the counsel sees reason to believe him--let the advocate manfully battle out his cause: but where crime has poured out his confessions in a counsellor's ear--is not this man bought by gold to be a partaker and abettor in his sins, when he strives with all his might to clear the guilty, and not seldom throws the hideous charge on innocence? if the advocate has no wish to entrap his own conscience, nor to damage the tissue of his honour, let him reject the client criminal who confesses, and only plead for those from whom he has had no assurance of their guilt; or, better far, whose innocence he heartily believes in. such an advocate was mr. grantly, a barrister of talents and experience, who, from motives of the purest benevolence, did all that in him lay for roger acton. in one thing, however, and that of no small import, the kindly cautious man of law had contrived to do more harm than good: for, after having secretly made every effort, but in vain, to find ben burke as a witness--and after having heard that the aforesaid ben was a notorious poacher, and only intimate at hurstley with acton and his family--he strongly recommended roger to say nothing about the man or his adventure, as the acknowledgment of such an intimacy would only damage his cause: all that need appear was, that he found the crock in his garden, never mind how he "thought" it got there: poachers are not much in the habit of flinging away pots of gold, and no jury would believe but that the ill-reputed personage in question was an accomplice in the murder, and had shared the spoil with his friend roger acton. all this was very shrewd; and well meant; but was not so wise, for all that, as simple truth would have been: nevertheless, roger acquiesced in it, for a better reason than mr. grantly's--namely, this: his feelings toward poor ben had undergone an amiable revulsion, and, well aware how the whole neigbourhood were prejudiced against him for his freebooting propensities, he feared to get his good rough friend into trouble if he mentioned his nocturnal fishing at pike island; especially when he considered that little red savings' bank, which, though innocent as to the getting, was questionable as to the rights of spending, and that, really, if he involved the professed poacher in this mysterious affair, he might put his liberty or life into very serious jeopardy. on this account, then, which grace could not entirely find fault with (though she liked nothing that savoured of concealment), roger acton agreed to abide by mr. grantly's advice; and thus he never alluded to his connexion with the poacher. enlightened as we are, and intimate with all the hidden secrets of the story, we may be astonished to hear that, notwithstanding all mr. grantly's ingenuity, and all the siftings of cross-questioners, the case was clear as light against poor acton. no _alibi_, he lived upon the spot. no witnesses to character; for roger's late excesses had wiped away all former good report: kind mr. evans himself, with tears in his eyes, acknowledged sadly that acton had once been a regular church-goer, a frequent communicant: but had fallen off of late, poor fellow! and then, in spite of protestations to the contrary, behold! the _corpus delicti_--that unlucky crock of gold, actually in the man's possession, and the fragment of shawl--was not that sufficient? jonathan floyd in open court had been base enough to accuse mr. jennings of the murder. mr. jennings indeed! a strict man of high character, lately dismissed, after twenty years' service, in the most arbitrary manner by young sir john, who had taken a great liking to the actons. people could guess why, when they looked on grace: and grace, too, was sufficient reason to account for jonathan's wicked suspicions; of course, it was the lover's interest to throw the charge on other people. as to mr. jennings himself, just recovered from a fit of illness, it was astonishing how liberally and indulgently he prayed the court to show the prisoner mercy: his white and placid face looked quite benevolently at him--and this respectable person was a murderer, eh, mr. jonathan? so, when the judge summed up, and clearly could neither find nor make a loop-hole for the prisoner, the matter seemed accomplished; all knew what the verdict must be--poor roger acton had not the shadow of a chance. chapter xlv. roger's defence. then, while the jury were consulting--they would not leave the box, it seemed so clear--roger broke the death-like silence; and he said: "judge, i crave your worship's leave to speak: and hearken to me, countrymen. many evil things have i done in my time, both against god and my neighbour: i am ashamed, as well i may be, when i think on 'em: i have sworn, and drunk, and lied; i have murmured loudly--coveted wickedly--ay, and once i stole. it was a little theft, i lost it on the spot, and never stole again: pray god, i never may. nevertheless, countrymen, and sinful though i be in the sight of him who made us, according to man's judgment and man's innocency, i had lived among you all blameless, until i found that crock of gold. i did find it, countrymen, as god is my witness, and, therefore, though a sinner, i appeal to him: he knoweth that i found it in the sedge that skirts my garden, at the end of my own celery trench. i did wickedly and foolishly to hide my find, worse to deny it, and worst of all to spend it in the low lewd way i did. but of robbery i am guiltless as you are. and as to this black charge of murder, till simon jennings spoke the word, i never knew it had been done. folk of hurstley, friends and neighbours, you all know roger acton--the old-time honest roger of these forty years, before the devil made him mad by giving him much gold--did he ever maliciously do harm to man or woman, to child or poor dumb brute?--no, countrymen, i am no murderer. that the seemings are against me, i wot well; they may excuse your judgment in condemning me to death--and i and the good gentleman there who took my part (heaven bless you, sir!) cannot go against the facts: but they speak falsely, and i truly; roger acton is an innocent man: may god defend the right!" "amen!" earnestly whispered a tremulous female voice, "and god will save you, father." the court was still as death, except for sobbing; the jury were doubting and confounded; in vain mr. jennings, looking at the foreman, shook his head and stroked his chin in an incredulous and knowing manner; clearly they must retire, not at all agreed; and the judge himself, that masqued man in flowing wig and ermine, but still warmed by human sympathies, struck a tear from his wrinkled cheek; and all seemed to be involuntarily waiting (for the jury, though unable to decide, had not yet left their box), to see whether any sudden miracle would happen to save a man whom evidence made so guilty, and yet he bore upon his open brow the genuine signature of innocence. "silence, there, silence! you can't get in; there's no room for'ards!" but a couple of javelin-men at the door were knocked down right and left, and through the dense and suffocating crowd, a black-whiskered fellow, elbowing his way against their faces, spite of all obstruction, struggled to the front behind the bar. then, breathless with gigantic exertion (it was like a mammoth treading down the cedars), he roared out, "judge, swear me, i'm a witness; huzza! it's not too late." and the irreverent gentleman tossed a fur cap right up to the skylight. chapter xlvi. the witness. mr. grantly brightened up at once, grace looked happily to heaven, and roger acton shouted out, "thank god! thank god!--there's ben burke!" yes, he had heard miles away of his friend's danger about an old shawl and a honey-pot full of gold, and he had made all speed, with tom in his train, to come and bear witness to the innocence of roger. the sensation in court, as may be well conceived, was thrilling; but a vociferous crier, and the deep anxiety to hear this sturdy witness, soon reduced all again to silence. then did they swear benjamin burke, who, to the scandal of his cause, would insist upon stating his profession to be "poacher;" and at first, poor simple fellow, seemed to have a notion that a sworn witness meant one who swore continually; but he was soon convinced otherwise, and his whole demeanour gradually became as polite and deferent as his coarse nature would allow. and ben told his adventure on pike island, as we have heard him tell it, pretty much in the same words, for the judge and mr. grantly let him take his own courses; and then he added (with a characteristic expletive, which we may as well omit, seeing it occasioned a cry of "order" in the court), "there, if that there white-livered little villain warn't the chap that brought the crocks, my name an't ben burke." "good heavens! mr. jennings, what's the matter?" said a briefless one, starting up: this was mr. sharp, a personage on former occasions distinguished highly as a thieves' advocate, but now, unfortunately, out of work. "loosen his cravat, some one there; the gentleman is in fits." "oh, aunt--aunt quarles, don't throttle me; i'll tell all--all; let go, let go!" and the wretched man slowly recovered, as ben burke said, "ay, my lord, ask him yourself, the little wretch can tell you all about it." "i submit, my lurd," interposed the briefless one, "that this respectable gentleman is taken ill, and that his presence may now be dispensed with, as a witness in the cause." "no, sir, no;" deliberately answered jennings; "i must stay: the time i find is come; i have not slept for weeks; i am exhausted utterly; i have lost my gold; i am haunted by her ghost; i can go no where but that face follows me--i can do nothing but her fingers clutch my throat. it is time to end this misery. in hope to lay her spirit, i would have offered up a victim: but--but she will not have him. mine was the hand that--" "pardon me," upstarted mr. sharp, "this poor gentleman is a mono-maniac; pray, my lurd, let him be removed while the trial is proceeding." "you horse-hair hypocrite, you!" roared ben, "would you hang the innocent, and save the guilty?" would he? would mr. philip sharp? ay, that he would; and glad of such a famous opportunity. what! would not newgate rejoice, and horsemonger be glad? would not his bag be filled with briefs from the community of burglars, and his purse be rich in gold subscribed by the brotherhood of thieves? great at once would be his name among the purlieus of iniquity: and every rogue in london would retain but philip sharp. would he? ask him again. but jennings quietly proceeded like a speaking statue. "i am not mad, most noble--" [the bible-read villain was from habit quoting paul]--"my lord, i mean. my hand did the deed: i throttled her" (here he gave a scared look over his shoulder): "yes--i did it once and again: i took the crock of gold. you may hang me now, aunt quarles." "my lurd, my lurd, this is a most irregular proceeding," urged mr. sharp; "on the part of the prisoner--i, i crave pardon--on behalf of this most respectable and deluded gentleman, mr. simon jennings, i contend that no one may criminate himself in this way, without the shadow of evidence to support such suicidal testimony. really, my lurd--" "oh, sir, but my father may go free?" earnestly asked grace. but ben burke's voice--i had almost written woice--overwhelmed them all: "let me speak, judge, an't it please your honour, and take you notice, master horsehair. you wan't ewidence, do you, beyond the man's confession: here, i'll give it you. look at this here wice:" and he stretched forth his well-known huge and horny hand: "when i caught that dridful little reptil by the arm, he wriggled like a sniggled eel, so i was forced you see, to grasp him something tighter, and could feel his little arm-bones crack like any chicken's: now then, if his left elbow an't black and blue, though it's a month a-gone and more, i'll eat it. strip him and see." no need to struggle with the man, or tear his coat off. jennings appeared only too glad to find that there was other evidence than his own foul tongue, and that he might be hung at last without sacking-rope or gimlet; so, he quietly bared his arm, and the elbow looked all manner of colours--a mass of old bruises. chapter xlvii. mr. sharp's advocacy. the whole court trembled with excitement: it was deep, still silence; and the judge said, "prisoner at the bar, there is now no evidence against you: gentlemen of the jury, of course you will acquit him." the foreman: "all agreed, my lord, not guilty." "roger acton," said the judge, "to god alone you owe this marvellous, almost miraculous, interposition: you have had many wrongs innocently to endure, and i trust that the right feelings of society will requite you for them in this world, as, if you serve him, god will in the next. you are honourably acquitted, and may leave this bar." in vain the crier shouted, in vain the javelin-men helped the crier, the court was in a tumult of joy; grace sprang to her father's neck, and sir john vincent, who had been in attendance sitting near the judge all the trial through, came down to him, and shook his hand warmly. roger's eyes ran over, and he could only utter, "thank god! thank god! he does better for me than i deserved." but the court was hushed at last: the jury rësworn; certain legal forms and technicalities speedily attended to, as counts of indictment, and so forth: and the judge then quietly said, "simon jennings, stand at that bar." he stood there like an image. "my lurd, i claim to be prisoner's counsel." "mr. sharp--the prisoner shall have proper assistance by all means; but i do not see how it will help your case, if you cannot get your client to plead not guilty." while mr. philip sharp converses earnestly with the criminal in confidential whispers, i will entertain the sagacious reader with a few admirable lines i have just cut out of a newspaper: they are headed "suppression of truth and exclusion of evidence. "lawyers abhor any short cut to the truth. the pursuit is the thing for their pleasure and profit, and all their rules are framed for making the most of it. "crime is to them precisely what the fox is to the sportsman: and the object is not to pounce on it, and capture it at once, but to have a good run for it, and to exhibit skill and address in the chase. whether the culprit or the fox escape or not, is a matter of indifference, the run being the main thing. "the punishment of crime is as foreign to the object of lawyers, as the extirpation of the fox is to that of sportsmen. the sportsman, because he hunts the fox, sees in the summary destruction of the fox by the hand of a clown, an offence foul, strange, and unnatural, little short of murder. the lawyer treats crime in the same way: his business is the chase of it; but, that it may exist for the chase, he lays down rules protecting it against surprises and capture by any methods but those of the forensic field. "one good turn deserves another, and as the lawyer owes his business to crime, he naturally makes it his business to favour and spare it as much as possible. to seize and destroy it wherever it can be got at, seems to him as barbarous as shooting a bird sitting, or a hare in her form, does to the sportsman. the phrase, to give _law_, for the allowance of a start, or any chance of escape, expresses the methods of lawyers in the pursuit of crime, and has doubtless been derived from their practice. "confession is the thing most hateful to law, for this stops its sport at the outset. it is the surrender of the fox to the hounds. 'we don't want your stinking body,' says the lawyer; 'we want the run after the scent. away with you, be off; retract your admission, take the benefit of telling a lie, give us employment, and let us take our chance of hunting out, in our roundabout ways, the truth, which we will not take when it lies before us.'" * * * * * as i perceive that mr. sharp has not yet made much impression upon the desponding prisoner, suffer me to recommend to your notice another sensible leader: the abuse which it would combat calls loudly for amendment. there is plenty of time to spare, for some preliminaries of trial have yet to be arranged, and the judge has just stepped out to get a sandwich, and every body stands at ease; moreover, gentle reader, the paragraphs following are well worthy of your attention. let us name them, "morbid sympathies. "we have often thought that the tenderness shown by our law to presumed criminals is as injurious as it is inconsistent and excessive. a miserable beggar, a petty rioter, the wretch who steals a loaf to satisfy the gnawings of his hunger, is roughly seized, closely examined, and severely punished; meanwhile, the plain common sense of our mobs, if not of our magistracy, has pitied the offender, and perhaps acquitted him. but let some apparent murderer be caught, almost in the flagrant deed of his atrocity; let him, to the best of all human belief, have killed, disembowelled, and dismembered; let him have united the coolness of consummate craft to the boldest daring of iniquity, and straightway (though the generous crowd may hoot and hunt the wretch with yelling execration) he finds in law and lawyers, refuge, defenders, and apologists. tenderly and considerately is he cautioned on no account to criminate himself: he is exhorted, even by judges, to withdraw the honest and truthful plea of 'guilty,' now the only amends which such a one can make to the outraged laws of god and man: he is defended, even to the desperate length of malignant accusation of the innocent, by learned men, whose aim it is to pervert justice and screen the guilty! he is lodged and tended with more circumstances of outward comfort and consideration than he probably has ever experienced in all his life before; and if, notwithstanding the ingenuity of his advocates, and the merciful glosses of his judge, a simple-minded british jury capitally convict him, and he is handed over to the executioner, he still finds pious gentlemen ready to weep over him in his cell, and titled dames to send him white camellias, to wear upon his heart when he is hanging.[a] "now what is the necessary consequence of this, but a mighty, a fearfully influential premium on crime? and what is its radical cause, but the absurd indulgence wherewith our law greets the favoured, _because_ the atrocious criminal? upon what principle of propriety, or of natural justice, should a seeming murderer not be--we will not say sternly, but even kindly--catechised, and for his very soul's sake counselled to confess his guilt? why should the _morale_ of evidence be so thoroughly lost sight of, and a malefactor, who is ready to acknowledge crime, or unable, when questioned, to conceal it, on no account be listened to, lest he may do his precious life irreparable harm? it is not agonized repentance, or incidental disclosure, that makes the culprit his own executioner, but his crime that has preceded; it is not the weak, avowing tongue, but the bold and bloody hand. "we are unwilling to allude specifically to the name of any recent malefactor in connexion with these plain remarks; for, in the absence alike of hindered voluntary confession and of incomplete legal evidence, we would not prejudge, that is, prejudice a case. but we do desire to exclaim against any further exhibition of that morbid tenderness wherewith all persons are sure to be treated, if only they are accused of enormities more than usually disgusting; and we specially protest against that foolish, however ancient, rule in our criminal law, which discourages and rejects the slenderest approach to a confession, while it has sacrificed many an innocent victim to the uncertainty of evidence, supported by nothing more safe than outward circumstantials." at length, and after much gesticulation and protestation, mr. sharp has succeeded; he had apparently innoculated the miserable man with hopes; for the miscreant now said firmly, "i plead not guilty." * * * * * the briefless one looked happy--nay, triumphant: jennings was a wealthy man, all knew; and, any how, he should bag a bouncing fee. how far such money was likely to do him any good, he never stopped to ask. "money is money," said philip sharp and the emperor vespasian. we need not trouble ourselves to print mr. sharp's very flashy, flippant speech. suffice it to say, that, not content with asserting vehemently on his conscience as a christian, on his honour as a man, that simon jennings was an innocent, maligned, persecuted individual; labouring, perhaps, under mono-mania, but pure and gentle as the babe new-born--not satisfied with traducing honest ben burke as a most suspicious witness, probably a murderer--ay, _the_ murderer himself, a mere riotous ruffian [ben here chucked his cap at him, and thereby countenanced the charge], a mere scoundrel, not to say scamp, whom no one should believe upon his oath; he again, with all the semblance of sincerity, accused, however vainly, roger acton: and lastly, to the disgust and astonishment of the whole court, added, with all acted appearances of fervent zeal for justice, "and i charge his pious daughter, too, that far too pretty piece of goods, grace acton, with being accessory to this atrocious crime after the fact!" there was a storm of shames and hisses; but the judge allayed it, quietly saying, "mr. sharp, be so good as to confine your attention to your client; he appears to be quite worthy of you." then mr. sharp, like the firm just man immortalized by flaccus, stood stout against the visage of the judge, sneered at the wrath of citizens commanding things unjust, turned to ben burke minaciously, calling him "_dux inquieti turbidus adriæ_" [as burke had heard this quotation, he thought it was about the "ducks" he had been decoying], and altogether seemed not about to be put down, though the huge globe crack about his ears. after this, he calmly worded on, seeming to regard the judge's stinging observation with the same sort of indifference as the lion would a dew-drop on his mane; and having poured out all manner of voluminous bombast, he gradually ran down, and came to a conclusion; then, jumping up refreshed, like the bounding of a tennis-ball, he proceeded to call witnesses; and, judging from what happened at the inquest, as well as because he wished to overwhelm a suspected and suspecting witness, he pounced, somewhat infelicitously, on jonathan floyd. "so, my fine young fellow, you are a footman, eh, at hurstley?" "yes, sir, an' it please you--or rather, an' it please my master." "you remember what happened on the night of the late mrs. quarles's decease?" "oh, many things happened; mr. jennings was lost, he wasn't to be found, he was hid somewhere, nobody saw him till next morning." "stop, sirrah! not quite so quick, if you please; you are on your oath, be careful what you say. i have it in evidence, sirrah, before the coroner;" and he looked triumphantly about him at this clencher to all jonathan's testimony; "that you saw him yourself that night speaking to the dog; what do you mean by swearing that nobody saw him till next morning?" "well, mister, i mean this; whether or no poor old mrs. quarles saw her affectionate nephew that night before the clock struck twelve, there's none alive to tell; but no one else did--for sarah and i sat up for him till past midnight. he was hidden away somewhere, snug enough; and as i verily believe, in the poor old 'ooman's own--" "silence, silence! sir, i say; we want none of your impertinent guesses here, if you please: to the point, sirrah, to the point; you swore before the coroner, that you had seen mr. jennings, in his courage and his kindness, quieting the dog that very night, and now--" "oh," interrupted jonathan in his turn, "for the matter of that, when i saw him with the dog, it was hard upon five in the morning. and here, gentlemen," added floyd, with a promiscuous and comprehensive bow all round, "if i may speak my mind about the business--" "go down, sir!" said mr. sharp, who began to be afraid of truths. "pardon me, this may be of importance," remarked roger acton's friend; "say what you have to say, young man." "well, then, gentlemen and my lord, i mean to say thus much. jennings there, the prisoner (and i'm glad to see him standing at the bar), swore at the inquest that he went to quiet don, going round through the front door; now, none could get through that door without my hearing of him; and certainly a little puny simon like him could never do so without i came to help him; for the lock was stiff with rust, and the bolt out of his reach." "stop, young man; my respected client, mr. jennings, got upon a chair." "indeed, sir? then he must ha' created the chair for that special purpose: there wasn't one in the hall then; no, nor for two days after, when they came down bran-new from dowbiggins in london, with the rest o' the added furnitur' just before my honoured master." this was conclusive, certainly; and floyd proceeded. "now, gentlemen and my lord, if jennings did not go that way, nor the kitchen-way neither--for he always was too proud for scullery-door and kitchen--and if he did not give himself the trouble to unfasten the dining-room or study windows, or to unscrew the iron bars of his own pantry, none of which is likely, gentlemen--there was but one other way out, and that way was through bridget quarles's own room. now--" "ah--that room, that bed, that corpse, that crock!--it is no use, no use," the wretched miscreant added slowly, after his first hurried exclamations; "i did the deed, i did it! guilty, guilty." and, notwithstanding all mr. sharp's benevolent interferences, and appeals to judge and jury on the score of mono-mania, and shruggings-up of shoulders at his client's folly, and virtuous indignation at the evident leaning of the court--the murderer detailed what he had done. he spoke quietly and firmly, in his usually stern and tyrannical style, as if severe upon himself, for being what?--a man of blood, a thief, a perjured false accuser? no, no; lower in the scale of mammon's judgment, worse in the estimate of him whose god is gold; he was now a pauper, a mere moneyless forked animal; a beggared, emptied, worthless, penniless creature: therefore was he stern against his ill-starred soul, and took vengeance on himself for being poor. it was a consistent feeling, and common with the mercantile of this world; to whom the accidents of fortune are every thing, and the qualities of mind nothing; whose affections ebb and flow towards friends, relations--yea, their own flesh and blood, with the varying tide of wealth: whom a luckless speculation in cotton makes an enemy, and gambling gains in corn restore a friend; men who fall down mentally before the golden calf, and offer up their souls to nebuchadnezzar's idol: men who never saw harm nor shame in the craftiest usurer or meanest pimp, provided he has thousands in the three per cents.; and whose indulgent notions of iniquity reach their climax in the phrase--the man is poor. so then, with unhallowed self-revenge, simon rigidly detailed his crimes: he led the whole court step by step, as i have led the reader, through the length and breadth of that terrible night: of the facts he concealed nothing, and the crowded hall of judgment shuddered as one man, when he came to his awful disclosure, hitherto unsuspected, unimagined, of that second strangulation: as to feelings, he might as well have been a galvanized mummy, an automaton lay-figure enunciating all with bellows and clapper, for any sense he seemed to have of shame, or fear, or pity; he admitted his lie about the door, complimented burke on the accuracy of his evidence, and declared roger acton not merely innocent, but ignorant of the murder. this done, without any start or trepidation in his manner as formerly, he turned his head over his left shoulder, and said, in a deep whisper, heard all over the court, "and now, aunt quarles, i am coming; look out, woman, i will have my revenge for all your hauntings: again shall we wrestle, again shall we battle, again shall i throttle you, again, again!" o, most fearful thought! who knoweth but it may be true? that spirits of wickedness and enmity may execute each other's punishment, as those of righteousness and love minister each other's happiness! that--damned among the damned--the spirit of a nero may still delight in torturing, and that those who in this world were mutual workers of iniquity, may find themselves in the next, sworn retributors of wrath? no idle threat was that of the demoniac simon, and possibly with no vain fears did the ghost of the murdered speed away. when the sensation of horror, which for a minute delayed the court-business, and has given us occasion to think that fearful thought, when this had gradually subsided, the foreman of the jury, turning to the judge, said, "my lord, we will not trouble your lordship to sum up; we are all agreed--guilty." one word about mr. sharp: he was entirely chagrined; his fortunes were at stake; he questioned whether any one in newgate would think of him again. to make matters worse, when he whispered for a fee to mr. jennings (for he did whisper, however contrary to professional etiquette), that worthy gentleman replied by a significant sneer, to the effect that he had not a penny to give him, and would not if he had: whereupon mr. sharp began to coincide with the rest of the world in regarding so impoverished a murderer as an atrocious criminal; then, turning from his client with contempt, he went to the length of congratulating roger on his escape, and actually offered his hand to ben burke. the poacher's reply was characteristic: "as you means it kindly, master horsehair, i won't take it for an insult: howsomdever, either your hand or mine, i won't say which, is too dirty for shaking. let me do you a good turn, master: there's a blue-bottle on your wig; i think as it's beelzebub a-whispering in your ear: allow me to drive him away." and the poacher dealt him such a cuff that this barrister reeled again; and instantly afterwards took advantage of the cloud of hair-powder to leave the court unseen. [a] it has been stated as a fact, that a certain lady l---- s----, in her last interview with a young man, condemned to death for the brutal murder of his sweetheart, presented him with a white camellia, as a token of eternal peace, which the gallant gentleman actually wore at the gallows in his button-hole. chapter xlviii. sentence and death. silence, silence! shouted the indignant crier, and the episodical cause of burke, _v._ sharp, was speedily hushed. the eyes of all now concentred on the miserable criminal; for the time, every thing else seemed forgotten. roger, grace, and ben, grouped together in the midst of many friends, who had crowded round them to congratulate, leaned forward like the rest of that dense hall, as simply thralled spectators. mr. grantly lifted up a pair of very moistened eyes behind his spectacles, and looked earnestly on, with his wig, from agitation, wriggled tails in front. the judge (it was good old baron parker) put on the black cap to pronounce sentence. there was a pause. but we have forgotten simon jennings--what was he about? did that "cynosure of neighbouring eyes" appear alarmed at his position, anxious at his fate, or even attentive to what was going on? no: he not only appeared, but was, the most unconcerned individual in the whole court: he even tried to elude utter vacancy of thought by amusing himself with external things about him: and, on wordsworth's principle of inducing sleep by counting "a flock of sheep, that leisurely pass by, one after one," he was trying to reckon, for pleasant peace of mind's sake, how many folks were looking at him. only see--he is turning his white stareful face in every direction, and his lips are going a thousand and forty-one, a thousand and forty-two, a thousand and forty-three; he will not hurry it over, by leaving out the "thousand:" alas! this holiday of idiotic occupation is all the respite now his soul can know. and the judge broke that awful silence, saying, "prisoner at the bar, you are convicted on your own confession, as well as upon other evidence, of crimes too horrible to speak of. the deliberate repetition of that fearful murder, classes you among the worst of wretches whom it has been my duty to condemn: and when to this is added your perjured accusation of an innocent man, whom nothing but a miracle has rescued, your guilt becomes appalling--too hideous for human contemplation. miserable man, prepare for death, and after that the judgment; yet, even for you, if you repent, there may be pardon; it is my privilege to tell even you, that life and hope are never to be separated, so long as god is merciful, or man may be contrite. the sacrifice of him who died for us all, for you, poor fellow-creature [here the good judge wept for a minute like a child]--for you, no less than for me, is available even to the chief of sinners. it is my duty and my comfort to direct your blood-stained, but immortal soul, eagerly to fly to that only refuge from eternal misery. as to this world, your career of wickedness is at an end: covetousness has conceived and generated murder; and murder has even over-stept its common bounds, to repeat the terrible crime, and then to throw its guilt upon the innocent. entertain no hope whatever of a respite; mercy in your case would be sin. "the sentence of the court is, that you, simon jennings, be taken from that bar to the county jail, and thence on this day fortnight to be conveyed to the place of execution within the prison, and there by the hands of the common hangman be hanged by the neck--" at the word "neck," in the slow and solemn enunciation of the judge, issued a terrific scream from the mouth of simon jennings: was he mad after all--mad indeed? or was he being strangled by some unseen executioner? look at him, convulsively doing battle with an invisible foe! his eyes start; his face gets bluer and bluer; his hands, fixed like griffin's talons, clutch at vacancy--he wrestles--struggles--falls. all was now confusion: even the grave judge, who had necessarily stopped at that frightful interruption, leaned eagerly over his desk, while barristers and serjeants learned in the law crowded round the prisoner: "he is dying! air, there--air! a glass of water, some one!" about a thimbleful of water, after fifty spillings, arrived safely in a tumbler; but as for air, no one in that court had breathed any thing but nitrogen for four hours. he was dying: and three several doctors, hoisted over the heads of an admiring multitude, rushed to his relief with thirsty lancets: apoplexy--oh, of course, apoplexy: and they nodded to each other confidentially. yes, he was dying: they might not move him now: he must die in his sins, at that dread season, upon that dread spot. perjury, robbery, and murder--all had fastened on his soul, and were feeding there like harpies at a strophadian feast, or vultures ravening on the liver of prometheus. guilt, vengeance, death had got hold of him, and rent him, as wild horses tearing him asunder different ways; he lay there gurgling, strangling, gasping, panting: none could help him, none could give him ease; he was going on the dark, dull path in the bottom of that awful valley, where death's cold shadow overclouds it like a canopy; he was sinking in that deep black water, that must some day drown us all--pray heaven, with hope to cheer us then, and comfort in the fierce extremity! his eye filmed, his lower jaw relaxed, his head dropped back--he was dying--dying--dying-- on a sudden, he rallied! his blood had rushed back again from head to heart, and all the doctors were deceived--again he battled, and fought, and wrestled, and flung them from him; again he howled, and his eyes glared lightning--mad? yes, mad--stark mad! quick--quick--we cannot hold him: save yourselves there! but he only broke away from them to stand up free--then he gave one scream, leaped high into the air, and fell down dead in the dock, with a crimson stream of blood issuing from his mouth. chapter xlix. righteous mammon. thus the crock of gold had gained another victim. is the curse of its accumulation still unsatisfied? must more misery be born of that unhallowed store? shall the poor man's wrongs, and his little ones' cry for bread, and the widows' vain appeal for indulgence in necessity, and the debtor's useless hope for time--more time--and the master's misused bounty, and the murmuring dependants' ever-extorted dues--must the frauds, falsehoods, meannesses, and hardnesses of half a century long, concentrate in that small crock--must these plead still for bloody judgments from on high against all who touch that gold? no! the miasma is dispelled: the curse is gone: the crimes are expiated. the devil in that jar is dispossessed, and with simon's last gasp has returned unto his own place. the murderer is dead, and has thereby laid the ghost of his mate in sin, the murdered victim; while that victim has long ago paid by blood for her many years of mean domestic pilfering. and now i see a better angel hovering round the crock: it is purified, sanctified, accepted. it is become a talent from the lord, instead of a temptation from the devil; and the same coin, which once has been but dull, unrighteous mammon, through justice, thankfulness, and piety, shineth as the shekel of the temple. gratefully, as from god, the rightful owner now may take the gift. for, gold is a creature of god, representing many excellencies: the sweat of honest industry distils to gold; the hot-spring of genius congeals to gold; the blessing upon faithfulness is often showered in gold; and charities not seldom are guerdoned back with gold. let no man affect to despise what providence hath set so high in power. none do so but the man who has it not, and who knows that he covets it in vain. sour grapes--sour grapes--for he may not touch the vintage. this is not the verdict of the wise; the temptation he may fear, the cares he may confess, the misuse he may condemn: yet will he acknowledge that, received at god's hand, and spent in his service, there is scarce a creature in this nether world of higher name than money. beauty fadeth; health dieth; talents--yea, and graces--go to bloom in other spheres--but when benevolence would bless, and bless for ages, his blessing is vain, but for money--when wisdom would teach, and teach for ages, the teacher must be fed, and the school built, and the scholar helped upon his way by money--righteous money. there is a righteous money as there is unrighteous mammon; but both have their ministrations here limited to earth and time; the one, a fruit of heaven--the other, a fungus from below: yet the fruit will bring no blessing, if the grower be forgotten; neither shall the fungus yield a poison, if warmed awhile beneath the better sun. like all other gifts, given to us sweet, but spoilt in the using, gold may turn to good or ill: health may kick, like fat jeshurun in his wantonness; power may change from beneficence to tyranny; learning may grow critical in motes until it overlooks the sunbeam; love may be degraded to an instinct; zaccheus may turn pharisee; religion may cant into the hypocrite, or dogmatize to theologic hate. even so it is with money: its power of doing good has no other equivalent in this world than its power of doing evil: it is like fire--used for hospitable warmth, or wide-wasting ravages; like air--the gentle zephyr, or the destroying hurricane. nevertheless, all is for this world--this world only; a matter extraneous to the spirit, always foreign, often-times adversary: let a man beware of lading himself with that thick clay. i see a cygnet on the broad pactolus, stemming the waters with its downy breast; and anon, it would rise upon the wing, and soar to other skies; so, taking down that snow-white sail, it seeks for a moment to rest its foot on shore, and thence take flight: alas, poor bird! thou art sinking in those golden sands, the heavy morsels clog thy flapping wing--in vain--in vain thou triest to rise--pactolus chains thee down. even such is wealth unto the wisest; wealth at its purest source, exponent of labour and of mind. but, to the frequent fool, heaped with foulest dross--for the cygnet of pactolus and those golden sands, read--the hippopotamus wallowing in the niger, and smothered in a bay of mud. chapter l. the crock a blessing. there was no will found: it is likely mrs. quarles had never made one; she feared death too much, and all that put her in mind of it. so the next of kin, the only one to have the crock of gold, was susan scott, a good, honest, hard-working woman, whom jennings, by many arts, had kept away from hurstley: her husband, a poor thatcher, sadly out of work except in ricking time, and crippled in both legs by having fallen from a hay-stack: and as to the family, it was already as long a flight of steps as would reach to an ordinary first floor, with a prospect (so the gossips said) of more in the distance. susan was a wesleyan methodist--many may think, more the pity: but she neither disliked church, nor called it steeple-house: only, forasmuch as hagglesfield was blessed with a sporting parson, the chief reminders of whose presence in the parish were strifes perpetual about dues and tithes, it is little blame or wonder, if the starving sheep went anywhither else for pasturage and water. so, then, susan was a good mother, a kind neighbour, a religious, humble-minded christian: is it not a comfort now to know that the gold was poured into her lap, and that she hallowed her good luck by prayers and praises? i judge it worth while stepping over to hagglesfield for a couple of minutes, to find out how she used that gold, and made the crock a blessing. susan first thought of her debts: so, to every village shop around, i fear they were not a few, which had kindly given her credit, some for weeks, some for months, and more than one for a year, the happy house-wife went to pay in full; and not this only, but with many thanks, to press a little present upon each, for well-timed help in her adversity. the next thought was near akin to it: to take out of pawn divers valued articles, two or three of which had been her mother's; for reuben's lameness, poor man, kept him much out of work, and the childer came so quick, and ate so fast, and wore out such a sight of shoes, that, but for an occasional appeal to mrs. quarles--it was her one fair feature this--they must long ago have been upon the parish: now, however, all the ancestral articles were redeemed, and honour no doubt with them. thirdly, susan went to her minister in best bib and tucker, and humbly begged leave to give a guinea to the school; and she hoped his reverence wouldn't be above accepting a turkey and chine, as a small token of her gratitude to him for many consolations: it pleased me much to hear that the good man had insisted upon susan and her husband coming to eat it with him the next day at noon. fourthly, susan prudently set to work, and rigged out the whole family in tidy clothes, with a touch of mourning upon each for poor aunt bridget, and unhappy brother simon; while the fifthly, sixthly, and to conclude, were concerned in a world of notable and useful schemes, with a strong resolution to save as much as possible for schooling and getting out the children. it was wonderful to see how much good was in that gold, how large a fund of blessing was hidden in that crock: reuben scott gained health, the family were fed, clad, taught; susan grew in happiness at least as truly as in girth; and hagglesfield beheld the goodness of that store, whose curse had startled all hurstley-cum-piggesworth. but also at hurstley now are found its consequential blessings. we must take another peep at roger and sweet grace; they, and ben too, and jonathan, and jonathan's master, may all have cause to thank an overruling providence, for blessing on the score of bridget's crock. only before i come to that, i wish to be dull a little hereabouts, and moralize: the reader may skip it, if he will--but i do not recommend him so to do. for, evermore in the government of god, good groweth out of evil: and, whether man note the fact or not, providence, with secret care, doth vindicate itself. there is justice done continually, even on this stage of trial, though many pine and murmur: substantial retribution, even in this poor dislocated world of wrong, not seldom overtakes the sinner, not seldom encourages the saint. encourages? yea, and punishes: blessing him with kind severity; teaching him to know himself a mere bad root, if he be not grafted on his god; proving that the laws which govern life are just, and wise, and kind; showing him that a man's own heart's desire, if fulfilled, would probably tend to nothing short of sin, sorrow, and calamity; that many seeming goods are withheld, because they are evils in disguise; and many seeming ills allowed, because they are masqueraded blessings; and demonstrating, as in this strange tale, that the unrighteous mammon is a cruel master, a foul tempter, a pestilent destroyer of all peace, and a teeming source of both world's misery. listen to the sayings of the wisest king of men: "as the whirlwind passeth, so is the wicked no more: but the righteous is an everlasting foundation." "the righteous is delivered out of trouble, and the wicked cometh in his stead." "he that trusteth in his riches shall fall: but the righteous shall flourish as a branch." "better is a little with righteousness, than great revenues without right." "the wicked shall be a ransom for the righteous, and the transgressor for the upright." "a good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's children: and the wealth of the sinner is laid up for the just." chapter li. popularity. the storm is lulled: the billows of temptation have ebbed away from shore, and the clouds of adversity have flown to other skies. "the winter is past; the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear upon the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land: the fig-tree putteth forth his green figs, and the blossoms of the vine smell sweetly. arise, and come away." yesterday's trial, and its unlooked-for issue, have raised roger acton to the rank of hero. the town's excitement is intense: and the little inn, where he and grace had spent the night in gratitude and prayerful praise, is besieged by carriages full of lords and gentlemen, eager to see and speak with roger. humbly and reverently, yet preserving an air of quiet self-possession, the labourer received their courteous kindnesses; and acquitted himself of what may well be called the honours of that levee, with a dignity native to the true-born briton, from the time of caractacus at rome to our own. but if roger was a demi-god, grace was at the least a goddess; she charmed all hearts with her modest beauty. back with the shades of night, and the prison-funeral of jennings, fled envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness; the elderly sisterhood of hurstley, not to be out of a fashion set by titled dames, hastened to acknowledge her perfections; calumny was shamed, and hid his face; the uncles, aunts, and cousins of the hill-top yonder, were glad to hold their tongues, and bite their nails in peace: farmer floyd and his mrs. positively came with peace-offerings--some sausage-meat, elder-wine, jam, and other dainties, which were to them the choicest sweets of life: and as for jonathan, he never felt so proud of grace in all his life before; the handsome fellow stood at least a couple of inches taller. honest ben burke, too, that most important witness--whose coming was as blucher's at waterloo, and secured the well-earned conquest of the day--though it must be confessed that his appearance was something of the satyr, still had he been phoebus apollo in person, he would scarcely have excited sincerer admiration. more than one fair creature sketched his unkempt head, and loudly wished that its owner was a bandit; more than one bright eye discovered beauty in his open countenance--though a little soap and water might have made it more distinguishable. well--well--honest ben--they looked, and wisely looked, at the frank and friendly mind hidden under that rough carcase, and little wonder that they loved it. now, to all this stream of hearty english sympathy, the kind and proper feeling of young sir john resolved to give a right direction. his fashionable friends were gone, except silliphant and poynter, both good fellows in the main, and all the better for the absence (among others) of that padded old debauchee, sir richard hunt, knight of the order of st. sapphira--that frivolous inanity, lord george pypp--and that professed gentleman of gallantry, mr. harry mynton. the follies and the vices had decamped--had scummed off, so to speak--leaving the more rectified spirits behind them, to recover at leisure, as best they might, from all that ferment of dissipation. so, then, there was now neither ridicule, nor interest, to stand in the way of a young and wealthy heir's well-timed schemes of generosity. well-timed they were, and sir john knew it, though calculation seldom had a footing in his warm and heedless heart; but he could not shut his eyes to the fact, that the state of feeling among his hereditary labourers was any thing but pleasant. in truth, owing to the desperate malpractices of quarles and jennings, perhaps no property in the kingdom had got so ill a name as hurstley: discontent reigned paramount; incendiary fires had more than once occurred; threatening notices, very ill-spelt, and signed by one _soi-disant_ captain blood, had been dropped, in dead of winter, at the door-sills of the principal farmers; and all the other fruits of long-continued penury, extortion, and mis-government, were hanging ripe upon the bough--a foul and fatal harvest. therefore, did the kind young landlord, who had come to live among his own peasantry, resolve, not more nobly than wisely, to seize an opportunity so good as this, for restoring, by a stroke of generous policy, peace and content on his domain. no doubt, the baronet rejoiced, as well he might, at the honourable acquittal of innocence, and the mysteries of murder now cleared up; he made small secret of his satisfaction at the doom of jennings; and, as for bridget quarles, by all he could learn of her from tenants' wives, and other female dependants, he had no mind to wish her back again, or to think her fate ill-timed: nevertheless, he was even more glad of an occasion to vindicate his own good feelings; and prove to the world that bailiff simon jennings was a very opposite character to landlord sir john devereux vincent. to carry out his plan, he determined to redress all wrongs within one day, and to commence by bringing "honest roger" in triumph home again to hurstley; following the suggestion of baron parker, to make some social compensation for his wrongs. with this view, sir john took counsel of the county-town authorities, and it was agreed unanimously, excepting only one dissenting vote--a rich and radical quaker, one isaac sneak, grocer, and of the body corporate, who refused to lose one day's service of his shopmen, and thereby (i rejoice to add) succeeded in getting rid of fifteen good annual customers--it was agreed, then, and arranged that the morrow should be a public holiday. all sir john's own tenantry, as well as squire ryle's, and some of other neighbouring magnates, were to have a day's wages without work, on the easy conditions of attending the procession in their smartest trim, and of banqueting at hurstley afterwards. so, then, the town-band was ordered to be in attendance next morning by eleven at the swan, a lot of old election colours were shaken from their dust and cobwebs, the bell-ringers engaged, vasty preparations of ale and beef made at hurstley hall--an ox to be roasted whole upon the terrace, and a plum-pudding already in the cauldron of two good yards in circumference--and all that every body hoped for that night, was a fine may-day to-morrow. chapter lii. roger at the swan. meanwhile, eventide came on: the crowd of kindly gentle-folks had gone their several ways; and roger acton found himself (through sir john's largess) at free quarters in the parlour of the swan, with grace by his side, and many of his mates in toil and station round him. "grace," said her father on a sudden, "grace--my dear child--come hither." she stood in all her loveliness before him. then he took her hand, looked up at her affectionately, and leaned back in the old oak chair. "hear me, mates and neighbours; to my own girl, grace, under god, i owe my poor soul's welfare. i have nothing, would i had, to give her in return:" and the old man (he looked ten years older for his six weeks, luck, and care, and trouble)--the old man could not get on at all with what he had to say--something stuck in his throat--but he recovered, and added cheerily, with an abrupt and rustic archness, "i don't know, mates, whether after all i can't give the good girl something: i can give her--away! come hither, jonathan floyd; you are a noble fellow, that stood by us in adversity, and are almost worthy of my angel grace." and he joined their hands. "give us thy blessing too, dear father!" they kneeled at his feet on the sanded floor, in the midst of their kinsfolk and acquaintance, and he, stretching forth his hands like a patriarch, looked piously up to heaven, and blessed them there. "grace," he added, "and jonathan my son, i need not part with you--i could not. i have heard great tidings. to-morrow you shall know how kind and good sir john is: god bless him! and send poor england's children of the soil many masters like him. "and now, mates, one last word from roger acton; a short word, and a simple, that you may not forget it. my sin was love of money: my punishment, its possession. mates, remember him who sent you to be labourers, and love the lot he gives you. be thankful if his blessing on your industry keeps you in regular work and fair wages: ask no more from god of this world's good. believe things kindly of the gentle-folks, for many sins are heaped upon their heads, whereof their hearts are innocent. never listen to the counsels of a servant, who takes away his master's character: for of such are the poor man's worst oppressors. be satisfied with all your lowliness on earth, and keep your just ambitions for another world. flee strong liquors and ill company. nurse no heated hopes, no will-o'-the-wisp bright wishes: rather let your warmest hopes be temperately these--health, work, wages: and as for wishing, mates, wish any thing you will--sooner than to find a crock of gold." chapter liii. roger's triumph. the steeples rang out merrily, full chime; high street was gay with streamers; the town-band busily assembling; a host of happy urchins from emancipated schools, were shouting in all manner of keys all manner of gleeful noises: every body seemed a-stir. a proud man that day was roger acton; not of his deserts--they were worse than none, he knew it; not of the procession--no silly child was he, to be caught with toy and tinsel; god wot, he was meek enough in self--and as for other pride, he knew from old electioneerings, what a humbling thing is triumph. but when he saw from the windows of the swan, those crowds of new-made friends trooping up in holiday suits with flags, and wands, and corporation badges--when the band for a commencement struck up the heart-stirring hymn 'god save the queen,'--when the horsemen, and carriages, and gigs, and carts assembled--when the baronet's own barouche and four, dashing up to the door, had come from hurstley hall for _him_--when sir john, the happiest of the happy, alighting with his two friends, had displaced them for roger and grace, while the kind gentlemen took horse, and headed the procession--when ben burke (as clean as soap could get him, and bedecked in new attire) was ordered to sit beside jonathan in the rumble-tumble--when the cheering, and the merry-going bells, and the quick-march 'british grenadiers,' rapidly succeeding the national anthem--when all these tokens of a generous sympathy smote upon his ears, his eyes, his heart, roger acton wept aloud--he wept for very pride and joy: proud and glad was he that day of his country, of his countrymen, of his generous landlord, of his gentle grace, of his vindicated innocence, and of god, "who had done so great things for him." so, the happy cavalcade moved on, horse and foot, and carts and carriages, through the noisy town, along the thronged high road, down the quiet lanes that lead to hurstley; welcomed at every cottage-door with boisterous huzzas, and adding to its ranks at every corner. and so they reached the village, where the band struck up, "see the conquering hero comes, sound the trumpets, beat the drums!" is not this returning like a nabob, roger? hath not god blest thee through the crock of gold at last, in spite of sin? there, at the entrance by the mile-stone, stood mary and the babes, with a knot of friends around her, bright with happiness; on the top of it was perched son tom, waving the blue and silver flag of hurstley, and acting as fugleman to a crowd of uproarious cheerers; and beside it, on the bank, sat sarah stack, overcome with joy, and sobbing like a gladsome niobe. and the village bells went merrily; every cottage was gay with spring garlands, and each familiar face lit up with looks of kindness; hark! hark!--"welcome, honest roger, welcome home again!" they shout: and the patereroes on the lawn thunder a salute; "welcome, honest neighbour;"--and up went, at bright noon, tom stableboy's dozen of rockets wrapped around with streamers of glazed calico--"welcome, welcome!" good mr. evans stood at the door of fine old hurstley, in wig, and band, and cassock, to receive back his wandering sheep that had been lost: and the school-children, ranged upon the steps, thrillingly sang out the beautiful chant, "i will arise, and go to my father, and will say unto him, 'father, i have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son!'" every head was uncovered, and every cheek ran down with tears. chapter liv. sir john's parting speech. then sir john, standing up in the barouche at his own hall-door, addressed the assembled multitude: "friends, we are gathered here to-day, in the cause of common justice and brotherly kindness. there are many of you whom i see around me, my tenants, neighbours, or dependants, who have met with wrongs and extortions heretofore, but you all shall be righted in your turn; trust me, men, the old hard times are gone, your landlord lives among you, and his first care shall be to redress your many grievances, paying back the gains of your oppressor." "god bless you, sir, god bless you!" was the echo from many a gladdened heart. "but before i hear your several claims in turn, which shall be done to-morrow, our chief duty this day is to recompense an honest man for all that he has innocently suffered. it is five-and-thirty years, as i find by my books, on this very first of may, since roger acton first began to work at hurstley; till within this now past evil month, he has always been the honest steady fellow that you knew him from his youth: what say you, men, to having as a bailiff one of yourselves; a kind and humble man, a good man, the best hand in the parish in all the works of your vocation--a steady mind, an honest heart--what say ye all to roger acton?" there was a whirlwind of tumultuous applause. "moreover, men, though you all, each according to his measure and my means, shall meet with liberal justice for your lesser ills, yet we must all remember that bailiff acton here had nearly died a felon's death, through that bad man jennings and the unlucky crock of gold; in addition, extortion has gone greater lengths with him, than with any other on the property; i find that for the last twenty years, roger acton has regularly paid to that monster of oppression who is now dead, a double rent--four guineas instead of forty shillings. i desire, as a good master, to make amends for the crimes of my wicked servant; therefore in this bag, bailiff acton, is returned to you all the rent you ever paid;" [roger could not speak for tears;]--"and your cottage repaired and fitted, with an acre round it, is yours and your children's, rent-free for ever." "huzzah, huzzah!" roared ben from the dickey, in a gush of disinterested joy; and then, like an experienced toast-master, he marshalled in due hip, hip, hip order, the shouts of acclamation that rent the air. in an interval of silence, sir john added, "as for you, good-hearted fellow, if you will only mend your speech, i'll make you one of my keepers; you shall call yourself licensed poacher, if you choose." "blessings on your honour! you've made an honest man o' me." "and now, jonathan floyd, i have one word to say to you, sir. i hear you are to marry our roger's pretty grace." jonathan appeared like a sheep in livery. "you must quit my service." jonathan was quite alarmed. "do you suppose, master jonathan, that i can house at hurstley, before a lady vincent comes amongst us to keep the gossips quiet, such a charming little wife as that, and all her ruddy children?" it was grace's turn to feel confused, so she "looked like a rose in june," and blushed all over, as charles lamb's astræa did, down to the ankle. "yes, jonathan, you and i must part, but we part good friends: you have been a noble lover: may you make the girl a good and happy husband! jennings has been robbing me and those about me for years: it is impossible to separate specially my rights from his extortions: but all, as i have said, shall be satisfied: meanwhile, his hoards are mine. i appropriate one half of them for other claimants; the remaining half i give to grace floyd as dower. don't be a fool, jonathan, and blubber; look to your grace there, she's fainting--you can set up landlord for yourself, do you hear?--for i make yours honestly, as much as roger found in his now lucky crock of gold." poor roger, quite unmanned, could only wave his hat, and--the curtain falls amid thunders of applause. end of the crock of gold. * * * * * the twins; a domestic novel. by martin farquhar tupper, a.m., f.r.s. author of proverbial philosophy. * * * * * contents chap. page. . place; time; circumstance . the heroes . the arrival . the general and his ward . jealousy . the confidante . the course of true love . the mystery . how to clear it up . aunt green's legacy . preparations, and departure . the escape . news of charles . the tête-à-tête . satisfaction . how charles fared . the general's return . intercalary . julian's departure . enlightenment . charles at madras . revelations . convalescence . charles delayed . trials . julian . charles's return, &c. . julian turns up, &c. . the old scotch nurse goes home . final chapter i. place: time: circumstance. burleigh-singleton is a pleasant little watering-place on the southern coast of england, entirely suitable for those who have small incomes and good consciences. the latter, to residents especially, are at least as indispensable as the former: seeing that, however just the reputation of their growing little town for superior cheapness in matters of meat and drink, its character in things regarding men and manners is quite as undeniable for preëminent dullness. not but that it has its varieties of scene, and more or less of circumstances too: there are, on one flank, the breezy heights, with flag-staff and panorama; on the other, broad and level water-meadows, skirted by the dark-flowing mullet, running to the sea between its tortuous banks: for neighbourhood, pacton park is one great attraction--the pretty market-town of eyemouth another--the everlasting, never-tiring sea a third; and, at high-summer, when the devonshire lanes are not knee-deep in mire, the nevertheless immeasurably filthy, though picturesque, mud-built village of oxton. then again (and really as i enumerate these multitudinous advantages, i begin to relent for having called it dull), you may pick up curious agate pebbles on the beach, as well as corallines and scarce sea-weeds, good for gumming on front-parlour windows; you may fish _for_ whitings in the bay, and occasionally catch them; you may wade in huge caoutchouc boots among the muddy shallows of the mullet, and shoot _at_ cormorants and curlews; you may walk to satiety between high-banked and rather dirty cross-roads; and, if you will scramble up the hedge-row, may get now and then peeps of undulated country landscape. moreover, you have free liberty to drop in any where to "tiffin"--burleigh being very indianized, and a guest always welcome; indeed, so indianized is it, so populous in jaundiced cheek and ailing livers, that you may openly assert, without fear of being misunderstood (if you wish to vary your common phrase of loyalty), that victoria sits upon the "musnud" of great britain; you may order curry in the smallest pot-house, and still be sure to get the rice well-cooked; you may call your house-maid "ayah," without risk of warning for impertinence; you may vent your wrath against indolent waiters in eloquence of "jaa, soostee;" and, finally, you may go to the library, and besides the advantage of the day-before-yesterday's times, you may behold in bilious presence an affable, but authoritative, old gentleman, who introduces himself, "sir, you see in me the hero of puttymuddyfudgepoor." you may even now see such an one, i say, and hear him too, if you will but go to burleigh; seeing he has by this time over-lived the year or so whereof our tale discourses. he has, by dint of service, attained to the dignity of general h.e.i.c.s., and--which he was still longer coming to--the wisdom of being a communicative creature; though possibly, by a natural rëaction, at present he carries anti-secresy a little too far, and verges on the gossiping extreme. but, at the time to which we must look back to commence this right-instructive story, general tracy was still drinking "hodgson's pale" in india, was so taciturn as to be considered almost dumb, and had not yet lifted up his yellow visage upon albion's white cliffs, nor taken up head-quarters in his final rest of burleigh-singleton. nevertheless, with reference to quartering at burleigh, a certain long-neglected wife of his, mrs. tracy, had; and that for the period of at least the twenty-one years preceding: how and wherefore i proceed to tell. a common case and common fate was that of mrs. tracy. she had married, both early and hastily, a gallant lieutenant, john george julian tracy, to wit, the military germ of our future general; their courtship and acquaintance previous to matrimony extended over the not inconsiderable space of three whole weeks--commencing with a country ball; and after marriage, honey-moon inclusive, they lived the life of cooing doves for three whole months. and now came the furlough's end: mr. tracy, in his then habitual reserve (a quiet man was he), had concealed its existence altogether: and, for aught jane knew, the hearty invalid was to remain at home for ever: but months soon slip away; and so it came to pass, that on a certain next wednesday he must be on his way back to the presidency of madras, and--if she will not follow him--he must leave her. however, there was a certain old relative, one mrs. green, a childless widow--rich, capricious, and infirm--whom jane tracy did not wish to lose sight of: her money was well worth both watching and waiting for; and the captain, whom a lucky chance had now lifted out of the lieutenancy, was easily persuaded to forego the pleasure of his wife's company till the somewhat indefinite period of her old aunt's death. how far sundry discoveries made in the unknown regions of each other's temper reconciled him to this retrograding bachelorship, and her to her widowhood-bewitched, i will not undertake to say: but i will hazard the remark, anti-poor-law though it seemeth, that the separation of man and wife, however convenient, lucrative, or even mutually pleasant, is a dereliction of duty, which always deserves, and generally meets, its proper and discriminative punishment. had the young wife faithfully performed her maker's bidding, and left all other ties unstrung to cleave unto her lord; had she considered a husband's true affections before all other wealth, and resolved to share his dangers, to solace his cares, to be his blessing through life, and his partner even unto death, rather than selfishly to seek her own comfort, and consult her own interest--the tale of crime and sadness, which it is my lot to tell, would never have had truth for its foundation. ill-matched for happiness though they were, however well-matched as to mutual merit, the common man of pleasure and the frivolous woman of fashion, still the wisest way to fuse their minds to union, the likeliest receipt for moral good and social comfort, would have been this course of foreign scenes, of new faces, sprinkled with a seasoning of adventure, hardship, danger, in a distant land. gradually would they have learned to bear and forbear; the petty quarrel would have been forgotten in the frequent kindness; the rougher edges of temper and opinion would insensibly have smoothed away; new circumstances would have brought out better feelings under happier skies; old acquaintances, false friends forgotten, would have neutralized old feuds: and, by long-living together, though it were perhaps amid various worries and many cares, they might still have come to a good old age with more than average happiness, and more than the common run of love. patience in dutiful enduring brings a sure reward: and marriage, however irksome a constraint to the foolish and the gay, is still so wise an ordinance, that the most ill-assorted couple imaginable will unconsciously grow happy, if they only remain true to one another, and will learn the wisdom always to hope and often to forgive. the tracys, however, overlooked all this, and mutual friends (those invariable foes to all that is generous and unworldly) smiled upon the prudence of their temporary separation. the captain was to come home again on furlough in five years at furthest, even if the aunt held out so long; and this availed to keep his wife in the rear-guard; therefore, mrs. tracy wiped her eyes, bade adieu to her retreating lord in plymouth sound, and determined to abide, with other expectant dames and asiatic invalided heroes, at burleigh-singleton, until she might go to him, or he return to her: for pleasant little burleigh, besides its contiguity to arriving indiamen, was advantageous as being the dwelling-place of aforesaid mrs. green;--that wealthy, widowed aunt, devoutly wished in heaven: and the considerate old soul had offered her designing niece a home with her till tracy could come back. during the first year of absence, ship-letters and india-letters arrived duteously in consecutive succession: but somehow or other, the regular post, in no long time afterwards, became unfaithful to its trust; and if mrs. jane heard quarterly, which at any rate she did through the agent, when he remitted her allowance, she consoled herself as to the captain's well-being: in due course of things, even this became irregular; he was far up the country, hunting, fighting, surveying, and what not; and no wonder that letters, if written at all, which i rather doubt, got lost. then there came a long period of positive and protracted silence--months of it--years of it; barring that her checks for cash were honoured still at hancock's, though they could tell her nothing of her lord; so that mrs. tracy was at length seriously recommended by her friends to become a widow; she tried on the cap, and looked into many mirrors; but, after long inspection, decided upon still remaining a wife, because the weeds were so clearly unbecoming. habit, meanwhile, and that still-existing old aunt, who seemed resolved to live to a hundred, kept her as before at burleigh: and, seeing that a few months after the captain's departure she had presented the world, not to say her truant lord, with twins, she had always found something to do in the way of, what she considered, education, and other juvenile amusement: that is to say, when the gayeties of a circle of fifteen miles in radius left her any time to spare in such a process. the twins--a brace of boys--were born and bred at burleigh, and had attained severally to twenty years of age, just before their father came home again as brevet-major-general. but both they, and that arrival, deserve special detail, each in its own chapter. chapter ii. the heroes. mrs. tracy's sons were as unlike each other as it is well possible for two human beings to be, both in person and character. julian, whose forward and bold spirit gained him from the very cradle every prerogative of eldership (and he did struggle first into life, too, so he was the first-born), had grown to be a swarthy, strong, big-boned man, of the roman-nosed, or, more physiognomically, the jewish cast of countenance; with melo-dramatic elf-locks, large whiskers, and ungovernable passions; loud, fierce, impetuous; cunning, too, for all his overbearing clamour; and an embodied personification of those choice essentials to criminal happiness--a hard heart and a good digestion. charles, on the contrary (or, as logicians would say, on the contradictory), was fair-haired, blue-eyed, of grecian features; slim, though well enough for inches, and had hitherto (as the commonalty have it) "enjoyed" weak health: he was gentle and affectionate in heart, pure and religious in mind, studious and unobtrusive in habits. it was a wonder to see the strange diversity between those own twin-brothers, born within the same hour, and, it is superfluous to add, of the same parents; brought up in all outward things alike, and who had shared equally in all that might be called advantage or disadvantage, of circumstance or education. certain is it that minds are different at birth, and require as different a treatment as iceland moss from cactuses, or bull-dogs from bull-finches: certain is it, too, that julian, early submitted and resolutely broken in, would have made as great a man, as charles, naturally meek, did make a good one; but for the matter of educating her boys, poor mrs. tracy had no more notion of the feat, than of squaring the circle, or determining the longitude. she kept them both at home, till the peevish aunt could suffer julian's noise no longer: the house was a pandemonium, and the giant grown too big for that castle of otranto; so he must go at any rate; and (as no difference in the treatment of different characters ever occurred to any body) of course charles must go along with him. away they went to an expensive school, which julian's insubordination on the instant could not brook--and, accordingly, he ran away; without doubt, charles must be taken away too. another school was tried, julian got expelled this time; and charles, in spite of prizes, must, on system, be removed with him: so forth, with like wisdom, all through the years of adolescence and instruction, those ill-matched brothers were driven as a pair. then again, for fashion's sake, and aunt green's whims, the circumspective mother, notwithstanding all her inconsistencies, gave each of them prettily bound hand-books of devotion; which the one used upon his knees, and the other lit cigars withal; both extremes having exceeded her intention: and she proved similarly overreached when she persisted in treating both exactly alike, as to liberal allowances, and liberty of will; the result being, that one of her sons "foolishly" spent his money in a multitude of charitable hobbies; and that the other was constantly supplied with means for (the mother was sorry to say it, vulgar) dissipation. by consequence, charles did more good, and julian more evil, than i have time to stop and tell off. if any thing in this life must be personal, peculiar, and specific, it is education: we take upon ourselves to speak thus dogmatically, not of mere school-teaching only, _musa_, _musæ_, and so forth; nor yet of lectures, on relative qualities of carbon and nitrogen in vegetables; no, nor even of schemes of theology, or codes of morals; but we do speak of the daily and hourly reining-in, or letting-out, of discouragement in one appetite, and encouragement in another; of habitual formation of characters in their diversity; and of shaping their bear's-cub, or that child-angel, the natural human mind, to its destined ends; that it may turn out, for good, according to its several natures, to be either the strong-armed, bold-eyed, rough-hewer of god's grand designs, or the delicate-fingered polisher of his rarest sculptures. julian, well-trained, might have grown to be a luther; and many a gentle soul like charles, has turned out a coxcomb and a sensualist. the boys were born, as i have said, in the regulation order of things, a few months after captain tracy sailed away for india some full score of years, and more, from this present hour, when we have seen him seated as a general in the library at burleigh; and, until the last year, they had never seen their father--scarcely ever heard of him. the incidents of their lives had been few and common-place: it would be easy, but wearisome, to specify the orchards and the bee-hives which julian had robbed as a school-boy; the rebellions he had headed; the monkey tricks he had played upon old fish-women; and the cruel havoc he made of cats, rats, and other poor tormented creatures, who had ministered to his wanton and brutalizing joys. in like manner, wearily, but easily, might i relate how charles grew up the nurse's darling, though little of his flaunting mother's; the curly-pated young book-worm; the sympathizing, innoffensive, gentle heart, whose effort still it was to countervail his brother's evil: how often, at the risk of blows, had he interposed to save some drowning puppy: how often paid the bribe for julian's impunity, when mulcted for some damage done in the way of broken windows, upset apple-stalls, and the like: how often had he screened his bad twin-brother from the flagellatory consequences of sheer idleness, by doing for him all his school-tasks: how often striven to guide his insensate conscience to truth, and good, and wisdom: how often, and how vainly! and when the youths grew up, and their good and evil grew up with them, it were possible to tell you a heart-rending tale of julian's treachery to more than one poor village beauty; and many a pleasing trait of charles's pure benevolence, and wise zeal to remedy his brother's mischiefs. the one went about doing ill, and the other doing good: julian, on account of obligations, more truly than in spite of them, hated charles; and yet one great aim of all charles's amiabilities tended continually to julian's good, and he strove to please him, too, while he wished to bless him. the one had grown to manhood, full of unrepented sins, and ripe for darker crime: the other had attained a like age of what is somewhat satirically called discretion, having amassed, with solon of old, "knowledge day by day," having lived a life of piety and purity, and blest with a cheerful disposition, that teemed with happy thoughts. they had, of course, in the progress of human life, been both laid upon the bed of sickness, where, with similar contrast, the one lay muttering discontent, and the other smiling patiently: they had both been in dangers by land and by sea, where julian, though not a little lacking to himself at the moment of peril, was still loudly minacious till it came too near; while charles, with all his caution, was more actually courageous, and in spite of all his gentleness, stood against the worst undaunted: they had both, with opposite motives and dissimilar modes of life, passed through various vicissitudes of feeling, scene, society; and the influence of circumstance on their different characters, heightened or diminished, bettered or depraved, by the good or evil principle in each, had produced their different and probable results. thus, strangely dissimilar, the twin-brothers together stand before us: julian the strong impersonation of the animal man, as charles of the intellectual; julian, matter; charles, spirit; julian, the creature of this world, tending to a lower and a worse: charles, though in the world, not of the world, and reaching to a higher and a better. mrs. tracy, the mother of this various progeny, had been somewhat of a beauty in her day, albeit much too large and masculine for the taste of ordinary mortals; and though now very considerably past forty, the vain vast female was still ambitious of compliment, and greedy of admiration. that julian should be such a woman's favourite will surprise none: she had, she could have, no sympathies with mild and thoughtful charles; but rather dreaded to set her flaunting folly in the light of his wise glance, and sought to hide her humbled vanity from his pure and keen perceptions. his very presence was a tacit rebuke to her social dissipation, and she could not endure the mild radiance of his virtues. he never fawned and flattered her, as julian would; but had even suffered filial presumption (it could not be affection--o dear, no!) to go so far as gently to expostulate at what he fancied wrong; he never gave her reason to contrast, with happy self-complacence, her own soul's state with charles's, however she could with julian's: and then, too, she would indulgently allow her foolish mind--a woman's, though a parent's--to admire that tall, black, bandit-looking son, above the slight build, the delicate features, and almost feminine elegance of his brother: she found julian always ready to countenance and pamper her gayest wishes, and was glad to make him her escort every where--at balls, and fêtes, and races, and archery parties; while as to charles, he would be the stay-at-home, the milk-sop, the learned pundit, the pious prayer-monger, any thing but the ladies' man. yes: it is little wonder that mrs. tracy's heart clave to julian, the masculine image of herself; while it barely tolerated charles, who was a rarefied and idealized likeness of the absent and forgotten tracy. but the mother--and there are many silly mothers, almost as many as silly men and silly maids--in her admiration of the outward form of manliness, overlooked the true strength, and chivalry, and nobleness of mind which shone supreme in charles. how would julian have acted in such a case as this?--a sheep had wandered down the cliff's face to a narrow ledge of rock, whence it could not come back again, for there was no room to turn: julian would have pelted it, and set his bull-dog at it, and rejoiced to have seen the poor animal's frantic leaps from shingly shelf to shelf, till it would be dashed to pieces. but how did charles act? with the utmost courage, and caution, and presence of mind, he crept down, and, at the risk of his life, dragged the bleating, unreluctant creature up again; it really seemed as if the ungrateful poor dumb brute recognised its humane friend, and suffered him to rescue it without a struggle or a motion that might have endangered both. again: a burly costermonger was belabouring his donkey, and the wretched beast fell beneath his cudgel: strange to say, julian and charles were walking together that time; and the same sight affected each so differently, that the one sided with the cruel man, and the other with his suffering victim: charles, in momentary indignation, rushed up to the fellow, wrested the cudgel from his hand, and flung it over the cliff; while julian was so base, so cowardly, as to reward such generous interference, by holding his weaker brother's arms, and inviting the wrathful costermonger to expend the remainder of his phrensy on unlucky charles. yes, and when at home mrs. tracy heard all this, she was silly enough, wicked enough, to receive her truly noble son with ridicule, and her other one, the child of her disgrace, with approval. "it will teach you, master charles, not to meddle with common people and their donkeys; and you may thank your brother julian for giving you a lesson how a gentleman should behave." poor charles! but poorer julian, and poorest mrs. tracy! it would be easy, if need were, to enumerate multiplied examples tending towards the same end--a large, masculine-featured mother's foolish preference of the loud, bold, worldly animal, before the meek, kind, noble, spiritual. and the results of all these many matters were, that now, at twenty years of age, charles found himself, as it were, alone in a strange land, with many common friends indeed abroad, but at home no nearer, dearer ties to string his heart's dank lyre withal; neither mother nor brother, nor any other kind familiar face, to look upon his gentleness in love, or to sympathize with his affections, unapprehended, unappreciated: so--while mrs. tracy was the showy, gay, and vapid thing she ever had been, and julian the same impetuous mother's son which his very nurse could say she knew him--charles grew up a shy and silent youth, necessarily reserved, for lack of some one to understand him; necessarily chilled, for want of somebody to love him. chapter iii. the arrival. the young men were thus situated as regards both the world and one another, and mrs. tracy had almost entirely forgotten the fact, that she possessed a piece of goods so supererogatory as her husband (a property too which her children had never quite realized), when all on a sudden, one ordinary morning, the postman's-knock brought to her breakfast-table at burleigh-singleton the following epistle: "british channel, thursday, march th, . "the sir william elphinston, e.i.m. "dear jane: you will be surprised to find that you are to see me so soon, i dare say, especially as it is now some years since you will have heard from me. the reason is, i have been long in an out-of-the-way part of india, where there is little communication with europe, and so you will excuse my not writing. we hope to find ourselves to-night in plymouth roads, where i shall get into a pilot-boat, and so shall see you to-morrow. you may, therefore, now expect your affectionate husband, "j.g.j. tracy, general h.e.i.c.s. "p.s. .--remember me to our boy, or boys--which is it? "p.s. .--i bring with me the daughter of a friend in india, who is come over for a year or two's polish at a first-rate school. of course you will be glad to receive her as our guest. "j.g.j.t." this loving letter was the most startling event that had ever attempted to unnerve mrs. tracy; and she accordingly managed, for effect and propriety's sake, to grow very faint upon the spot, whether for joy, or sorrow, or fear of lost liberty, or hope of a restored lord, doth not appear; she had so long been satisfied with receiving quarterly pay from the india agents, that she forgot it was an evidence of her husband's existence; and, lo! here he was returning a general, doubtlessly a magnificent moustachioed individual, and she was to be mrs. general! so that when she came completely to herself, after that feint of a faint, she was thinking of nothing but court-plumes, oriental pearls, and her gallant tracy's uniform. the postscripts also had their influence: charles, naturally affectionate, and willing to love a hitherto unseen father, felt hurt, as well he might, at the "boy, or boys;" while julian, who ridiculed his brother's sentimentality, was already fancying that the "daughter of a friend" might be a pleasant addition to the dullness of burleigh-singleton. preparations vast were made at once for the general's reception; from attic to kitchen was sounded the tocsin of his coming. julian was all bustle and excitement, to his mother's joy and pride; while charles merited her wrath by too much of his habitual and paternal quietude, particularly when he withdrew his forces altogether from the loud domestic fray, by retreating up-stairs to cogitate and muse, perhaps to make a calming prayer or two about all these matters of importance. as for mrs. tracy herself, she was even now, within the first hour of that news, busily engaged in collecting cosmetics, trinkets, blonde lace, and other female finery, resolved to trick herself out like jezebel, and win her lord once more; whilst the pernicious old aunt, who still lived on, notwithstanding all those twenty years of patience, as vivacious as before, grumbled and scolded so much at this upsetting of her house, that there was really some risk of her altering the will at last, and cutting out jane tracy after all. and the morrow morning came, as if it were no more than an ordinary friday, and with it came expectancy; and noon succeeded, and with it spirits alternately elated and depressed; and evening drew in, with heart-sickness and chagrin at hopes or prophecies deferred; and night, and next morning, and still the general came not. so, much weeping at that vexing disappointment, after so many pains to please, mrs. tracy put aside her numerous aids and appliances, and lay slatternly a-bed, to nurse a head-ache until noon; and all had well nigh forgotten the probable arrival, when, to every body's dismay, a dusty chaise and four suddenly rattled up the terrace, and stopped at our identical number seven. then was there scuffling up, and getting down, and making preparation in hot haste; and a stout gentleman with a gamboge face descended from the chaise, exploding wrath like a bomb-shell, that so important an approach had made such slight appearance of expectancy: it was disrespectful to his rank, and he took care to prove he was somebody, by blowing up the very innocent post-boys. this accomplished, he gallantly handed out after him a pretty-looking miss in her teens. poor mrs. tracy, _en papillotes_, looked out at the casement like any one but jezebel attired for bewitching, and could have cried for vexation; in fact, she did, and passed it off for feeling. aunt green, whom the general at first lovingly saluted as his wife (for the poor man had entirely forgotten the uxorial appearance), was all in a pucker for deafness, blindness, and evident misapprehension of all things in general, though clearly pleased, and flattered at her gallant nephew's salutation. julian, with what grace of manner he could muster, was already playing the agreeable to that pretty ward, after having, to the general's great surprise, introduced himself to him as his son; while charles, who had rushed into the room, warm-heartedly to fling himself into his father's arms, was repelled on the spot for his affection: general tracy, with a military air, excused himself from the embrace, extending a finger to the unknown gentleman, with somewhat of offended dignity. at last, down came the wife: our general at once perceived himself mistaken in the matter of mrs. green; and, coldly bowing to the bedizened dame, acknowledged her pretensions with a courteous-- "mrs. general tracy, allow me to introduce to you miss emily warren, the daughter of a very particular friend of mine:--miss warren, mrs. tracy." for other welcomings, mutual astonishment at each other's fat, some little sorrowful talk of the twenty years ago, and some dull paternal jest about this dozen feet of sons, made up the chilly meeting: and the slender thread of sentimentals, which might possibly survive it, was soon snapt by paying post-boys, orders after luggage, and devouring tiffin. the only persons who felt any thing at all, were mrs. tracy, vexed at her dishabille, and mortified at so cool a reception of, what she hoped, her still unsullied beauties; and charles, poor fellow, who ran up to his studious retreat, and soothed his grief, as best he might, with philosophic fancies: it was so cold, so heartless, so unkind a greeting. romantic youth! how should the father have known him for a son? chapter iv. the general and his ward. it is surprising what a change twenty years of a tropical sun can make in the human constitution. the captain went forth a good-looking, good-tempered man, destitute neither of kind feelings nor masculine beauty: the general returned bloated, bilious, irascible, entirely selfish, and decidedly ill-favoured. such affections as he ever had seemed to have been left behind in india--that new world, around which now all his associations and remembrances revolved; and the reserve (clearly rëproduced in charles), the habit of silence whereof we took due notice in the spring-tide of his life, had now grown, perhaps from some oppressive secret, into a settled, moody, continuous taciturnity, which made his curious wife more vexed at him than ever; for, notwithstanding all the news he must have had to tell her, the company of john george julian tracy proved to his long-expectant jane any thing but cheering or instructive. his past life, and present feelings, to say nothing of his future prospects, might all be but a blank, for any thing the general seemed to care: brandy and tobacco, an easy chair, and an ordnance map of india, with emily beside him to talk about old times, these were all for which he lived: and even the female curiosity of a wife, duly authorized to ask questions, could extract from him astonishingly little of his indian experiences. as to his wealth, indeed, mrs. tracy boldly made direct inquiry; for julian set her on to beg for a commission, and charles also was anxious for a year or two at college; but the general divulged not much: albeit he vouchsafed to both his sons a liberally increased allowance. it was only when his wife, piqued at such reserve, pettishly remarked, "at any rate, sir, i may be permitted to hope, that miss warren's friends are kind enough to pay her expenses;" that the veteran, in high dudgeon at any imputation on his indian acquaintances, sternly answered, "you need not be apprehensive, madam; emily warren is amply provided for." words which sank deep into the prudent mother's mind. but we must not too long let dock-leaves hide a violet; it is high time, and barely courteous now, to introduce that beautiful exotic, emily warren. her own history, as she will tell it to charles hereafter, was so obscure, that she knew little of it certainly herself, and could barely gather probabilities from scattered fragments. at present, we have only to survey results in a superficial manner: in their due season, we will dig up all the roots. no heroine can probably engage our interest or sympathy who possesses the infirmity of ugliness: it is not in human nature to admire her, and human nature is a thing very much to be consulted. moreover, no one ever yet saw an amiable personage, who was not so far pleasing, or, in other parlance, so far pretty. i cannot help the common course of things; and however hackneyed be the thought, however common-place the phrase, it is true, nevertheless, that beauty, singular beauty, would be the first idea of any rational creature, who caught but a glimpse of emily warren; and i should account it little wonder if, upon a calmer gaze, that beauty were found to have its deepest, clearest fountain in those large dark eyes of heir's. aware as i may be, that "large dark eyes" are no novelty in tales like this; and famous for rare originality as my pen (not to say genius) would become, if an attempt were herein made to interest the world in a pink-eyed heroine, still i prefer plodding on in the well-worn path of pleasant beauty; and so long as nature's bounty continues to supply so well the world we live in with large dark eyes, and other feminine perfections, our emily, at any rate, remains in fashion; and if she has many pretty peers, let us at least not peevishly complain of them. a graceful shape is, luckily, almost the common prerogative of female youthfulness; a dimpled smile, a cheerful, winning manner, regular features, and a mass of luxuriant brown hair--these all heroines have--and so has our's. but no heroine ever had yet emily warren's eyes; not identically only, which few can well deny; but similarly also, which the many must be good enough to grant: and very few heroes, indeed, ever saw their equal; though, if any hereabouts object, i will not be so cruel or unreasonable as to hope they will admit it. at first, full of soft light, gentle and alluring, they brighten up to blaze upon you lustrously, and fascinate the gazer's dazzled glance: there are depths in them that tell of the unfathomable soul, heights in them that speak of the spirit's aspirations. it is gentleness and purity, no less than sensibility and passion, that look forth in such strange power from those windows of the mind: it is not the mere beautiful machine, fair form, and pleasing colours, but the heaven-born light of tenderness and truth, streaming through the lens, that takes the fond heart captive. charles, for one, could not help looking long and keenly into emily warren's eyes; they magnetized him, so that he might not turn away from them: entranced him, that he would not break their charm, had he been able: and then the long tufted eyelashes droop so softly over those blazing suns--that i do not in the least wonder at charles's impolite, perhaps, but still natural involuntary stare, and his mute abstracted admiration: the poor youth is caught at once, a most willing captive--the moth has burnt its wings, and flutters still happily around that pleasant warming radiance. how his heart yearned for something to love, some being worthy of his own most pure affections: and lo! these beauteous eyes, true witnesses of this sweet mind, have filled him for ever and a day with love at first sight. but gentle charles was not the only conquest: the fiery julian, too, acknowledged her supremacy, bowed his stubborn neck, and yoked himself at once, another and more rugged captive, to the chariot of her charms. it was caliban, as well as ferdinand, courting fair miranda. in his lower grade, he loved--fiercely, coarsely: and the same passion, which filled his brother's heart with happiest aspirations, and pure unselfish tenderness towards the beauteous stranger, burnt him up as an inward and consuming fire: charles sunned himself in heaven's genial beams, while julian was hot with the lava-current of his own bad heart's volcano. it will save much trouble, and do away with no little useless mystery, to declare, at the outset, which of these opposite twin-brothers our dark-eyed emily preferred. she was only seventeen in years; but an indian sky had ripened her to full maturity, both of form and feelings: and having never had any one whom she cared to think upon, and let her heart delight in, till charles looked first upon her beauty wonderingly, it is no marvel if she unconsciously reciprocated his young heart's thought--before ever he had breathed it to himself. julian's admiration she entirely overlooked; she never thought him more than civil--barely that, perhaps--however he might flatter himself: but her heart and eyes were full of his fair contrast, the light seen brighter against darkness; charles all the dearer for a julian. intensely did she love him, as only tropic blood can love; intently did she gaze on him, when any while he could not see her face, as only those dark eyes could gaze: and her mind, all too ignorant but greedy of instruction, no less than her heart, rich in sympathies and covetous of love, went forth, and fed deliciously on the intellectual brow, and delicate flushing cheek of her noble-minded charles. not all in a day, nor a week, nor a month, did their loves thus ripen together. emily was a simple child of nature, who had every thing to learn; she scarcely knew her maker's name, till charles instructed her in god's great love: the stars were to her only shining studs of gold, and the world one mighty plain, and men and women soulless creatures of a day, and the wisdom of creation unconsidered, and the book of natural knowledge close sealed up, till charles set out before his eager student the mysteries of earth and heaven. oh, those blessed hours of sweet teaching! when he led her quick delighted steps up the many avenues of science to the central throne of god! oh, those happy moments, never to return, when her eyes in gentle thankfulness for some new truth laid open to them, flashed upon her youthful mentor, love and intelligence, and pleased admiring wonder! sweet spring-tide of their loves, who scarcely knew they loved, yet thought of nothing but each other; who walked hand in hand, as brother and sister, in the flowery ways of mutual blessing, mutual dependence: alas, alas! how brief a space can love, that guest from heaven, dwell on earth unsullied! chapter v. jealousy. for julian soon perceived that charles was no despicable rival. at first, self-flattery, and the habitual contempt wherewith he regarded his brother, blinded him to emily's attachment: moreover, in the scenes of gayety and the common social circle, she never gave him cause to complain of undue preferences; readily she leant upon his arm, cheerfully accompanied him in morning-visits, noon-day walks, and evening parties; and if pale charles (in addition to the more regular masters, dancing and music, and other pieces of accomplishment) thought proper to bore her with his books for sundry hours every day, julian found no fault with that;--the girl was getting more a woman of the world, and all for him: she would like her play-time all the better for such schoolings, and him to be the truant at her side. but when, from ordinary civilities, the coarse loud lover proceeded to particular attentions; when he affected to press her delicate hand, and ventured to look what he called love into her eyes, and to breathe silly nothings in her ear--he could deceive himself no longer, notwithstanding all his vanity; as legibly as looks could write it, he read disgust upon her face, and from that day forth she shunned him with undisguised abhorrence. poor innocent maid! she little knew the man's black mind, who thus dared to reach up to the height of her affections; but she saw enough of character in his swart scowling face, and loud assuming manners, to make her dread his very presence, as a thunder-cloud across her summer sky. then did the baffled julian begin to look around him, and took notice of her deepening love of charles; nay, even purposely, she seemed now to make a difference between them, as if to check presumption and encourage merit. and he watched their stolen glances, how tremblingly they met each other's gaze; and he would often-times roughly break in upon their studies, to look on their confused disquietude with the pallid frowns of envy: he would insult poor charles before her, in hope to humble him in her esteem; but mild and christian patience made her see him as a martyr: he would even cast rude slights on her whom he professed to love, with the view of raising his brother's chastened wrath, but was forced to quail and sneak away beneath her quick indignant glance, ere her more philosophical lover had time to expostulate with the cowardly savage. meanwhile, what were the parents about? the general had given out, indeed, that he had brought emily over for schooling; but he seemed so fond of her (in fact, she was the only thing to prove he wore a heart), that he never could resolve upon sending her away from, what she now might well call, home. often, in some strange dialect of hindostan, did they converse together, of old times and distant shores; none but emily might read him to sleep--none but emily wake him in the morning with a kiss--none but emily dare approach him in his gouty torments--none but emily had any thing like intimate acquaintance with that moody iron-hearted man. as to his sons, or the two young men he might presume to be his sons, he neither knew them, nor cared to know. bare civilities, as between man and man, constituted all which their intercourse amounted to: what were those young fellows, stout or slim, to him? mere accidents of a soldier's gallantries and of an ill-assorted marriage. he neither had, nor wished to have, any sympathies with them: julian might be as bad as he pleased, and charles as good, for any thing the general seemed to heed: they could not dive with him into the past, and the sports of hindostan: they reminded him, simply, of his wife, for pleasures of memory; of the grave, for pleasures of hope: he was older when he looked at them: and they seemed to him only living witnesses of his folly as lieutenant, in the choice of mrs. tracy. i will not take upon myself to say, that he had any occasion to congratulate himself on the latter reminiscence. so he quickly acquiesced in julian's wish for a commission, and entirely approved of charles's college schemes. after next september, the funds should be forthcoming: not but that he was rich enough, and to spare, any month in the year: but he would be vastly richer then, from prize-money, or some such luck. it was more prudent to delay until september. with reference to emily--no, no--i could see at once that general tracy never had any serious intention to part with emily; but she had all manner of masters at home, and soon made extraordinary progress. as for the matter of his sons falling in love with her, attractive in all beauty though she were, he never once had given it a thought: for, first, he was too much a man of the world to believe in such ideal trash as love: and next, he totally forgot that his "boy, or boys," had human feelings. so, when his wife one day gave him a gentle and triumphant hint of the state of affairs, it came upon him overwhelmingly, like an avalanche: his yellow face turned flake-white, he trembled as he stood, and really seemed to take so natural a probability to heart as the most serious of evils. "my son julian in love with emily! and if not he, at any rate charles! what the devil, madam, can you mean by this dreadful piece of intelligence?--it's impossible, ma'am; nonsense! it can't be true; it shan't, ma'am." and the general, having issued his military mandates, wrapped himself in secresy once more; satisfied that both of those troublesome sons were to leave home after the next quarter, and the prize-money at hancock's. chapter vi. the confidante. but mrs. tracy had the best reason for believing her intelligence was true, and she could see very little cause for regarding it as dreadful. true, one son would have been enough for this wealthy indian heiress--but still it was no harm to have two strings to her bow. julian was her favourite, and should have the girl if she could manage it; but if emily warren would not hear of such a husband, why charles tracy may far better get her money than any body else. that she possessed great wealth was evident: such jewellery, such trinchinopoli chains, such a blaze of diamonds _en suite_, such a multitude of armlets, and circlets, and ear-rings, and other oriental finery, had never shone on devonshire before: at the eyemouth ball, men worshipped her, radiant in beauty, and gorgeously apparelled. moreover, money overflowed her purse, her work-box, and her jewel-case: charles's village school, and many other well-considered charities, rejoiced in the streams of her munificence. the general had given her a banker's book of signed blank checks, and she filled up sums at pleasure: such unbounded confidence had he in her own prudence and her far-off father's liberality. the few hints her husband deigned to give, encouraged mrs. tracy to conclude, that she would be a catch for either of her sons; and, as for the girl herself, she had clearly been brought up to order about a multitude of servants, to command the use of splendid equipages, and to spend money with unsparing hand. accordingly, one day when julian was alone with his mother, their conversation ran as follows: "well, julian dear, and what do you think of emily warren?" "think, mother? why--that she's deuced pretty, and dresses like an empress: but where did the general pick her up, eh?--who is she?" "why, as to who she is--i know no more than you; she is emily warren: but as to the great question of what she is, i know that she is rolling in riches, and would make one of my boys a very good wife." "oh, as to wife, mother, one isn't going to be fool enough to marry for love now-a-days: things are easier managed hereabouts, than that: but money makes it quite another thing. so, this pretty minx is rich, is she?" "a great heiress, i assure you, julian." "bravo, bravo-o! but how to make the girl look sweet upon me, mother? there's that white-livered fellow, charles--" "never mind him, boy; do you suppose he would have the heart to make love to such a splendid creature as miss warren: fy, julian, for a faint heart: charles is well enough as a sabbath-school teacher, but i hope he will not bear away the palm of a ladye-love from my fine high-spirited julian." poor mrs. tracy was as flighty and romantic at forty-five as she had been at fifteen. the fine high-spirited julian answered not a word, but looked excessively cross; for he knew full well that charles's chance was to his in the ratio of a million to nothing. "what, boy," went on the prudent mother, "still silent! i am afraid emily's good looks have been thrown away upon you, and that your heart has not found out how to love her." "love her, mother? curses! would you drive me mad? i think and dream of nothing but that girl: morning, noon, and night, her eyes persecute me: go where i will, and do what i will, her image haunts me: d----n it, mother' don't i love the girl?" [oh love, love! thou much-slandered monosyllable, how desperately do bad men malign thee!] "hush, julian; pray be more guarded in your language; i am glad to see though that your heart is in the right place: suppose now that i aid your suit a little? i dare say i could do a great deal for you, my son; and nothing could be more delightful to your mother than to try and make her julian happy." true, mrs. tracy; you were always theatrically given, and played the coquette in youth; so in age the character of go-between befits you still: dearly do you love to dabble in, what you are pleased to call, "_une affaire du coeur_." "mother," after a pause, replied her hopeful progeny, "if the girl had been only pretty, i shouldn't have asked any body's help; for marriage was never to my liking, and folks may have their will of prouder beauties than this emily, without going to church for it; but money makes it quite another matter: and i may as well have the benefit of your assistance in this matter o' money, eh mother? matrimony, you know: an heiress and a beauty may be worth the wedding-ring; besides, when my commission comes, i can follow the good example that my parents set me, you know; and, after a three months' honey-mooning, can turn bachelor again for twenty years or so, as our governor-general did, and so leave wifey at home, till she becomes a mrs. general like you." now, strange to say, this heartless bit of villany was any thing but unpleasing to the foolish, flattered heart of mrs. tracy; he was a chip of the old block, no better than his father: so she thanked "dear julian" for his confidence, with admiration and emotion; and looking upwards, after the fashion of a covent garden martyr, blessed him. chapter vii. the course of true love, etc. "emily, my dear, take julian's arm: here, charles, come and change with me; i should like a walk with you to oxton, to see how your little scholars get on." so spake the intriguing mother. "why, that is just what i was going to do with charles," said emily, "and if julian will excuse me--" "oh, never mind me, miss warren, pray; come along with me, will you, mother?" so they paired off in more well-matched couples (for julian luckily took huff), and went their different ways: with those went hatred, envy, worldly scheming, and that lowest sort of love that ill deserves the name; with these remain all things pure, affectionate, benevolent. "charles, dear," (they were just like brother and sister, innocent and loving), "how kind it is of you to take me with you; if you only knew how i dreaded julian!" "why, emmy? can he have offended you in any way?" "oh, charles, he is so rude, and says such silly things, and--i am quite afraid to be alone with him." "what--what--what does he say to you, emily?" hurriedly urged her half-avowed lover. "oh, don't ask me, charles--pray drop the subject;" and, as she blushed, tears stood in her eyes. charles bit his lip and clenched his fist involuntarily; but an instant word of prayer drove away the spirit of hatred, and set up love triumphant in its place. "my emily--oh, what have i said? may i--may i call you my emily? dearest, dearest girl!" escaped his lips, and he trembled at his own presumption. it was a presumptuous speech indeed; but it burst from the well of his affections, and he could not help it. her answer was not in words, and yet his heart-strings thrilled beneath the melody; for her eyes shed on him a blaze of love that made him almost faint before them. in an instant, they understood, without a word, the happy truth, that each one loved the other. "precious, precious emily!" they were now far away from burleigh, in the fields; and he seized her hand, and covered it with kisses. what more they said i was not by to hear, and if i had been would not have divulged it. there are holy secrets of affection, which those who can remember their first love--and first love is the only love worth mentioning--may think of for themselves. well, far better than my feeble pencilling can picture, will they fill up this slight sketch. that walk to oxton, that visit to the village school, was full of generous affections unrepressed, the out-pourings of two deep-welled hearts, flowing forth in sympathetic ecstasy. the trees, and fields, and cottages were bathed in heavenly light, and the lovers, happy in each other's trust, called upon the all-seeing god to bless the best affections of his children. and what a change these mutual confessions made in both their minds! doubt was gone; they _were_ beloved; oh, richest treasure of joy! fear was gone; they dared declare their love; oh, purest river of all sublunary pleasures! no longer pale, anxious, thoughtful, worn by the corroding care of "does she--does she love?"--charles was, from that moment, a buoyant, cheerful, exhilarated being--a new character; he put on manliness, and fortitude, and somewhat of involuntary pride; whilst emily felt, that enriched by the affections of him whom she regarded as her wisest, kindest earthly friend, by the acquisition of his love, who had led her heart to higher good than this world at its best can give her, she was elevated and ennobled from the simple indian child, into the loved and honoured christian woman. they went on that important walk to oxton feeble, divided, unsatisfied in heart: they returned as two united spirits, one in faith, one in hope, one in love; both heavenly and earthly. but the happy hour is past too soon; and, home again, they mixed once more with those conflicting elements of hatred and contention. "emily," asked the general, in a very unusual stretch of curiosity, "where have you been to with charles tracy? you look flushed, my dear; what's the matter?" of course "nothing" was the matter: and the general was answered wisely, for love was nothing in his average estimate of men and women. "charles, what can have come to you? i never saw you look so happy in my life," was the mother's troublesome inquiry; "why, our staid youth positively looks cheerful." charles's walk had refreshed him, taken away his head-ache, put him in spirits, and all manner of glib reasons for rejoicing. "you were right, julian," whispered mrs. tracy, "and we'll soon put the stopper on all this sort of thing." so, then, the moment our guiltless pair of lovers had severally stolen away to their own rooms, there to feast on well-remembered looks, and words, and hopes--there to lay before that heavenly friend, whom both had learned to trust, all their present joys, as aforetime all their cares--mrs. tracy looked significantly at julian, and thus addressed her ever stern-eyed lord: "so, general, the old song's coming true to us, i find, as to other folks, who once were young together: "'and when with envy time, transported, seeks to rob us of our joys, you'll in your girls again be courted, and i'll go wooing in my boys.'" so said or sung the flighty mrs. tracy. it was as simple and innocent a quotation as could possibly be made; i suppose most couples, who ever heard the stanza, and have grown-up children, have thought upon its dear domestic beauty: but it strangely affected the irascible old general. he fumed and frowned, and looked the picture of horror; then, with a fierce oath at his wife and sons, he firmly said-- "woman, hold your fool's tongue: begone, and send emily to me this minute: stop, mr. julian--no--run up for your brother charles, and come you all to me in the study. instantly, sir! do as i bid you, without a word." julian would gladly have fought it out with his imperative father; but, nevertheless, it was a comfort to have to fetch pale charles for a jobation; so he went at once. and the three young people, two of them trembling with affections overstrained, and the third indurated in effrontery, stood before that stern old man. "emily, child,"--and he added something in hindostanee, "have i been kind to you--and do you owe me any love?" "dear, dear sir, how can you ask me that?" said the warm-affectioned girl, falling on her knees in tears. "get up, sweet child, and hear me: you see those boys; as you love me, and yourself, and happiness, and honour--dare not to think of either, one moment, as your husband." emily fainted; charles staggered to assist her, though he well-nigh swooned himself; and julian folded his arms with a resolute air, as waiting to hear what next. but the general disappointed him: he had said his say: and, as volatile salts, a lady's maid, and all that sort of rëinvigoration, seemed essential to emily's recovery, he rang the bell forthwith: so the pleasant family party broke up without another word. chapter viii. the mystery. our lovers would not have been praiseworthy, perhaps not human, had they not met in secret once and again. true, their regularly concerted studies were forbidden, and they never now might openly walk out unaccompanied: but love (who has not found this out?) is both daring and ingenious; and notwithstanding all that emily purposed about doing as the general so strangely bade her, they had many happy meetings, rich with many happy words: all the happier no doubt for their stolen sweetness. there was one great and engrossing subject which often had employed their curiosity; who and what was emily warren? for the poor girl did not know herself. all she could guess, she told charles, as he zealously cross-questioned her from time to time: and the result of his inquiries would appear to be as follows: emily's earliest recollections were of great barbaric pomp; huge elephants richly caparisoned, mighty fans of peacock's tails, lines of matchlock men, tribes of jewelled servants, a gilded palace, with its gardens and fountains: plenty of rare gems to play with, and a splendid queenly woman, whom she called by the hindoo name for mother. the general, too, was there among her first associations, as the gallant captain tracy, with his company of native troops. then an era happened in her life; a tearful leave-taking with that proud princess, who scarcely would part with her for sorrow; but the captain swore it should be so: and an old scotch-woman, her nurse, she could remember, who told her as a child, but whether religiously or not she could not tell, "darling, come to me when you wish to know who made you;" and then mrs. mackie went and spoke to the princess, and soothed her, that she let the child depart peacefully. most of her gorgeous jewellery dated from that earliest time of inexplicable oriental splendour. after those infantine seven years, the captain took her with him to his station up the country, where she lived she knew not how long, in a strong hill-fort, one puttymuddyfudgepoor, where there was a great deal of fighting, and besieging, and storming, and cannonading; but it ceased at last, and the captain, who then soon successively became both major and colonel, always kept her in his own quarters, making her his little pet; and, after the fighting was all over, his brother-officers would take her out hunting in their howdahs, and she had plenty of palanquin-bearers, sepoys, and servants at command; and, what was more, good nurse mackie was her constant friend and attendant. time wore on, and many little incidents of indian life occurred, which varied every day indeed, but still left nothing consequential behind them: there were tiger-hunts, and incursions of scindian tribes, and pindarree chieftains taken captive, and wounded soldiers brought into the hospital; and often had she and good nurse mackie tended at the sick bed-side. and the colonel had the jungle fever, and would not let her go from his sight; so she caught the fever too, and through heaven's mercy was recovered. and the colonel was fonder of her now than ever, calling her his darling little child, and was proud to display her early budding beauty to his military friends--pleasant sort of gentlemen, who gave her pretty presents. then she grew up into womanhood, and saw more than one fine uniform at her feet, but she did not comprehend those kindnesses: and the general (he was general now) got into great passions with them, and stormed, and swore, and drove them all away. nurse mackie grew to be old, and sometimes asked her, "can you keep a secret, child?--no, no, i dare not trust you yet: wait a wee, wait a wee, my bonnie, bonnie bairn." and now speedily came the end. the general resolved on returning to his own old shores: chiefly, as it seemed, to avoid the troublesome pertinacity of sundry suitors, who sought of him the hand of emily warren for, by this name she was beginning to be called: in her earliest recollection she was amina; then at the hill-fort, emily--emily--nothing for years but emily: and as she grew to womanhood, the general bade her sign her name to notes, and leave her card at houses, as emily warren: why, or by what right, she never thought of asking. but nurse mackie had hinted she might have had "a better name and a truer;" and therefore, she herself had asked the general what this hint might mean; and he was so angry that he discharged nurse mackie at madras, directly he arrived there to take ship for england. then, just before embarking, poor nurse mackie came to her secretly, and said, "child, i will trust you with a word; you are not what he thinks you." and she cried a great deal, and longed to come to england; but the general would not hear of it; so he pensioned her off, and left her at madras, giving somebody strict orders not to let her follow him. nevertheless, just as they were getting into the boat to cross the surf, the affectionate old soul ran out upon the strand, and called to her "amy stuart! amy stuart!" to the general's great amazement as clearly as her own; and she held up a packet in her hand as they were pushing off, and shouted after her, "child--child! if you would have your rights, remember jeanie mackie!" after that, succeeded the monotony of a long sea voyage. the general at first seemed vexed about mrs. mackie, and often wished that he had asked her what she meant; however, his brow soon cleared, for he reflected that a discarded servant always tells falsehoods, if only to make her master mischief. "the voyage over, charles, with all its cards, quadrilles, doubling the cape, crossing the line, and the wearisome routine of sky and sea, the quarter-deck and cabin, we found ourselves at length in plymouth sound; left the indiaman to go up the channel; and i suppose the post-chaise may be consigned to your imagination." chapter ix. how to clear it up. in all this there was mystery enough for a dozen lovers to have crazed their brains about. emily might be a queen of the east, defrauded of hereditary glories, and at any rate deserved such rank, if charles was to be judge; but what was more important, if the general had any reason at all for his arbitrary mandate prohibiting their love, it was very possible that reason was a false one. meantime, charles had little now to live for, except his dear forbidden emily, any more than she for him. and to peace of mind in both, the elucidation of that mystery which hung about her birth, grew more needful day by day. at last, one summer evening, when they had managed a quiet walk upon the sands under the beacon cliff, charles said abruptly, after some moments of abstraction, "dearest, i am resolved." "resolved, charles! what about?" and she felt quite alarmed; for her lover looked so stern, that she could not tell what was going to happen next. "i'll clear it up, that i will; i only wish i had the money." "why, charles, what in the world are you dreaming about? you frighten me, dearest; are you ill? don't look so serious, pray." "yes, emily, i will; at once too. i'm off to madras by next packet; or, that is to say, would, if i could get my passage free." "my noble charles, if that were the only objection, i would get you all the means; for the kind--kind general suffers me to have whatever sums i choose to ask for. only, charles, indeed i cannot spare you; do not--do not go away and leave me; there's julian, too--don't leave me--and you might never come back, and--and--" all the remainder was lost in sobbing. "no, my emmy, we must not use the general's gold in doing what he might not wish; it would be ungenerous. i will try to get somebody to lend me what i want--say mrs. sainsbury, or the tamworths. and as for leaving you, my love, have no fears for me or for yourself; situated as we are, i take it as a duty to go, and make you happier, setting you in rights, whatever these may be; and for the rest, i leave you in his holy keeping who can preserve you alike in body, as in soul, from all things that would hurt you, and whose mercy will protect me in all perils, and bring me back to you in safety. this is my trust, emmy." "dear charles, you are always wiser and better than i am: let it be so then, my best of friends. seek out good nurse mackie, i can give you many clues, hear what she has to say; and may the god of your own poor fatherless emily speed your holy mission! yet there is one thing, charles; ought you not to ask your parents for their leave to go? you are better skilled to judge than i can be, though." "emmy, whom have i to ask? my father? he cares not whither i go nor what becomes of me; i hardly know him, and for twenty years of my short life of twenty-one, scarcely believed in his existence; or should i ask my mother? alas--love! i wish i could persuade myself that she would wish me back again if i were gone; moreover, how can i respect her judgment, or be guided by her counsel, whose constant aim has been to thwart my feeble efforts after truth and wisdom, and to pamper all ill growths in my unhappy brother julian? no, emily; i am a man now, and take my own advice. if a parent forbade me, indeed, and reasonably, it would be fit to acquiesce; but knowing, as i have sad cause to know, that none but you, my love, will be sorry for my absence, as for your sake alone that absence is designed, i need take counsel only of us who are here present--your own sweet eyes, myself, and god who seeth us." "true--most true, dear charles; i knew that you judged rightly." "moreover, emmy, secresy is needful for the due fulfilment of my purpose." (charles little thought how congenial to his nature was that same secresy.) "none but you must know where i am, or whither i am gone. for if there really is any mystery which the general would conceal from us, be assured he both could and would frustrate all my efforts if he knew of my design. the same ship that carried me out would convey an emissary from him, and nurse mackie never could be found by me. i must go then secretly, and, for our peace sake, soon; how dear to me that embassy will be, entirely undertaken in my darling emmy's cause!" "but--but, charles, what if julian, in your absence--" "hark, my own betrothed! while i am near you--and i say it not of threat, but as in the sight of one who has privileged me to be your protector--you are safe from any serious vexation; and the moment i am gone, fly to my father, tell him openly your fears, and he will scatter julian's insolence to the winds of heaven." "thank you--thank you, wise dear charles; you have lifted a load from my poor, weak, woman's heart, that had weighed it down too heavily. i will trust in god more, and dread julian less. oh! how i will pray for you when far away." chapter x. aunt green's legacy. at last--at last, mrs. green fell ill, and, hard upon the over-ripe age of eighty-seven, seemed likely to drop into the grave--to the unspeakable delight of her expectant relatives. sooth to say, niece jane, the soured and long-waiting legatee, had now for years been treating the poor old woman very scurvily: she had lived too long, and had grown to be a burden; notwithstanding that her ample income still kept on the house, and enabled the general to nurse his own east india bonds right comfortably. but still the old aunt would not die, and as they sought not her, nor heir's (quite contrary to st. paul's disinterestedness), she was looked upon in the light of an incumbrance, on her own property and in her own house. mrs. tracy longed to throw off the yoke of dependance, and made small secret of the hatred of the fetter: for the old woman grew so deaf and blind, that there could be no risk at all, either in speaking one's mind, or in thoroughly neglecting her. however, now that the harvest of hope appeared so near, the legatee renewed her old attentions: death was a guest so very welcome to the house, that it is no wonder that his arrival was hourly expected with buoyant cheerfulness, and a something in the mask of kindliness: but i suspect that lamb-skin concealed a very wolf. so, mrs. tracy tenderly inquired of the doctor, and the doctor shook his head; and other doctors came to help, and shook their heads together. the patient still grew worse--o, brightening prospect!--though, now and then, a cordial draught seemed to revive her so alarmingly, that mrs. tracy affectionately urging that the stimulants would be too exciting for the poor dear sufferer's nerves, induced dr. graves to discontinue them. then those fearful scintillations in her lamp of life grew fortunately duller, and the nurse was by her bed-side night and day; and the old aunt became more and more peevish, and was more and more spoken of by the tracy family--in her possible hearing, as "that dear old soul"--out of it, "that vile old witch." charles, to be sure, was an exception in all this, as he ever was: for he took on him the christian office of reading many prayers to the poor decaying creature, and (only that his father would not hear of such a thing) desired to have the vicar to assist him. emily also, full of sympathy, and disinterested care, would watch the fretful patient, hour after hour, in those long, dull nights of pain; and the poor, old, perishing sinner loved her coming, for she spoke to her the words of hope and resignation. whether that sweet missionary, scarcely yet a convert from her own dark creed--(alas! the amina had offered unto juggernaut, and emily of the strong hill-fort had scarcely heard of any truer god; and the fair girl was a woman-grown before, in her first earthly love, she also came to know the mercies heaven has in store for us)--whether unto any lasting use she prayed and reasoned with that hard, dried heart, none but the omniscient can tell. let us hope: let us hope; for the fretful voice was stilled, and the cloudy forehead brightened, and the haggard eyes looked cheerfully to meet the inevitable stroke of death. thus in wisdom and in charity, in patience and in faith, that gentle pair of lovers comforted the dying soul. however, days rolled away, and aunt green lingered on still, tenaciously clinging unto life: until one morning early, she felt so much better, that she insisted on being propped up by pillows, and seeing all the household round her bed to speak to them. so up came every one, in no small hope of legacies, and what the lawyers call "_donationes mortis causâ_." the general was at her bed's-head, with, i am ashamed to say, perhaps unconsciously, a countenance more ridiculous than lugubrious; though he tried to subdue the buoyancy of hope and to put on looks of decent mourning; on the other side, the long-expectant legatee, niece jane, prudently concealed her questionable grief behind a scented pocket-handkerchief. julian held somewhat aloof, for the scene was too depressing for his taste: so he affected to read a prayer-book, wrong way up, with his tongue in his cheek: charles, deeply solemnized at the near approach of death, knelt at the poor invalid's bedside; and emily stood by, leaning over her, suffused in tears. at the further corners of the bed, might be seen an old servant or two; and mrs. green's butler and coachman, each a forty years' fixture, presented their gray heads at the bottom of the room, and really looked exceedingly concerned. mrs. green addressed them first, in her feeble broken manner: "grant--and john--good and faithful--thank you--thank you both; and you too, kind mrs. lloyd, and sally, and nurse--what's-your-name: give them the packets, nurse--all marked--first drawer, desk: there--there--god bless you--good--faithful." the old servants, full of sorrow at her approaching loss, were comforted too: for a kind word, and a hundred pound note a-piece, made amends for much bereavement: the sick-nurse found her gift was just a tithe of their's, and recognised the difference both just and kind. "niece jane--you've waited--long--for--this day: my will--rewards you." "o dear--dear aunt, pray don't talk so; you'll recover yet, pray--pray don't:" she pretended to drown the rest in sorrow, but winked at her husband over the handkerchief. "julian!" (the precious youth attempted to look miserable, and came as called,) "you will find--i have remembered--you, julian." so he winked, too, at his mother, and tried to blubber a "thank you." "charles--where's charles? give me your hand, charles dear--let me feel your face: here, charles--a little pocket-book--good lad--good lad. there's emily, too--dear child, she came--too late--i forgot her--i forgot her! general give her half--half--if you love--love--emi--" all at once her jaw dropped; her eyes, which had till now been preternaturally bright, filmed over; her head fell back upon the pillow; and the rich old aunt was dead. julian gave a shout that might have scared the parting spirit! really, the general was shocked, and mrs. tracy too; and the servants murmured "shame--shame!" poor charles hid his face; emily looked up indignantly; but julian asked, with an oath, "where's the good of being hypocrites?" and then added, "now, mother, let us find the will." then the nurse went to close the dim glazed eyes; and the other sorrowing domestics slunk away; and charles led emily out of the chamber of death, saddened and shocked at such indecent haste. meanwhile, the hopeful trio rummaged every drawer--tumbled out the mingled contents of boxes, desk, and escritoire--still, no will--no will: and at last the nurse, who more than once had muttered, "shame on you all," beneath her breath, said, "if you want the will, it's under her pillow: but don't disturb her yet, poor thing!" julian's rude hand had already thrust aside the lifeless, yielding head, and clutched the will: the father and mother--though humbled and wonder-stricken at his daring--gathered round him; and he read aloud, boldly and steadily to the end, though with scowling brow, and many curses interjectional: "in the name of god, amen. i, constance green, make this my last will and testament. forasmuch as my niece, jane tracy, has watched and waited for my death these two-and-twenty years, i leave her all the shoes, slippers, and goloshes, whereof i may happen to die possessed: item, i leave julian, her son, my '_whole duty of man_,' convinced that he is deficient in it all: item, i confirm all the gifts which i intend to make upon my death-bed: item, forasmuch as general tracy, my niece's husband, on his return from abroad, greeted me with much affection, i bequeath and give to him five thousand pounds' worth of exchequer bills, now in my banker's hands; and appoint him my sole executor. as to my landed property, it will all go, in course of law, to my heir, samuel hayley, and may he and his long enjoy it. and as to the remainder of my personal effects, including nine thousand pounds bank stock, my dutch fives, and other matters, whereof i may die possessed (seeing that my relatives are rich enough without my help), i give and bequeath the same, subject as hereinbefore stated, to the trustees, for the time being, of the westminster lying-in hospital, in trust, for the purposes of that charitable institution. in witness whereof, i have hereunto set my hand and seal this th day of may, . "constance green." "duly signed, sealed, and delivered! d----nation!" was julian's brief epilogue--"general, let's burn it." "you can if you please, mr. julian," interposed the nurse, who had secretly enjoyed all this, "and if you like to take the consequences; but, as each of the three witnesses has the will sealed up in copy, and the poor deceased there took pains to sign them all, perhaps--" this settled the affair: and the discomfited expectants made a precipitate retreat. as the general, however, got vastly more than he expected, for his individual merits; and seeing that he loved emily as much as he hated both julian and his wife, he really felt well-pleased upon the whole, and took on him the duties of executor with cheerfulness. so they buried aunt green as soon as might be. chapter xi. preparations and departure. charles's pocket-book was full of clean bank notes, fifteen hundred pounds' worth: it contained also a diamond ring, and a lock of silvery hair; the latter a proof of affectionate sentiment in the kind old soul, that touched him at the heart. "and now, my emmy, the way is clear to us; providence has sent me this, that i may right you, dearest: and it will be wise in us to say nothing of our plans. avoid inquiries--for i did not say conceal or falsify facts: but, while none but you, love, heed of my departure, and while i go for our sakes alone, we need not invite disappointment by open-mouthed publicity. to those who love me, emmy, i am frank and free; but with those who love us not, there is a wisdom and a justice in concealment. they do not deserve confidence, who will not extend to us their sympathy. none but yourself must know whither i am bound; and, after some little search for curiosity's sake, when a week is past and gone, no soul will care for me of those at home. with you, i will manage to communicate by post, directing my letters to mrs. sainsbury, at oxton: i will prepare her for it. she knows my love for you, and how they try to thwart us; but even she, however trustworthy, need not be told my destination yet awhile, until 'india' appears upon the post-mark. how glad will you be, dearest one, how happy in our secret--to read my heart's own thoughts, when i am far away--far away, clearing up mine emmy's cares, and telling her how blessed i feel in ministering to her happiness!" such was the substance of their talk, while counting out the pocket-book. charles's remaining preparations were simple enough, now his purse was flush of money: he resolved upon taking from his home no luggage whatever: preferring to order down, from an outfitting house in london, a regular kit of cadet's necessaries, to wait for him at the europe hotel, plymouth, on a certain day in the ensuing week. so that, burdened only with his emmy's miniature, and his pocket-book of bank notes, he might depart quietly some evening, get to plymouth in a prëconcerted way, by chaise or coach, before the morrow morning; thence, a boat to meet the ship off-shore, and then--hey, for the indies! it was as well-devised a scheme as could possibly be planned; though its secresy, especially with a mother in the case, may be a moot point as to the abstract moral thereof: nevertheless, concretely, the only heart his so mysterious absence would have pained, was made aware of all: then, again, secresy had been the atmosphere of his daily life, the breath of his education; and he too sorely knew his mother would rejoice at the departure, and julian, too--all the more certainly, as both brothers were now rivals professed for the hand of emily warren: as to the general, he might, or he might not, smoke an extra cheroot in the excitement of his wonder; and if he cared about it anyways more tragically than tobacco might betray, emily knew how to comfort him. with respect to other arrangements, emmy furnished charles with letters to certain useful people at madras, and in particular to the "somebody" who looked after mrs. mackie: so, the mystery was easy of access, and he doubted not of overcoming, on the spot, every unseen difficulty. the plan of leaving all luggage behind, a capital idea, would enable him to go forth freely and unshackled, with an ordinary air, in hat and great-coat, as for an evening's walk; and was quite in keeping with the natural reserve of his whole character--a bad habit of secresy, which he probably inherited from his father, the lieutenant of old times. and yet, for all the wisdom, and mystery, and shrewd settling of the plan, its accomplishment was as nearly as possible most fatally defeated. the important evening arrived; for the indiaman--it was our old friend sir william elphinston--would be off plymouth, next morning: the goods had been, for a day or two, safely deposited at the europe, as per invoice, all paid: the lovers, in this last, this happiest, yet by far the saddest of their stolen interviews, had exchanged vows and kisses, and upon the beach, beneath those friendly cliffs, had commended one another to their father in heaven. they had returned to the unsocial circle of home; all was fixed; the clock struck nine: and charles, accidentally squeezing emily's hand, rose to leave the tea-table. "where are you going, mr. charles?" "i am going out, julian." "thank you, sir! i knew that, but whither? general, i say, here's charles going to serenade somebody by moonlight." the brandy-sodden parent, scarcely conscious, said something about his infernal majesty; and, "what then?--let him go, can't you?" "well, julian dear, perhaps your brother will not mind your going with him; particularly as emily stays at home with me." this mrs. tracy spoke archly, intended as a hint to induce julian to remain: but he had other thoughts--and simply said, in an ill-tempered tone of voice, "done, charles." it was a dilemma for our escaping hero; but glancing a last look at emily, he departed, and walked on some way as quietly as might be with julian by his side: thinking, perhaps, he would soon be tired; and suffering him to fancy, if he would, that charles was bound either on some amorous pilgrimage, or some charitable mission. but they left burleigh behind them--and got upon the common--and passed it by, far out of sight and out of hearing--and were skirting the high banks of the darkly-flowing mullet--and still there was julian sullenly beside him. in vain charles had tried, by many gentle words, to draw him into common conversation: julian would not speak, or only gave utterance to some hinted phrase of insult: his brow was even darker than usual, and night was coming on apace, and he still tramped steadily along beside his brother, digging his sturdy stick into the clay, for very spite's sake. at length, as they yet walked along the river's side in that unfrequented place, julian said, on a sudden, in a low strange tone, as if keeping down some rising rage within him, "mr. charles, you love emily warren." "well, julian, and who can help loving her?" it was innocently said; but still a maddening answer, for he loved her too. "and, sirrah," the brother hoarsely added, "she--she does not--does not--hate you, sir, as i do." "my good julian, pray do not be so violent; i cannot help it if the dear girl loves me." "but i can, though!" roared julian, with an oath, and lifted up his stick--it was nearer like a club--to strike his brother. "julian, julian, what are you about? good heavens! you would not--you dare not--give over--unhand me, brother; what have i done, that you should strike me? oh! leave me--leave me--pray." "leave you? i will leave you!" the villain almost shouted, and smote him to the ground with his lead-loaded stick. it was a blow that must have killed him, but for the interposing hat, now battered down upon his bleeding head. charles, at length thoroughly aroused, though his foe must be a brother, struggled with unusual strength in self-preserving instinct, wrested the club from julian's hand, and stood on the defensive. julian was staggered: and, after a moment's irresolution, drawing a pistol from his pocket, said, in a terribly calm voice, "now, sir! i have looked for such a meeting many days--alone, by night, with you! i would not willingly draw trigger, for the noise might bring down other folks upon us, out of oxton yonder: but, drop that stick, or i fire." charles was noble enough, without another word, to fling the club into the river: it was not fear of harm, but fear of sin, that made him trust himself defenceless to a brother, a twin-brother, in the dark: he could not be so base, a murderer, a fratricide! oh! most unhallowed thought! save him from this crime, good god! then, instantaneously reflecting, and believing he decided for the best, when he saw the ruffian glaring on him with exulting looks, as upon an unarmed rival at his mercy, with no man near to stay the deed, and none but god to see it, charles resolved to seek safety from so terrible a death in flight. oxton was within one mile; and, clearly, this was not like flying from danger as a coward, but fleeing from attempted crime, as a brother and a christian. julian snatched at him to catch him as he passed: and, failing in this, rushed after him. it was a race for life! and they went like the wind, for two hundred yards, along that muddy high-banked walk. suddenly, charles slipped upon the clay, that he fell; and julian, with a savage howl, leapt upon him heavily. poor youth, he knew that death was nigh, and only uttered, "god forgive you, brother! oh, spare me--or, if not me, spare yourself--julian, julian!" but the monster was determined. exerting the whole force of his herculean frame, he seized his scarce-resisting victim as he lay, and, lifting him up like a child, flung his own twin-brother head foremost into that darkly-flowing current! there was one piercing cry--a splash--a struggle; and again nothing broke upon the silent night, but the murmur of that swingeing tide, as the mullet hurried eddying to the sea. julian listened a minute or two, flung some stones at random into the river, and then hastily ran back to burleigh, feeling like a cain. chapter xii. the escape. but the overruling hand of him whose aid that victim had invoked, was now stretched forth to save! and the strong-flowing tide, that ran too rapidly for charles to sink in it, was commissioned from on high to carry him into an angle of that tortuous stream, where he clung by instinct to the bushes. silence was his wisdom, while the murderer was near: and so long as julian's footsteps echoed on the banks, charles stirred not, spoke not, but only silently thanked god for his wonderful deliverance. however, the footsteps quickly died away, though heard far off clattering amid the still and listening night; and charles, thankfully, no less than cautiously, drew himself out of the stream, very little harmed beyond a drenching: for the waters had recovered him at once from the effects of that desperate blow. it was with a sense of exultation, freedom, independence, that he now hastened scatheless on his way; dripping garments mattered nothing, nor mud, nor the loss of his demolished hat: the pocket-book was safe, and emmy's portrait, (how he kissed it, then!) and luckily a travelling cap was in his great-coat pocket: so with a most buoyant feeling of animal delight, as well as of religious gratitude, he sped merrily once more upon his secret expedition. thank heaven! emmy could not know the peril he had past: and wretched julian would now have dreadful reason of his own for this mysterious absence: and it was a pleasant thing to trudge along so freely in the starlight, on the private embassy of love. happy charles! i know not if ever more exhilarated feelings blessed the youth; they made him trip along the silent road, in a gush of joyfulness, at the rate of some six miles an hour; i know not if ever such delicious thoughts of emily's attachment, and those gorgeous mysteries in india, of adventure, enterprise, escape, had heretofore caused his heart to bound so lightsomely within him, like some elastic spring. i know not if ever strong reliance upon providential care, more earnest prayers, praises, intercessions (for poor julian, too,) were offered on the altar of his soul. happy charles! so he went on and on--long past oxton, and eyemouth, and surbiton, and over the ferry, and through the sleeping turnpikes, and past the bridge, and along the broad high-road, until gray of morning's dawn revealed the suburbs of plymouth. of course he missed the mail by which he intended to have gone--for julian's dread act delayed him. long before his journey's end, his clothes were thoroughly dried, and violent exercise had shaken off all possible rheumatic consequence of that fearful plunge beneath the waters: five-and-twenty miles in four hours and three-quarters, is a tolerable recipe for those who have tumbled into rivers. we must recollect that he had gone as quick as he could, for fear of being late, now the coach had passed. at a little country inn, he brushed, and washed, and made toilet as well as he was able, took a glass of good cognac, both hot and strong; and felt more of a man than ever. then, having loitered awhile, and well-remembered emily in his prayers, at about eight in the morning he presented himself among his luggage at the europe in gentlemanly trim, and soon got all on board the pilot boat, to meet the indiaman just outside the breakwater. we may safely leave him there, happy, hopeful charles! sanguine for the future, exulting in the present, and thankful for the past: already has he poured out all his joys before that friend who loves her too, and invoked his blessing on a scheme so well designed, so providentially accomplished. i had almost forgotten julian: wretched, hardened man, and how fared he? the moment he had flung his brother into that dark stream, and the waters closed above him greedily that he was gone--gone for ever, he first threw in stones to make a noise like life upon the stream, but that cheatery was only for an instant: he was alone--a murderer, alone! the horrors of silence, solitude, and guilt, seized upon him like three furies: so his quick retreating walk became a running; and the running soon was wild and swift for fear; and ever as he ran, that piercing scream came upon the wind behind, and hooted him: his head swam, his eyes saw terrible sights, his ears heard terrible sounds--and he scoured into quiet, sleeping burleigh like a madman. however, by some strange good luck, not even did the slumbering watchman see him: so he got in-doors as usual with the latch-key (it was not the first time he had been out at night), crept up quietly, and hid himself in his own chamber. and how did he spend those hours of guilty solitude? in terrors? in remorse? in misery? not he: julian was too wise to sit and think, and in the dark too; but he lit both reading lamps to keep away the gloom, and smoked and drank till morning's dawn to stupify his conscience. then, to make it seem all right, he went down to breakfast as usual, though any thing but sober, and met unflinchingly his mother's natural question-- "good morning, julian--where's charles?" "how should i know, mother; isn't he up yet?" "no, my dear; and what is more, i doubt if he came home last night." "hollo, master charles! pretty doings these, mr. sabbath-teacher! so he slept out, eh, mother?" "i don't know--but where did you leave him, julian?" "who! i? did i go out with him? oh! yes, now i recollect: let's see, we strolled together midway to oxton, and, as he was going somewhat further, there i left him?" how true the words, and yet how terribly false their meaning! "dear me, that's very odd--isn't it, general?" "not at all, ma'am--not at all; leave the lad alone, he'll be back by dinner-time: i didn't think the boy had so much spirit." emily, to whom the general's hint was greek, looked up cheerfully and in her own glad mind chuckled at her charles's bold adventure. but the day passed, off, and they sent out men to seek for him: and another--and all burleigh was a-stir: and another--and the coast-guards from lyme to plymouth sound searched every hole and corner: and another--when his mother wept five minutes: and another--when the wonder was forgotten. however, they did not put on mourning for the truant: he might turn up yet: perhaps he was at oxford. emily had not much to do in comforting the general for his dear son's loss; it clearly was a gain to him, and he felt far freer than when wisdom's eye was on him. charles had been too keen for father, mother, and brother; too good, too amiable: he saw their ill, condemned it by his life, and showed their dark too black against his brightness. the unnatural deficiency of mother's love had not been overrated: julian had all her heart; and she felt only obliged to the decamping charles for leaving emily so free and clear to his delightful brother. she never thought him dead: death was a repulsive notion at all times to her: no doubt he would turn up again some day. and julian joked with her about that musty proverb "a bad penny." as to our dear heroine, she never felt so happy in all her life before as now, even when her charles had been beside her; for within a day of his departure he had written her a note full of affection, hope, and gladness; assuring her of his health, and wealth, and safe arrival on board the indiaman. the noble-hearted youth never said one single word about his brother's crime: but he did warn his emmy to keep close beside the general. this note she got through mrs. sainsbury; that invalid lady at oxton, who never troubled herself to ask or hear one word beyond her own little world--a certain physic-corner cupboard. and thou--poor miserable man--thou fratricide in mind--and to thy best belief in act, how drags on now the burden of thy life? for a day or two, spirits and segars muddled his brain, and so kept thoughts away: but within a while they came on him too piercingly, and julian writhed beneath those scorpion stings of hot and keen remorse: and when the coast-guards dragged the mullet, how that caitiff trembled! and when nothing could be found, how he wondered fearingly! the only thing the wretched man could do, was to loiter, day after day, and all day long, upon the same high path which skirts the tortuous stream. fascinated there by hideous recollections, he could not leave the spot for hours: and his soft-headed, romantic mother, noticing these deep abstractions, blessed him--for her julian was now in love with emily. chapter xiii. news of charles. ay--in love with emily! fiercely now did julian pour his thoughts that way; if only hoping to forget murder in another strong excitement. julian listened to his mother's counsels; and that silly, cheated woman playfully would lean upon his arm, like a huge, coy confidante, and fill his greedy ears (that heard her gladly for very holiday's sake from fearful apprehensions), with lover's hopes, lover's themes, his emily's perfection. delighted mother--how proud and pleased was she! quite in her own element, fanning dear julian's most sentimental flame, and scheming for him interviews with emily. it required all her skill--for the girl clung closely to her guardian: he, unconscious argus, never tired of her company; and she, remembering dear charles's hint, and dreading to be left alone with julian, would persist to sit day after day at her books, music, or needle-work in the study, charming general tracy by her pretty hindoo songs. with him she walked out, and with him she came in; she would read to him for hours, whether he snored or listened; and, really, both mother and son were several long weeks before their scheming could come to any thing. a _tête-à-tête_ between julian and emily appeared as impossible to manage, as collision between jupiter and vesta. however, after some six weeks of this sort of mining and counter-mining (for emily divined their wishes), all on a sudden one morning the general received a letter that demanded his immediate presence for a day or two in town; something about prize-money at puttymuddyfudgepoor. emily was too high-spirited, too delicate in mind, to tell her guardian of fears which never might be realized; and so, with some forebodings, but a cheerful trust, too, in a providence above her, she saw the general off without a word, though not without a tear; he too, that stern, close man, was moved: it was strange to see them love each other so. the moment he was gone, she discreetly kept her chamber for the day, on plea of sickness; she had cried very heartily to see him leave her--he had never yet left her once since she could recollect--and thus she really had a head-ache, and a bad one. julian tracy gave such a start, that he knocked off a cheffonier of rare china and glass standing at his elbow; and the smash of mandarins and porcelain gods would have been enough, at any other time, to have driven his mother crazy. "charles alive?" shouted he. "yes, julian--why not? you saw him off, you know: cannot you remember?" now to that guilty wretch's mind the fearful notion instantaneously occurred, that emily warren was in some strange, wild way bantering him; she knew his dreadful secret--"he _had_ seen him off." he trembled like an aspen as she looked on him. "oh yes, he remembered, certainly; but--but where was her letter?" "never mind that, julian; you surely would not read another person's letters, monsieur le chevalier bayard?" emily was as gay at heart that morning as a sky-lark, and her innocent pleasantry proved her strongest shield. julian dared not ask to see the letter--scarcely dared to hope she had one, and yet did not know what to think. as to any love scene now, it was quite out of the question, notwithstanding all his mother's hints and management; a new exciting thought entirely filled him: was he a cain, a fratricide, or not? was charles alive after all? and, for once in his life, julian had some repentant feelings; for thrilling hope was nigh to cheer his gloom. it really seemed as if emily, sweet innocent, could read his inmost thoughts. "at any rate," observed she, playfully, "bayard may take the postman's privilege, and see the outside." with that, she produced the ship-letter that had put her in such spirits, legibly dated some twenty-two days ago. yes, charles's hand, sure enough! julian could swear to it among a thousand. and he fainted dead away. what an astonishing event! how mrs. tracy praised her noble-spirited boy! how the bells rang! and hot water, and cold water, and salts, and rubbings, and _eau de cologne_, and all manner of delicate attentions, long sustained, at length contributed to julian's restoration. moreover, even emily was agreeably surprised; she had never seen him in so amiable a light before; this was all feeling, all affection for his brother--her dear--dear charles. and when mrs. tracy heard what emily said of julian's feeling heart, she became positively triumphant; not half so much at charles's safety, and all that, as at julian's burst of feeling. she was quite right, after all; he was worthy to be her favourite, and she felt both flattered and obliged to him for fainting dead away. "yes--yes, my dear miss warren, depend upon it julian has fine feelings, and a good heart." and emily began to condemn both charles and herself for lack of charity, and to think so too. chapter xiv. the tete-a-tete. no sooner had "dear julian" recovered, which he really had not quite accomplished until the day had begun to wear away (so great a shock had that intelligence of charles been to his guilty mind), than the gratified and prudent mother fancied this a famous opportunity to leave the young couple to themselves. it was after dinner, when they had retired to the drawing-room; and i will say that emily had never seemed so favourably disposed towards that rough, but generous, heart before. so then, on some significant pretence, well satisfied her favourite was himself again, as bold, and black, and boisterous as ever, the masculine mother kissed her hand to them, as a fat fairy might be supposed to do, and operatically tripped away, coyly bidding emily "take care of julian till she should come back again." the momentary gleam of good which glanced across that bad man's heart has faded away hours ago; his repentant thoughts had been occasioned more from the sudden relief he experienced at running now no risks for having murdered, than for any better feeling towards his brother, or any humbler notions of himself. nay, a strong rëaction occurred in his ideas the moment he had seen his brother's writing; and when he fainted, he fainted from the struggle in his mind of manifold exciting causes, such as these:--hatred, jealousy, what he called love, though a lower name befitted it, and vexation that his brother was--not dead. oh mother, mother! if your poor weak head had but been wise enough to read that heart, would you still have loved it as you do? alas--it is a deep lesson in human nature this--she would! for mrs. general tracy was one of those obstinate, yet superficial characters, whom no reason can convince that they are wrong, no power can oblige to confess themselves mistaken. she rejoiced to hear him called "her very image;" and predominant vanity in the large coquette extended to herself at second-hand; self was her idol substance, and its delightful shadow was this mother's son. the moment mrs. tracy left the room, julian perceived his opportunity: charles, detested rival, far away at sea; the guardian gone to london; emily in an unusual flow of affability and kindness, and he--alone with her. rashly did he bask his soul in her delicious beauty, deliberately drinking deep of that intoxicating draught. giving the rein to passion, he suffered that tumultuous steed to hurry him whither it would, in mad unbridled course. he sat so long silently gazing at her with the lack-lustre eyes of low and dull desire, that emily, quite thrown off her guard by that amiable fainting for his brother, addressed him in her innocent kind-heartedness, "are you not recovered yet, dear julian?" the effect was instantaneous: scarcely crediting his ears that heard her call him "dear," his eyes, that saw her winning smile upon him, he started from his chair, and trembling with agitation, flung himself at her feet, to emily's unqualified astonishment. "why, julian, what's the matter?--unhand me, sir! let go!" (for he had got hold of her wrist.) the passionate youth seized her hand--that one with charles's ring upon it--and would have kissed it wildly with polluting lips, had she not shrieked suddenly "help! help!" instantly his other hand was roughly dashed upon her mouth--so roughly that it almost knocked her backwards--and the blood flowed from her wounded lip; but by a preternatural effort, the indignant indian queen hurled the ruffian from her, flew to the bell, and kept on ringing violently. in less than half a minute all the household was around her, headed by the startled mrs. tracy, who had all the while been listening in the other drawing-room: butler, footmen, house-maids, ladies'-maids, cook, scullions, and all rushed in, thinking the house was on fire. no need to explain by a word. emily, radiant in imperial charms, stood, like inspired cassandra, flashing indignation from her eyes at the cowering caitiff on the floor. the mother, turning all manner of colours, dropped on her knees to "poor julian's" assistance, affecting to believe him taken ill. but emily warren, whose insulted pride vouchsafed not a word to that guilty couple, soon undeceived all parties, by addressing the butler in a voice tremulous and broken-- "mr. saunders--be so good--as to go--to sir abraham tamworth's--in the square--and request of him--a night's--protection--for a poor--defenceless, insulted woman!" she could hardly utter the last words for choking tears: but immediately battling down her feelings, added, with the calmness of a heroine-- "you are a father, mr. saunders--set all this before sir abraham strongly, but delicately. "footmen! so long as that wretch is in the room, protect me, as you are men." and the stately beauty placed herself between the two liveried lacqueys, as zenobia in the middle of her guards. "marguerite!"--the pretty little française tripped up to her--"wipe this blood from my face." beautiful, insulted creature! i thought that i looked upon some wounded boadicea, with her daughters extracting the arrow from her cheek. "and now, kind charlotte, fetch my cloak; and follow me to prospect house, with what i may require for the night. till the general's return, i stay not here one minute." then, without a syllable, or a look of leave-taking, the wise and noble girl--doubtless unconsciously remembering her early hindoo braveries, the lines of matchlock men, the bowing slaves, the processions, and her jewelled state of old--marched away in magnificent beauty, accompanied in silence by the whole astonished household. mrs. tracy and her son were left alone: the silly, silly mother thought him "hardly used." julian, whose natural effrontery had entirely deserted him, looked like what he was--a guilty coward: and the mother, who had pampered up her "fine high-spirited son" to his full-grown criminality by a foolish education, really--when she had time to think of any thing but him--was excessively frightened. the general would be back to-morrow, and then--and then!--she dreaded to picture that explosion of his wrath. chapter xv. satisfaction. sir abraham tamworth, g.c.b.--a fine old admiral of the white, who somewhat looked down upon the rank of general, h.e.i.c.s.--was astonished, as well he might be, at mr. saunders, and his message: and, of course, most gladly acquiesced in acting as poor emily's protector. accordingly, however jealous lady tamworth and her daughters might heretofore have felt of that bright beauty at the balls, they were now all genuine sympathy, indignation, and affection. emily, i need hardly say, went straight up stairs to have her cry out. "whom are you writing to, george, in such a hurry?" asked the admiral, of a fine moustachioed son, george st. vincent tamworth, of the royal horse guards, who had just got six months' leave of absence for the sake of marriage with his cousin. the gallant soldier tossed a billet to his father, who mounted his spectacles, and quietly read it at the lamp. "captain tamworth desires mr. julian tracy's company to-morrow morning, at seven o'clock, in the third meadow on the oxton road. the captain brings a friend with him; also pistols and a surgeon; and he desires mr. tracy to do the like: prospect house, thursday evening." "so, george, you consider him a gentleman, do you? i am afraid it's a poor compliment to our fair young friend." and he quietly crumpled up the challenge in his iron hand. "really, sir!--you surprise me;--pardon me, but i will send that note: mustn't i chastise the fellow for this insufferable outrage?" "no doubt, george, no doubt of it at all: when a lady is insulted, and a man (not to say a queen's officer) stands by without taking notice of it, he deserves whipping at the cart's-tail, and coventry for life. i've no patience, boy, with such mean meekness, as putting up with bullying insolence when a woman's in the case. let a man show moral courage, if he can and will, in his own affront; i honour him who turns on his heel from common personal insult, and only wish my own old blood was cool enough to do so: but the mother, wife, and sister, ay, george, and the poor defenceless one, be she lady, peasant, or menial, who comes to us for safety in a woman's dress, we must take up their quarrel, or we are not men!--" "don't interrupt him, george," uxoriously suggested lady tamworth, "your father hasn't done talking yet." for george was getting terribly impatient; he knew, from sad experience, how much the admiral was given to prosing. however, the oration soon proceeded to our captain's entire satisfaction, after his progenitor had paused awhile for breath's sake in his eloquence. "--take up their quarrel, or we are not men. nevertheless, boy, i cannot see the need of pistols. the only conceivable case for violent redress, is woman's wrong: and he who wrongs a woman, cannot be a gentleman; therefore, ought not to be met on equal terms. for other causes of duello, as hot-headed speeches, rudenesses, or slights, forgive, forbear to fan the flame, and never be above apologizing: but in an outrage such as this, let a fine-built fellow, such as you are, george (and the women should show wisdom in their choice of champions), let a man, and a queen's officer as you are, treat this brute, julian tracy, as a martinet huntsman would a hound thrown out. as for me, boy, i'm going to call on mrs. tracy at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning--and, without presuming to advise a six foot two of a son, i think--i think, if i were you, i would be dutiful enough to say--'father, i will accompany you--and take a horsewhip with me.'" "agreed, agreed, sir!" replied the well-pleased son, and her ladyship too vouchsafed her approbation. emily had gone to bed long ago, or rather to her chamber; where the three misses tamworth had been all kindness, curiosity, and consolation. so, sir abraham and his lady, now the speech was finished, followed their example of retirement: and the captain newly blood-knotted his hunting-whip, _con amore_, not to say _con spirito_, overnight. nobody will wonder to hear, that when the gallant representatives of army and navy called next morning at number seven, mrs. tracy and her son were "not at home:" and of course it would be far too julian-like a proceeding, for true gentleman to think of forcing their company on the probably ensconced in-dwellers. accordingly, they marched away, without having deigned to leave a card; the captain taking on himself the duty of perambulating sentinel, while his father proceeded to the library as usual. judge of the glad surprise, when, within ten minutes, our vindictive george perceived the admiral coming back again, full-sail, with the mother and son in tow, creeping amicably enough up the terrace. sir abraham had given her his arm, and precious mr. julian was a little in the rear: for the old folks were talking confidentially. george st. vincent, placing his whip in the well-known position of "cane, a mystery," advanced to meet them; and, just after passing his father, with whom he exchanged a very comfortable glance, discovered that the heroic julian, who had caught a glimpse of the ill-concealed weapon, was slinking quickly round a corner to avoid him. it was certainly undignified to run, but the gallant captain did run, nevertheless and soon caught the coward by the collar. then, at arm's length, was the hunting-whip applied, full-swing; up the terrace, and down the parade, and through high-street, and smith-street, and oxton-road, and aristocratical pacton-square, and the well-thronged plebeian market-place; lash, lash, lash, in furious and fast succession on the writhing roaring culprit; to the universal excoriation of mr. julian tracy, and the amazement of an admiring and soon-collected crowd--the rank, beauty, and fashion--of burleigh singleton. julian was strong indeed, and a coal-heaver in build, but conscience had unnerved him; and the coarse noisy bully always is a coward: therefore, it was a pleasant thing to see how easy came the captain's work to him--he had nothing to do but to lash, lash, lash, double-thonged, like a slave-driver: and, except that he made the caitiff move along, to be a spectacle to man and woman, up and down the town, he might as well, for any difficulty in the deed, have been employed in scarifying a gate-post. at last, thoroughly exhausted with having inflicted as much punishment as any three drummers at a soldier's whipping-match, and spying out his "tiger" in the throng, our gallant avenging childe tossed the heavy whip to the trim cockaded little man, that he might carry home that instrument of vengeance, deliberately wiped his wet mustachios, and giving julian one last kick, let the fellow part in peace. chapter xvi. how charles fared. having thus found protectors for poor emily, and disposed of her assailant to the entire satisfaction of all mankind, let us turn seawards, and take a look at charles. now, "no earthly power,"--as a certain ex-chancellor protested--shall induce me to do so mean a thing as to open charles's letters, and spread them forth before the public gaze. doubtless, they were all things tender, warm, and eloquent; doubtless, they were tinted rosy hue, with love's own blushes, and made glorious with the golden light of unaffected piety. i only read them myself in a reflected way, by looking into emily's eyes; and i saw, from their ever-changing radiance, how feelingly he told of his affections; how fervently he poured out all his heart upon the page; how evidently tears and kisses had made many words illegible; how wise, sanguine, happy, and religious, was her own devoted charles. of the trivial incidents of voyaging, his letters said not much: though cheerful and agreeable in his floating prison, with the various exported marrying-maidens and transported civil officers, who constitute the average bulk of indian cargoes outward bound, charles mixed but little in their society, seldom danced, seldom smoked, seldom took a hand at whist, or engaged in the conflicts of backgammon. sharks, storms, water-spouts; the meeting divers vessels, and exchanging post-bags; tar-barrelled neptune of the line, cape town with its mountain and the table-cloth, long-rolling seas; and similar common-places, charles did not think proper to enlarge upon: no more do i. life is far too short for all such petty details: and, more pointedly, a wire-drawn book is the just abhorrence of a generous public. the letters came frequently: for charles did little else all day but write to emmy, so as always to be ready with a budget for the next piece of luck--a home-bound ship. he had many things to teach her yet, sweet student; and it was a beautiful sight to see how her mind expanded as an opening flower before the sun of tenderness and wisdom. each letter, both in writing and in reading, was the child of many prayers: and even the loveliness of emily grew more soft, more elevated, "as it had been the face of an angel," when feeding in solitary joy on those effusions of her lover's heart. of course, he could not hear from her, until the overland mail might haply bring him letters at madras: so that, as our irish friends would say, with all her will to tell him of her love, "the reciprocity must needs be all on one side." but emily did write too; earnestly, happily: and poured her very heart out in those eloquent burning words. i dare say charles will get the letter now within a day or two: for the roaring surf of madras is on the horizon, almost within sight. nevertheless, before he gets there, and can read those letters--precious, precious manuscripts--it will be my painful duty, as a chronicler of (what might well be) truth, to put the reader in possession of one little hint, which seemed likeliest to wreck the happiness of these two children of affection. i am emily's invisible friend: and as the dear girl ran to me one morning, with tears in her eyes, to ask me what i thought of a certain mysterious paragraph, i need not scruple to lay it straight before the reader. at the end of a voluminous love-letter, which i really did not think of prying into, occurred the following postscript, evidently written at the last moment of haste. "oh! my precious emmy, i have just heard the most fearful rumour of ill that could possibly befall us: the captain of our ship--you will remember captain forbes, he knew you and the general well, he said--has just assured me that--that--! i dare not, cannot write the awful words. oh! my own emmy--heaven grant you be my own!--pray, pray, as i will night and day, that rumour be not true: for if it be, my love, both god and man forbid us ever to meet again! how i wish i could explain it all, or that i had never heard so much, or never written it here, and told it you, though thus obscurely: for i can't destroy this letter now, the ships are just parting company, and there is no time to write another. yet will i hope, love, against hope. who knows? through god's good mercy, it may all be cleared up still. if not--if not--strive to forget for ever, your unhappy "charles. "perhaps--o, glorious thought!--nurse mackie may know better than the captain, after all; and yet, he seems so positive: if he is right, there is nothing for us both but wo! wo! wo!" now, to say plain truth, when emily showed me this, i looked very blank upon it. that charles had heard some meddlesome report, which (if true) was to be an insuperable barrier to their future union, struck me at a glimpse. but i had not the heart to hint it to her; and only encouraged hope--hope, in god's help, through the means of mrs. mackie and her papers. as for the poor girl herself, she asked me, in much humility, and with many sobs, if i did not fear that her hindoo mystery was this:--she was the vilest of the vile, a pariah, an outcast, whose very presence is contamination! beautiful, loving, heavenly-hearted creature! so humble in the midst of her majestic loveliness! how touching was the thought, that she thus readily acquiesced in any the deepest humiliation holy providence had seen fit to send her; and though the sentence would have crushed her happiness for ever, till the day of death, that she could still look up and say, "be it to thine handmaid even as thou wilt." as i had no better method of explaining the matter, and as her infantine reminiscences and prejudices about caste were strong, i even let her think so, if she would: it was a far better alternative than my own sad thoughts about the business: and, however painful was the process, it was something consolatory to observe, that this voluntary humiliation mellowed and chastened her own character, subduing tropical fires, and tempering the virgin gold by meekness. oh! charles, charles, my poor fellow, "who have cast your all upon a die, and must abide the issue of the throw," i most fervently hope that gossiping captain forbes spoke falsely: it is a comfort to reflect that the world is often very liberal in attributing the honours of paternity to some who really do not deserve them. and if a rich old bachelor looks kindly on a foundling, is it not pure malice on that sole account of charity to hail him father? besides--there's nurse mackie.--speed to madras, poor youth, and keep your courage up. chapter xvii. the general's return. in a most unwonted flow of animal spirits, and an entire affability which restored him at once to the rank of a communicative creature, general tracy came back on friday night. he had met with marvellous prosperity; for hancock's had been paying off the prize-money; and his own lion's share, as general, in the easy process of dethroning half a dozen diamond-hilted rajahs and nabobs, amounted to something like four lacs of rupees, nearly half a crore! such a flush of wealth, and he was rich already without it, exhilarated the bilious old gentleman so strangely, that positive peonies were blooming in his cheeks; and, as if this was not miracle enough, he had brought his wife as a present maurice's '_antiquities of india_,' gloriously bound, and had even been so superfluous as to purchase a new pair of double-barrelled pistols for julian: the lad was a fine young fellow after all, and ought to be encouraged in snuffing out a candle; as for emily's _petit cadeau_, it was a fifty guinea set of cameos, the choicest in their way that howell and james's had to show him. moreover, he had sent a bow-street officer to oxford, to make inquiries after charles: actually, good fortune had made him at once humanized and happy. so the chaise rattled up, and the general bounded out, and flew into the arms of his wondering wife, as paris might have flown to helen, or leander to his heroine--the only feminine hero, whom grammar recognises. it was past eleven at night: therefore he did not think to ask for julian; no doubt the boy was gone to bed. indeed, he had; and was tossing his wealed body, full of pains, and aches, and bruises, as softly as he could upon the feather-bed: he had need of poultices all over, and a quart of friar's balsam would have done him little good: after his well-merited thrashing, the flogged hound had slunk to his kennel, and locked himself sullenly in, without even speaking to his mother. tobacco-fumes exuded from the key-hole, and i doubt not other creature-comforts lent the muddled man their aid. however, after the first rush of news to mrs. tracy, her lord, who had every moment been expecting the door to fly open, and emily to fall into his arms--for strangely did they love each other--suddenly asked, "but, where's emmy all this time! she knows i'm here?--not got to bed, is she?--knew i was coming?--" "oh! general, i'll tell you all about it to-morrow morning." "about what, madam? great god! has any harm befallen the child? speak--speak, woman!" "dear--dear--oh! what shall i say?" sobbed the silly mother. "emily--emily, poor dear julian--" "what the devil, ma'am, of julian?" the general turned white as a sheet, and rang the bell, in singular calmness; probably for a dram of brandy. saunders answered it so instantly, that i rather suspect he was waiting just outside. the moment mrs. tracy saw the gray-headed butler, anticipating all that he might say, she brushed past him, and hurriedly ran up-stairs. "what's all this, mr. saunders? where's miss warren?" and the poor old guardian seemed ready to faint at his reply: but he heard it out patiently. "i am very sorry to say, general, that miss emily has been forced to take refuge at sir abraham tamworth's: but she's well, sir, and safe, sir; quite well and safe," the good man hastened to say, "only i'm afraid that mr. julian had been taking liberties with--" i dare not write the general's imprecation: then, as he clenched the arms of his easy-chair, as with the grasp of the dying, he asked, in a quick wild way-- "but what was it?--what happened?" "nothing to fear, sir--nothing at all, general;--i am thankful to say, that all i saw, and all we all saw, was miss emily pulling at the bell-rope with blood upon her face, and mr. julian on the floor: but i took the young lady to sir abraham's immediately, general, at her own desire." the father arose sternly; his first feeling was to kill julian; but the second, a far better one, predominated--he must go and see emily at once. so, faintly leaning on the butler's arm, the poor old man (whom a moiety of ten minutes, with its crowding fears, had made to look some ten years older,) proceeded to the square, and knocked up sir abraham at midnight, and the admiral came down, half asleep, in dressing-gown and slippers, vexed at having been knocked up from his warm berth so uncomfortably: it put him sorely in remembrance of his hardships as a middy. "kind neighbour, thank you, thank you; where's emmy? take me to my emmy;" and the iron-hearted veteran wept like a driveller. sir abraham looked at him queerly: and then, in a cheerful, friendly way, replied-- "dear general, do not be so moved: the girl's quite safe with us; you'll see her to-morrow morning. all's right; she was only frightened, and george has given the fellow a proper good licking: and the girl's a-bed, you know; and, eh? what?"-- for the poor old man, like one bereaved, said, supplicatingly-- "in mercy take me to her--precious child!" "my dear sir--pray consider--it's impossible; fine girl, you know;--lady tamworth, too--can't be, can't be, you know, general." and the mystified sir abraham looked to saunders for an explanation-- "was his master drunk?" "i must speak to her, neighbour; i must, must, and will--dear, dear child: come up with me, sir, come; do not trifle with a breaking heart, neighbour!" there was a heart still in that hard-baked old east indian. it was impossible to resist such an appeal: so the two elders crept up stairs, and knocked softly at her chamber-door. clearly, the girl was asleep: she had sobbed herself to sleep; the general had been looked for all day long, and she was worn with watching; he could hardly come at midnight; so the dear affectionate child had sobbed herself to sleep. "allow me, sir abraham." and general tracy whispered something at the key-hole in a strange tongue. not aladdin's "open sesame" could have been more magical. in a moment, roused up suddenly from sleep, and forgetting every thing but those tender recollections of gentle care in infancy, and kindness all through life, the child of nature startled out of bed, drew the bolt, and in beauteous disarray, fell into that old man's arms! it was enough; he had seen her eye to eye--she lived: and the white-haired veteran, suffered himself to be led away directly from the landing, like a child, by his sympathizing neighbour. "my heart is lighter now, sir abraham: but i am a poor weak old man, and owe you an explanation for this outburst; some day--some day, not now. o, if you could guess how i have nursed that pretty babe when alone in distant lands; how i have doated on her little winning ways, and been gladdened by the music of her prattle; how i have exulted to behold her loveliness gradually expanding, as she was ever at my side, in peril as in peace, in camp as in quarters, in sickness as in health, still--still, the blessed angel of a bad man's life--a wicked, hard old man, kind neighbour--if you knew more--more, than for her sake i dare tell you--and if you could conceive the love my emmy bears for me, you would not think it strange--think it strange--" he could not say a syllable more; and the admiral, with mr. saunders, too, who joined them in the study, looked very little able to console that poor old man. for they all had hearts, and trickling eyes to tell them. then having arranged a shake-down for his master in sir abraham's study--for the guardian would not leave his dear one ever again--saunders went home, purposing to attend with razors in the morning. chapter xviii. intercalary. the tamworths did not altogether live at burleigh singleton--it was far too petty a place for them; dullness all the year round (however pleasant for a month or so, as a holiday from toilsome pleasures) would never have done for lady tamworth and her daughters: but they regularly took prospect house for six weeks in the summer season, when tired of portland place, and huntover, their fine estate in cheshire: and so, from constant annual immigration, came as much to be regarded burleighites, as swifts and swallows to be ranked as british birds. i only hint at this piece of information, for fear any should think it unlikely, that grandees of sir abraham's condition could exist for ever in a place where the day-before-yesterday's '_times_' is first intelligence. moreover, as another interjectional touch, it is only due to my life-likenesses to record, that mrs. green's, although a terrace-house, and ranked as humble number seven, was, nevertheless, a tolerably spacious mansion, well suited for the dignity of a butler to repose in: for mrs. green had added an entire dwelling on the inland side, as, like most maritime inhabitants, she was thoroughly sick of the sea, and never cared to look at it, though living there still, from mere disinclination to stir: so, then, it was quite a double house, both spacious and convenient. as for the inglorious incident of julian's latch-key, i should not wonder if many wide street-doors to many marble halls are conscious of similar convenient fastenings, if gentlemen of julian's nocturnal tastes happen to be therein dwelling. another little matter is worth one word. the house had been mrs. green's, a freehold, and was, therefore, now her heir's; but the general, as an executor, remained there still, until his business was finished; in fact, he took his year's liberty. he had returned from india rolling in gold; for some great princess or other--i think they called her a begum or a glumdrum, or other such like gulliverian appellative--had been singularly fond of him, and had loaded him in early life with favours--not only kisses, and so forth, but jewellery and gold pagodas. and lately, as we know, puttymuddyfudgepoor, with its radiating rajahs and nabobs, had proved a mine of wealth: for a crore is ten lacs, and a lac of rupees is any thing but a lack of money--although rupees be money, and the "middle is distributed;" in spite of logic, then, a lack means about twelve thousand pounds: and four of them, according to cocker, some fifty thousand. it would appear then, that with the produce of the begum's diamonds, converted into money long ago, and some of them as big as linnet's eggs--and not to take account of mrs. green's trifling pinch of the five exchequer bills, all handed over at once to emily--the general's present fortune was exactly one hundred and twenty-three thousand pounds. of course, _he_ wasn't going to bury himself at burleigh singleton much longer; and yet, for all that stout intention of houses and lands, and carriages and horses, in almost any other county or country, it is as true as any thing in this book, that he was a resident still, a lease-holder of aunt green's house, long after the _dénouement_ of this story; in many things an altered man, but still identical in one; the unchangeable resolve (though never to be executed) of leaving burleigh at farthest by next michaelmas. most folks who talk much, do little; and taciturn as the general now is, and has been ever throughout life, it will surprise nobody who has learned from hard experience how silly and harmful a thing is secresy (exceptionables excepted), to find that he grew to be a garrulous old man, gossipping for ever of past, present, future, and, not least, about his deeds at puttymuddyfudgepoor. general tracy is by this time awake again; if ever indeed he slept on that uncomfortable shakedown; and, after mr. saunders and the razor-strop, has greeted brightly-beaming emily with more than usual tenderness. her account of the transaction made his very blood boil; especially as her pretty pouting lips were lacerated cruelly inside: that rude blow on the mouth had almost driven the teeth through them. how confidingly she told her artless tale; how gently did her fond protector kiss that poor pale cheek; and how sternly did he vow full vengeance on the caitiff! not even emily's intercession could avail to turn his wrath aside. he could hardly help flying off at once to do something dreadful; but common courtesy to all the tamworth family obliged him to defer for an hour all the terrible things he meant to do. so he began to bolt his breakfast fiercely as a cannibal, and saluted lady tamworth and her daughters with such savage looks, that the captain considerately suggested: "here, general," (handing him a most formidable carving-knife,) "charge that boar's head, grinning defiance at us on the side-board; it will do you good to hew his brawny neck. my mother, i am sure, for one, will thank you to do the honours there instead of me. isn't it a comfort now, to know that i broke the handle of my hunting-whip across the fellow's back, and wore all the whip-cord into skeins. come, i say, general, don't eat us all round; and pray have mercy on that poor, flogged, miserable sinner." this banter did him good, especially as he saw emily smiling; so he relaxed his knit brow, condescended to look less like giant blunderbore, soon became marvellous chatty, and ate up two french rolls, an egg, some anchovies, a round of toast, and a mighty slice of brawn; these, washed down with a couple of cups of tea, soothed him into something like complacency. chapter xix. julian's departure. long before the general got home, still in exalted dudgeon (indeed soon after the general had left home over night), the bird had flown; for the better part of valour suggested to our evil hero, that it would be discreet to render himself a scarce commodity for a season; and as soon as ever his mother had run up to his room-door to tell him of his danger, when her lord was cross-questioning the butler, he resolved upon instant flight. accordingly, though sore and stiff, he hurried up, dressed again, watched his father out, and tumbling over mrs. tracy, who was sobbing on the stairs, ran for one moment to the general's room; there he seized a well-remembered cash-box, and instinctively possessed himself of those new, neat, double-barrelled pistols: a bully never goes unarmed. these brief arrangements made, off he set, before his father could have time to return from pacton square. therefore, when the general called, we need not marvel that he found him not; no one but the foolish mother (so neglected of her son, yet still excusing him) stood by to meet his wrath. he would not waste it on her; so long as julian was gone, his errand seemed accomplished; for all he came to do was to expel him from the house. so, as far as regarded mrs. tracy, her husband, wotting well how much she was to blame, merely commanded her to change her sleeping-room, and occupy mr. julian's in future. the silly woman was even glad to do it; and comforted herself from time to time with prying into her own boy's exemplary manuscripts, memoranda of moralities, and so forth; with weeping, like lady constance, over his empty "unpuffed" clothes; with reading ever and anon his choice collection of standard works, among which '_don juan_' and mr. thomas paine were by far the most presentable; and with tasting, till it grew to be a habit, his private store of spirituous liquors. thus did she mourn many days for long-lost julian. i am quite aware what became of him. the wretched youth, mad for emily's love, and tortured by the tyranny of passion, had nothing else to live for or to die for. he accordingly took refuge in the hovel of a smuggler, an old friend of his, not many miles away, disguised himself in fisherman's costume, and bode his opportunity. beauteous girl! how often have i watched thee with straining eyes and aching heart, as thou wentest on thy summer's walk so oftentimes to oxton, there to exercise thy bountiful benevolence in comforting the sick, gladdening the wretched, and lingering, with love's own look, in charles's village school; how often have i prayed, that guardian angels might be about thy path as about thy bed! for the prowling tiger was on thy track, poor innocent one, and many, many times nothing but one of god's seeming accidents hath saved thee. who was that strange man so often in the way? at one time a wounded spanish legionist, with head bound up; at another, an old beggar upon crutches; at another, a floury miller with a donkey and a sack; at another, a black looking man, in slouching sailor's hat and fishing-boots? fair, pure creature! thou hast often dropped a shilling in that beggar's hand, and pitied that poor maimed soldier; once, too, a huge gipsy woman would have had thee step aside, and hear thy fortunes. heaven guarded thee then, sweet emily; for both girl and lover though thou art, thou would'st not listen to the serpent's voice, however fair might be the promises. and heaven guarded thee ever, bidding some one pass along the path just as the ruffian might have gagged thy smiling mouth, and hurried thee away amongst his fellows; and more than once, especially, those school children, bursting out of charles's school at dusk, have unconsciously escorted thee in safety from the perils of that tiger on thy track. chapter xx. enlightenment. the general could not now be kept in ignorance of charles's expedition; in fact, he had found his heart, and began resolutely to use it. so, the very day on which he had lost julian, he intended very eagerly to seek out charles; for the oxford search had failed, and no wonder. now, though emily had told, as we well know, to both mother and son her secret, the father was not likely to be any the wiser; for he now never spoke to his wife, and could not well speak to his son. however, one day, an hour after an overland letter, a very exhilarating one, dated madras, whereof we shall hear anon, fair emily, in the fullness of her heart, could not help saying, "dearest sir, you are often thinking of poor lost charles, i know; and you are very anxious about him too, though nobody but myself, who am always with you, can perceive it: what if you heard he was safe and well?" "have you heard any tidings of my poor boy, emmy?" she looked up archly, and said, "why not?" her beautiful eyes adding, as plainly as eyes could speak, "i love him, and you know it; of course i have heard frequently from dear, dear charles." but the guardian met her looks with a keen and chilling answer: "why not! why not! does he dare to write to you, and you to love him? oh, that i had told them both a year ago! but where is he now, child? don't cry, i will not speak so angrily again, my emmy." "i hardly dare to tell you, dearest sir: you have always been as a father to me, and i never knew any other; but there are things i cannot explain to myself, and i was very wretched; and so, kind guardian, charles--charles was so good--" "what has he done?--where has he gone?" hastily asked his father. "oh, don't, don't be angry with us; in a word, he is gone to madras, to find out nurse mackie, and to tell me who i am." the poor old man, who had treasured up so long some mystery, probably a very diaphanous one, for emily's own dear sake in the world's esteem, and from the long bad habit of reserve, fell back into his chair as if he had been shot; but he did not faint, nor gasp, nor utter a sound; he only looked at her so long and sorrowfully, that she ran to him, and covered his pale face with her own brown curls, kissing him, and wiping from his cheek her starting tears. "emmy, dear--i can tell you--and i--no, no, not now, not now; if he comes back--then--then; poor children! oh, the sin of secresy!" "but, dearest sir, do not be so sad; charles has happy news, he says." "happy, child? good heaven! would it could be so!" "indeed, indeed, a week ago he was as miserable as any could be, and so was i; for he heard something terrible about me--i don't know what--but i feared i was a--pariah! however, now he is all joy, and coming home again as soon as possible." the general shook, his head mournfully, as physicians do when hope is gone; but still he looked perplexed and thoughtful. "you will show me the letters, dear, i dare say: but i do not command you, emmy; do as you like." "certainly, my own kindest guardian--all, all, and instantly." and flying up to her room, she returned with as much closely-written manuscript as would have taken any but a lover's eye a full week to decipher. the general, not much given to literary matters, looked quite scared at such a prospect. "wait, emmy; not all, not all; show me the last." i dare say emily will forgive me if i get it set up legibly in print. may i, dear? chapter xxi. charles at madras. luckily enough for all mankind in general, and our lovers in particular, charles's last letter was very unlike some that had preceded it; for instead of the usual "oh, my love"'s, "sweet, sweet eyes," "darling"'s, and all manner of such chicken-hearted nonsense, it was positively sensible, rational, not to say utilitarian: though i must acknowledge that here and there it degenerates into the affectionate, or stromboli-vein of letter-writing, at opening especially; and really now and then i shall take leave to indicate omitted inflammations by a *. "dearest, dearest emmy, * * * * * [and so forth, a very galaxy of stars to the bottom of this page; enough to put the compositor out of his terrestrial senses.] "you see i have recovered my spirits, dearest, and am not now afraid to tell you how i love you. oh, that detestable captain forbes! let him not cross my path, gossiping blockhead! on pain of carrying about 'til deth,' in the middle of his face, a nose two inches longer. i heartily wish i had never listened for an instant to such vile insinuations; and when i look at this red right hand of mine, that dared to pen the trash in that black postscript, i look at it as cranmer did, and (but that it is yours, emmy, not mine), could wish it burnt. but no fears now, my girl, huzza, huzza! i believe every one about me thinks me daft; and so i am for very joyfulness; notwithstanding, let me be didactic, or you will say so too. i really will endeavour to rein in, and go along in the regular hackney trot, that you may partly comprehend me. well, then, here goes; try your paces, dobbin. "on the morning of sunday, april th, , the good ship elphinston--(that's the way to begin, i suppose, as per ledger, log-book, and midshipman's epistles to mamma)--in fact, dear, we cast anchor just outside a furious wall of surf, which makes madras a very formidable place for landing; and every one who dares to do so certain of a watering. there lay the city, most invitingly to storm-tost tars, with its white palaces, green groves, and yellow belt of sand, blue hills in the distance, and all else _coleur de rose_. but--but, emmy, there was no getting at this paradise, except by struggling through a couple of miles of raging foam, that would have made mince-meat of the spanish armada, and have smashed sir william elphinston to pieces. how, then, did we manage to survive it? for, thank god always, here i am to tell the tale. listen, emmy dear, and i will try not to be tedious. "we were bundled out of the rolling ship into some huge flat-bottomed boats, like coal-barges, and even so, were grated and ground several times by the churning waves on the ragged reefs beneath us: and, just as i was enjoying the see-saw, and trying to comfort two poor drenched women-kind who were terribly afraid of sharks, a huge, cream-coloured breaker came bustling alongside of us, and roaring out 'charles tracy,' gobbled me up bodily. well, dearest, it wasn't the first time i had floundered in the waters [noble charles! noble charles! he had long forgiven julian]; so i was battling on as well as i could, with a stout heart and a steady arm, when--don't be afraid--a _catamaran_ caught me! if you haven't fainted (bless those pretty eyes of your's, my emmy!) read on; and you will find that this alarming sort of animal is neither an albatross nor an alligator, but simply--a life-boat with a triton in the stern. yes, god's messenger of life to me and happiness to you, my girl, came in the shape of a kindly, chattering, blue-skinned, human creature, who dragged me out of the surf, landed me safely, and, i need not say, got paid with more than hearty thanks. so, i scuffled to the custom-house to look after my traps and fellow-passengers, like a dripping merman. "'who is that miserable old woman, bothering every body?' asked i of a very civil searcher, profuse in his salaams. "'oh, sahib, you will know for yourself, presently: she's always hanging about here, to get news of somebody in england, i believe--and to try to find a charitable captain who will take her all the way for nothing: rather too much of a good thing, you know, sahib.' [we really cannot undertake to scribble broken english: so we will translate any thing that may mysteriously have been chatted by havildars, and coolies; and all manner of strange names.] "'poor old soul--she looks very wretched: what's her name?' asked i, carelessly. "'oh, i never troubled to inquire, sahib: i believe she was an old servant left behind as lumber, and she pesters every one, day by day, about some 'bonnie bonnie bairn.'" "in a moment, emmy, i had seized on dear nurse mackie! "very old, very deaf, very infirm--she fancied i was driving her away, as many others might have done; and, with a truly piteous face, pleaded-- "'gude sir, have mercy on a puir auld soul--and let her ask for her sweet young mistress, only once, sir--only once more.' "'emily warren?' said i. her wrinkled face brightened over as with glory--and she answered-- "'bless the mouth that spake it, and these ears that hear her name! yes--yes--yes--they call her so; where is she? how is she? have you seen her? is she yet alive?' "leading away the affectionate old soul from the crowd that was collecting round us, i left orders about luggage as a traveller should, and then told her all i knew: and i know you pretty well, i think, my emmy. "her joy was like a mad woman's: the dear old hecate pranced, and danced, and sung, and shouted like nothing but a mother when she finds her long-lost child: not that she's your mother, emmy dear. no--no--matters are better than that: all she vouchsafes, though, to tell me is, that you are a lady born and bred, and--for i cannot find the words to inform your pure mind clearer--that 'you are not what he thinks you.'" [here followeth another twinkling universe of stars; * * * * * * * and thereafter our cavalier condescendeth again to matters of fact.] "nurse mackie of course comes back with me next packet; this letter goes by the overland mail more quickly than we can; gladly would i go too, but the old woman, whose life is essential to your rights, would die of fatigue by the way; as it is, i am obliged to coddle her, and feed her, and ptisan her, like a sick baby, bless her dear old heart that loves my darling emmy! she has a pack of papers with her, which she will not open, till the general is by her side: if she unfortunately dies before we can return, i am to have them, and all will be right. but the old soul is so afraid of being left behind (as you throw away the orange-peel after you have squeezed it), that she will not tell me a word about them yet; so, i only gather what i can from her cautious garrulity, hints about a begum and a captain, and the stuarts, and a putty-what-d'ye-call-it. and it is all in document, as well as _viva-voce_ (this means 'gossip,' dear). so now you may be expecting us, as soon as ever we can get to you. tell the general all this, and give him my best love, next after your's emmy; for he is my father still, and my very heart yearns after him: o, that he were kinder with me as i see he is with you, dear, and more open with us all! also, kiss, if she will let you, my mother for me, and i hope you will have hinted to her long ago, that i am only playing truant. how is poor--poor julian? he will understand me, if you tell him i forgive him, and will never say one word about our little tiff. and now dearest emmy--" [the remainder of this letter must, believe me, be as starry as before.] * * * * * chapter xxii. revelations. general tracy gave a long-drawn sigh: and tears--tears of true affection--stood in those most fish-like eyes, as he mournfully said, "bless him, bless dear charles, almost as much as you, my own sweet emmy. heaven send it be true--for heaven can work miracles. but without a miracle, emily, in sober sadness i declare it, you must forget--_your brother charles, my daughter_!" emily fell flat upon her face, so cold, so white, that he believed her dead. oh! that he had never--never said that word: or better still, poor father, that you had never kept the dreadful secret from them. the adultery, indeed, was sin; but years of ill-concealings have multiplied its punishment. wretched father--wretched children! that must bear an erring father's curse. oh! that jeanie mackie may have reasons, proofs; and be not an impostor after all, dressing up a tale that over-sanguine charles may bring her back again to scotland. well--well! i am full of sadness and perplexities: but we shall hear it out anon. heaven help them! emily was taken very ill, and had a long fit of sickness. day and night--night and day, did her poor wasting anxious father watch by her bed-side, gentle as the gentlest nurse--tender as the tenderest of mothers. and, indeed, the lord of life and wisdom was gracious to them both; raising up the poor weak child again; and teaching that old man, through this daughter of his shame and sin in youth, that religion is a cure for all things. ay, "the blessed angel of a bad man's life," indeed--indeed was she; and he humbly knelt, as little children kneel, that hard and dried old man; and his eyes caught the ray of heaven's mercy, looking up in joy to read forgiveness; and his heart was bathed in penitence--the rock flowed out amain; and his mind was quickened into faith--he lived, he breathed "a new-born babe," that poor and bad old man, given to the prayers of his own daughter! all this while, mrs. tracy, thrown upon her own resources, has been continually tasting dear julian's store, and finding out excuses for his trivial peccadilloes. and when, from the recesses of his desk, she had routed out (in company with sundry more, rather contrasting with a mother's pure advice) a few of her own letters, which had not yet been destroyed, she would doat by the hour on these proofs of his affection. and then, her spirits were so low; and his choice smuggled hollands so requisite to screw them up to par again; and no sooner had they rallied, than they would once more begin to droop; so she cried a good deal, and kept her bed; and very often did not remember exactly, whether she was lying down there, or figuring on the esplanade with julian, and--all that sort of thing: accordingly, it is not to be wondered at if, in aunt green's double-house, the general and emily saw very little of her, and during all this illness, had almost forgotten her existence. nevertheless, she was alive still, and as vast as ever--though a course of strong waters had shattered her nerves considerably; even more so, than her real mother's grief at julian's protracted absence. never had he been heard of since he left, hard heart; though he might have guessed a mother's sorrow, and was not far away, and often lingered near the house in strange disguises. it would have been easy for him, in some clever way or other, latch-key and all, to have gained access to her, and comforted her, and given her some real proof, that all the love she had shed on him had not been utterly thrown away; but he didn't--he didn't; and i know not of a darker trait in julian's whole career; he was insensible to love--a mother's love. for love is the weapon which omnipotence reserved to conquer rebel man; when all the rest had failed. reason he parries; fear he answers blow to blow; future interest he meets with present pleasure; but love, that sun against whose melting beams the winter cannot stand, that soft-subduing slumber which wrestles down the giant, there is not one human creature in a million--not a thousand men in all earth's huge quintillion, whose clay-heart is hardened against love. yet was julian one of those select ones; an awful instance of that possible, that actual, though happily that scarcest of all characters, a man, "black, with _no_ virtue, and a thousand crimes." the amiable villain--one whose generosity redeems his guilt, whose kindliness outweighs his folly, or whose beauty charms the eye to overlook his baseness--this too common hero is an object, an example fraught with perilous interest. charles duval, the polite; paul clifford, the handsome; richard turpin, brave and true; jack sheppard, no ignoble mind and loving still his mother; these, and such as these, with schiller's '_robbers_' and the like, are dangerous to gaze on, as germany, if not england too, remembers well. but, not more true to life, though far less common to be met with, is julian's incorrigible mind: one, in whose life are no white days; one, on whose heart are no bright spots; when heaven's pity spoke to him, he ridiculed; as, when his threatenings thundered, he defied. of this world only, and tending to a worse appetite was all he lived for: and the core of appetite is iron selfishness. the filched cash-box proved to be too well-filled for him to trouble himself with thinking of his mother yet awhile: and his smuggling acquaintances, a rough-featured, blasphemous crew, set him as their chief, so long as he swore loudest, drank deepest, and had money at command. he hid the money, that they should not secretly steal from him that to which he owed his bad supremacy; and his double-barrels, shotted to the muzzle, were far too formidable for any hope of getting at it by open brute force. nevertheless, they were "fine high-spirited" fellows those, bold, dark men, of julian's own kidney; who toasted in their cups each other's crimes, and the ghost or two that ought to have been haunting them. chapter xxiii. convalescence. very slowly did emily recover, for the blow had been more than she could bear: nothing but religion gave her any chance at all: and the phials, blisterings, bleedings, would have been in vain, in vain--she must have died long ago--had it not been for the remembrance of god's love, resignation to his will, and trust in the wisdom of his providence. but these specific remedies gradually brought her round, while the kind-eyed doctors praised their own prescriptions: and after many rallyings and relapses, delirious ramblings, and intervals of hallowed christian peace, the eye of love's meek martyr brightened up once more, and health flushed again upon her cheek. she recovered, god be praised! for her death would have been poor charles's too; and the same grave that yawned for her and him would have closed upon their father also. even as it was, when she arose from off the weary bed of sickness, it was to be a nurse herself, and watch beside that patient, weak old man. he could not bear her out of his sight all the fever through; but eagerly would listen to her hymns and prayers, joining in them faintly like a dying saint. with the saddening secret, which had so long pressed upon his mind, he seemed to have thrown off his old nature, as a cast skin: and now he was all frankness for reserve, all piety for profaneness, all peacefulness for blusterings and wrath. he remembered then poor julian and his mother: taking blame to himself, justly, deeply, for neglected duties, chilling lack of sympathy, and that dull domestic sin, that still continued evil of unnatural omissions--stern reserve. and he would gladly have seen julian by his bedside, to have freely forgiven the lad, and welcomed him home again, and begun once more, in openness and charity, all things fair and new: but julian was not to be found, though rewards were offered, and placards posted up, and emissaries from the detective police-force sought him far and wide. alas! the bold bad man had heard with scorn of his father's penitence, and knew that he would gladly have received him;--but what cared he for kindnesses or pardons? he only lived to waylay emily. as for mrs. tracy, she was seldom in a state to appear; but one day she managed to refrain a little, and came to see her husband, almost sober. i was, authorially speaking, behind the door, and saw and heard as follows: the old man, worn and emaciate, was weakly sitting up in bed, and emma by his side, with the bible in her lap: she casually shut it as the mother entered. "well, miss warren, there's a time for all things; but this is neither morning, noon, nor night: nor sunday either, nor holiday, that i know of; it's eleven o'clock on tuesday, miss--and i think you might as well leave the general at peace, without troubling him for ever with your prayer-books and your bibles." "jane, my dear, i requested it of emily; come and sit by me, and take my hand, wife." "thank you, sir, you are very obliging: not while that young woman is in the room.--you ought to be ashamed of yourself, general tracy." poor emmy ran away to weep. it seems that, in her delirium, she had spoken many things, and the servants blabbed them out to mrs. tracy. "ah, my poor wife, indeed i am: both ashamed and sorry--heartily sorry. but god forgives me, jenny, and i hope that you will too." "upon, my word, general, you carry it off with a high hand: and, not content, sir, with insulting me in my own home by bringing here your other women's children, you have expelled poor dear, dear julian." "jane, if you will remember, he ran away himself; and you know that now i gladly would receive him: we are all prodigal sons together, and if god can bear with us, jane, we ought to look kindly on each other." "ha! that's always the way with old sinners like you--canting hypocrites! be a man, general tracy, if you can, and talk sense. i never did any harm or sin in all my life yet, and don't intend to: and my poor boy julian's well enough, if they'd only let him alone; but nobody understands his heart but me. good boy, i'm sure there's virtue enough left in him, if he loves his mother."--_if_ he loves his mother. "jane, dear, i sent for you to kiss you; for i could not die in peace, nor live in peace (whichever god may please), without your pardon, jane, for a thousand unkindnesses--but, especially for the sin that gave me emily. forgive me this, my wife." "never, sir!" rejoined that miserable mind; and fancied that she was acting virtuously. she thrust aside the kindly proffered hand; scowled at him with darkened brow; drew up her commanding height; and, calling mrs. siddons to remembrance, brushed away in the indignant attitude of a tragedy queen. emmy ran again to her father, and the vain bad mother to her bottle; we must leave them to their various avocations. chapter xxiv. charles delayed. few things could well be more unlikely than that emily should hear of charles again before she saw him: for, having left madras as speedily as might be, now that his mission was so easily, yet so naturally, accomplished--having posted, as we know, his overland letter--and having got on board the fast-sailing ship samarang, captain trueman, charles, in the probable course of things, if he wrote at all, must have been his own postman. but the fates--(our christianity can afford to wink now and then at clotho, lachesis, and atropos; for, at any rate, they are as reasonable creatures as chance, luck, and accident,)--the fates willed it otherwise: and, accordingly, it is in my power to lay before the reader another genuine lucubration of charles tracy. a change had come over the spirit of their dream, those youthful lovers: and agonizing doubt must rack their hearts, threatening to rend them both asunder. it is evident to me that charles's letter (which emily showed to me with a melancholy face) was on principle less warm, less dottable with stars, and more conversant with things of this world; high, firm, honourable principle; intending very gently, very gradually, to wean her from him, if he could; for his faith in jeanie mackie had been shaken, and--but let us hear him tell us of it all himself. "i.e.m. samarang. st. helena. "you will wonder, my dear emily, to hear again before you see me: but i am glad of this providential opportunity, as it may serve to prepare us both. naturally enough you will ask, why charles cannot accompany this letter? i will tell you, dear, in one word--mrs. mackie is now lying very ill on shore; and, as far as our poor ship is concerned, you shall hear about it all anon. several of the passengers, who were in a hurry to get home, have left us, and gone in the packet-boat that takes you this letter: gladly, as you know, would i have accompanied them, for i long to see you, poor dear girl; but it was impossible to leave the old woman, upon whom alone, under god, our hopes of earthly happiness depend: if, alas! we still can dream about such hopes. "oh, emily--i heartily wish that, having finished my embassage by that instantaneous finding of the old scotch nurse, i had never been so superfluous as to have left those letters of introduction, wherewith you kindly supplied me, in an innocent wish to help our cause. but i felt solitary too, waiting at madras for the next ship to england; and in my folly, forgetful of the single aim with which i had come, jeanie mackie, to wit, i thought i might as well use my present opportunities, and see what i could of the place and its inhabitants. "with that view, i left my letters at government house, at mr. clarkson's, colonel bunting's, mrs. castleton's, and elsewhere, according to direction; and immediately found answer in a crowd of invitations. i need not vex you nor myself, emmy, writing as i do with a heavy, heavy heart, by describing gayeties in which i felt no pleasure, even when amongst them, for my emmy was not there: splendour, prodigality, and red-hot rooms, only made endurable by perpetually fanning punkahs: pompous counsellors, authorities, and other men in office, and a glut of military uniforms: vulgar wealth, transparent match-making, and predominating dullness: along with some few of the charities and kindnesses of life (mrs. bunting, in particular, is an amiable, motherly, good-hearted woman), all these you will readily fancy for yourself. "my trouble is deeper than any thing so slight as the common satiations of _ennui_: for i have heard in these circles in which your--my--the general, i mean, chiefly mixed, so much of that ill-rumour that it cannot all be false: they knew it all, and were certain of it all, too well, emily, dear. and i have been pestering nurse mackie night and day; but the old woman is so afraid of being left behind any where, or thrown overboard, or dropped, upon some desert rock, that she is quite cross, and won't say a single word in answer, even when i tell her all these terrible tales. her resolution is, not to reveal one syllable more, until she sets foot on england; and several people at madras annoyed me exceedingly by saying, that this kind of thing is an old trick with people who wish to be sent home again. she has hidden away her papers somewhere; not that i was going to steal them: but it shows how little trust she puts in any thing, or any one, except the keeping of her own secret. however, she does adhere obstinately, and hopefully for us, to her original hint, 'you are not what he thinks you;' although she will not condescend to any single proof, or explanation, against the mighty mass of evidence, which probabilities, and common rumour, and the general's own belief, have heaped together. when i call you emmy, too--the old soul, in her broad scotch way, always corrects me, and invokes a blessing upon 'a-amy:' so there is a mystery somewhere: at least, i fervently hope there is: and, if the old woman has been playing us false, let us resign ourselves to god, my girl; for our fate will be that matters are as people say they are--and then my old black postscript ends too truly with a wo, wo, wo--! "but i must shake off all this lethargy of gloom, dearest, dearest girl--how can i dare to call you so? let me, therefore, rush for comfort into other thoughts; and tell you at once of the fearful dangers we have now mercifully escaped; for the samarang lies like a log in this friendly port, dismasted, and next to a wreck. "i proceed to show you about it; perhaps i shall be tedious--but i do it as a little rest, my own soul's love, from anxious, earnest, heart-distracting prayers continually, continually, that the sorrow which i spoke of be not true. sometimes, a light breaks in, and i rejoice in the most sanguine hope: at others, gloom-- "but a truce to all this, i say. here shall follow didactically the cause why the good ship samarang is not by this time in the docks. "we were lying somewhere about the tropical belt, capricorn you know, (o, those tender lessons in geography, my emmy!) quite becalmed; the sea like glass, and the sky like brass, and the air in a most stagnant heat: our good ship motionless, dead in a dead blue sea it was 'idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean.' "the sails were hanging loosely in the shrouds: every one set, from sky-scraper to stud-sail, in hopes to catch a breath of wind. my fellow-passengers and the crew, almost melted, were lying about, as weak as parboiled eels: it was high-noon, all things silent and subdued by that intolerable blaze; for the vertical sun, over our multiplied awnings and umbrellas, burnt us up, fierce as a furnace. "i was leaning over the gangway, looking wistfully at the cool, clear, deep sea, wherefrom the sailors were trying to persuade a shark to come on board us, when, all at once, in the south-east quarter, i noticed a little round black cloud, thrown up from the horizon like a cricket-ball. as any thing is attractive in such sameness as perpetual sea and sky, my discovery was soon made known, and among the first to our captain. "calling for his dolland, and bidding his second lieutenant run quick to the cabin and look at the barometer, he viewed the little cloud in evident anxiety, and shook his head with a solemn air: more than one light-hearted woman thinking he was quizzing them. "up came lieutenant joyce, looking as if he had seen a ghost in the cabin. "'the mercury, sir, is falling just as rapidly as it would rise if you plunged it into boiling water: an inch a minute or so!" "our captain saw the danger instantly, and, brave as trueman is, i never saw a man look paler. "to drive all the passengers below, and pen them in with closed hatches and storm-shutters, (so hot, emmy, that the black-hole of calcutta must have been an ice-house to it: how the foolish people abused our wise skipper, and more than one pompous old indian threatened him with an action for false imprisonment!) this huddling away was the first effort; and simultaneously with it, the crew were all over the rigging, furling sails, hurriedly, hurriedly. "meanwhile (for i was last on deck), that little cloud seemed whirling within itself, and many others gathered round it, all dancing about on the horizon, as if sheaves of mischief tossed about by devils: i don't wish to be poetical, emmy, for my heart is very, very sad; but if ever the powers of the air sow the wind and reap the whirlwind, they were gathering in their harvest at that door. underneath the skipping clouds, which came on quickly, leaping over each other, as when the wain is loaded by a score of hands, i noticed a sea approaching, such as pharaoh must have seen, when the wall of waters fell upon him; and premonitory winds came whistling by, and two or three sails were flapping in them still, and i was hurried down stairs after all the rest of us. "then, on a sudden, it appeared not winds, nor waves, nor thunder, but as if the squadroned cavalry of heaven had charged across the seas, and crushed our battered ship beneath their horse-hoofs! we were flung down flat on our beam ends; and the two or three unfurled sails, bursting with the noise of a cannon, were scattered miles away to lee-ward as if they had been paper. as for the poor fellows in the rigging, the spirit of the storm had already made them his: twenty of our men were swept away by that tornado. "then there was hewing and cleaving on deck, the clatter of many axes and hatchets: for we were in imminent danger of being capsized, keel uppermost, and our only chance was to cut away the masts. "the muscles of courage were tried then, my emmy, and the strength which religion gives a man. i felt sensibly held up by the everlasting arms: i could listen to the still small voice in the midst of a crash which might have been the end of all things: though in darkness, god had given me light; though in uttermost peril, my peace was never calmer in our little village school. "and the billows were knocking at the poor ship's side like sledge hammers; and the lightnings fell around us scorchingly, with forked bolts, as arrows from the hand of a giant; the thunders overhead, close overhead, crashing from a concave cloud that hung about us heavily--a dense, black, suffocating curtain--roared and raved as nothing earthly can, but thunder in the tropics; the rain was as a cataract, literally rushing in a mass: the winds appeared not winds, nor whirlwinds, but legions of emancipated demons shrieking horribly, and flapping their wide wings; a flock of night-birds flying from the dawn; and all else was darkness, confusion, rolling and rocking about, the screams of women, the shouts of men, curses and prayers, agony, despair, and--peace, deep peace. "on a sudden, to our great astonishment, all was silent again, oppressively silent; and, but for the swell upon the seas, all still. the tornado had rushed by: that troop of tartar horse, having sacked the village, are departed, now in full retreat: the blackness and the fury are beheld on our lee, hastening across the broad atlantic to cuba or jamaica: and behold, a tranquil temperate sky, a kindly rolling sea, a favouring breeze, and--not a sail, but some slight jury-rig, to catch it. "many days we drifted like a log upon the wave; provisions running short, and water--water under tropical suns--scantily dealt out in tea-cups. then, poor old mackie's health gave way; and i dreaded for her death: one living witness is worth a cart-load of cold documents. so i nursed and watched her constantly: till the foolish folks on board began to say i was her son: ah! me, for your sake i wish it had been so. "and at length, just as some among the sailors were hinting at a mutiny for spirits, and our last case of gamble's meat was opened for the sick, our look-out on the jury-mast gave the welcome note of 'land!' and soon, to us on deck, the heights of st. helena rose above the sea. towed in by friendly aid, here we are, then, precious emily, refitting: and, as it must be a week yet before we can be ready, i have taken my old woman to a lodging upon land, and rejoice (what have i to do with joy?) to see her speedily recovering." the remainder of charles's long letter is so stupid, so gloomy, so loving, and so little to the purpose, that i take an editor's privilege, and omit it altogether. of course he was coming home again, as soon as the samarang and jeanie mackie would permit. chapter xxv. trials. the general recovered; as slowly, indeed, as emily had, but it is gratifying to add, as surely. and now that loving couple might be seen, weakly creeping out together, when the day was finest: tottering white december leaning on a sickly fragile may. there were no concealments now between them, no reservings, and heart-stricken emily heard from her repentant father's lips the story of her birth: she was, he said, his own daughter by a native princess, the begum dowlia burruckjutli. a bitter--bitter truth was that: the destruction of all her hopes, pleasures, and affections. it had now become to her a sin to love that dearest one of all things lovely on this earth: duty, paramount and stern, commanded her, without a shadow of reprieve, to execute on herself immediately the terrible sentence of banishing her own betrothed: nay, more, she must forget him, erase his precious image from her heart, and never, never see that brother more. and charles must feel the same, and do the like; oh! sorrow, passing words! and their two commingled souls must be violently wrenched apart; for such love in them were crime. dear children of affection--it is a dreadful lesson this for both of you; but most wise, most needful--or the hand that guideth all things, never would have sent it. know ye not for comfort, that ye are of those to whom all things work together for good? know ye not for counsel, that the excess of love is an idolatry that must be blighted? it is well, children, it is well, that ye should thus carry your wounded hearts for balm to the altar of god; it is well that ye should bow in meekness to his will, in readiness to his wisdom. ye are learning the lesson speedily, as docile children should; and be assured of high reward from the teacher who hath set it you. poor charles! white and wan, thy cheek is grown transparent with anxiety, and thy blue eye dim with hope deferred: poor emmy, sick and weak, thou weariest heaven with thy prayers, and waterest thy couch with thy tears. yet, a little while; this discipline is good: storm and wind, frost and rushing rains, are as needful to the forest-tree as sun and gentle shower; the root is strengthening, and its fibres spreading out: and loving still each other with the best of human love, ye justly now have found out how to anchor all your strongest hopes, and deepest thoughts, on him who made you for himself. who knoweth? wisely acquiescing in his will, humbly trusting to his mercy, and bringing the holocaust of your inflamed affections as an offering of duty to your god--who knoweth? cannot he interpose? will he not befriend you? for his arm is power, and his heart is love. days rolled on in dull monotony, and grew to weeks more slowly than before; earthly hopes had been levelled with the dust; life had forgotten to be joyous: there was, indeed, the calm, the peace, the resignation, the heavenly ante-past, and the soul-entrancing prayer; but human life to emily was flat, wearisome, and void; she felt like a nun, immolated as to this world: even as charles, too, had resolved to be an anchorite, a stern, hard, mortified man, who once had feelings and affections. the rëaction in both those fond young hearts had even overstept the golden mean: and mercy interposed to make all right, and to bless them in each other once again. only look at this _billet-doux_ from charles, just come in, and dated plymouth: "huzzah--for emily and england: huzzah for the land of freedom! no secrets now--dear, dear old jeanie mackie has given me proofs positive: all i have to wish is that she could move: but she is very ill; so, as we touched here on the voyage up channel, i landed her and myself, thinking to kiss, within a day, my darling emmy. but i cannot get her out of bed this morning, and dare not leave her: though an hour's delay seems almost insupportable. if i possibly can manage it, i will bring the dear old faithful creature, wrapped in blankets, by chaise to-morrow. tell my father all this: and say to him--he will understand, perhaps, though you may not, my blessed girl--say to him, that 'he is mistaken, and all are mistaken--you are not what they think you.' a thousand kisses. expect, then, on bright to-morrow to see your happy, happy "charles." "p.s. hip! hip! hip!--huzzah!" dearest emily had taken up the note with fears and trembling: she laid it down, as they that reap in joy; and i never in my life saw any thing so beautiful as her eyes at that glad minute; the smile through the tear, the light through the gloom, the verdure of high summer springing through the alpine snows, the mild and lustrous moon emerging from a baffled thunder-cloud. and, although the general mournfully shook his head, distrustfully and despondingly; though he only uttered, "poor children--dear children--would to heaven that it could be so;"--and he, for one, was evidently innoculated, as before, with all the old thoughts of gloom, sadness, and anxiety;--still emily hoped-for charles hoped--and jeanie mackie was so certain. chapter xxvi. julian. next day, a fine summer afternoon, when our feeble convalescents had gone out together, they found the fresh air so invigorating, and themselves so much stronger, that they prolonged their walk half-way to oxton. the pasture-meadows, rich and rank, were alive with flocks and herds; the blue sea lazily beat time, as, ticking out the seconds, it melodiously broke upon the sleeping shore; the darkly-flowing mullet swept sounding to the sea between its tortuous banks; and upon that old high foot-path skirting the stream, now shady with hazels, and now flowery with meadow-sweet, crept our chastened pair. just as they were nearing a short angle in the river, the spot where charles had been preserved, they noticed for the first time a rough-looking fisherman, who, unseen, had tracked their steps some hundred yards; he had a tarpaulin over his shoulder, very unnecessarily, as it would seem, on so fine and warm a day; and a slouching sou'-wester, worn askew, flapped across the strange man's face. he came on quickly, though cautiously, looking right and left; and emily trembled on her guardian's feeble arm. yes--she is right; the fisherman approaches--she detects him through it all: and now he scorns disguise; flinging off his cap and the tarpaulin, stands before them--julian! "so, sir--you tremble now, do you, gallant general: give me the girl." and he levelled at his father one of those double-barrelled pistols, full-cock. "julian, my son, i forgive you, julian; take my hand, boy." "what--coward? now you can cringe, and fawn, eh? back with you!--the girl, i say." for poor emily, wild with fear, was clinging to that weak old man. julian levelled again; indeed, indeed it was only as a threat; but his hand shook with passion--the weapon was full-cock, hair-triggered--shotted heavily as always--hark, hark!--and his father fell upon the turf, covered with blood! when a wicked man tampers with unintended crime, even accident falls out against him. many a one has richly merited death for many other sins, than that isolated, haply accidental one which he has hanged for. julian, horror-stricken, pale and trembling, flew instinctively to help his father: but emily has circled him already with her arms; and listen, julian--your dying father speaks to you. "boy, i forgive--i forgive: but--emily, no, no, cannot, cannot be--julian--she--she is your _sister_!" and the old man swooned away, from loss of blood and the excitement of that awful scene. not a word in reply said that poor sinner, maddened with his life-long crimes, the fratricide in will, the parricide in deed, and all for--a sister. but growing whiter as he stood, a marble man with bristling hair, he slowly drew the other pistol from his pocket, put the muzzle to his mouth, and, firing as he fell, leapt into the darkly-flowing mullet! the current, all too violent to sink in, and uncommissioned now to save, hurried its black burden to the sea; and a crimson streak of gore marked the track of the suicide. the old man was not dead; but a brace of bullets taking effect upon his feeble frame--one through the shoulder, and another which had grazed his head--had been quite enough to make him seem so. forgetful of all but that dear sufferer, and totally ignorant of julian's fate--for she neither saw nor heard any thing, nor feared even for her own imminent peril, while her father lay dying on the grass--emily had torn off her scarf, and bound up, as well as she could, the ghastly scored head and broken shoulder. she succeeded in staunching the blood--for no great vessel had been severed--and so simple an application as grass dipped in water, proved to be a good specific. then, to her exceeding joy, those eyes opened again, and that dear tongue faintly whispered--"bless you." oh, that blessing! for it fell upon her heart: and fervently she knelt down there, and thanked the great preserver. and now, for friendly help; there is no one near: and it is growing dusk; and she dared not leave him there alone one minute--for julian--dreaded julian, may return, and kill him. what shall she do? how to get him home? alas, alas! he may die where he is lying. hark, emmy, hark! the shouts of happy children bursting out of school! see, dearest--see: here they come homewards merrily from oxton. thus, rewarded through the instrumentality of her own benevolence, help was speedily obtained; and mrs. sainsbury's invalid-chair, hurried to the spot by an escort of indignant rustics, soon conveyed the recovering patient to the comforts of his own home, and the appliances of medical assistance. chapter xxvii. charles's return; and mrs. mackie's explanation. and now the happy day was come at length; that day formerly so hoped-for, latterly so feared, but last of all, hailed with the joy that trembles at its own intensity. the very morning after the sad occurrence it has just been my lot to chronicle--while the general was having his wounds dressed, slight ones, happily, but still he was not safe, as inflammation might ensue--while mrs. tracy was indulging in her third tumbler, mixed to whet her appetite for shrimps--and while emily was deciphering, for the forty thousandth time, charles's sanguine _billet-doux_--lo! a dusty chaise and smoking posters, and a sun-burnt young fellow springing out, and just upon the stairs--they were locked in each other's arms! oh, the rapture of that instant! it can but happen once within a life. ye that have loved, remember such a meeting; and ye that never loved, conceive it if you can; for my pen hath little skill to paint so bright a pleasure. it is to be all heart, all pulse, all sympathy, all spirit--but the warm soft kiss, that rarified bloom of the material. how the sick old nurse got out, cased in many blankets; how she was bundled up stairs, and deposited safely on a sofa, no poet is alive to sing: to those who would record the payment of postillions, let me leave so sweet a theme. the first fond greeting over, and those tumults of affection sobered down, charles rejoiced to find how lovingly the general met him; the kind and good old man fell upon his neck, as the father in the parable. many things were then to be made known: and many questions answered, as best might be, about a mother and a brother; but well aware of all things ourselves, let us be satisfied that charles heard in due time all they had to tell him; though neither emily nor the general could explain what had become of julian after that terrible encounter. in their belief, he had fled for very life, thinking he had killed his father. poor wretched man, thought charles--on that same spot, too, where he would have murdered me! and for his mother--why came she not down eagerly and happily, as mothers ever do, to greet her long-lost son? do not ask, charles; do not press the question. think her ill, dying, dead--any thing but--drunken. he ran to her room-door; but it was locked--luckily. now, charles--now speedily to business; happy business that, if i may trust the lover's flushing cheek, and emily's radiant eyes; but a mournful one too, and a fearful, if i turn my glance to that poor old man, wounded in body and stricken in mind--who waits to hear, in more despondency than hope, what he knows to be the bitter truth--the truth that must be told, to the misery of those dear children. faint and weak though she appeared, jeanie mackie's waning life spirited up for the occasion; her dim eye kindled; her feeble frame was straight and strong; energy nerved her as she spoke; this hour is the errand of her being. long she spoke, and loudly, in her broad scotch way; and the general objected many things, but was answered to them all; and there was close cross-questioning, slow-caution, keen examination of documents and letters: catechisms, solecisms, scottisms; reminiscences rubbed up, mistakes corrected; and the grand result of all, emily a stuart, and the general not her father! i am only enabled to give a brief account of that important colloquy. it appears, that when captain tracy's company was quartered to the west of the gwalior, sent thither to guard the begum dowlia against sundry of her disaffected subjects, a certain lieutenant james stuart was one among those welcome brave allies. that our gallant tracy was the beautiful begum's favourite soon became notorious to all; and not less so, that the begum herself was precisely in the same interesting situation as mrs. james stuart. the two ladies, pagan and christian, were, technically speaking, running a race together. well, just as times drew nigh, poor lieutenant stuart was unfortunately killed in an insurrection headed by some fanatics, who disapproved of foreign friends, and perhaps of their princess's situation. his death proved fatal also to that kind and faithful wife of his--a dark italian lady of high family, whose love for james had led her to follow him even into central hindoostan: she died in giving birth to a babe; and jeanie mackie, the lieutenant's own foster-mother, who waited on his wife through all their travels, assisted the poor orphan into this bleak world, and loved it as her own. two days after all this, the begum herself had need of mrs. mackie: for it was prudent to conceal some things, if she could, from certain brahmins, who were to her what john knox had erstwhile been to mary: and jeanie mackie, burdened with her little amy stuart, aided in the birth of a female tracy-begum. so, the nurse tended both babes; and more than once had marvelled at their general resemblance; amy's mother looked out again from those dark eyes; there was not a shade between the children. now, mrs. mackie perceived, in a very little while, how fond both christian and pagan appeared of their own child; and how little notice was taken by any body of the poor scotch gentleman's orphan. accordingly, with a view to give her favourite all worldly advantages, she adroitly changed the children; and, while she was still kind and motherly to the little tracy-begum, she had the satisfaction to see her pet supposititiously brought up in all the splendours of an eastern court. years wore away, for captain tracy was quite happy, the begum being a fine showy woman, and the pretty child his playmate and pastime: so he never cared to stir from his rich quarters, till the company's orders forced him: and then puttymuddyfudgepoor hailed him accumulatively both major and colonel. when he found that he must go, he insisted on carrying off the child; and the begum was as resolute against it. then mrs. mackie, eager to expedite little stuart in her escape, went to the princess, told her how that, in anticipation of this day, she had changed the children, and got great rewards for thus restoring to the mother her own offspring. the remainder of that old scotch nurse's very prosy tale may be left to be imagined: for all that was essential has been stated: and the documents in proof of all were these-- first: the marriage certificates of james stuart and ami di romagna, duly attested, both in the protestant and romanist forms. secondly: divers letters to lieutenant stewart from his friends at glenmuir; others to mrs. stuart, from her father, the old marquis di romagna, at naples: several trinkets, locks of hair, the wedding-ring, &c. thirdly: a grant written in the hindoostanee character, from the begum dowlia, promising the pension of thirty rupees a month to jeanie mackie, for having so cleverly preserved to her the child: together with a regular judicial acknowledgement, both from several of tracy's own sepoys, and from the begum herself, that the girl, whom captain tracy was so fond of, was, to the best of their belief, amy stuart. fourthly: a miniature of mrs. james stuart, exactly portraying the features of her daughter--this bright, beautiful, dark-eyed face--our own beloved emily warren. and to all that accumulated evidence, jeanie mackie bore her living testimony; clearly, unhesitatingly, and well assured, in the face of god and man. doubt was at an end; fear was at an end; hope was come, and joy. happy were the lovers, happy jeanie mackie, but happiest of all appeared the general himself. for now she might be his daughter indeed, sweet emmy tracy still, dear charles's loving wife. and he blessed them as they knelt, and gave them to each other; well-rewarded children of affection, who had prayed in their distress! chapter xxviii. julian turns up: and there's an end of mrs. tracy. there is a muddy sort of sand-bank, acting as a delta to the mullet, just where it spreads from deep to shallow, and falls into the sea. strange wild fowl abound there, coming from the upper clouds in flocks; and at high water, very little else but rushes can be seen, to testify its sub-marine existence. a knot of fishermen, idling on the beach, have noticed an uncommon flight of royston crows gathered at the island, with the object, as it would appear, of battening on a dead porpoise, or some such body, just discernible among the rushes. stop--that black heap may be kegs of whiskey;--where's the glass? every one looked: it warn't barrels--and it warn't a porpoise: what was it, then? they had universally nothing on earth to do, so they pushed off in company to see. i watched the party off, and they poked among the rushes, and heaved out what seemed to me a seal: so i ran down to the beach to look at the strange creature they had captured. something wrapped in a sail; no doubt for exhibition at per head. but they brought out that black burden solemnly, laying it on the beach at burleigh: a crowd quickly collected round them, that i could not see the creature: and some ran for a magistrate, and some for a parson. then men in office came--made a way through the crowd, and i got near: so near, that my foolish curiosity lifted up the sail, and i beheld--what had been julian. o, sickening sight: for all which the pistol had spared of that swart and hairy face, had been preyed upon by birds and fishes! there was a hurried inquest: the poor general and emily deposed to what they knew, and the rustics, who escorted him from oxton. the verdict could be only one--self-murder. so, by night, on that same swampy island, when the tide was low, they buried him, deeply staked into the soil, lest the waves should disinter him, without a parting prayer. such is the end of the wicked. in a day or two, i noticed that a rude wooden cross had been set over the spot: and it gratified me much to hear that a rough-looking crew of smugglers had boldly come and fixed it there, to hallow, if they could, a comrade's grave. however, these poor fellows had been cheated hours before: charles's brotherly care had secured the poor remains, and the vicar winked a blind permission: so charles buried them by night in the church-yard corner, under the yew, reading many prayers above them. two fierce-looking strange men went to that burial with reverent looks, as it were chief mourners; and when all the rites were done, i heard them gruffly say to charles, "god bless you, sir, for this!" when the mother heard those tidings of her son, she was sobered on the instant, and ran about the house with all a mother's grief, shrieking like a mad woman. but all her shrieks and tears could not bring back poor julian; deep, deep in the silent grave, she cannot wake him--cannot kiss him now. ah well! ah well! then did she return to his dear room, desperate for him--and hollands once, twice, thrice, she poured out a full tumbler of the burning fluid, and drank it off like water; and it maddened her brain: her mind was in a phrensy of delirium, while her body shook as with a palsy. let us draw the curtain; for she died that night. they buried her in aunt green's grave: what a meeting theirs will be at the day of resurrection! chapter xxix. the old scotch nurse goes home. six months at least--this is clearly not a story of the unities--six months' interval must now elapse before the wedding-day. charles and emmy--for he called her emmy still, though jeanie mackie would persist in mouthing it to "aamy,"--wished to have it delayed a year, in respect for the memory of those who, with all their crime and folly, were not the less a mother and a brother: but the general would not hear of such a thing; he was growing very old, he said; although actually he seemed to have taken out a new lease of life, so young again and buoyant was the new-found heart within him; and thus growing old, he was full of fatherly fear that he should not live to see his children's happiness. it was only reasonable and proper that our pair of cooing doves should acquiesce in his desire. meanwhile, i am truly sorry to say it, jeanie mackie died; for it would have been a good novel-like incident to have suffered the faithful old creature to have witnessed her favourite's wedding, and then to have been forthwith killed out of the way, by--perishing in the vestry. however, things were ordered otherwise, and jeanie mackie did not live to see the wedding: if you wish to know how and where she died, let me tell you at once. scotland--argyleshire--glenmuir; this was the focus of her hopes and thoughts--that poor old indian exile! she had left it, as a buxom bright-haired lassie: but oaks had now grown old that she had planted acorns; and grandmothers had died palsied, whom she remembered born; still, around the mountains and the lakes, those changeless features of her girlhood's rugged home, the old woman's memory wandered; they were pictured in her mind's eye hard, and clear, and definite as if she looked upon them now. and her soul's deep hope was to see them once again. there was yet another object which made her yearn for scotland. lieutenant stuart had been the younger of two brothers, the eldest born of whom became, upon his father's, the old laird's, death, glenmuir and glenmurdock. now, though twice married, this elder brother, the new laird, never had a child; and the clear consequence was, that amy stuart was likely to become sole heiress of her ancestor's possessions. the lieutenant's marriage with an italian and a romanist had been, doubtless, any thing but pleasant to his friends; the strict old presbyterians, and the proud unsullied family of stuart, could not palate it at all. nevertheless, he did marry the girl, according to the rites of both churches, and there was an end of it; so, innumerable proverbs coming to their aid about "curing and enduring" and "must be's," and the place where "marriages are made," &c., the several aunts and cousins were persuaded at length to wink at the iniquity, and to correspond both with mrs. james and her backsliding lieutenant. of the offspring of that marriage, and her orphaned state, and of mrs. mackie's care, and the indefinite detention in central hindostan, they had heard often-times; for, as there is no corner of the world where a scot may not be met with, so, with laudable nationality, they all hang together; and glenmuir was written to frequently, all about the child, through jeanie mackie, "her mark," and a scholarly sergeant, duncan blair. amy's rights--or emmy let us call her still, as charles did--were now, therefore, the next object of mrs. mackie's zeal; and all parties interested willingly listened to the plan of spending one or two of those weary weeks in rubbing up relationships in scotland; the general also was not a little anxious about heritage and acres. accordingly, off they set in the new travelling-carriage, with due notice of approach, heartily welcomed, to dunstowr castle, the fine old feudal stronghold of robert stuart, laird of glenmuir and glenmurdock. the journey, the arrival, and the hearty hospitality; and how the gray old chieftain kissed his pretty niece; and how welcome her betrothed charles and her kind life-long guardian, and her faithful nurse were made; and how the beacons blazed upon the hill-tops, and the mustering clan gathered round about old dunstowr; and how the laird presented to them all their beautiful future mistress, and how jeanie mackie and her documents travelled up to edinburgh, where writers to the signet pestered her heart-sick with over-caution; and how the case was all cleared up, and the distant disappointed cousin, who had irrationally hoped to be the heir, was gladdened, if not satisfied, with a pension and a cantle of glenmuir; and how all was joyfulness and feasting, when amy stuart was acknowledged in her rights--the bagpipes and the wassail, salmon, and deer, and black-cock, with a river of mountain dew: let others tell who know dunstowr; for as i never was there, of course i cannot faithfully describe it. should such an historian as i condescend to sheer inventions? with respect to jeanie mackie, i could learn no more than this: she was sprightly and lively, and strong as ever, though in her ninetieth year, till her foster-child was righted, and the lawyers had allowed her her claim. but then there seemed nothing else to live for; so her life gradually faded from her eye, as an expiring candle; and she would doze by the hour, sitting on a settle in the sun, basking her old heart in the smile of those old mountains. none knew when she died, to a minute; for she died sitting in the sun, in the smile of those old mountains. they buried her, with much of rustic pomp, in the hill-church of glenmuir, where all her fathers slept around her; and emily and charles, hand-in-hand, walked behind her coffin mournfully. chapter xxx. final. gladly would the laird have had marriage at dunstower, and have given away the beauteous bride himself: but there must still be two months more of decent mourning, and the general had long learned to sigh for the maligned delights of burleigh singleton. so, glenmuir could only get a promise of reappearance some fine summer or other: and, after another day's deer-stalking, which made the general repudiate telescopes from that day forth (the poor man's eyes had actually grown lobster-like with straining after antlers)--the travelling-carriage, and four lean kine from inverary, whisked away the trio towards the south. and now, in due time, were the tamworths full of joy--congratulating, sympathizing, merrymaking; and the three young ladies behaved admirably in the capacity of pink and silver bridesmaids; while george proved equally kind in attending (as he called it) charles's "execution," wherein he was "turned off;" and the admiral, g.c.b. was so hand-in-glove with the general, h.e.i.c.s., that i have reason to believe they must have sworn eternal friendship, after the manner of the modern germans. how beautiful our emmy looked--i hate the broad scotch aamy--how bright her flashing eyes, and how fragrantly the orange-blossoms clustered in her rich brown hair; let him speak lengthily, whose province it may be to spin three volumes out of one: for me, i always wish to recollect that readers possess, on the average, at least as much imagination as writers. and why should you not exercise it now? is not emmy in her bridal-dress a theme well worth a revery? for a similar reason, i must clearly disappoint feminine expectation, by forbearing to descant upon charles's slight but manly form, and his grecian beauty, &c., all the better for the tropics, and the trials and the troubles he had passed. when captain forbes, just sitting down to his soup in the jamaica coffee-house, read in the _morning post_, the marriage of charles tracy with amy stuart, he delivered himself mentally as follows: "there now! poets talk of 'love,' and i stick to 'human nature.' when that fine young fellow sailed with me, hardly a year ago, in the sir william elphinston, he was over head and heels in love with old jack tracy's pretty girl, emily warren: but i knew it wouldn't last long: i don't believe in constancy for longer than a week. it does one's heart good to see how right one is; here's what i call proof. my sentimental spark kisses emily warren, and marries amy stuart." the captain, happier than before, called complacently for cayenne pepper, and relished his mock-turtle with a higher gusto. it is worth recording, that the same change of name mystified slanderous friends in the presidency of madras. and now, kind-eyed reader, this story of '_the twins_' must leave off abruptly at the wedding. as in its companion-tale, '_the crock of gold_,' one grand thesis for our thoughts was that holy wise command, "thou shall not covet," and as its other comrade '_heart_' is founded on "thou shalt not bear false witness," so in this, the seed-corn of the crop, were five pure words, "thou shalt not commit adultery." other morals doubtless grew up round us, for all virtue hangs together in a bunch: the harms of secresy, false witness, inordinate affections, and red murder: but in chief, as we have said. moreover, i wish distinctly to make known, for dear "domestic" sake, that so far from our lovers' happiness having been consummated (that is, finished) in the honey-moon--it was only then begun. how long they are to live thus happily together, heaven, who wills all things good, alone can tell; i wish them three score years. little ones, i hear, arrive annually--to the unqualified joy, not merely of papa and mamma, but also of our communicative old general, his friend the g.c.b., and (all but most of any) the laird of glenmuir and glenmurdock, whose heart has been entirely rejoiced by charles tracy having added to his name, and to his children's names, that of stuart. mr. and mrs. tracy stuart are often at glenmuir; but oftener at burleigh, where the general, i fancy, still resides. he protests that he never will keep a secret again: long may he live to say so! end of the twins. * * * * * heart; a social novel. by martin farquhar tupper, a.m., f.r.s. author of proverbial philosophy. * * * * * contents chap. page. . wherein two anxious parents hold a colloquy . how the daughter has a heart; and, what is commoner, a lover . paternal amiabilities . excusatory . wherein a well-meaning mother acts very foolishly . pleasant brother john . providence sees fit to help villany . the rogue's triumph . false-witness kills a mother, and would willingly starve a sister . how to help one's self . fraud cuts his fingers with his own edged tools . heart's-core . hope's birth to innocence, and hope's death to fraud . probable reconciliation . the father finds his heart for ever . a word about originality, and mourning . the house of feasting . the end of the heartless . wherein matters are concluded chapter i. wherein two anxious parents hold a colloquy. "is he rich, ma'am? is he rich? ey? what--what? is he rich?" sir thomas was a rapid little man, and quite an epicure in the use of that luscious monosyllable. "is he rich, lady dillaway? ey? what?" "really, thomas, you never give me time to answer," replied the quintescence of quietude, her ladyship; "and then it is perpetually the same question, and--" "well, ma'am, can there be a more important question asked? i repeat it, is he rich? ey? what? "you know, sir thomas, we never are agreed about the meaning of that word; but i should say, very." as lady dillaway always spoke quite softly in a whisper, she had failed to enlighten the knight; but he seemed, notwithstanding, to have caught her intention instinctively; for he added, in his impetuous, imperious way, "no nonsense now, about talents and virtues, and all such trash; but quick, ma'am, quick--is the man rich?" "in talents, as you mention the word, certainly, very rich; a more clever or accomplished--" "cut it short, ma'am--cut it short, i say--i'll have no adventurers, who live by their wits, making up to my daughter--pedantic puppies, good for ushers, nothing else. what do they mean by knowing so much? ey? what?" "and then, sir thomas, if you will only let me speak, a man of purer morals, finer feelings, higher christian--" "bah! well enough for curates: go on, ma'am--go on, and make haste to the point of all points--is he rich?" "you know i never will make haste, thomas, for i never can have patience, and you shall hear; i am little in the habit of judging people entirely by their purses, not even a son-in-law, provided there is a sufficiency on the one side or the other for--" "quick, mum--quick--rich--rich? will the woman drive me mad?" and sir thomas dillaway, knight, rattled loose cash in both pockets more vindictively than ever. but the spouse, nothing hurried, still crept on in her _sotto voce adantino_ style, "mr. clements owes nothing, has something, and above and beside all his good heart, good mind, good fame, good looks, good family, possesses a contented--" "pish! contented, bah!" our hasty knight's nose actually curled upwards in utter scorn as he added, "now, that's enough--quite enough. i'll bet a plum the man's poor. contented indeed! did you ever know a rich man yet who was contented--ey? mum--ey? or a poor one that wasn't--ey? what? i've no patience with those contented fellows: it's my belief they steal away the happiness of monied men. if this mr. clements was rich--rich, one wouldn't mind so much about talents, virtues, and contentment--work-house blessings; but the man's poor, i know it--poo-o-or!" sir thomas had a method quite his own of pronouncing those contradictory monosyllables, rich and poor: the former he gave out with an unctuous, fish-saucy gusto, and the word seemed to linger on his palate as a delicious morsel in the progress of delightful deglutition; but when he uttered the word poor, it was with that "mewling and puking" miserable face, appropriated from time immemorial to the gulping of a black draught. "no, lady dillaway, right about's the next word i shall say to that smooth-looking pauper, mr. henry clements--to think of his impudence, making up to my daughter, indeed! a poo-o-o-r man, too." "i did not tell you he was poor, sir thomas: you have run away with that idea on your own account: the young man has enough for the present, owes nothing for the past, and reasonable expectations for the-- "future, i suppose, ey? what? i hate futures, all the lot of 'em: cash down, ready money, bird in the hand, that's my ticket, mum: expectations, indeed! well, go on--go on; i'm as patient as a--as a mule, you see; go on, will you; i may as well hear it all out, lady dillaway." "well, sir thomas, since you think so little of the future, i will not insist on expectations; though i really can only excuse your methods of judging by the fancy that you are far too prudent in fearing for the future: however, if you will not admit this, let me take you on your own ground, the present; perhaps mr. clements may not possess quite as much as i could wish him, but then surely, dear thomas, our daughter must have more than--" i object to seeing oaths in print; unless it must be once in a way, as a needful point of character: probably the reader's sagacity will supply many omissions of mine in the eloquence of sir thomas dillaway and others. but his calm spouse, nothing daunted, quietly whispered on--"you know, thomas, you have boasted to me that your capital is doubling every year; penny-postage has made the stationery business most prosperous; and if you were wealthy when the old king knighted you as lord mayor, surely you can spare something handsome now for an only daughter, who--" "ma'am!" almost barked the affectionate father, "if maria marries money, she shall have money, and plenty of it, good girl; but if she will persist in wedding a beggar, she may starve, mum, starve, and all her poverty-stricken brats too, for any pickings they shall get out of my pocket. ey? what? you pretend to read your bible, mum--don't you know we're commanded to 'give to him that hath, and to take away from him that--'" "for shame, sir thomas dillaway!" interrupted the wife, as well she might, for all her quietude: she was a good sort of woman, and her better nature aroused its wrath at this vicious application of a truth so just when applied to morals and graces, so bitterly iniquitous in the case of this world's wealth. i wish that our ex-lord mayor's distorted text may not be one of real and common usage. so, silencing her lord, whose character it was to be overbearing to the meek, but cringing to any thing like rebuke or opposition, she forthwith pushed her advantages, adding-- "your income is now four thousand a-year, as you have told me, thomas, every hour of every day, since your last lucky hit in the government contract for blue-elephants and whitey-browns. we have only john and maria; and john gets enough out of his own stock-brokering business to keep his curricle and belong to clubs--and--alas! my fears are many for my poor dear boy--i often wish, thomas, that our john was not so well supplied with money: whereas, poor maria--" "tush, ma'am, you're a fool, and have no respect at all for monied men. jack's a rich man, mum--knows a trick or two, sticks at nothing on 'change, shrewd fellow, and therefore, of course i don't stint him: ha! he's a regular witney comforter, that boy--makes money--ay, for all his seeming extravagance, the clever little rogue knows how to keep it, too. if you only knew, ma'am, if you only knew--but we don't blab to fools." i dare say "fools" will hear the wise man's secret some day. "well, thomas, i am sure i have no wish to pry into business transactions; all my present hope is to help the cause of our poor dear maria." "don't call the girl 'poor,' lady dillaway; it's no recommendation, i can tell you, though it may be true enough. girls are a bad spec, unless they marry money. if our girl does this, well; she will indeed be to me a dear maria, though not a poo-o-o-r one; if she doesn't, let her bide, and be an old maid; for as to marrying this fellow clement's, i'll cut him adrift to-morrow." "if you do, sir thomas, you will break our dear child's heart." "heart, ma'am! what business has my daughter with a heart?" [what, indeed?] "i hate hearts; they were sent, i believe, purposely to make those who are plagued with 'em poo-o-o-r. heart, indeed! when did heart ever gain money? ey? what? it'll give, o yes, plenty--plenty, to charities, and churches, and orphans, and beggars, and any thing else, by way of getting rid of gold; but as to gaining--bah! heart indeed--pauperizing bit of muscle! save me from wearing under my waistcoat what you're pleased to call a heart. no, mum, no; if the girl has got a heart to break, i've done with her. heart indeed! she either marries money and my blessing, or marries beggary and my curse. but i should like to know who wants her to marry at all? let her die an old maid." probably this dialogue need go no farther: in the coming chapter we will try to be didactic. meantime, to apostrophize ten words upon that last heartless sentence: "let her die an old maid." an old maid! how many unrecorded sorrows, how much of cruel disappointment and heart-cankering delay, how often-times unwritten tragedies are hidden in that thoughtless little phrase! o, the mass of blighted hopes, of slighted affections, of cold neglect, and foolish contumely, wrapped up in those three syllables! kind heart, kind heart, never use them; neither lightly as in scorn, nor sadly as in pity: spare that ungenerous reproach. what! canst thou think that from a feminine breast the lover, the wife, the mother, can be utterly sponged away without long years of bitterness? can nature's wounds be cicatrized, or her soft feelings seared, without a thousand secret pangs? hath it been no trial to see youthful bloom departing, and middle age creep on, without some intimate one to share the solitude of life? ay, and the coming prospect too--hath it greater consolations than the retrospect? how faintly common friends can fill that hollow of the heart! how feebly can their kindness, at the warmest, imitate the sympathies and love of married life! and in the days of sickness, or the hour of death--to be lonely, childless, husbandless, to be lightly cared for, little missed--who can wonder that all those bruised and broken yearnings should ferment within the solitary mind, and some, times sour up the milk of human kindness? be more considerate, more just, more loving to that injured heart of woman; it hath loved deeply in its day; but imperative duty or untoward circumstances nipped those early blossoms, and often generosity towards others, or the constancy of youthful blighted love, has made it thus alone. there was an age in this world's history, and may be yet again (if heart is ever to be monarch of this social sphere), when those who lived and died as jephthah's daughter, were reckoned worthily with saints and martyrs; heed thou, thus, of many such, for they have offered up their hundred warm yearnings, a hecatomb of human love, to god, the betrothed of their affections; and they move up and down among this inconsiderate world, doing good, sisters of charity, full of pure benevolence, and beneficent beyond the widow's mite. heed kinder then, and blush for very shame, o man and woman! looking on this noble band of ill-requited virgins; remember all their trials, and imitate their deeds; for among the legion of that unreguarded sisterhood whom you coldly call old maids, are often seen the world's chief almoners of warm unselfish sympathy, generous in mind, if not in means, and blooming with the immortal youth of charity and kindliness. chapter ii. how the daughter has a heart; and, what is commoner, a lover. yes, maria dillaway, though sir thomas's own daughter, had a heart, a warm and good one: it was her only beauty, but assuredly at once the best adornment and cosmetic in the world. the mixture of two such conflicting characters as her father and mother might (with common providence to bless the pair) unitedly produce heart; although their plebeian countenances could hardly be expected without a direct miracle to generate beauty. maria inherited from her father at once his impetuosity and his little button-nose: although the latter was neither purple nor pimply, and the former was more generous and better directed: from her mother she derived what looked to any one at first sight very like red hair, along with great natural sweetness of disposition: albeit her locks had less of fire, and her sweetness more of it: sympathy was added to gentleness, zeal to patience, and universal tenderness to a general peace with all the world; for that extreme quietude, almost apathy, alluded to before, having been superseded by paternal impetuosity, the result of all was heart. she doated on her mother; and (how she contrived this, it is not quite so easy to comprehend) she found a great deal loveable even in her father. but in fact she loved every body. charity was the natural atmosphere of her kind and feeling soul--always excusing, assisting, comforting, blessing; charity lent music to her tongue, and added beauty to her eyes--charity gave grace to an otherwise ordinary figure, and lit her freckled cheek with the spirit of loveliness. let us be just--nay, more: let us be partial, to the good looks of poor dear maria. notwithstanding the snub nose (it is not snub; who says it is snub?--it is _mignon_, personified good nature)--notwithstanding the carroty hair (i declare, it was nothing but a fine pale auburn after all)--notwithstanding the peppered face (oh, how sweetly rayed with smiles!) and the common figure (gentle, unobtrusive, full of delicate attentions)--yes, notwithstanding all these unheroinals, no one who had a heart himself could look upon maria without pleasure and approval. she was the very incarnation of cheerfulness, kindness, and love: you forgot the greenish colour of those eyes which looked so tenderly at you, and so often-times were dimmed with tears of unaffected pity; her smile, at any rate, was most enchanting, the very sunshine of an amiable mind; her lips dropped blessings; her brow was an open plain of frankness and candour; sincerity, warmth, disinterested sweet affections threw such a lustre of loveliness over her form, as well might fascinate the mind alive to spiritual beauty: and altogether, in spite of natural defects and disadvantages--_nez retroussé_, cleopatra locks, and all--no one but those constituted like her materialized father and his kind, ever looked upon maria without unconsciously admiring her, he scarcely knew for what. though there appeared little to praise, there certainly was every thing to please; and faulty as in all pictorial probability was each lineament of face and line of form, taken separately and by detail, the veil of universal charity softened and united them into one harmonious whole, making of maria dillaway a most pleasant, comfortable, wife-like little personage. at least, so thought henry clements. neither was it any sudden fortnight's fancy, but the calm consideration of two full years. maria's was a character which grew upon your admiration gradually--a character to like at first just a little; then to be led onwards imperceptibly from liking to loving; and thence from fervid summer probably to fever heat. she dawned upon young henry like the blush of earliest morn, still shining brighter and fairer till glorious day was come. he had casually made her acquaintance in the common social circle, and even on first introduction had been much pleased, not to say captivated, with her cordial address, frank unsophisticated manners, and winsome looks; he contrasted her to much advantage with the affected coquette, the cold formal prude, the flippant woman of fashion, the empty heads and hollow hearts wherewithal society is peopled. he had long been wearied out with shallow courtesies, frigid compliments, and other conventional hypocrisies, up and down the world; and wanted something better to love than mere surface beauty, mere elegant accomplishment--in a word, he yearned for heart, and found the object of his longings in affectionate maria. this first casual acquaintance he had of course taken every opportunity to improve as best he might, and happily found himself more and more charmed on every fresh occasion. how heartily glad she was to see him! how unaffectedly sincere in her amiable joy! how like a kind sister, a sympathizing friend, a very true-love--a dear, cheerful, warm-hearted girl, who would make the very model for a wife! it is little wonder that, with all external drawbacks, now well-nigh forgotten, the handsome henry clements found her so attractive; nor that, following diligently his points of advantage, he progressed from acquaintanceship to intimacy, and intimacy to avowed admiration; and thence (between ourselves) to the resolute measure of engagement. i say between ourselves, because nobody else in the world knew it but the billing pair of lovers; and even they have got the start of us only by a few hours. as for henry clements, he was a free man in all senses, with nobody to bias his will or control his affections--an orphan, unclogged by so much as an uncle or aunt to take him to task on the score of his attachment, or to plague him with impertinent advice. his father, captain clements of the seventieth, had fallen "gloriously" on the bloody field of waterloo, and the pensioned widow had survived her gallant hero barely nine winters; leaving little henry thrown upon the wide world at ten years of age, under the nominal guardianship of some very distant ulster cousin of her own, a mackintosh, mackenzie, or macfarlane--it is not yet material which; and as for the lad's little property, his poor patrimony of two hundred a-year had hitherto amply sufficed for harrow and for cambridge (where he had distinguished himself highly), for his chambers in the temple, and his quiet bachelor-mode of life as a man of six-and-twenty. accordingly, our lover took counsel of nobody but maria's beaming eyes, when he almost unconsciously determined to lay siege to her: he really could not make up his mind to the preliminary formal process of storming sir thomas in his counting-house, at the least until he had made sure that maria's kind looks were any thing more particular than universal charity; and as to lady dillaway, it was impossible to broach so delicate a business to her till the daughter had looked favourably as aforesaid, set aside her ladyship's formidable state of quiescence, and apparent (though only apparent) lack of sympathy. so the lover still went on sunning his soul from time to time in maria's kindly smiles, until one day, that is, yesterday, they mutually found out by some happy accident how very dear they were to each other; and mutually vowed ever to continue so. it was quite a surprise this, even to both of them--an extemporary unrehearsed outburst of the heart; and maria discovered herself pledged before she had made direct application to mamma about the business. however, once done, she hastened to confide the secret to her mother's ear, earnestly requesting her to break it to papa. with how little of success, we have learnt already. chapter iii. paternal amiabilities. maria, as we know, loved her father, for she loved every thing that breathes; but she would not have been human had she not also feared him. in fact, he was to her a very formidable personage, and one would have thought any thing but an amiable one. over maria's gentle kindness he could domineer as loftily as he would cringe in cowardly humiliation to the boisterous effrontery of that unscrupulous and wily stock-jobber, "my son jack." with the tyranny proper to a little mind, he would trample on the neck of a poor meek daughter's filial duty, desiring to honour its parent by submission; and then, with consistent meanness, would lick the dust like a slave before an undutiful only son, who had amply redeemed all possible criminalities by successful (i did not say honest) gambling in the funds, and otherwise. yes! john dillaway was rich; and, climax to his praise, rich by his own keen skill, independent of his father, though he condescended still to bleed him. in this "money century," as kohl, the graphic traveller, has called it, riches "cover the multitude of sins;" leaving poor maria's charity to cover its own naked virtues, if it can. so john was the father's darling, notwithstanding the very heartless and unbecoming conduct he had exhibited daily for these thirty years, and the marked scorn wherewithal he treated that pudgy city knight, his dear progenitor; but then, let us repeat it as sir thomas did--jack was rich--rich, and such a comfort to his father; whereas maria, poor fool, with all her cheap unmarketable love and duty, never had earned a penny--never could, but was born to be a drain upon him. therefore did he scorn her, and put aside her kindnesses, because she could not "make money." for what end on earth should a man make money! it is reasonable to reply, for the happiness' sake of others and himself; but, in the frequent case of a rich and cold sir thomas, what can be the object in such? not to purchase happiness therewith himself, nor yet to distribute it to others; a very dog in the manger, he snarls above the hay he cannot eat, and is full of any thoughts rather than of giving: whilst, as for his own pleasure, he manifestly will not stop a minute to enjoy a taste of happiness, even if he finds it in his home; nay, more, if it meets him by the way, and wishes to cling about his heart, he will be found often to fling it off with scorn, as a reaper would the wild sweet corn-flower in some handful of wheat he is cutting. o, sir thomas! is not poor maria's love worth more than all your rich rude jack's sudden flush of money? is it not a deeper, higher, purer, wiser, more abundant source of pleasure? you have yet to learn the wealth of her affections, and his poverty of soul. it was not without heart-sickness, believe me, sore days and weeping nights, that affectionate maria saw her father growing more and more estranged from her. true, he had never met her love so warmly that it was not somewhat checked and chilled; true, his nature had reversed the law of reason, by having systematically treated her with less and less of kindness ever since the nursery; she did seem able to remember something like affection in him while she was a prattling infant; but as the mental daylight dawned apace, and she grew (one would fancy) worthier of a rational creature's love, it strangely had diminished year by year; moreover, she could scarcely look back upon one solitary occasion, whereon her father's voice had instructed her in knowledge, spoken to her in sympathy, or guided her footsteps to religion. still, habituated as she long had now become to this daily martyrdom of heart, and sorely bruised by coarse and common worldliness as had been every fibre of her feelings, she could not help perceiving that things got worse and worse, as the knight grew richer and richer; and often-times her eyes ran over bitterly for coldness and neglect. there was, indeed, her mother to fly to; but she never had been otherwise than a very quiet creature, who made but little show of what feeling she possessed; and then the daughter's loving heart was affectionately jealous of her father too. "why should he be so cold, with all his impetuosity? so formal, in spite of his rapidity? so little generous of spirit, notwithstanding all his wonderful prosperity?" ah, maria, if you had not been quite so unsophisticated, you would have left out the latter "notwithstanding." nothing hardens the heart, dear child, like prosperity; and nothing dries up the affections more effectually than this hot pursuit of wealth. the deeper a man digs into the gold mine, the less able--ay, less willing--is he to breathe the sweet air of upper earth, or to bask in the daylight of heaven: downward, downward still, he casts the anchor of his grovelling affections, and neither can nor will have a heart for any thing but gold. moreover, have you wondered, dear maria, at the common fact (one sees it in every street, in every village), that parental love is oftenest at its zenith in the nursery, and then falls lower and lower on the firmament of human life, as the child gets older and older? look at all dumb brutes, the lower animals of this our earth; is it not thus by nature's law with them? the lioness will perish to preserve that very whelp, whom she will rend a year or two hence, meeting the young lion in the forest; the hen, so careful of her callow brood, will peck at them, and buffet them away, directly they are fully fledged; the cow forgets how much she once loved yonder well-grown heifer; and the terrier-bitch fights for a bit of gristle with her own two-year-old, whom she used to nurse so tenderly, and famished her own bowels to feed. and can you expect that men, who make as little use as possible of heart, that unlucrative commodity--who only exercise reason for shrewd purposes of gain, not wise purposes of good, and who might as well belong to cunningham's "city of o," for any souls they seem to carry about with them--can you expect that such unaffectioned, unintelligent, unspiritualized animals, can rise far above the brute in feeling for their offspring? no, maria; the nursery plaything grows into the exiled school-boy; and the poor child, weaned from all he ought to love, soon comes to be regarded in the light of an expensive youth; he is kept at arm's length, unblest, uncaressed, unloved, unknown; then he grows up apace, and tops his father's inches; he is a man now, and may well be turned adrift; if he can manage to make money, they are friends; but if he can only contrive to spend it, enemies. then the complacent father moans about ingratitude, for he did his duty by the boy in sending him to school. o, faults and follies of the by-gone times, which lingered even to a generation now speedily passing away!--ye are waning with it, and a better dawn has broken on the world. happily for man, the multiplication of his kind, and pervading competition in all manner, of things mercantile, are breaking down monopolies, and hindering unjust accumulation, with its necessary love of gain. "satisfied with little" is young england's cry; a better motto than the "craving after much" of their fathers. no longer immersed, single-handed, in a worldly business, which seven competitors now relieve him of; no longer engrossed with the mint of gold gains, which a dozen honest rivals now are sharing with him eagerly, the parent has leisure to instruct his children's minds, to take an interest in their pursuits, and to cultivate their best affections. home is no longer the place perpetually to be driven from; the voices of paternal duty and domestic love are thrillingly raised to lead the tuneful chorus of society; and fathers, as well as mothers, are beginning to desire that their children may be able to remember them hereafter as the ever-sympathizing friend, the wisely indulgent teacher, the guide of their religion, and the guardian of their love; quite as much as the payer of their bills and the filler of their purses. the misfortune of a past and passing generation has been, too much money in too few hands; its faults, neglect of duty; its folly, to expect therefrom the too-high meed of well-earned gratitude; and from this triple root has grown up social selfishness, a general lack of heart. no parent ever yet, since the world was, did his duty properly, as god intended him to do it, by the affections of the mind and the yearnings of the heart, as well as by the welfare of the body with its means, and lived to complain of an ungrateful child. he may think he did his duty; oh yes, good easy man! and say so too, very, very bitterly; and the world may echo his most partial verdict, crying shame on the unnatural goneril and regan, bad daughters who despise the lear in old age, or on the dissolute and graceless youth, whose education cost so much, and yields so very little. but money cannot compensate that maiden or that youth for early and habitual injustice done to their budding minds, their sensitive hearts, their craving souls, in higher, deeper, holier things than even cash could buy. "home affections"--this was the magic phrase inscribed upon the talisman they stole from that graceless youth; and the loss of home affections is scantily counterbalanced at the best by a critical acquaintance with '_dawes's canons_,' and '_bos on ellipses_,' in his ardent spring of life, and by a little more of the paternal earnings which the legacy-office gives him in his manhood. but let us not condemn generations past and passing, and wink at our own-time sins; we have many motes yet in our eyes, not to call them very beams. the infant school, the factory, the union, and other wholesale centralizations, ruin the affections of our poor. o, for the spinning-wheel again within the homely cottage, and those difficult spellings by the grand-dame's knee! there is wisdom and stability in a land thick-set with such early local anchorages; but the other is all false, republican, and unaffectioned. so, too, the luxurious city club has cheated many a young pair of their just domestic happiness, for the husband grew dissatisfied with home and all its poor humilities; whilst a bad political philosophy, discouraging marriage and denouncing offspring, has insidiously crept into the very core of private families, setting children against parents and parents against children, because a cold expediency winks at the decay of morals, and all united social influences strike at the sacrifice of heart. we are forgetting you, poor affectionate maria, and yet will it comfort your charity to listen. for the time is coming--yea, now is--when a more generous, though poorer age will condemn the mammon phrensy of that which has preceded it. boldly do we push our standards in advance, pressing on the flying foe, certain that a gallant band will follow. fearlessly, here and there, is heard the voice of some solitary zealot, some isolated missionary for love, and truth, and philanthropic good, some dauntless apostle in the cause of heart, denouncing selfish wealth as the canker of society: and, hark! that voice is not alone; there is a murmur on the breeze as the sound of many waters; it comes, it comes! and the young have caught it up; and manhood hears the thrilling strain that sinks into his soul; and old age, feebly listening, wonders (never too late) that he had not hitherto been wiser; and the whole social universe electrically touched from man to man, i hear them in their new-born generosities, penitently shouting "god and heart!" even louder than they execrate the memory of dagon. chapter iv. excusatory. it really may be numbered among doubts whether it is possible to exaggerate the dangers into which a fictionist may fall. my marvel is, that any go unstabbed. how on earth did cervantes continue to grow old, after having pointed the finger of derision at all grave spain? there is boccaccio, too; he lived to turn threescore, in spite of the thousand husbands and wives, who might pretty well imagine that he spoke of them. only consider how many villains, drawn to the life, walter scott created. what! were there no heads found to fit his many caps, hats, helmets, and other capillary properties? what! are we so blind, so few of friends, that we cannot each pick out of our social circles mrs. gore's dowager, mrs. grey's flirt, mrs. trollope's widow, and boz's mrs. nickleby? who can help thinking of his lawyer, when he makes acquaintance with those immortal firms dodson and fogg, or quirk, snap, and gammon? is not wrexhill libellous, and dr. hookwell personal? arise! avenge them both, ye zealous congregations! why slumber pistols that, should damage bulwer? why are the clasp-knives sheathed, which should have drunk the blood of james? hath every "[dash] good-natured friend" forgotten to be officious, and neglected to demonstrate to relations and acquaintances that this white villain is mr. a., and that old virgin poor miss b.? speak, plumer ward, courageous veteran, have the critics yet forgiven mr. john paragraph--forgotten, is impossible? and how is it no house-keeper has arsenicked my soup, o rash recruit, for the mysteries of perquisite divulged in mrs. quarles? a dangerous craft is the tale-wright's, and difficult as dangerous. human nature goes in casts, as garden-pots do. lo, you! the crowd of thumb-pots; mean little tiny minds in multitudes, as near alike as possible. then there are the frequent thirty-twos, average "clever creatures" in this mental age, wherein no one can make an ordinary how-d'ye-do acquaintance without being advertised of his or her surprising talents: and to pass by all intermediate sizes, here and there standing by himself, in all the prickly pride of an immortal aloe, some one big pot monopolizes all the cast of earth, domineering over the conservatory as brutus's colossal cæsar, or his metempsychosis in a wellington. again: no painter ever yet drew life-likeness, who had not the living models at least in his mind's eye: but no good painter ever yet betrayed the model in his figure; unless (though these instances are rarish too) we except, _pace_ lawrence, the mystery of portraiture. he takes indeed a line here and a colour there; but he softens this and heightens that; so that none but he can well discover any trace of homer's noble head in yonder sightless beggar, or juno's queenly form in the welsh woman trudging with her strawberry load to covent garden market. flatter not thyself, fair helen, i have not pictured thee in gentle grace: tremble not, my little white friend clatter, thou art by no means simon jennings. dark caroline blunt, it is true thou hast fine eyes; nevertheless, in nothing else (i am sorry to assure thee) art thou at all like emily warren. flaunting lady busbury, be calm; if you had not been so wrathful, i never should have thought of you--undoubtedly you are not the type of mrs. tracy. why will all these people don my imaginary characters? truly, it may seem to be a compliment, as proving that they speak from heart to heart, of universal human nature, not unaptly; still is their inventor or creator embarrassed terribly by such unwelcome honours; your precious balms oppress him, gentle friends; lift off your palm branches; indeed, he is unworthy of these petty triumphs; and, to be serious, he detests them. no: once and for all, let a plain first person say it, i abjure personalities; my arrows are shot at a venture; and if they hit any one at all, it is only that he stands in my shaft's way, and the harness of his conscience is unbuckled. the target of my feeble aim is general--to pierce the heart of evil, evil in the form of social heartlessness: it is no fault of mine, if some alarmed particulars will crowd about the mark. ideal characters, ideal incidents, ideal scenes--to these i honestly pledge myself: but as most men have two eyes, being neither naturally monocular nor triocular, so most men of their own special cast have similar distinguishable sympathies. the overweening love of money is a seed, a soil, and a sun that generates a certain crop: the aim of my poor husbandry is only to reap this; but my sickle does not wish to wound the growers: let them stand aside; or, better far, let them help me cut those rank and clogging tares, and bind them up in bundles to be burned. heart is a sweet-smelling shrub, ill to stand against the chilling breath of worldliness: my small care desires to cherish this; gather round it, friends! shelter it beside me. how many fragrant flowers now are bursting into beauty! how cheering is their scent! how healthful the aroma of their bloom! pluck them with me; they are sweet, delicate, and lustrous to look upon, even as the night-blowing cereus. henceforth then, social circle, feel at peace with such as i am, whose public parable would teach, without any thought of personality, entirely disclaiming private interpretations: there are other people stout besides one's uncle, other people deaf besides one's aunt. sir thomas dillaway is not alderman bunce, nor any other friend or foe i wot of; a mere creature of the counting-house, he is a human ledger-mushroom: rub away the mildew from your hearts, if any seem to see yourselves in him: neither have i ventured to transplant miss cassiopeia curtis's red hair to dear maria's head: imitate her graces, if you will, maiden; but charge me not with copying your locks. though "my son jack" be a boisterous big rogue, on 'change, and off it--let not mine own honest stock-broker put that hat upon his head, in the mono-mania that it fits him, because he may heretofore have been both bull and bear; and as for any other heroes yet to come upon this scene, to enact the tragedy or comedy of heart--"know all men by these presents,"--your humble servant's will is to smite bad principles, not offending persons; to crusade against evil manners, not his guilty fellow-men. wo is me! who am i, that i should satirize my brethren?--yet, wo is me--if i silently hide the sin i see. make me not an offender for a word, seeing that my purposes are good. be not hypercritical, for heart's sake, against a man whose aim it is to help the cause of heart. neither count it sufficient to answer me with an inconclusive "_tu quoque_:" i know it, i feel it, i confess it, i would away with it. heaven send to him that writes, as liberally as to those who read (yea, more, according to his deeper needs and failings) the grace to counteract all mammonizing blights, and to cultivate this garden of the heart. chapter v. wherein a well-meaning mother acts very foolishly. returned from her unsuccessful embassage, lady dillaway determined--kind, calm soul--to hide the bitter truth from poor maria, that her father was inexorably adverse. a scene was of all things that indentical article least liked by the quiescent mother; and that her warm-hearted daughter would enact one, if she heard those echoes of paternal love, was clearly a problem requiring no demonstration. accordingly, with well-intentioned kindliness, but shallowish wisdom, and most questionable propriety, maria was persuaded to believe that her father had hem'd and haw'd a little, had objected no doubt to henry's lack of money, but would certainly, on second thoughts, consider the affair more favourably: "you know your father's way, my love; leave him to himself, and i am sure his better feeling will not fail to plead your cause: it will be prudent, however, just for quiet's sake, to see less of henry clements for a day or two, till the novelty of my intelligence blows over. meantime, do not cry, dear child; take courage, all will be well; and i will give you my free leave to console your henry too." "dearest, dearest mamma, how can i thank you sufficiently for all this? but why may i not now at once fly to papa, tell him all i feel and wish cordially and openly, and touch his dear kind heart? i am sure he would give us both his sanction and his blessing, if he only knew how much i love him, and my own dear henry." "sweet child," sighed out mamma, "i wish he would, i trust he would, i believe indeed he will some day: but be advised by me, maria, i know your father better than you do; only keep quiet, and all will come round well. do not broach the subject to him--be still, quite still; and, above all, be careful that your father does not yet awhile meet mr. clements." "but, dearest mamma, how can i be so silent when my heart is full? and then i hate that gloomy sort of secresy. do let me ask papa, and tell him all myself. perhaps he himself will kindly break the ice for me, now that your dear mouth has told him all, mamma. how i wish he would!" "alas, maria, you always are so sanguine: your father is not very much given, i fear, to that sort of sociality. no, my love; if you only will be ruled by me, and will do as i do, managing to hold your tongue, i think you need not apprehend many conversational advances on your father's part." poor maria had more than one reason to fear all this was true, too true; so her lip only quivered, and her eyes overflowed as usual. thereafter, lady dillaway had all the talk to herself, and she smoothly whispered on without let or hindrance; and what between really hoping things kindly of her husband's better feelings, and desiring to lighten the anxieties of dear maria's heart, she placed the whole affair in such a calm, warm, and glowing claude-light, as apparently to supply an emendation (no doubt the right reading) to the well known aphorism-- "the course of true love never did run smooth-_er_." in fine, our warm and confiding maria ran up to her own room quite elated after that interview; and she heartily thanked god that those dreaded obstacles to her affection were so easily got over, and that her dear, dear father had proved so kind. it is quite a work of supererogation to report how speedily the welcome news were made known, by _billet-doux_, to henry clements; but they rather smote his conscience, too, when he reflected that he had not yet made formal petition to the powers on his own account. to be sure, they (the lovers, to wit) were engaged only yesterday, quite in an unintended, though delightful, way: and, previously to that important _tête-à-tête_, however much he may have thought of only dear maria--however frequently he found himself beside her in the circle of their many mutual friends--however happily he hoped for her love--however foolishly he reveried about her kindness in the solitude of his temple garret--still he never yet had seen occasion to screw his courage to the sticking point, and boldly place his bliss at hard sir thomas's disposal. some day--not yet--perhaps next week, at any rate not exactly to-day--these were his natural excuses; and they availed him even to the other side of that social rubicon, engagement. nevertheless, now at length something must decidedly be done; and, within half an hour, finsbury's deserted square echoed to the heroic knock of mr. henry clements, fully determined upon claiming his maria at her father's hands. the knight was out; probably, or rather certainly, not yet returned from his counting-house in st. benet's sherehog. so, perforce, our hero could only have an audience with his lady. the same glossing over of unpalatable truths--the same quiet-breathing counsel--the same tranquil sort of hopefulness--fully satisfied the lover that his cause was gained. how could he think otherwise? in the father's absence, he had broached that mighty topic to the mother, who even now hailed him as her son, and promised him his father's favour. what could be more delicious than all this? and what more honourable, while prudent, too, and filial, than to acquiesce in lady dillaway's fears about her husband's nervousness at the sight of one who was to take from him an only and beloved daughter? it was delicacy itself--charming; and henry determined to make his presence, for the first few days, as scarce as possible in the sight of that affectionate father. and thus it came to pass that two open and most honourable minds, pledged to heartiest love, could not find one speck of sin in loving on clandestinely. nay, was it clandestine at all? is it, then, merely a legal fiction, and not a religious truth, that husband and wife are one? and is it not quite as much a matrimonial as a moral one that father and mother are so too? was it not decidedly enough to have spoken to the latter, especially when she undertook to answer for the former? sir thomas was a man engrossed in business; and, doubtless, left such affairs of the heart to the kinder keeping of lady dillaway. no; there was nothing secret nor clandestine in the matter; and i entirely absolve both henry and maria. they could not well have acted otherwise if any harm should come to it, the mother is to blame. lady dillaway, without doubt, should have known her husband better; but her tranquil love of our dear maria seemed to have infatuated her into simply believing--what she so much wished--her happiness secure. she heeded not how little sympathy sir thomas felt with lovers; and only encouraged her innocent child to play the dangerous game of unconscious disobedience. accordingly, consistent with that same quiet kindness of character which had smoothed away all difficulties hitherto, the indulgent mother now allowed the loving pair to meet alone, for the first time permissively, to tell each other all their happiness. lady dillaway left the drawing-room, and sent maria to the heart that beat with hers. who shall describe the beauty of that interview--the gush of first affections bursting up unchecked, unchidden, as hot springs round the hecla of this icy world! they loved and were beloved--openly, devotedly, sincerely, disinterestedly. henry had never calculated even once how much the city knight could give his daughter; and as for maria, if she had not naturally been a girl all heart, the home wherein she was brought up had so disgusted her of still-repeated riches, that (it is easy of belief) the very name of poverty would be music to her ears. accordingly, how they flew into each other's arms, and shed many happy tears, and kissed many kindest kisses, and looked many tenderest things, and said many loving words, "let petrarch's spirit in heroics sing:" as for our present prosaical muse, she delights in such affections too naturally and simply to wish to cripple them with rhymes, or confine them in sonnets; she despises decoration of simple and beautiful nature--gilding gold, and painting lilies; and she loves to throw a veil of secret sanctity over all such heaven-blest attachments. "hence! ye profane,"--these are no common lovers: i believe their spirits, still united in affections that increase with time, will go down to the valley of death unchangeably together; and will thence emerge to brighter bliss hand in hand throughout eternity--a double heart with one pulse, loving god, and good, and one another! chapter vi. pleasant brother john. "ho, ho! i suspected as much; so this fellow clements has been hanging about us at parties, and dropping in here so often, for the sake of miss maria, ey?"--for the door had noisily burst open to let in mr. john dillaway, who under grumbled as above. "dear john, i am so rejoiced to see you; i am sure it will make you as happy as myself, brother, to hear the good news: papa and mamma are so kind, and---- i need not introduce to you my ---- you have often met him here, john--mr. henry clements." "sir, your most obedient." the vulgar little purse-proud citizen made an impudent sort of distant bow, and looked for all the world like a coated caliban sarcastically cringing to a well-bred ferdinand. poor henry felt quite taken aback at such frigid formality; and dear maria's very heart was in her mouth: but the brother tartly added, "if mr. clements wishes to see sir thomas--that's his knock: he was following me close behind: i saw him; but, as i make it a point never to walk with the governor, perhaps it's as well for you two i dropped in first by way of notice, ey?" it was a dilemma, certainly--after all that lady dillaway had said and recommended: fortunately, however, her lord the knight, when the street door was opened to him, hastened straightway to his own "study," where he had to consult some treatise upon tare and tret, and a recent pamphlet upon the undoubted social duty, '_run for gold_;' so that awkward rencounter was avoided; and mr. clements, taking up his hat, was enabled to accomplish a dignified retreat. "dear john, your manner grieves me; i wish you had been kinder to my--to henry clements." "oh, you do, do you? does the governor know of all this? the fellow's a beggar." "for shame, john! you shall not call my noble henry such names: of course papa has heard all." "and approves of all this spooneying, ey, miss?" "brother, brother, do be gentler with me: mamma's great kindness has smoothed away all objections, and surely you will be glad, john, to have at last a brother of your own to love you as i do." "ey? what? another thief to go shares with me when the governor cuts up? thank you, miss, i'd rather be excused. you are quite enough, i can tell you, for you make my whole a half; nobody wants a third: much obliged to you, though." [interjections may as well be understood.] "o, dear brother, you hurt me, indeed you do: i am sure (if it were right to say so) i would not wish to live a minute, if poor maria's death could--could make you any happier;--o john, my heart will----" [her tears can as readily be understood as his interjections.] if a domestic railroad could have been cleverly constructed to maria's chamber from every room in that great house, it would have stood her in good stead; for every day, from some room or other, this poor girl of feeling had to rush up stairs in a torrent of grief. yearning after sympathy and love, neither felt nor understood by the minds with whom she herded, a trio of worldliness, apathy, and coarse brutality, her bosom ached as an empty void: treated with habitual neglect and cold indifference, made various (as occasion might present) by stern rebuke or bitter sarcasm, her heart was sore within its cell, and the poor dear child lived a life of daily martyrdom, her feelings smitten upon the desecrated altar of home by the "foes of her own household." and not least hostile in the band of those home-foes was this only brother, john. look at him as he stands alone there, muttering after her as she ran up stairs, "plague take the girl!" and let me tell you what i know of him. that thick-set form, with its pock-marked face, imprisons as base a spirit as baal's. he was a chip of the old block, and something more. if the father had a heart with "gold" written on it, the son had no heart at all, but gold was in its place. thoroughly unscrupulous as to ways and means, and simply acting on the phrase "_quocunque modo rem_," he seemed to have neither conscience of evil, nor dread of danger. in two words, he was a "bold bad" man, divested equally of fear and feeling. the memoirs of his past life hitherto, without controversy very little edifying, may be guessed with quite sufficient accuracy for all characteristic purposes from the coarse, sensual, worldly, and iniquitous result now standing for his portraiture before us. we will waste on such a type of heartlessness as few words as possible: let his conduct show the man. just now, this worthy had risen into high favour with his father: we already know why; he had suddenly got rich on his own account, and for that very sufficient reason drew any additional sums he pleased on "the governor's." the trick or two, whereat sir thomas hinted, and which so wise a man would not have blabbed to fools, are worthy of record; not merely as illustrative of character, but (in one case at least, as we may find hereafter) for the sake of ulterior consequences. john dillaway's first exploit in the money-making line was a clever one. he managed to possess himself of a carrier-pigeon of the antwerp breed, one among a flock kept for stock-jobbing purposes, by a certain great capitalist; and he contrived that this trained bird should wheel down among the merchants just at noon one fine day in the royal exchange. the billet under its wing contained certain cabalistic characters, and the plain-spoken intelligence, "_louis philippe est mort!_" in a minute after these most revolutionizing news, french funds, then at one hundred and twelve, were toppling down below ninety, and our prudent john was buying stock in all directions: nay, he even made some considerable bargains at eighty-seven. there was a complete panic in the market, and wretched was the man who possessed french fives. the afternoon's work so beautifully finished, john spent that night as true-born britons are reported to have done before the battle of hastings, rioting in drunken bliss, and panting for the morrow; and when the morrow came, and the paris post with it, i must leave it to be understood with what complacency of triumph our enterprising stock-jobber hastened to sell again at one hundred and fourteen, pocketing, in the aggregate, a difference of several thousand pounds. it was a feat altogether to ravish a delighted father's heart, and no wonder that he counted john so great a comfort. trick number two had been at once even more lucrative and more dangerous. as a stock-broker, this enterprising mr. dillaway had peculiar opportunities of investigating closely certain records in the office for unclaimed dividends: he had an object in such close inspection, and discovered soon that one mrs. jane mackenzie, of ballyriggan, near belfast, was a considerable proprietor, and had made no claim for years. why should so much money lie idle? was the woman dead? probably not; for in that case executors or administrators would have touched it. legatees and next of kin are little apt to forget such matters. well, then, if this mrs. jane mackenzie is alive, she must be a careless old fool, and we'll try if we can't kill her on paper, and so come in for spoils instead of kith and kin. "shrewd jack," as they called him in the alley, chuckled within himself at so feasible a plot. accordingly, in an artful and well-concocted way, which we may readily conceive, but it were weary to detail, john dillaway managed to forge a will of jane mackenzie aforesaid; and inducing some dressed-up "ladies" of his acquaintance to personate the weeping nieces of deceased (doubtless with no lack of irish witnesses beside, competent to swear to any thing), he contrived to pass probate at doctors' commons, and get twelve thousand two hundred and forty-three pounds, bank annuities transferred, as per will, to the two ladies legatees. as the munificent _douceur_ of a thousand pounds a-piece had (for the present) stopped the mouths of those supposititious nieces, who stipulated for not a farthing more nor less, clever john dillaway a second time had the filial opportunity of rejoicing his father's heart by this wholesale money-making. ten thousand pounds bank stock was manifestly another good day's work; and seeing our john had not appeared at all in the transaction, even as the ladies' stock-broker, things were made so safe, that the chuckling knight, when he heard all this (albeit he did tenderly fy, fy a little at first), was soon induced to think "my son jack" the very best boy and the very cleverest dog in christendom: at once a parent's pride and joy. yes, lady dillaway--such a comfort! and the worshipful stationer apostrophized "rich jack" with lips that seemed to smack of creasy's brighton sauce, whilst his calm spouse appeared to acquiesce in her amiable john's good fortune. the mystified mother little guessed that it was felony. this good son's new-born wealth, besides the now liberal paternal largess (for his allowance grew larger in proportion as he might seem to need it less), of course availed to introduce him to some fashionable and estimable circles of society, whither it might not at all times be discreet in us to follow him; amongst other places, whether or not the pandemonium in jermyn street proved to him another gold mine, we have not yet heard; but john dillaway was often there, the intimate friend of many splendid cavaliers who lived upon their industry, familiar with a whole rookery of blacklegs, patron of two or three pigeonable city sparks, and, on the whole, flusher of money than ever. his quiet mother, if she cared about her son at all, and probably she did care when her health permitted, might well be apprehensive on the score of that increasing wealth which made the father's joy. however, with all his prosperity mr. john as yet professed himself by no means satisfied; he was far too greedy of gain, and ever since he had come to man's estate, had amiably longed to be an only child. not that he heeded a monopoly of the parental feelings and affections, nor even that he meditated murdering maria--oh dear, no: rather too troublesome that, and quite unnecessary; it would be entirely sufficient if he could manage so to influence his father as to cut that superfluous sister maria very short indeed in the matter of cash. with this generous and amiable view, he now for a course of sundry years had whispered, back-bitten, and lied; he had, as occasion offered, taken mean advantages of maria's outspeaking honesty, had set her warm-hearted sayings and charitable doings in the falsest lights, and had entirely "mildewed the ear" of her listening papa. the knight in truth listened unreluctantly; it was consolation, if not happiness to him, if he could make or find excuses for harshness to a being who would not worship wealth; it would be joy and pride, and an honour to his idol, if he should keep maria pretty short of cash, and so make her own its preciousness; triumphant would he feel, as a merely-moneyed man, to see troublesome, obtrusive heart, with all its win-ways, and whimperings, and incomprehensible spirituality, with its sermons and its prayers, bending before him "for a bit of bread." yes, poor loving disinterested maria ran every chance of being disinherited, from the false witness of her brother, simply because she gave him antecedent opportunities, by her honest likings and dislikings, by her bold rebuke of wrong and open zeal for right, by her scorn of hypocrisies as to what she did feel, or did not feel, and by the unpopular fact that she wore a heart, and refused to be the galley-slave of gold. "oh, ho, then!" said our crafty john, "we shall soon set this all right with our governor; thank you for the chance, miss maria. if father doesn't kick out this clements, and cut you off with a shilling, he is not sir thomas, and i am not his son." chapter vii. providence sees fit to help villany. "now that's what i call bones." it was a currish image, suggestive of the choicest satisfaction. let us try to discover what good news such an idiosyncrasy as that of john dillaway would be pleased to designate as "bones." he had forthwith gone to his father's room as merry at the chance of ousting poor maria, as the heartlessness of avarice could make him; and omnipresent authorship jotted down the dialogue that follows: "so, governor, there's to be a wedding here, i find; when does it come off?" "ey? what? a wedding? whose?" "oh, ho! you don't know, ey? i guessed as much: what do you think now of our laughing, and crying, and kissing, and praying miss maria with-- "not that beggar clements? ey? what? d----" &c., &c. "ha, ha, ha, ha! i thought so; why not, governor? are you an old mole, that you haven't seen it these six weeks? are you stone deaf, that all their pretty speeches have been wasted on you? all i can say is, that if mr. and mrs. clements an't spliced, it's pretty well time they should be, and-- "sir thomas dillaway rattled out so terrible an oath about maria's disinheritance if she ventured upon a marriage, that even john was staggered at such a dreadful curse; nevertheless, an instantaneous reflection soon caused that curse to be viewed metaphorically as a "bone;" and the generous brother cautiously proceeded-- "why, governor, all this is very odd, must say; when i caught 'em kissing up there ten minutes ago, they were sharp enough to swear that you knew all about it, and that you were so 'very, very kind.'" how is it possible, intelligent reader, to avoid perpetual allusion to an oath? we must not pare the lion's claws, and give bad men soft speeches: pr'ythee, supply an occasional interjection, and believe that in this place sir thomas swore most awfully; then, in a complete phrensy, he vowed that he "would turn maria out of house and home this minute." this was another "bone," clearly. but it was now becoming politic to calm him. shrewd jack was well aware that maria would relinquish all, and sacrifice, not merely her own heart, but her henry's too, rather than be guilty of filial disobedience. all this storming, hopeful as it looked, might still be premature, and do no substantial good; nay, if this wrath broke out too soon, maria would at once give way, become more dutiful than ever, and his golden chance was gone. no: they were not married yet. let the wedding somehow first take place, and then--! and then!--for now he knew which way the wind blew; so the scheming youth calmed his rising triumphs, and counselled his progenitor as follows: "well, governor, i never saw so green a blade in all my born days. can't you see, now, that it's all cram this, just to put you in spirits, old boy, in case of such things happening? it was wicked too of me to tease you so--but i'm so jolly, governor; such luck in jermyn street--i knew you'd like a joke served up with such rich sauce as this is, ey? only look!" it was half a hatful of bank notes raked up at the hazard table. sir thomas's gray eyes darted swiftly at the spoil; often as he had warned and scolded jack about the matter of jermyn street (for jack was bold enough never to conceal one of his little foibles), the father had now nothing to object; for, in his philosophy, the end justified the means. with most of this wise world, he looked upon success as in the nature of virtue, and failure as the surest sign of vice; accordingly his ire was diverted on the moment, and blazed in admiration of son jack: and that estimable creature immediately determined it was wise to speak in tones of unwonted affection respecting his sister. "now, governor, i put it to you plump, isn't this hatful enough to make a man beside himself, so as not to stick at a white lie or two? dear maria there is no more going to become a mrs. clements than you are; she cut the fellow dead long ago: so mind, that's a tough old bird, you don't say one word to her about him; it would be just raking up the cinders again, you know, and you might be fool enough to raise a flame. no, governor, if it's any consolation to you, that pauper connection has been all at an end this month; not but what the beggar's got my mother's ear still, i fancy; but as to maria, she detests him. so take my advice, and don't tease the poor girl about the business. now, then, that this is all settled, and now that you 're the merrier for that silly bit of storming at nothing, just listen: the wedding's my own! isn't jack dillaway a clever fellow now, to have caught a right honourable ladyship, with a park in yorkshire, a palace in wales, and a mansion in grosvenor square?" at this _extempore_ invention, the delighted parent rained so many blessings on his progeny, that john knew the tide was turned at once. our ex-lord mayor had high ambitions, dating from the year of glory onwards; so that nothing could be more prudent or well-timed that this ideal aristocratic connection. jack was a good fellow, a dear boy; and he added to his apparent amiabilities now by reiterating counsels of kindness and silence towards "poor dear sister maria, whom he had been making the scape-goat all this time;" after which done, our stock-jobber feigned a pressing engagement with some fashionable friends, and left his father to ruminate upon his worth in lonely admiration. well; if that clever and gratuitous lie was not another "bone," i am at a loss to know what could be a "bone" to such a hound: therefore it appears that dillaway had three of them at least to gladden him in solitude; and he went on revealing to wonder-stricken angels, and to us, the secrets of his crafty soul, as he thus soliloquized: "yes, marry the fools first, and then for spoils at leisure; it won't be easy though, she's so consummate filial, and he so bloated up with honour. they'll never wed, i'm clear, unless the governor's by to bless 'em; and as to managing that, and the cutting-adrift scheme too, one kills the other. how the deuce to do it? eh--do i see a light?" he did. a light lurid sulphurous gleam upon the midnight of his mind seemed to show the way before him, as wisp-fire in a marsh. he did see a light, and its character was this: quite aware of his mother's tranquil hopefulness, and that his kind good sister was ingenuous as the day, he soon apprehended the state of affairs; and, resolving to increase those misunderstandings on all sides, he quickly perceived that he could triumph in the keen machiavellian policy, "_divide et impera_." the plan became more obvious as he calmly thought it out. evidently his first step must be to ingratiate himself with both henry and maria, as the sympathizing brother, a very easy task among such charitable fools: number two should be to persuade them, as the mother did, that sir thomas, generally a reserved unsocial man at home (and that in especial to maria), was very nervous at the thought of losing his dear daughter, and (while he acquiesced in the common fate of parents and the usual way of the world) begged that his coming bereavement might be obtruded on him as little as possible--mr. clements always to avoid him, and maria to hold her tongue: number three, to amuse his father all the while by the prospect of his own high alliance, so as effectually to hoodwink him from what was going on: and, number four, to send him up to yorkshire a week hence (on some fool's errand to inquire after the imaginary countess's imaginary mortgages), leaving behind him an autograph epistle (which our john well knew how to write), recommending "that the ceremony be performed immediately and in his absence, to spare his feelings on the spot," mentioning "son john as his worthy substitute to give dear maria away," and enclosing them at once his "blessing and a hundred pound note to help them on their honey-moon." "john dillaway, if craft be a virtue, thou art an archangel: but if heaven's chief requirement is the heart, thou art very like a devil--very. if selfishness deserves the meed of praise, who more honourable than thou art? but if a heartless man can never reach to happiness, i know who will live to curse the hour of his birth, and is doomed to perish miserably." it was a clever scheme, and had unscrupulous hands to work it. mystified by quiet lady dillaway as our lovers had been from the first, entirely unsuspicious of all guile, and rejoicing in their brother's marvellous amiability, never surely were such happy days; always together while the knight was at his counting-house, they gladly acquiesced in his beautifully paternal nervousness; it was a delightful trait of character in the dear old man; and a very respectable proof that love is keen-eyed enough to believe what it wishes, but is stone-blind to any thing that might possibly counteract its hopes. then again, the mother was a close ally; for having set her quiet heart upon the match, lady dillaway at once encouraged all john's sympathetic scheme, on the prudent principle of getting the young couple inextricably married first, and then obliging her lord to be reconciled afterwards to what he could not help. sir thomas himself, poor blinkered creature, was full of the most aristocratical and wealthy fancies, and only yearned to inspect the acres of his future honourable grand-children. he was, from these fanciful causes, unusually affable and indulgent to maria; spoke so kindly always that she was all but dissolving thrice a-day; and, from his constant reveries about the countess, appeared perpetually to be brooding over dear maria's soon approaching loss. poor girl! more than once she had determined to give it all up, and make her father happy by serving him still in single blessedness: but then, how could she break dear henry's heart, as well as her own? no, no: they should live very near to finsbury square, and be in and out constantly, and papa should never miss her: how delightful was all this! as for john himself, (our heartless model-man, strange contrast to maria's perfect charity!) he chuckled hugely as his scheme now ripened fast. he had long been putting all things in train for the wedding to-morrow. every body knew it except sir thomas who--what between jack's prudent watchfulness, his habitual counting-house hours, his usually unsocial silence, and his now asserted wish for "not one word upon the subject,"--was at once kept in total ignorance of all; and yet, as ambassadorial john constantly gave out to clements and maria, in an amiable nervous state of natural acquiescence. next day, then, the besotted father was about to be packed post for yorkshire; the important letter, with its enclosed bank note, was already written and sealed, as like the governor's hand as possible; a license had been long ago provided, and the clergyman bespoke, by the brotherly officiousness of john; neither henry clements, who was too delicate, too unsuspecting for prudent business-papers, nor maria, whose heart was never likely to have conceived the thought, had even once alluded to a settlement; lady dillaway was lying, as her wont was, on her habitual sofa, in tranquil ecstasy, at to-morrow morning's wedding: and holy providence, for wise purposes no doubt, had seen fit to aid a villain in his deep-laid treacherous designs. the wednesday dawned: sir thomas was to be off early, poor man, all agog for right honourable acres; and maria could no longer restrain the expression of her glad and grateful feelings. up she got by six, threw herself in her kind dear father's way; and though, to spare his feelings, she said not a word about the marriage, prayed him on her knees for a blessing. the startled parent, believing all this frantic show of feeling was sufficiently to be accounted for by his own long and no doubt dangerous journey, blessed her as devoutly as ever he could; and when the carriage drove away, left her in his study, overcome with joy, affection, and admiration of his fine heart, exquisite sensibilities, and generous feelings. then, as a crowning-stone to all the bliss, if any lingering doubt existed in the mind of clements, who had more than once expressed dislike at sir thomas's silent and unsatisfying sympathy--the letter--the letter, whereof kind brother john, secretly initiated, had some days forewarned them of its probability--that letter, which explained at once all a father's kind anxieties, and made up for all his cold reserve, was found on sir thomas's own table! how amiable, how beautifully sensitive, how liberal too! lady dillaway plumed herself in a whispering transport upon her just appreciation of the father's better feelings; a kinder heart manifestly never existed than her husband's, though he did take strange methods of proving it: the bridesmaids, two daughters of a friend and neighbour, privy to the coming mystery three days, approved highly of so unobtrusive an old gentleman: maria was all pantings, blushings, weepings, and rejoicings; henry clements, handsome, pale, and agitated; perhaps, misgiving too, and a little displeased at the father's absence; however, mr. john dillaway gave away the bride with a most paternal air; and, just as sir thomas was changing horses at huntingdon, our innocent lovers were indissolubly married. chapter viii. the rogue's triumph. never was there such a happy couple; nor a more auspicious day. away they went, in deep delight, too joyful to be merry, in a holy transport of affection, and its dearest hope fulfilled. they seemed to be in love with all the world, for every thing around them wore a lustre of deliciousness: and when the smoking posters left them at salt hill, and that well-matched husband and wife sat down to their first boiled fowl, it would probably be a bathos to allude to angelic bliss; but they nevertheless were, and knew they were, the happiest of mortals. if any thing could add to henry's self-complacency at that moment, it was the recollection of his own truly disinterested conduct; for only yesterday he had transferred all his little property to that kind and brotherly fellow john dillaway, in trust for maria clements, should any possible reverse of fortune affect her father's or his own prosperity. yes; and john had been so wise as to make the two hundred a-year already a third more, by investing (as he said) what had been a few thousands of three per cents. in some capital "independent" bank shares of australasia--safe as a mountain, and productive as a valley. all this appeared very prosperous and pleasant: but we of the initiated into the secrets of character, may reasonably apprehend that henry's little all would have been safer any where than in dillaway's possession: and "possession," i am sorry to declare, is a word used advisedly; for mr. john required a largish floating capital to enable him to go to the desperate lengths he did at hazard and _rouge-et-noir_; and i am afraid that if mr. or mrs. clements were to receive any of those so-called austral dividends, they would only have been taking three hundred pounds a-year out of their principal moneys in john's immaculate keeping. leaving then those wedded lovers to their honey-moon of joy, and shrewd jack gloating not merely over the full success of his nefarious plan, but also over this unexpected acquisition of poor clement's few thousands, let us return to sir thomas--or, to be quite accurate, let us return with him. in high dudgeon, full of fire and fury, back rushed the knight, sore under the sense of having been made an april-fool of in july; for no one in the place whereto he went, had ever heard of a widow'd countess of lancing; and her ladyship's acres, if any where at all, were undoubtedly not in the north riding. but clever son john, meeting his indignant father on the threshold, soon made all that right by a word. "well, if ever! why, stupid, i said diddlington, not darlington." into the accuracy of this distinction it is needless to inquire: and then the ingenuous youth went on to observe-- "but all's right as it is now; you may as well not have seen the property, and better, too, as things have turned out roughly, governor: the match is off, and you may well congratulate me. such an escape--i just discovered it, and was barely in time: you hadn't been gone two hours when i found it all out, through a clever devil of a lawyer, who was hired by my father's son to look into incumbrances, and keep a sharp look-out for a mutual settlement; that old harridan of a ladyship is over head and ears in debt; and, it seems, i was to have paid all straight, or _i. e._ you, governor, ey? as to the yorkshire acres, the old woman had but a life interest in the mere bit that wasn't deeply mortgaged--and not a very long life either, seeing she is seventy. so, bless your clever boy again, old governor, he's free." the knight had nothing to object: jack's ready lie had plenty of reasons in it: and so he blessed his clever boy again. "but i say, governor, i rather think that you've astonished us all: what on earth made you turn so soft of a sudden, and write that letter?" "what letter? ey? what?"--sir thomas might well inquire. "that's a good joke, governor--you keep it up to the last, i see; what a close old file it is! what letter? why, the letter you wrote to maria and her lord, telling them to marry." "marry? ey? what, maria? what--what is it all?" the poor old man was thoroughly bewildered. "well done, governor--bravo! you can carry it off as cleverly as if you were an actor; do you mean to say now you didn't leave a letter behind you here upon your table, bidding maria marry in your absence to spare your paternal feelings (kind old boy, it is, too!) and enclosing them one hundred pounds for the honey-moon?" the mystified father made some inarticulate expression of ignorant amazement, and our stock-jobber went on: "so of course they're married and off--mr. and mrs. cle----" a whirlwind of disastrous imprecations cut all short; and then in a voice choked with passion he gasped out-- "but--but are they married--are they married? how do you know it? can't we catch 'em first, ey? what!" "how do i know it? that's a good un now, father, when i had it under your hand to give the girl away myself instead of you. do you mean to say you didn't write that letter?" "boy, i tell you, i've written nothing--i know nothing; you speak in riddles." "well then, governor, if i do, i'll to guess 'em: i begin to see how it was all brought about--but they did it cleverly too, and were quite too many for me. only listen: that fellow clements, ay, and miss maria too (artful minx, i know her), must have forged a letter as if from you to get poor fools, me and my mother, to see 'em spliced, while you were tooling to yorkshire." "impossible--ey? what? i'll--i'll--i'll--" "now, governor, don't stand there doing nothing but denying all i say; only you go yourself, and ask my mother if she didn't see the letter--if they didn't marry upon it, and if that precious sister of mine doesn't richly deserve every thing she'll some day get from her affectionate, her excellent, her ill-used father?" iago's self, or his master, smooth-tongued belial, could not have managed matters better. the incredulous knight, scarcely able to discover how far it might not still be all a joke, especially after his yorkshire expedition, rushed up to lady dillaway; on her usual sofa, quietly knitting, and thinking of her maria's second day of happiness. "so, ma'am--ey? what? is it true? are they married? is it true? married--ey? what?" "certainly, thomas, they were only too glad, and i will add, so was i, to get your kind--" "mine? i give leave? ey? what? madam, we're cheated, fooled--i never wrote any letter." "most astonishing; i saw it myself, thomas, your own hand; and our dear john too." "ay, ay--he sees through it all, and so do i now--ey? what? that precious pair of rogues forged it! now, ma'am, what don't they deserve, i should like to know?" it was quite a blow, and a very hard one, to the poor tranquil mother. could her dear maria really have been so base, and that noble-looking henry too? how dreadfully deceived in them, if this proved true! and how could she think it false? a letter contrived to expedite their marriage in the father's casual absence, which no one could have thought of writing but sir thomas himself, or the impatient lovers. so poor lady dillaway could only fall a-crying very miserably; whereupon her husband more than half suspected her of being an accomplice in the despicable plot. "now then, ma'am, i'm determined: as they are married, the thing's at an end; we can't untie that knot--but, once tied, i've done with the girl; they may starve, for any help they'll get of me: and as for you, mum, give 'em money at your peril; stay, to make sure of it, lady dillaway, i shall stint you to whatever you choose to ask me for out of my own pocket; never draw another cheque on jones's, do you hear? ey? what? for your cheques shall not be honoured, ma'am. and now, from this hour, you and i have only one child, john." "oh, thomas--thomas! be merciful to poor maria! indeed, she was deceived; she believed it all--poor maria!" "ma'am, never mention that woman again--ey? what? deceived? yes, she deceived you and me, and john, and all. wicked wretch! and all to marry a beggar! well, ma'am, there's one comfort left; the fellow married her for money, and he's caught in his own trap; never a penny of mine shall either of them see. henceforth, lady dillaway, we have no daughter; dear john is the only child left us for old age." in spite of himself, of wrath, and disappointment, the father spoke in a moved and broken manner; and his weeping wife attempted to explain, console, and soothe him; but all in vain--he was inexorable and inveterate against those mean deceivers. to say truth, the poor mother was staggered too, especially when her managing son set all the matter in what he stated to be the right light; for he had, the whole business through, whispered so separately to each, and had seemed to say so little openly (making his mother believe that his sister told him of the coming letter, and a choice variety of other embellishments), that he was now looked upon as the very martyr to roguish plotting, in having been induced to give away his sister. excellent, mistaken john! and forthwith john became installed sole heir, proving the most dutiful of sons: how glibly would he tell them any sort of welcome news, original or selected; how many anecdotes could he invent to prove his own merits and certain other folks' deficiencies; how amiably would he fetch and carry slippers and smelling-bottles, and write notes, and read newspapers, and make himself every thing by turns (he devoutly hoped it would be nothing long) to his poor dear parents, as became an only child! it was quite affecting--and both father and mother, softened in spite of themselves at the loss of that maria, often would talk over the new-found virtues of their most exemplary son. his character came out now with five-fold lustre when contrasted with his former usual ruggedness: no widow ever had a one sick child more tender, more considerate, more dutiful, than rude jack dillaway. he gained his end; saw the new will signed; earwigged the lawyer; and kept a copy of it. chapter ix. false-witness kills a mother, and would willingly starve a sister. day by day, letters, doubtless full of happiness and heart, were left by the promiscuous and undiscerning postman at the house in finsbury square, from our excellent calumniated couple; but, seeing that there were always two sieves waiting ready to sift it before it came to lady dillaway's turn--to wit, john in the hall, and sir thomas in his study, it came to pass that every letter with those malefactors' hand and seal on it got burnt instanter, and unopened. how many troubles might mankind be spared if they would only stop to hear each other's explanations! how many ailments, both of body and soul, if explanations only came more frequently and freely! melancholy from that dreadful doubt, and all these cold delays, viewing her daughter as a criminal, the husband as a swindler, and all this long course of silence as very, very heartless and seemingly conclusive of their guilt, the poor mother sickened fast upon her couch: she had for years always been an invalid, wan and wo-begone, living upon ether, gum, and chicken-broth; but her white skin now grew whiter, her faint voice fainter, the energies of life in her debilitated frame weaker than ever; it was no mere hypochondria, or other fanciful malady: her calm heart seemed to be dying down within her, as a plant that has earth-grubs gnawing at its root--she grew very ill. days, weeks of silence--her heart was sick with hope deferred. how could maria, with all her seeming warmth, treat her with such utter negligence? but now the honey-moon was coming to an end: they must call and see her some day again, surely; how strangely unkind not to answer those motherly and anxious letters, sent to their first known stage, salt hill, and thereafter to be forwarded. o, cold continued crime! bad man, bad man, thy mother's own hand-writing shall plead against thee at the last dread day. for those coveted letters of affection, often sent on both those loving parts, had been regularly and ruthlessly intercepted, opened, mocked, and burnt! how could the man have stood case-proof against those letters--his mother's anxious outbursts of affection towards a lost, an innocent, a calumniated sister? for selfishness had dried up in that hard and wily man all the milk of human kindness. and our loving pair, upon their travels, were as much hurt and surprised at this long silence as poor lady dillaway herself: it was most mysterious, inexplicable. the only letter they had received ever since they had left home was one--only one, from john, which had frightened them exceedingly. some practical joker (the bridesmaid's brother was suspected), by way of giving maria a present on her approaching wedding, as it would seem, had cleverly imitated her father's hand-writing, and--that letter was a forgery! to every body's great amazement. nobody could, according to his own account, be kinder than john, who had done more than mortal things to appease his father; but the old man remained implacable. it was a meanly-contrived clandestine match, he said; and he never intended to set eyes on them again! as for john, he in that letter had strongly counselled them to keep away, and trust to him for bringing his father round. in the midst of their terrible dilemma, kind brother john seemed as an angel sent by heaven to assist them. dear children of affection and calamity! how innocently did they walk into the snare; and how closely doth the wicked man draw his toils around them. who can accuse them of any wrong (the hopefulness of love considered) in point either of honour or duty? and shall they not be righted at the last? it may be so--it shall be so: but holy providence hath purposes of good in plunging those twin wedded hearts deep beneath the billows of earthly destitution. the wicked must prosper for a while, in this as in a million other cases, and the good for their season struggle with adversity; that the one may be destroyed for ever, and the others may add to this world's wealth the incalculable riches of another. they had spent the few first weeks of marriage among the pleasant lakes and hills of westmoreland and cumberland, wandering together, in delightful interchange of thought, from glen to glen, from tairn to tairn, all about ambleside, helvellyn, and lodore, ullswater, saddleback, and schiddaw. maria's ever-flickering smile seemed to throw a sun-beam over the darkest moor, even in those darkest hours of doubt, heart-sickening anxiety, and grief at the neglect which they experienced; while henry's well-informed good sense not only availed to cheer the sad maria, but made every rock a point of interest, and showed every little flower a miracle of wisdom. there were hundreds of extemporaneous "lover's seats," where they had "rested, to be thankful" for the past, joyful for the present, and hopeful for the future; and every ramble that they took might deservedly take the name, style, and title of a "lover's walk!" happy times--happy times! but still there might be happier; yes, and happiest, too, they seemed to whisper, if ever they should have a merry little nursery of prattling boys and girls! but i am not so entirely in the confidence of those young folks as to be certain about what they seemed to whisper: in that pretty prattling sentence were they not getting a little beyond the honey-moon? yes--yes, young hymen is too full of new-found pleasure to heed those holier joys of calm old marriage; for wedded love is as a coil of line, lengthening with the lapse of years, fitted and intended, day after day, to be continually sounding a lower and a lower deep in the ocean of happiness. returned to town, it was the immediate care of our fond, confused, and unfortunate young couple to call at the old house in finsbury square; where, to their great dismay and misery, they encountered a formal standing order for their non-admission. the domestics were new, had been strictly warned against the name of clements, and, in effect, were creatures of the worthy john. it was a deplorable business; they did not know what to think, nor how to act. letters left at the door, couched in whatever terms of humility, kindliness, and just excuse, were equally unavailing; for the cerberus there was too well sopped by pleasant brother john ever to deliver them to any one but him. it was entirely hopeless--extraordinary--a most wretched state of things. what were they to do? the only practicable mode of getting at sir thomas, and, therefore, at some explanation of these mysteries, was obviously to watch for him, and meet him in the street. as for lady dillaway, she was very ill, and kept her chamber, which was as resolutely guarded from incursion or excursion as danæ's herself--yea, more so, for gold was added to her guards: sir thomas, going to and from his counting-house, appeared to be the only weak point in the enemy's fortifications. poor old man! he was, or thought he was, harder, colder, more inveterate than ever: and his duteous son john rarely let him venture out alone, for fear of some such meeting, casual or intended. accordingly, one day when the clements and the dillaways mutually spied each other afar off, and a junction seemed inevitable, john's promptitude bade his father (generously as it looked, for paternal peace of mind's sake) return a few paces, get into a cab, and so slip home, the while he valiantly stepped forward to meet the enemy. "mr. clements! my father (i grieve to say) will hear no reason, nor any excuse whatever; he totally refuses to see you or mrs. clements." "o, dearest john! what have i done--what has henry done, that papa, and you, and dear mamma, should all be so unkind to us?" "you have married, mrs. clements, contrary to your father's wish and knowledge: and he has cast you off--i must say--deservedly." "brother, brother! you know i was deceived, and henry too. this is cruel, most cruel: let me see my beloved father but one moment!" "his commands are to the contrary, madam; and i at least obey them. henceforth you are a stranger to us all." the poor broken-hearted girl fell into her husband's arms, stone-white: but her hard brother, making no account whatever of all that show of feeling, only took the trouble quietly to address henry clements. "misfortunes never come single, they say; it is no fault of mine if the proverb hits mr. henry clements. i am sorry to have to tell you, sir, that the austral independent bank has stopped payment, and is not expected to refund to its depositors or shareholders one penny in the pound." "impossible, mr. dillaway! you answered for its stability yourself: and the proposition came originally from you. i hope surely, surely, you may have been misinformed of these bad news." "it is true, sir--too true for you: the wisest man on 'change is often out of reckoning. i have nothing now of yours in my hands, sir: you are aware that no writings passed between us." "great heaven! be just and merciful! are we, then, to be utterly ruined?" "really, sir, you know your own affairs better than i can.--your servant, mr. clements." o, hard and wicked heart!--what will not such a miscreant do for money? nothing, i am clear, but the cowardly fear of discovery prevents john dillaway from becoming a positive parricide by very arsenic or razor, so as to grasp his cheated father's will and wealth. and this assertion will appear not in the least uncharitable, when the reader is in this place reminded that henry clements's own little property had never been australized at all, but was still safe and snug in the coffers of crafty john. jermyn street--or the sharpers congregated there--had drained him very considerably; all his own ill-got gains had been gradually raked away by the croupier at the gaming-table; and unsuspecting henry's little trust-fund was to be the next bank on which the brother played. poor henry and maria! what will they do? where will they go? how will they live? hard questions all, not to be answered in a hurry. we shall see. there was one comfort, though, amidst all their misery;--they did not find the adage a true one, which alludes to poverty coming in at the door, and love flying out of the window; for they never loved each other more deeply--more devotedly--than when daily bread was growing a scarcity, and daily life almost a burden. but we are anticipating. and how fared the parents all this while? was the erring daughter entirely forgotten? no, no. son john, indeed, took good care to hinder any amicable feelings of relapse to intrude upon his father's resolution. but the old man was not easy, nevertheless; often thought of poor maria; and could not clearly make out who had forged the letter. had it not been for that wicked brother john, a meeting--an explanation--a reconciliation--would undoubtedly have taken place: but he was shrewd enough to keep them asunder, and did not take much to heart his father's altered spirits and breaking state of health: his will and wealth were seemingly all the nearer. and what of that poor stricken mother? wasted to a shadow, feverish and weak, she lay for weeks, counting the dreary hours, till she heard of dear, though unnatural, maria. oh! the heartless caitiff, john! will he thus watch his mother die by inches, when one true word from his lips could restore her to tranquillity and health? yes, he would--he did--the wretch! she gradually pined--waned--wasted; the candle of her life burnt down into the hollow socket--glimmering awhile--flared and reeled, and then--one night, quietly and suddenly--went out! she entered on the world of spirits, where all secrets show revealed; and there she read, almost before she died--whilst yet the black curtain of eternity was gradually rising to receive her--the innocence of good maria, and the deep-stained villany of john. her last words--uttered supernaturally from her quiescence, with the fervour of a visionary whose ken is more than mortal--were "look, look, thomas!--beware of john. o poor, poor innocent outcast!--o rich, rich heart of love--maria! my mari--a--!" chapter x. how to help one's self. where then did they live, and how--that noble and calumniated couple? they had done no wrong, nor even, as it seems to us, the semblance of wrong, unless it be by having acquiesced in the foolishness of secresy, and thus aided the contrivance of false witness; for aught else, their only social error had been lack of business caution among business men. feeling generously themselves, they gave others credit for the like good feeling; acting upon honourable impulse, they believed that other men would act so too. heart was the hindrance in their way;--too much sensitiveness towards all about them; too swift a surrender of the judgment to the affections: too imprudent a reliance upon other men of the world; though, when they trusted to a father's love, and a brother's honesty, prudence herself might have almost been dispensed with. machinations of the wicked and the shrewd hemmed them in to their un-doing: and really, they, children more or less of affluent homes, born and bred in plenty, who had moved all their lives long in circles of comparative wealth and wastefulness, now seemed likely to come to the galling want of necessary sustenance. was it not to teach them deeper feeling for the poor, if ever god again should give them riches? was it not, by poverty, to try those hearts which had passed so blamelessly through all the ordeals and temptations of wealth, in order that they worthily might wear the double crown given only to such as remain unhardened by prosperity, unembittered by adversity? was it not to discipline our warm maria's love, and to chasten her henry's very gentlemanly pride into the due christian proportions--self-respect with self-humiliation? was it not, chiefest and best, to school their hearts for heaven, and, by feeding them on miseries and wrongs a little while, to fix their affections on things above rather than on things of this world? yes: providence has many ends in view, and they all tend consistently to one great focus--the ultimate advantage of the good by means of the confusion of the wicked. meanwhile came trouble on apace. henry clements justly felt aggrieved, insulted; and the sentiment of pride, improper only from excess, determined him to make no more advances: all that man could do, that is, which a gentleman ought to do, he had done; but letters and visits proved equally unavailing. he had come to the resolution that he would make no more efforts himself, nor scarcely let maria make any. as for her, poor soul! she was now in grievous tribulation, with sad, sufficient reason for it too; seeing that, in addition to her father's anger, still protracted--in addition to that vile forgery imputed to her craft, and whereof she had been made the guilty victim--in addition to their own soon pressing money-wants, and that heartless fraud of john's against her husband's little all (though she counted of it only as a luckless speculation)--she had just become acquainted, through the public prints, of her dear good mother's death, even before she had heard of any illness. what bitter pangs were there for her, poor child! that she should have lost that mother just then, without forgiveness, without blessing--whilst all was unexplained, and their whole conduct of affections without guile, wore the hideous mask of base, undutiful contrivance! cheer up, maria; cheer up! only in this bad world can innocence be sullied with a doubt: cheer up! the spirit of that mother whom you loved on earth knows it well already; learned it while yet she was leaving the body of her death: cheer up! she is still near you both--dear children of affliction and affection! and god has commissioned her for good to be your ministering angel. with reference to means of living, they appeared limited at once to a little ready money, and a few personal chattels and trinkets; without so much as one pound of capital to back the young house-keepers, or a shilling's-worth of interest or dividend or earnings coming in for weekly bills. clements had been utterly confounded in all his economical arrangements by that sudden bitter breach of trust; and, albeit (as we have hinted), his aim in marriage was not money; still, without much of worldly calculation, he might prudently have looked for some provision on maria's part at least equal to his own: in fact, the fond young couple had reasonably set their hearts upon that golden mean--four hundred a-year to begin with. now, however, by two fell swoops--brother john's dishonesty and sir thomas's resolve of disinheritance--all this rational and moderate expectation had been dashed to atoms; and the cottage of contented competence appeared but as a castle in the clouds--a mere airy matter of undiluted moonshine. thus, when that happiest of honeymoons had dwindled down the hundred-pound bank-note (shrewd john's well-expended bait) to the fractional part of a ten, and our newly-married pair came to put together their united resources, wherewithal to travel through the world, they could muster but very little:--considering, too, the future, and the promise of an early increase to provide for, forty-seven pounds was not quite a fortune; and a few articles of jewellery did not much increase it. we need not imagine that henry calmly acquiesced without a struggle in the roguish fraud which had impoverished him; but, notwithstanding all his best endeavours, he found, to his dismay, that the case was irremediable: the transfer-books, indeed, were evidence; and equity would give credit for the trust: but that the "independent bank" had failed was a simple fact; and so long as john stood ready to swear he had invested in it, there was an end to the business. be sure, shrewd jack was not likely to leave any thing dubious or unsatisfactory in the affair. austral papers were easily got at now, cheap as whitey-brown; and for any help the law could give him, poor henry clements might as well engage the wind-raising services of a lapland witch. he must put his shoulder to the wheel without delay; manifestly, his profession of the law, however unlucrative till now, must be the mighty lever that should raise him quickly to the summit of opulence and fame: and he vigorously set to work, as the briefless are forced to do, inditing a new law-book, which should lift him high in honour with those magnates on the bench; being, as he was, a court-counsel, not a chamber one, an eloquent pleader too (if the world would only give him a hearing), he unluckily took for his thesis the questionable '_doctrine of defence_;' combating magnanimously on the loftiest moral grounds all manner of received opinions, time-honoured fictions, legitimated quibbles, and other things which (as he was pleased to put it) "render the majesty of the law ridiculous to the ears of common sense, and iniquitous in the sight of christian judgment." rash youth! forensic quixote! better had you plodded on, without this extra industry and skill, in the hopeless idleness and solitude of your temple garret--better had you burnt your wig and gown outright, with all the airy briefs to come that fluttered round them, than have owned yourself the author of that heretical piece of moral mawkishness--'_the doctrine of defence_, by henry clements.' he had with difficulty found a publisher--a chilling incident enough in itself, considering an author's feelings for his book-child; and when found, the scarcely satisfactory arrangement was insisted on, of mutual participation in profit and loss: in other parlance, the bookseller pocketing the first, and the author unpocketing the second. thus it came to pass, that after three months' toil and enormous collation of cases--after extravagant indulgence of the most ardent hopes--glory, good, and gold, consequent instantaneously on this happy publication--after reasonably expecting that judges would quote it in their ermine, and sergeants consult it in their silk--that london would be startled by the event from the humdrum of its ordinary routine--and the wondering world applaud the name of henry clements--o, heart-sickening reality! what was the result of his exertions? "so, that puppy clements has taken upon himself to put us all to school about whom we may defend, and how, i see---- hang the fellow's impudence!" grunted a fat old bailey counsel to his peers, well aware that the luckless author sat nervously within ear-shot. "i know whose junior that modest swain shall never be;" simpered sergeant tiffin. "the fellow's done for himself," was the simultaneous verdict of a well-wigged band of brothers. and what else they might have added in their charity poor clements never knew, for he crept away to his garret, stricken with disappointment. there he must encounter other trials of the heart: two or three reviews and newspapers lay upon his table, just sent in by the bookseller, as per order; for they contained, in spirit-stirring print, notices of '_clements on defence_.' unluckily for his present peace of mind, poor fellow, the periodicals in question were none of the humaner sort; no kindly encouraging '_literary register_,' no soft-spoken '_courtier_,' no patient '_investigator_,' no generously-indulgent '_critical gazette_:' these more amiable journals would be slower in the field--some six weeks hence, perhaps, creeping on with philanthropic sloth: but fiercer prints, which dart hebdomadal wrath at every trembling seeker of their parsimonious praise, had whipt up their malice to deliver the first swift blow against our hapless neophyte in print. thus, when, with nervous preboding, henry took up the '_watchman_,' in eager hope for favour to his poor dear book, he turned quite sick at heart to find the lying verdict run as follows, though the small type in which it spake was a comfort too: "a careless compilation of insignificant cases, clumsily thrown together, and calculated to set its author high indeed upon the rolls of fame; proving to the world that a mr. henry clements can reason very feebly; that his premises are habitually false; and that presumptuous preaching is the natural accompaniment of extreme ignorance." by all that worries man, but this was too bad: "careless?"--every word had been a care to him: "clumsy?"--in composition it was addison's own self: "feeble?"--if he was good for any thing, he was good for logic: "false?"--not one premise but stood on adamant, not one conclusion but it was fixed as fate: "presumptuous?"--it was bold and masculine, certainly, but humble too; here and there almost deferential: "ignorant?"--ye powers that live in looks, testify by thousands how clements had been studying!--and yet this most lying sentence, a congeries or sorites of untruths, hastily penned by some dyspeptic scribe, who perhaps had barely dipped into the book, was at the moment circulating in every library of the kingdom, proclaiming our poor barrister a fool! o, thou watchful scribe, forbear! for it is cowardly--they cannot smite again: forbear! for it is cruel--the hearts of wife and mother and lover ache upon your idle words: forbear! it is unreasonable--for often-times a word would prove that rhadamanthus' self is wrong: forbear, calumnious scribe! and heed the harms you do, when you rob some poor struggler of his character for sense, and make the bread of the hungry to fail. '_the corinthian_,' another snarling watch-dog in the courts of the temple of fame, followed instinctively the same injurious wake: it was a leisurely sarcastic anatomization, quite enough to blight any young candidate's prospects, supposing that mankind respected such a verdict; if not to make him cut his throat, granting that the victim should be sensitive as keats. the generous review in question may be judged of by its first line and last sentence; as hercules from his advancing foot, or cuvier's megatherium from the relics of its great toe. thus it commenced: "when a disappointed man, intolerant of fortune," &c., &c., and it wound up many stinging observations with this grateful climax following: "we trust we have now said enough to prove that if a man will be bold enough to 'depreciate censure,'--will attack what he is pleased to consider abuses, however countenanced by high authority--and will obtrude his literary eloquence into our solemn courts of law, he deserves--what does he not deserve?--to be addressed henceforth by a name suggestive at once of ignorance, presumption, and conceit, as mr. henry clements." now, will it be believed that a trivial error of the press mainly conduced to occasion this hostility? our poor author had been weak enough to "deprecate censure" in his penny-wise humility, and the printer had negatived his meaning as above: "_hinc illæ lachrymæ_." oh, but how the ragged tooth of calumny gnawed his very heart! '_the legal recorder_' was another of those early unfavourables; being as a matter of course adverse too, and not very disinterestedly either: for it played the exalted part of pet puffer to a rival publisher, who wanted no other reason for condemning this book of mr. clements than that it came from the legal officina of an opponent in his trade. there was another paper or two, but clements felt so utterly disheartened that he did not dare to look at them. i wish he had; they would have comforted him, pouring balm upon his wounded pride by their kind and cordial praises: but ill-luck ruled the hour, so he burnt them forthwith, and lost much literary comforting. to sauce up all this pleasantry with a smack of concreted pleasure itself, the last and only remaining document upon the table was a civil note from mr. wormwood, publisher and bookseller, enclosing the following items with his compliments: to copies '_doctrine of defence_,' £ to advertising ditto, to per cent. on sales, &c. supplied to author, copies, &c. given to periodicals for review, copies, &c. against all which was the solitary offset of "three copies sold;" leaving as our henry's _share_ of now certain loss a matter of eighty pounds: which, between ourselves, was only a very little more than the whole cost of that untoward publication. mr. wormwood hoped to hear from mr. clements at his earliest convenience, as a certain sum was to be made up on a certain day, and the book-trade never had been at a lower ebb, and prompt payment would be esteemed a great accommodation, and--all that stereotyped sort of thing. poor clements--reviled author, ruined lawyer, almost reckless wight--here was an extinguisher indeed to the morning's brilliant hopes! what an overwhelming debt to that ill-used couple in their altered circumstances! how entirely by his own strong effort had he swamped his legal expectations! just as a man who cannot swim splashes himself into certain suffocation; whereas, if he would but lie quite still, he was certain to have floated on as safe as cork. well: to cut a long story short, our unlucky author found that he must pay, and pay forthwith, or incur a lawyer's bill for his debt to mr. wormwood: so he gave up his temple garret, sold his books, nicknacks, and superfluous habiliments, added to the proceeds their forty pounds of capital, and a neck-chain of maria's; and, at tremendous sacrifices, found himself once more out of danger, because out of debt. but it was a bad prospect truly for the future--ay, and for the present too; a few pounds left would soon be gone--and then dear maria's confinement was approaching, and a hundred wants and needs, little and great: accordingly, they made all haste to get rid of their suburban dwelling in the city road, collected their few valuables remaining, and retreated with all economical speed to a humble lodging in a cheap back street at islington. that little parlor was a palace of love: in the midst of her deep sorrow, sweet maria never failed of her amiable charities--nay, she was even cheerful, hopeful--happy, and rendering happy: a thousand times a day had henry cause to bless his "wedded angel." and, showing his love by more than words, he resolutely set about another literary enterprise, anonymous this time for very fear's sake; but providence saw fit to bless his efforts with success. he wrote a tragedy, a clever and a good one too; though '_the watchman_' did sneer about "modern shakspeares," and '_the corinthian_,' pouncing on some trifling fault, pounded it with would-be giant force: nevertheless, for it was a famous english theme, he luckily got them to accept it at the haymarket, and '_boadicea_' drew full houses; so the author had his due ninth night, and pocketed, instead of fame (for he grimly kept his secret) enough to enable him to print his tragedy for private satisfaction; and that piece of vanity accomplished, he still found himself seven pounds before-hand with the world. chapter xi. fraud cuts his fingers with his own edged tools. unpleasant as it is to feel obliged to be the usher of ill company, i must now introduce to the fastidious public a brace of characters any thing but reputable. it were possible indeed to slur them over with a word; but i have deeper ends in view for a glance so superficial: we may learn a lesson in charity, we may gain some schooling of the heart, even from those "ladies-legatees." do you remember them, the supposititious nieces, aiders and abetters in our stock-jobber's forged will? two flashy, showy women, _not_ of easy virtue, but of none at all--special intimates of john dillaway, and the genus of his like, and habitual frequenters of divers choice and pleasant places of resort. the reason of their introduction here is two-fold: first, they have to play a part in our tale--a part of righteous retribution; and, secondly, they have to instruct us incidentally in this lesson of true morals and human charity--dread, denounce, and hate the sin, but feel a just compassion for the sinner. let us take the latter object first, and bear with the brief epitome of facts which have blighted those unfortunates to what they are. look at these two women, impudent brawlers, foul with vice: can there be any excuses made for them, considered as distinct from their condition? god knoweth: listen to their histories; and fear not that thy virtuous glance will be harmed or misdirected, or a minute of thy precious time ill-spent. anna bates and julia manners (their latest _noms de guerre_ will serve all nominative purposes as well as any other) had arrived at the same lowest level of female degradation by very different downward roads. anna's father had been a country curate, unfortunate through life, because utterly imprudent, and neither too wise a man nor too good a one, or depend upon it his orphan could not have come to this: "never saw i the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread." but the father died carelessly as he had lived--in debt, with all his little affairs at sixes and sevens; and his widow with her budding daughter, saving almost nothing from the wreck, set up for milliners at hull. then did the mother pique herself upon playing her cards cleverly; for gallant captain croker was quite smitten with the girl. poor child--she loved, listened, and was lost; a more systematic traitor of affection never breathed than that fine man; so she left by night her soft intriguing broken-spirited mother, followed her lothario from barrack to barrack, and at last--he flung her away! who can wonder at the reckless and dissolute result? whom had she to care for her--whom had she to love? she must live thus, or starve. without credit, character, or hope, or help, the friendless unprotected wretch was thrown upon the town. when the last accounts are opened, oblivious general croker will find an ell-long score of crimes laid to his charge, whereof he little reckons in his sear and yellow leaf. the trusting victim of seduction has a legion of excuses for the wretched one she is. again; for another case whereon the better-favoured heart may ruminate in charity. miss julia manners had a totally different experience but man can little judge how mainly the iron hand of circumstance confined that life-long sinner to the ways and works of guilt. in the nervous language of the bible--(hear it, men and women, without shrinking from the words)--that poor girl was "the seed of the adulterer and the whore:" born in a brothel, amongst outcasts from a better mass of life--brought up from the very cradle amid sounds and scenes of utter vice (whereof we dare not think or speak one moment of the many years she dwelt continuously among them)--educated solely as a profligate, and ignorant alike of sin, righteousness, and a judgment to come--had she then a chance of good, or one hopeful thought of being better than she was? the water of holy baptism never bedewed that brow; the voice of motherly counsel never touched those ears; her eyes were unskilled to read the records of wisdom; her feet untutored to follow after holiness; her heart unconscious of those evils which she never knew condemned; her soul--she never heard or thought of one! oh, ye well-born, well-bred, ye kindly, carefully, prayerfully instructed daughters of innocence and purity, pause, pause, ere your charity condemns: hate the sin, but love the sinner: think it out further, for yourselves, in all those details which i have not time to touch, skill to describe, nor courage to encounter; think out as kindly as ye may this episode of just indulgence; there is wisdom in this lesson of benevolence, and after-sweetness too, though the earliest taste of it be bitter; think it out; be humbler of your virtue, scarcely competent to err; be more grateful to that providence which hath filled your lot with good; and be gentler-hearted, more generous-handed unto those whose daily life is--all temptation. now, these two ladies (who extenuates their guilt, caviller? who breathes one iota of excuse for their wicked manner of life? who does not utterly denounce the foul and flagrant sin, whilst he leaves to a secret-searching god the judgment of the sinner?)--these two ladies, i say, had of late become very sore plagues to mr. john dillaway. they had flared out their hush-money like duchesses, till the whole town rang about their equipage and style; and now, that all was spent, they pestered our stock-jobber for more. they came at an unlucky season, a season of "ill luck!" such a miraculous run of it, as nothing could explain to any rational mind but loaded dice, packed cards, contrivance and conspiracy. nevertheless, our worthy john went on staking, and betting, and playing, resolute to break the bank, until it was no wonder at all to any but his own shrewd genius, that he found himself one feverish morning well nigh penniless. at such a moment then, called our ladies-legatees, clamorous for hush-money. as a matter most imperatively of course, not a farthing more should be forthcoming, and many oaths avouched that stern determination. they ought to be ashamed of themselves, after such an enormous bribe to each--as if shame of any kind had part or lot in those feminine accomplices: it was a sanguine thought of mr. john dillaway. but the ladies were not ashamed, nor silenced, nor any thing like satisfied. so, having thoroughly fatigued themselves with out-swearing and out-threatening, our sneerful stock-jobber, they resolved upon exposing him, come what might. for their own guilty part in that transaction of mrs. jane mackenzie's pseudo-will, good sooth, the wretched women had no characters to lose, nor scarcely aught else on which one could set a value. danger and the trial would be an excitement to their pallid spirits, possible transportation even seemed a ray of hope, since any thing was better than the town; and in their sinful recklessness, liberty or life itself was little higher looked on than a dice's stake. moreover, as to all manner of personal pains and penalties, there was every chance of getting off scot-free, provided they lost no time, went not one before the other, but doubly turned queen's evidence at once against their worthy coadjutor and employer. in the hope, then, of ruining him, if not of getting scathelessly off themselves, these ladies-legatees mustered once more from the mazes of st. giles's the pack of competent irish witnesses, collected whatever documentary or other evidence looked likeliest to help their ends, and then one early day presented themselves before the lord-mayor, eager to destroy at a blow that pleasant mr. dillaway. the proceedings were long, cautious, tedious, and secret: emissaries to belfast, doctors' commons, and the bank: the stamp office was stirred to its foundations; and canterbury staggered at the fraud. thus within a week the proper officials were in a condition to prosecute, and the issue of immense examinations tended to that point of satisfaction, the haling mr. dillaway to prison on the charge of having forged a will. chapter xii. heart's core. they were come into great want, poor henry and maria: they had not wherewithal for daily sustenance. the few remaining trinkets, books, clothes, and other available moveables had been gradually pledged away, and to their full amount--at least, the pawnbroker said so. that unlucky publication of the law book, so speedily condemned and heartlessly ridiculed, had wrecked all henry's possible prospects in the courts; and as for help from friends--the casual friends of common life--he was too proud to beg for that--too sensitive, too self-respectful. relations he had none, or next to none--that distant cousin of his mother's, the mac-something, whom he had never even seen, but who, nevertheless, had acted as his guardian. much as he suspected dillaway in the matter of that bitter breach of trust, he had neither ready money to proceed against him, (nor, when he came to think it over) any legal grounds at all to go upon; for, as we have said before, even granting there should be evidence adduced of the transfer of stock from the name of clements to that of dillaway, still it was a notorious fact that the "independent bank" had failed, whereto the stock-broker could swear he had intrusted it. in short, shrewd jack had managed all that affair to admiration; and poor clements was ruined without hope, and defrauded without remedy. then, again, we already know how that lady dillaway was dead, so help from her was simply impossible; and the miserable father sir thomas was kept too closely up to the mark of resolute anger by slanderous john, to give them any aid, if they applied to him; but, in truth, as to personal application, henry would not for pride, and maria now could not, for her near-at-hand motherly condition. her frequent letters, as we may be sure, were intercepted; and, even if sir thomas now and then yearned after his lost child, it had become a matter of physical impossibility to find out where she lived. thus were they hopelessly sinking, day by day, into all the bitter waves of want. not but that henry strived, as we have seen, and shall yet see: still his endeavours had been very nearly fruitless--and, perchance, till all available moveables had been pawned outright, very feeble too. now, however, that maria, in her sorrow and her need, must soon become a mother, the state of things grew terrible indeed; their horizon was all over black with clouds. no: not all over. there is light under the darkness, a growing light that shall dispel the darkness; a precious light upon their souls, the early dawn of heaven's eternal day; god's final end in all their troubles, the reaping-time of joy for their sowing-time of tears. without cant, affectation, or hypocrisy, there is but one panacea for the bruised or broken heart, available alike in all times, all places, and all circumstances: and he who knows not what that is, has more to learn than i can teach him. that pure substantial comfort is born of heaven's hope, and faith in heaven's wisdom; it is a solid confidence in god's great love, but faintly shadowed out by all the charities of earth. human affections in their manifold varieties are little other than an echo of that voice, "come unto me; comfort ye, comfort ye; i will be a father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and my daughters; thy maker is thy husband; he hath loved thee with an everlasting love; when thou goest through the fire, i will be with thee, through the waters, they shall not overflow thee; eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the mind of man to conceive the blessings which his love hath laid in store for _thee_." heart's-ease in heart's-affliction--this they found in god; turning to him with all their hearts, and pouring out their hearts before him, they trusted in him heartily for both worlds' good. therefore did he give them their heart's desire, satisfying all their mind: wherefore did they love each other now with a newly-added plenitude of love, mutually in reference to him who loved them, and gave himself for them: therefore did they feel in their distresses more gladness at their hearts, than in the days of luxury and affluence, the increase of their oil and their wine. for this is the great end of all calamities. god doth not willingly afflict: trouble never cometh without an urgent cause; and though man in his perverseness often misses all the prize of purity, whilst he pays all the penalty of pain; still the motive that sent sorrow was the same--o, that there were a better heart in them! in many modes the heart of man is tried, as gold must be refined, by many methods; and happiest is the heart, that, being tried by many, comes purest out of all. if prosperity melts it as a flux, well; but better too than well, if the acid of affliction afterwards eats away all unseen impurities; whereas, to those with whom the world is in their hearts, affluence only hardens, and penury embitters, and thus, though burnt in many fires, their hearts are dross in all. like those sullen children in the market-place, they feel no sympathies with heaven or with earth: unthankful in prosperity, unsoftened by adversity, well may it be said of them, hearts of stone, hearts of stone! not of such were henry and maria: naturally warm in affections and generous in sympathies, it needed but the pilot's hand to steer their hearts aright: the energies of life were there, both fresh and full, lacking but direction heavenwards; and chastisement wisely interposed to wean those yearning spirits from the brief and feverish pursuits of unsatisfying life, to the rest and the rewards of an eternity. then were they wedded indeed, heart answering to heart; then were they strong against all the ills of life, those hearts that were established by grace; then spake they often one to another out of the abundance of their hearts; and in spite of all their sorrows, they were happy, for their hearts were right with god. let the grand idea suffice, unencumbered by the multitude of details. whatsoever things are true, honest and just; whatsoever things are pure, lovely, or of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise--believe of those twin hearts that god had given them all. patience, hope, humility; faith, tenderness, and charity; prayer, trust, benevolence, and joy: this was the lot of the afflicted! it was good for them that they had been in trouble; for they had gained from it a wealth that is above the preciousness of rubies, deservedly dearer to their hearts than the thousands of gold and silver. what a contrast then was shown between god's kindness and man's coldness! no one of their fellows seemed to give them any heed: but he cared for them, and on him they cast their cares. former friends appeared to stand aloof, self-dependent and unsympathizing; but god was ever near, kindly bringing help in every extremity, which always seemed at hand, yet ever kept away: smoothing the pillow of sickness, comforting the troubled spirit, and treading down calamity and calumny and care; as a conqueror conquering for them. so, they learned the priceless wisdom which adversity would teach to all on whom she frowneth; when earthly hopes are wrecked, to anchor fast on god; and if affluence should ever come again, to aid the poor afflicted with heartiness, beneficence, and home-taught sympathy. chapter xiii. hope's birth to innocence, and hope's death to fraud. john dillaway's sudden loss of property, his character exploded as a monied man, and the strong probability of his turning out a felon, had a great effect on the spirits of sir thomas. he had called upon his promising son in prison, had found him very sulky, disinclined for social intercourse, and any thing but filial; all he condescended to growl, with a characteristic d---- or two interlarding his eloquence, was this taunting speech: "well, governor, i may thank you and your counsels for this. here's a precious end to all my clever tricks of trade! i wish you joy of your son, and of your daughter too, old man. who wrote that letter? what, not found out yet? and does she still starve for it? who gained money as you bade him--never mind how? and is now going to do honour to the family all round the world, ey?--ha, ha, ha!" the poor unhappy father tottered away as quickly as he could, while yet the brutal laughter of that unnatural son rang upon his ears. he was quite miserable, let him turn which way he would. on 'change the name had been disgraced--posted up for scorn on the board of degradation: at home, there was no pliant son and heir, to testify against maria, and to close the many portals of a wretched father's heart. he grew very wretched--very mopy; determined upon cutting adrift shrewd jack himself, as a stigma on the name which had once held the mace of mayoralty; made his will petulantly, for good and all, in favour of stationer's hall, and felt very like a man who had lived in vain. "cut it down; why cumbereth it the earth?" meanwhile, in those two opposite quarters of the world of london, newgate and islington, sir thomas's two discarded children were bearing in a different way their different privations. poor maria's hour of peril had arrived; and amidst all those pains, dangers, and necessities, a soft and smiling babe was born into the world; gladness filled their hearts, and praise was on their tongues, when the happy father and mother kissed that first-born son. it was a splendid boy, they said, and should redeem his father's fortunes: there was hope in the future, let the past be what it may; and this new bond of union to that happy wedded pair made the present--one unclouded scene of gratitude and love. who shall sing of the humble ale-caudle, and those cheerful givings to surrounding poor, scarcely poorer than themselves? who shall record how kind was henry, how useful was the nurse, how liberal the doctor, how sympathizing all? who shall tell how tenderly did providence step in with another author's night of that same tragedy, and how other avenues to literary gain stood wide open to industry and genius? it was happiness all, happiness, and triumph: they were weathering the storm famously, and had safely passed the breakers of false witness. amidst the other part of london sate a sullen fellow, quite alone, in newgate, looking for his trial on the morrow, and prophesying accurately enough how some two days hence, he, john dillaway, of broker's alley, son and heir of the richest stationer in europe, was to appear in the character of a convicted felon, and be probably condemned to transportation for life. a pleasant retrospect was his, a pleasanter aspect, and a pleasanter prospect; all was pleasure assuredly. and the morrow duly came; with those implacable approvers, those accurate irish witnesses, those tell-tale documents, that prosecuting crown and bank, that dogged jury, and that sentencing recorder: so then, by a little after noon, to the scandal of finsbury square, john dillaway discovered that the "wise man's trick or two in the money market" was about to be rewarded with twenty-one years of transportation. of this interesting fact henry clements became acquainted by an occasional peep into the public prints; and he perceived to his astonishment, that the defrauded mrs. jane mackenzie, of ballyriggan, near belfast, could surely be none other than his mother's ulster cousin, the nominal guardian of his boyhood! to be sure, it mattered little enough to him, for the old lady had never been much better than a stranger to him, and at present appeared only in that useless character to an expectant, a person despoiled of her money; nevertheless, of that identical money, certain sanguine friends had heretofore given him expectations in the event of her death, seeing that she had nobody to leave it to, except himself and the public charities of the united kingdom: clearly, this cousin must have been the defrauded bank annuitant, and he could not help feeling more desolate than ever; for john dillaway's evil influences had robbed him now of name, fame, fortune, and what hope regards as much as any--expectations. yet--must not the bank of england bear the brunt of all this forgery, and account for its stock to that innocent depositor? old mrs. jane was sinking into dotage, probably had plenty of other money, and scarcely seemed to stir about the business; therefore, legitimately interested as henry indubitably was, he took upon him to write to his antiquated relative, and in so doing managed to please her mightily: renewed whatever interest she ever might have felt in him, enabled her to enforce her just claim, and really stood a likelier chance than ever of coming in for competency some day. however, for the present, all was penury still. clements had been too delicate for even a hint at his deplorable condition: and his distant relative's good feeling, so providentially renewed, served indeed to gild the future, but did not avail to gingerbread the present. so they struggled on as well as they could: both very thankful for the chance which had caused a coalition between sensitiveness and interest; and maria at least more anxious than ever for a reconciliation with her father, now that all his ardent hopes had been exploded in son john. chapter xiv. probable reconciliation. it was no use--none at all. nature was too strong for him; and a higher force than even potent nature. in vain sir thomas pish'd, and tush'd, and bah'd; in vain he buried himself chin-deep amongst the century of ledgers that testified of gainful years gone by, and were now mustily rotting away in the stagnant air of st. benet's sherehog: interest had lost its interest for him, profits profited not, speculation's self had dull, lack-lustre eyes, and all the hard realities of utilitarian life were become weary, flat, and stale. sir thomas was a miserable man--a bereaved old man--who nevertheless clung to what was left, and struggled not to grieve for what was lost: there was a terrible strife going on secretly within him, dragging him this way and that: a little, lightning flash of good had been darted by omnipotence right through the stone-built caverns of his heart, and was smouldering a concentred flame within its innermost hollow; a small soft-skinned seed had been dropped by the father of spirits into that iron-bound soil, and it was swelling day by day under the case-hardened surface, gradually with gentle violence, despite of all the locks and gates, and bolts and bars, a silent enemy had somehow crept within the fortress of his feelings, ready at any unguarded moment to fling the portals open. the rock had a sealed fountain leaping within it, as an infant in the womb. the poor old man, the worldly cold old man, was giving way. happy misery! for his breaking heart revealed a glorious jewel at the core. oh, sorrow beyond price! for natural affections, bursting up amid these unsunned snows, were a hot-spring to that iceland soul. oh, bitter, bitter penitence most blest! which broke down the money-proud man, which bruised and kneaded him, humbled, smote, and softened him, and made him come again a little child--a loving, yearning, little child--a child with pity in its eyes, with prayer upon its tongue, with generous affection in its heart. "oh, maria! precious, cast-off child, where art thou, where art thou, where art thou--starving? and canst thou, blessed god, forgive? and will not thy great mercy bring her to me yet again? oh, what a treasury of love have i mis-spent; what riches of the heart, what only truest wealth, have i, poor prodigal, been squandering! unhappy son--unhappy father of the perjured, heartless, miserable john! wo is me! where art thou, dear child, my pure and best maria?" we may well guess, far too well, how it was that dear maria came not near him. she had been, prior to confinement, very, very ill: nigh to death: the pangs of travail threatened to have seized upon her all too soon, when wasted with sorrow, and weakened by want. she lay, long weeks, battling for life, in her little back parlour, at islington, tended night and day by her kind, good husband. but did she not often (you will say) urge him, earnestly as the dying ask, to seek out her father or brother (she had not been told of his conviction), and to let them know this need? why, then, did he so often put her off with faint excuses, and calm her with coming hopes, and do any thing, say any thing, suffer any thing, rather than execute the fervent wish of the affectionate maria? it is easily understood. with, and notwithstanding, all the high sentiments, strong sense, and warm feelings of henry clements, he was too proud to seek any succour of the dillaways. sooner than give that hard old man, or, beforetime, that keen malicious young one, any occasion to triumph over his necessitous condition, he himself would starve: ay, and trust to heaven his darling wife and child; but not trust these to them. never, never--if the heart-divorcing work-house were their doom--should that father or that brother hear from him a word of supplication, or one murmur of complaint. nay; he took pains to hinder their knowledge of this trouble: all the world, rather than those two men. let penury, disease, the very parish-beadle triumph over him, but not those two. it was a natural feeling for a sensitive mind like his--but in many respects a wrong one. it was to put away, deliberately, the helping hand of providence, because it bade him kiss the rod. it was a direct preference of honour to humility. it was an unconsciously unkind consideration of himself before those whom he nevertheless believed and called more dear to him than life--but not than honour. therefore it was that the hand-bills he had so often seen pasted upon walls were disregarded, that the numerous newspaper advertisements remained unanswered, and that all the efforts of an almost frantic father to find his long-lost daughter were in vain. meanwhile, to be just upon poor clements, who really fancied he was doing right in this, he left no stone unturned to obtain a provision for his beloved wife and child. frequently, by letters (as little urgent as affection and necessity would suffer him), he had pressed upon some powerful friends for that vague phantom of a gentlemanly livelihood--"something under government;" a hope improbable of accomplishment, indefinite as to view, but still a hope: especially, since very civil answers came to his request, couched in terms of official guardedness. he had called anxiously upon "old friends," in pretty much of his usual elegant dress (for he was wise enough, or proud enough, never to let his poverty be seen in his attire), and they made many polite inquiries after "mrs. clements," and "where are you living?" and "how is it you never come our way?" and "clements has cut us all dead," and so forth. it was really entirely his own fault, but he never could contrive to tell the truth: and when one day, in a careless tone of voice, he threw out something about "do you happen to have ten pounds about you?" to a dashing young blood of his acquaintance--the dashing young blood affected to treat it as a joke--"you married men, lucky dogs, with your regular establishments, are too hard upon us poor bachelors, who have nothing but clubs to go to. i give you my honour, clements, ten pounds would dine me for a fortnight:--spare me this time, there's a fine fellow: take the trouble to write a cheque on your bankers--here's paper--and my tiger shall get it cashed for you while you wait: we poor bachelors are never flush." but clements had already owned it was a mere "_obiter dictum_,"--nothing but a joke of prudent marriage against extravagant bachelorship. ah, what a bitter joke was that! on the verge of that yes or no, to be uttered by his frank young friend, trembled reluctant honour; home-affections were imploring in that careless tone of voice; hunger put that off-hand question. it was vain; a cruel killing effort for his pride: so henry clements never asked again; withdrew himself from friends; grew hopeless, all but reckless; and his only means of living were picked up scantily from the by-ways of literature. an occasional guinea from a magazine, a copy of that luckily anonymous tragedy now and then sold by him from house to house (he always disguised himself at such times), a little indexing to be done for publishers, and a little correcting of the press for printers--these formed the trifling and uncertain pittance upon which the pale family existed. poor henry clements, proud henry clements, you had, indeed, a dose of physic for your pride: bitter draughts, bitter draughts, day after day; but, for all that weak and wasted wife, dearly, devotedly beloved; for all the pining infant, with its angel face and beautiful smiles: for all the strong pleadings of affection, yea, and gnawing hunger too, the strong man's pride was stronger. and had not god's good providence proved mercifully strongest of them all, that family of love would have starved outright for pride. but heaven's favour willed it otherwise. by something little short of miracle, where food was scant and medicine scarce, the poor emaciated mother gradually gained strength--that long, low fever left her, health came again upon her cheek, her travail passed over prosperously, the baby too thrived, (oh, more than health to mothers!) and maria clements found herself one morning strong enough to execute a purpose she had long most anxiously designed. "henry was wrong to think so harshly of her father. she knew he would not spurn her away: he must be kind, for she loved him dearly still. wicked as it doubtless was of her [dear innocent girl] to have done any thing contrary to his wishes, she was sure he would relieve her in her utmost need. he could not, could not be so hard as poor dear henry made him." so, taking advantage of her husband's absence during one of his literary pilgrimages, she took her long-forgotten bonnet and shawl, and, with the baby in her arms, flew on the wings of love, duty, penitence, and affection to her dear old home in finsbury square. chapter xv. the father finds his heart for ever. he had been at death's door, sinking out of life, because he had nothing now to live for. he still was very weak in bed, faint, and worn, and white, propped up with pillows--that poor, bereaved old man. ever since lady dillaway's most quiet death he had felt alone in the world. true, while she lived she had seemed to him a mere tranquil trouble, a useless complacent piece of furniture, often in his way; but now that she was dead, what a void was left where she had been--mere empty space, cold and death-like. she had left him quite alone. then again--of john, poor john, he would think, and think continually--not about the little vulgar pock-marked man of 'change, the broker, the rogue, the coward--but of a happy curly child, with sparkling eyes--a merry-hearted, ruddy little fellow, romping with his sister--ay, in this very room; here is the identical china vase he broke, all riveted up; there is the corner where he would persist to nestle his dormice. ah, dear child! precious child! where is he now?--where and what indeed! alas, poor father! had you known what i do, and shall soon inform the world, of that bad man's awful end, one more, one fiercest pang would have tormented you: but heaven spared that pang. nevertheless, the bitter contrast of the child and of the man had made him very wretched--and to the widower's solitude added the father's sadness. and worst of all--maria's utter loss--that dear, warm-hearted, innocent, ill-used, and yet beloved daughter. why did he spurn her away? and keep her away so long?--oh, hard heart, hard heart! was she not innocent, after all? and john, bad john, too probably the forger of that letter, as the forger of this will? and now that he should give his life to see her, and kiss her, and--no, no, not forgive her, but pray to be forgiven by her--"where is she? why doesn't she come to hold up my poor weak head--to see how fervently my dead old heart has at last learnt to love--to help a bad, and hard, a pardoned and penitent old man to die in perfect peace--to pray with me, for me, to god, our god, my daughter! where is she--how can i find her out--why will she not come to me all this sorrowful year? oh come, come, dear child--our father send thee to me--come and bless me ere i die--come, my maria!" magical, or contrived, as it may seem to us, the poor old man was actually bemoaning himself thus, when our dear heroine of the heart faintly knocked at her old home door. it opened; a faded-looking woman, with a baby in her arms, rushed past the astonished butler: and, just as her father was praying out aloud for heaven to speed her to him, that daughter's step was at the bed-room door. before she turned the handle (some house-maid had recognised her on the stairs, and told her, with an impudent air, that "sir thomas was ill a-bed"), she stopped one calming instant to gain strength of god for that dreaded interview, and to check herself from bursting in upon the chamber of sickness, so as to disquiet that dear weak patient. so, she prayed, gently turned the handle, and heard those thrilling words--"come, my maria!" it was enough; their hearts burst out together like twin fountains, rolling their joyful sorrows together towards the sea of endless love, as a swollen river that has broken through some envious and constraining dam! it was enough; they wept together, rejoiced together, kissed and clasped each other in the fervour of full love: the babe lay smiling and playing on the bed: maria, in a torrent of happiest tears, fondled that poor old man, who was crying and laughing by turns, as little children do--was praising god out loud like a saint, and calling down blessings on his daughter's head in all the transports of a new-found heart. what a world of things they had to tell of--how much to explain, excuse, forgive, and be forgiven, especially about that wicked letter--how fervently to make up now for love that long lay dormant--how heartily to bless each other, and to bless again! who can record it all? who can even sketch aright the heavenly hues that shone about that scene of the affections? alas, my pen is powerless--yea, no mortal hand can trace those heavenly hues. angels that are round the penitent's, the good man's bed--ye alone who witness it, can utter what ye see: ye alone, rejoicingly with those rejoicing, gladly speed aloft frequent ambassadors to him, the lord of love, with some new beauteous trait, some rare ecstatic thought, some pure delighted look, some more burning prayer, some gem of heaven's jewellery more brilliant than the rest, which raises happy envy of your bright compeers. i see your shining bands crowding enamoured round that scene of human tenderness; while now and then some peri-like seraph of your thronging spiritual forms will gladly wing away to find favour of his god for a tear, or a prayer, or a holy thought dropped by his ministering hands into the treasury of heaven. but the cup of joy is large and deep: it is an ocean in capacity: and mantling though it seemeth to the brim, god's bounty poureth on. another step is on the stairs! you have guessed it, henry clements. returning home wearily, after a disheartening expedition, and finding his wife, to his great surprise, gone out, sick and weak, as still he thought her, he had calculated justly on the direction whereunto her heart had carried her; he had followed her speedily, and, with many self-compunctions, he had determined to be proud no more, and to help, with all his heart, in that holy reconciliation. see! at the bed-side, folding maria with one arm, and with his other hand tightly clasped in both of that kind and changed old man's, stands henry clements. ay, changed indeed! who could have discovered in that joy-illumined brow, in those blessing-dropping lips, in those eyes full of penitence, and pity, and peace, and praise, and prayer, the harsh old usurer--the crafty money-cankered knave of dim st. benet's sherehog--the cold husband--the cruel father--the man without a heart? ay, changed--changed for ever now, an ever of increasing happiness and love. who or what had caused this deep and mighty change? natural affection was the sword, and god's the arm that wielded it. none but he could smite so deeply; and when he smote, pour balm into the wound: none but he could kill death, that dead dried heart, and quicken life within its mummied caverns: none but the voice, which said "let there be light," could work this common miracle of "let there be love." he grew feebler--feebler, that dying kind old man: it had been too much for him, doubtlessly; he had long been ill, and should long ago have died; but that he had lived for this; and now the end seemed near. they never left his bed-side then for days and nights, that new-found son and daughter: physicians came, and recommended that the knight be quite alone, quite undisturbed: but sir thomas would not, could not--it were cruelty to force it; so he lay feebly on his back, holding on either side the hands of henry and maria. it was not so very long: they had come almost in the nick of time: a few days and hours at the most, and all will then be over. so did they watch and pray. and the old man faintly whispered: "henry--son henry: poor john, forgive him, as you and our god have now forgiven me; poor john--when he comes back again from those long years of slavery, give him a home, son--give him a home, and enough to keep him honest; tell him i love him, and forgive him; and remind him that i died, praying heaven for my poor boy's soul. "henry and maria--i had, since my great distresses, well nigh forgotten this world's wealth; but now, thank god, i have thought of it all for your sakes: in my worst estate of mind i made a wicked will. it is in that drawer--quick, give it me. "thanks--thanks--there is time to tear it; and these good friends, dr. jones and mr. blair, take witness--i destroy this wicked will; and my only child, maria, has my wealth in course of law. wealth, yes--if well used, let us call it wealth; for riches may indeed be made a mine of good, and joy, and righteousness. i am unworthy to use any of it well, unworthy of the work, unworthy of the reward: use it well, my holier children, wisely, liberally, kindly: god give you to do great good with it; god give you to feel great happiness in all your doing good. my hands that saved and scraped it all, also often-times by evil hardness, now penitently washed in the fountain of salvation, heartily renounce that evil. be ye my stewards; give liberally to many needy. oh me, my sin! children, to my misery you know what need is: i can say no more; poor sinful man, how dare i preach to others? children, dearest ones, i am a father still; and i would bless you--bless you! "i grow weak, but my heart seems within me to grow stronger--i go--i go, to the home of heart, where he that sits upon the throne is love, and where all the pulses of all the beings there thrill in unison with him, the great heart of heaven! i, even i, am one of the redeemed--my heart is fixed, i will sing and give praise; i, even i, the hardest and the worst, forgiven, accepted! who are ye, bright messengers about my bed, heralds of glory? i go--i go--one--one more, maria--one last kiss; we meet--again--in heaven!" had he fainted? yes--his countenance looked lustrous, yet diminishing in glory, even as a setting sun; the living smile faded gradually away, and a tranquil cold calm crept over his cheeks: the angelic light which made his eyes so beautiful to look at, was going out--going out: all was peace--peace--deep peace. o death, where is thy victory? o grave, where is thy sting? chapter xvi. a word about originality and mourning. when a purely inventive genius concocts a fabulous tale, it is clearly competent to him so to order matters, that characters shall not die off till his book is shortly coming to an end: and had your obedient servant now been engaged in the architecture of a duly conventional story, arranged in pattern style, with climax in the middle and a brace of ups and downs to play supporters, doubtless he might easy have kept alive both father and mother to witness the triumph of innocence, and have produced their deaths at the last as a kind of "sweet sorrow," or honied sting, wherewithal to point his moral. such, however, was not my authorship's intention; and, seeing that a wilful pen must have its way, i have chosen to construct my own veracious tale, respecting the incidents of life and death, much as such events not unfrequently occur, that is, at an inconvenient season: for though such accessories to the fact of dying, as triumphant conversion, or a tranquil going out, may appear to be a little out of the common way, still the circumstance of death itself often in real life seems to come as out of time, as your wisdom thinks in the present book of heart. people will die untowardly, and people will live provokingly, notwithstanding all that novelists have said and poets sung to the contrary: and if two characters out of our principal five have already left the mimic scene, it will now be my duty only to show, as nature and society do, how, of those three surviving chief _dramatis personæ_, two of them--to wit, our hero and heroine of heart--gathered many friends about their happy homestead, did a world of good, and, in fine, furnish our volume with a suitable counterpoise to the mass of selfish sin, which (at its height in the only remaining character) it has been my fortune to record and to condemn as the opposite topic of heartlessness. if writers will be bound by classic rules, and walk on certain roads because other folks have gone that way before them, needs must that ill-starred originality perish from this world's surface, and find refuge (if it can) in the gentle moon or sirius. therefore, let us boldly trespass from the trodden paths, let us rather shake off the shackles of custom than hug them as an ornament approved: and, notwithstanding both parental deaths, seemingly ill-timed for the happiness of innocence, let us acquiesce in the facts, as plain matters of history, not dubious thoughts of fiction; and let us gather to the end any good we can, either from the miserable solitude of a selfish dillaway, or from the hearty social circle of our happy married pair. need i, sons and daughters, need i record at any length how maria mourned for her father? if you now have parents worthy of your love, if you now have hearts to love them, i may safely leave that theme to your affections: "now" is for all things "the accepted time," now is the day for reconciliations: our life is a perpetual now. however unfilial you may have been, however stern or negligent they, if there is now the will to bless, and now the heart to love, all is well--well at the last, well now for evermore--thank heaven for so glad a consummation. oh, that my pen had power to make many fathers kind, many children trustful! oh, that by some burning word i could thaw the cold, shame sarcasms, and arouse the apathetic! oh that, invoking upon every hearth, whereto this book may come, the full free blaze of home affections, my labour of love be any thing but vain, when god shall have blessed what i am writing! yes, children, dear maria did mourn for her father, but she mourned as those who hope; his life had been forgiven, and his death was as a saints's: as for her, rich rewarded daughter at the last, one word of warm acknowledgement, one look of true affection, one tear of deep contrition, would have been superabundant to clear away all the many clouds, the many storms of her past home-life: and as for our maker, with his pure and spotless justice, faith in the sacrifice had passed all sin to him, and love of the redeemer had proved that faith the true one. how should a daughter mourn for such a soul? with tears of joy; with sighs--of kindred hopefulness; with happiest resolve to live as he had died; with instant prayer that her last end be like his. there is a plain tablet in st. benet's church, just within the altar-rail, bearing--no inscription about lord mayoralty, knighthood, or the worshipful company of stationers--but full of facts more glorious than every honour under heaven; for the words run thus: sorrowful, yet rejoicing, a daughter's love has placed this tablet to the memory of t h o m a s d i l l a w a y; a man who died in the faith of christ, in the love of god, and in the hope of heaven. noble epitaph! let us so live, that the like of this may be truth on our tomb-stones. seek it, rather than wealth, before honour, instead of pleasure; for, indeed, those words involve within their vast significancy riches unsearchable, glory indestructible, and pleasure for evermore! hide them, as a string of precious pearls, within the casket of your hearts. i had almost forgotten, though maria never could, another neighbouring tablet to record the peaceful exit of her mother; however, as this had been erected by sir thomas in his life-time, and was plastered thick with civic glories and heathen virtues, possibly the transcript may be spared: there was only one sentence that looked true about the epitaph, though i wished it had been so in every sense; but, to common eyes, it had seemed quite suitable to the physical quietude of living lady dillaway, to say, "her end was peace;" although, perhaps, the husband little thought how sore that mother's heart was for dear maria's loss, how full of anxious doubts her mind about maria's sin. poor soul, however peaceful now that spirit has read the truth, in the hour of her departure it had been with her far otherwise: her dying bed was as a troubled sea, for she died of a broken heart. yearly, on the anniversaries of their respective deaths, the growing clan of clements make a solemn pilgrimage to their grand paternal shrine, attending service on those days (or the holiday nearest to them), at st. benet's sherehog; and maria's eyes are very moist on such occasions; though hope sings gladly too within her wise and cheerful heart. she does not seem to have lost those friends; they are only gone before. chapter xvii. the house of feasting. but in fact, with our happy married folks an anniversary of some sort is perpetually recurring: wedding-days, birth-days, and all manner of festival occasions, worthy (as the old romans would have said) to be noted up with chalk, happened in that family of love weekly--almost daily. they cultivated well the grateful soil of heart, by a thousand little dressings and diggings; courting to it the warm sunshine of the skies, the zephyrs of pleasant recollections, and the genial dews of sympathy. and very wise were all those labours of delight; for their sons and their daughters grew up as the polished corners in the temple; moulded with delicate affections, their moral essence sharp, and clearly edged with sensitive feelings, as if they had sprung fresh from the hands of god, their sculptor, and the world had not rubbed off the master-touches of his chisel. for, in this dull world, we cheat ourselves and one another of innocent pleasures by the score, through very carelessness and apathy: courted day after day by happy memories, we rudely brush them off with this indiscriminating bosom, the stern material present: invited to help in rendering joyful many a patient heart, we neglect the little word that might have done it, and continually defraud creation of its share of kindliness from us. the child made merrier by your interest in his toy; the old domestic flattered by your seeing him look so well; the poor, better helped by your blessing than your penny (though give the penny too); the labourer, cheered upon his toil by a timely word of praise; the humble friend encouraged by your frankness; equals made to love you by the expression of your love; and superiors gratified by attention and respect, and looking out to benefit the kindly--how many pleasures here for any hand to gather; how many blessings here for any heart to give! instead of these, what have we rife about the world? frigid compliment--for warmth is vulgar; reserve of tongue--for it is folly to be talkative; composure, never at fault--for feelings are dangerous things; gravity--for that looks wise; coldness--for other men are cold; selfishness--for every one is struggling for his own. this is all false, all bad; the slavery chain of custom riveted by the foolishness of fashion; because there ever is a band of men and women, who have nothing to recommend them but externals--their looks or their dresses, their rank or their wealth--and in order to exalt the honour of these, they agree to set a compact seal of silence on the heart and on the mind; lest the flood of humbler men's affections, or of wiser men's intelligence, should pale their tinsel-praise; and the warm and the wise too softly acquiesce in this injury done to heartiness shamed by the effrontery of cold calm fools, and the shallow dignity of an empty presence. turn the tables on them, ye truer gentry, truer nobility, truer royalty of the heart and of the mind; speak freely, love warmly, laugh cheerfully, explain frankly, exhort zealously, admire liberally, advise earnestly--be not ashamed to show you have a heart: and if some cold-blooded simpleton greet your social effort with a sneer, repay him--for you can well afford a richer gift than his whole treasury possesses--repay him with a kind good-humoured smile: it would have shamed jack dillaway himself. if a man persists to be silent in a crowd for vanity's sake, instead of sociable, as good company expects, count him simply for a fool; you will not be far wrong; he remembers the copy-book at school, no doubt, with its large-text aphorism, "silence is wisdom;" and thinking in an easy obedience to gain credit from mankind by acting on that questionable sentence, the result is what you perpetually see--a self-contained, self-satisfied, selfish, and reserved young puppy. hint to such an incommunicative comrade, that the fashion now is coming about, to talk and show your wisdom; not to sit in shallow silence, hiding hard your folly; soon shall you loosen the flood-gates of his speech; and society will even thank you for it; for, bore as the chatterer may oft-times be, still he does the frank companion's duty; and at any rate is vastly preferable to the dull, unwarmed, unsympathetic watcher at the festal board, who sits there to exhibit his painted waistcoat instead of the heart that should be in it, and patiently waits, with a snakish eye and a bitter tongue, to aid conversation with a sarcasm. henry and maria had many hearty friends to keep their many anniversaries. they were well enough for wealth, as we may guess without much trouble; for the knight had left three thousand a-year behind him, and maria, as sole heiress, had no difficulty in establishing her claim to it; but it may be well to put mankind in memory how hospitably, how charitably, how wisely, and how heartily they stewarded it. i need not stop to tell of local charities assisted, good societies supported, and of philanthropic good done by means of their money, both at home and abroad: nor detail their many dinners, and other festal opportunities, rivets in the lengthening chain of ordinary friendship: but i do wish to make honourable mention of one happiest anniversary, which, while it commemorated fine young master harry's birth, rejoiced the many poor of lower-sack street, islington. the birth-day itself was kept at home with all the honours, in their old house at finsbury square; maria would not leave that house, for old acquaintance sake. master harry, a frank-faced, open-hearted, curly-headed boy of ten (at least when i dined there, for he has probably grown older since), was of course the happy hero of the feast, ably supported by divers joyful brothers and sisters, who had all contributed to their elder brother's triumph on that day, by the contribution of their various presents--one a little scent bag, another a rude drawing, another a book-marker, and so forth, all probably worthless in the view of selfish calculation, but inestimable according to the currency of heart. half-a-dozen choice old friends closed the list of company; and a noisy rout of boys and girls were added in the early evening, full of negus, and sponge-cake, snap-dragon, and blindman's-buff, with merry music, and a golden-flood of dances and delight. we dined early; and, to be very confidential with you, i thought (until i found out reasons why), that the bill-of-fare upon the table was inordinately large, not to say vulgar; for the board was overloaded with solid sweets and savouries: so, in my uncharitable mind, i set all that down to the uncivilized hospitality asserted of a citizen's feast, and (for aught i know) still rife in st. mary axe and finsbury square. never mind how the dinner passed off, nor how jovially the children kept it up till near eleven: for i learnt, in an incidental way, what was regularly done upon the morrow; and i am sure it will gratify my readers to learn it too, as a trait of considerate kindness which will gladden man and woman's heart. on the seventh of april in every year (harry's birth-day was the sixth), henry and maria used to go on an humble pilgrimage to lower sack street, islington. not to shame the poor by fine clothes or their usual equipage, they sedulously donned on that occasion the same now faded suits they had worn in their adversity, and made their progress in a hackney-coach. they would have walked for humility's sake and sympathy, but that the coach in question was crammed full of eatables and drinkables, nicely packed up in well-considered parcels, consisting of the vast _débris_ of yesterday's overwhelming feast, with a sackful of tea and sugar added. their pockets also, as i took the liberty of inquiring at sack street afterwards, must have been well stored, for their largess was munificent. then would they go to that identical lodgings of years gone by, where they had so struggled with adversity, now in the happy contrast of wealth and peace and thankfulness to heaven, and of joy at doing good. that parlour was right liberally hired for the day, and all the poor in sack street were privileged to call, where mrs. clements held her levee. they came in an orderly stream, clean for the occasion, and full of gratitude and blessings; and, to be just upon the poor, no impostor had ever been known to intrude upon the privilege of sack street. as for dear maria, she regularly broke down just as the proceedings commenced, and henry's manlier hand had to give away the spoil; whilst maria sobbed beside him, as if her heart would break. then did the good old nurse come in for a cold round of beef, with tea, sugar, and a sovereign; and the bed-ridden neighbour up-stairs for jellied soup, and other condiments, with a similar royal climax; and the cobbler over the way carried off ham and chickens, with apple-puffs and a bottle of wine: and so some thirty or forty families were gladdened for the hour, and made wealthy for a week. altogether they divided amongst them a coachful of comestibles, and a pocketful of coin. it would be impertinent in us to intrude so far on privacy, as to record how henry and maria passed much time in prayer and praise on that interesting anniversary; it is unnecessary too, for in fact they did not stop for anniversaries to do that sort of thing. be sure that good thoughts and good words are ever found preceding good and grateful deeds. it is quite enough to know that they did god service in doing good to man. chapter xviii. the end of the heartless. there is plenty of contrast in this poor book, if that be any virtue. let us turn our eyes away from those scenes of love and cheerfulness, of benevolence and peace. let us leave maria in her nursery, hearing the little ones their lessons; and henry cutting the leaves of a nice new book, fresh from the press, while his home-taught son and heir is playing at pot-hooks and hangers in a copy-book beside him. let us recollect their purity of mind, their holiness of motive, and their happiness of life; these are the victims of false-witness. and how fares the wretch that would have starved them? the fate of john dillaway is at once so tragical, so interesting, and so instructive, that it will be well for us to be transported for awhile, and give this rogue the benefit of honest company. for many months i had seen a sullen lowering fellow, with cropped head, ironed-legs, and the motley garments of disgrace, driven forth at early morning with his gang of bad compeers; a slave, toiling till night-fall in piling cannon-balls, and chipping off the rust with heavy hammers; a sentinel stood near with a loaded musket; they might not speak to each other, that miserable gang; hope was dead among them; life had no delights; they wreaked their silent hatred on those hammered cannon-balls. the man who struck the fiercest, that sullen convict with the lowering brow, was our stock-jobber, john dillaway. soon after that foretaste of slavery at woolwich, the ship sailed, freighted with incarnate crime; her captain was a ruffian; (could he help it with such cargoes?) her crew, the offscouring of all nations; and the chesapeake herself was an old rotten hull, condemned, after one more voyage, to be broken up; a creaking, foul, unsafe vessel, full of rats, cockroaches, and other vermin. the sun glared ungenially at that blot upon the waters, breeding infectious disease; the waves flung the hated burden from one to the other, disdainful of her freight of sin; the winds had no commission for fair sailing, but whistled through the rigging crossways, howling in the ears of many in that ship, as if they carried ghosts along with them: the very rocks and reefs butted her off the creamy line of breakers, as sea-unicorns distorting; no affectionate farewell blessed her departure; no hearty welcomes await her at the port. and they sailed many days as in a floating hell, hot, miserable, and cursing; the scanty meal was flung to them like dog's-meat, and they lapped the putrid water from a pail; gang by gang for an hour they might pace the smoking deck, and then and thence were driven down to fester in the hold for three-and-twenty more. o, those closed hatches by night! what torments were the kernel of that ship! suffocated by the heat and noxious smells; bruised against each other, and by each other's blows, as the black unwieldy vessel staggered about among the billows, the wretched mass of human misery wore away those tropical nights in horrid imprecation; worse than crowded slaves upon the spanish main, from the blister of crime upon their souls, and their utter lack of hopefulness for ever. and now, after all the shattering storms, and haggard sufferings, and degrading terrors of that voyage, they neared the metropolis of sin; some town on botany bay, a blighted shore--where each man, looking at his neighbour, sees in him an outcast from heaven. they landed in droves, that ironed flock of men; and the sullenest-looking scoundrel of them all was john dillaway. there were murderers among his gang; but human passions, which had hurried them to crime, now had left them as if wrecked upon a lee shore--humbled and remorseful, and heaven's happier sun shed some light upon their faces: there were burglars; but the courage which could dare those deeds, now lending strength to bear the stroke of punishment, enabled them to walk forth even cheerily to meet their doom of labour: there was rape; but he hid himself, ashamed, vowing better things: fiery arson, too, was there, sorry for his rash revenge: also, conspiracy and rebellion, confessing that ambition such as theirs had been wickedness and folly; and common frauds, and crimes, and social sins; bad enough, god wot, yet hopeful; but the mean, heartless, devilish criminality of our young dagon beat them all. if to be hard-hearted were a virtue, the best man there was dillaway. and now they were to be billeted off among the sturdy colonists as farm-servants, near a-kin to slaves; tools in the rough hands of men who pioneer civilization, with all the vices of the social, and all the passions of the savage. and on the strand, where those task-masters congregated to inspect the new-come droves, each man selected according to his mind: the rougher took the roughest, and the gentler, the gentlest; the merry-looking field farmer sought out the cheerful, and the sullen backwoods settler chose the sullen. dillaway's master was a swarthy, beetled-browed caitiff, who had worn out his own seven years of penalty, and had now set up tyrant for himself. as a hewer of wood and a drawer of water, in a stagnant little clearing of the forest, our convict toiled continually--continually--like caliban: all days alike; hewing at the mighty trunk and hacking up the straggling branches; no hope--no help--no respite; and the iron of servile tyranny entered into his very soul. ay--ay; the culprit convicted, when he hears in open court, with an impudent assurance, the punishment that awaits him on those penal shores, little knows the terrors of that sentence. months and years--yea, haply to gray hairs and death, slavery unmitigated--uncomforted; toil and pain; toil and sorrow; toil, and nothing to cheer; even to the end, vain tasked toil. old hopes, old recollections, old feelings, violently torn up by the roots. no familiar face in sickness, no patient nurse beside the dying bed: no hope for earth, and no prospect of heaven: but, in its varying phases, one gloomy glaring orb of ever-present hell. it grew intolerable--intolerable; he was beaten, mocked, and almost a maniac. escape--escape! oh, blessed thought! into the wild free woods! there, with the birds and flowers, hill and dale, fresh air and liberty! oh, glad hope--mad hope! his habitual cunning came to his aid; he schemed, he contrived, he accomplished. the jutting heads of the rivets having been diligently rubbed away from his galling fetter by a big stone--a toil of weeks--he one day stood unshackled, having watched his time to be alone. an axe was in his hand, and the saved single dinner of pea-bread. that beetled-browed task-master slumbered in the hut; that brother convict--(why need he care for him, too? every one for himself in this world)--that kinder, humbler, better man was digging in the open; if he wants to escape, let him think of himself: john dillaway has enough to take care for. now, then; now, unobserved, unsuspected; now is the chance! joy, life, and liberty! oh, glorious prospect--for this inland world is unexplored. he stole away, with panting heart, and fearfully exulting eye; he ran--ran--ran, for miles--it may have been scores of them--till night-fall, on the soft and pleasant greensward under those high echoing woods. none pursued; safe--safe; and deliciously he slept that night beneath a spreading wattle-tree, after the first sweet meal of freedom. next morning, waked up like the starting kangaroos around him (for john dillaway had not bent the knee in prayer since childhood), off he set triumphant and refreshed: his arm was strong, and he trusted in it, his axe was sharp, and he looked to that for help; he knew no other god. off he set for miles--miles--miles: still that continuous high acacia wood, though less naturally park-like, often-times choked with briars, and here and there impervious a-head. was it all this same starving forest to the wide world's end? he dug for roots, and found some acrid bulbs and tubers, which blistered up his mouth; but he was hungry, and ate them; and dreaded as he ate. were they poisonous? next to it, dillaway; so he hurried eagerly to dilute their griping juices with the mountain streams near which he slept: the water was at least kindly cooling to his hot throat; he drank huge draughts, and stayed his stomach. next morning, off again: why could he not catch and eat some of those half-tame antelopes? ha! he lay in wait hours--hours, near the torrent to which they came betimes to slake their thirst: but their beautiful keen eyes saw him askance--and when he rashly hoped to hunt one down afoot, they went like the wind for a minute--then turned to look at him afar off, mockingly--poor, panting, baffled creeper. no; give it up--this savoury hope of venison; he must go despondently on and on; and he filled his belly with grass. must he really starve in this interminable wood! he dreamt that night of luxurious city feasts, the turtle, turbot, venison, and champagne; and then how miserably weak he woke. but he must on wearily and lamely, for ever through this wood--objectless, except for life and liberty. oh, that he could meet some savage, and do him battle for the food he carried; or that a dead bird, or beast, or snake lay upon his path; or that one of those skipping kangaroos would but come within the reach of his oft-aimed hatchet! no: for all the birds and flowers, and the free wild woods, and hill, and dale, and liberty, he was starving--starving; so he browsed the grass as nebuchadnezzar in his lunacy. and the famished wretch would have gladly been a slave again. next morning, he must lie and perish where he slept, or move on: he turned to the left, not to go on for ever; probably, ay, too probably, he had been creeping round a belt. oh, precious thought of change! for within three hours there was light a-head, light beneath the tangled underwood: he struggled through the last cluster of thick bushes, longing for a sight of fertile plain, and open country. who knows? are there not men dwelling there with flocks and herds, and food and plenty? yes--yes, and dillaway will do among them yet. you envious boughs, delay me not! he tore aside the last that hid his view, and found that he was standing on the edge of an ocean of sand--hot yellow sand to the horizon! he fainted--he had like to have died; but as for prayer--he only muttered curses on this bitter, famishing disappointment. he dared not strike into the wood again--he dared not advance upon that yellow sea exhausted and unprovisioned: it was his wisdom to skirt the wood; and so he trampled along weakly--weakly. this liberty to starve is horrible! is it, john dillaway? what, have you no compunctions at that word starve? no bitter, dreadful recollections? remember poor maria, that own most loving sister, wanting bread through you. remember henry clements, and their pining babe; remember your own sensual feastings and fraudulent exultation, and how you would utterly have starved the good, the kind, the honest! this same bitter cup is filled for your own lips, and you must drink it to the dregs. have you no compunctions, man? nothing tapping at your heart? for you must _starve_! no! not yet--not yet! for chance (what dillaway lyingly called chance)--in his moments of remorse at these reflections, when god had hoped him penitent at last, and, if he still continued so, might save him--sent help in the desert! for, as he reelingly trampled along on the rank herbage between this forest and that sea of sand, just as he was dying of exhaustion, his faint foot trod upon a store of life and health! it was an emeu's ill-protected nest; and he crushed, where he had trodden, one of those invigorating eggs. oh, joy--joy--no thanks--but sensual joy! there were three of them, and each one meat for a day; ash-coloured without, but the within--the within--full of sweet and precious yolk! oh, rich feast, luscious and refreshing: cheer up--cheer up: keep one to cross the desert with: ay--ay, luck will come at last to clever jack! how shrewd it was of me to find those eggs! thus do the wicked forget thee, blessed god! thou hast watched this bad man day by day, and all the dark nights through, in tender expectation of some good: thou hast been with him hourly in that famishing forest, tempting him by starvation to--repentance; and how gladly did thine eager mercy seize this first opportunity of half-formed penitence to bless and help him--even him, liberally and unasked! thanks to thee--thanks to thee! why did not that man thank thee? who more grieved at his thanklessness than thou art? who more sorry for the righteous and necessary doom which the impenitence of heartlessness drags down upon itself? and providence was yet more kind, and man yet more ungrateful; mercy abounding over the abundant sin. for the famished vagrant diligently sought about for more rich prizes; and, as the manner is of those unnatural birds to leave their eggs carelessly to the hatching of the sunshine, he soon stumbled on another nest. "ha--ha!" said he, "clever jack dillaway of broker's alley isn't done up yet: no--no, trust him for taking care of number one; now then for the desert; with these four huge eggs and my trusty hatchet, deuce take it, but i'll manage somehow!" thus, deriving comfort from his bold hard heart, he launched unhesitatingly upon that sea of sand: with aching toil through the loose hot soil he ploughed his weary way, footsore, for leagues--leagues--lengthened leagues; yellow sand all round, before, and on either hand, as far as eye can stretch, and behind and already in the distance that terrible forest of starvation. but what, then, is the name of this burnt plain, unwatered by one liquid drop, unvisited even by dews in the cold dry night? have you not yet found a heart, man, to thank heaven for that kind supply of recreative nourishment, sweet as infant's food, the rich delicious yolk, which bears up still your halting steps across this world of sand? no heart--no heart of flesh--but a stone--a cold stone, and hard as yonder rocky hillock. he climbed it for a view--and what a view! a panorama of perfect desolation, a continent of vegetable death. his spirit almost failed within him; but he must on--on, or perish where he stood. taking no count of time, and heedless as to whither he might wander, so it be not back again along that awful track of liberty he longed for, he crept on by little and little, often resting, often dropping for fatigue, night and day--day and night: he had made his last meal; he laid him down to die--and already the premonitory falcon flapped him with its heavy wing. ha! what are all those carrion fowls congregated there for? are they battening on some dead carcase? o, hope--hope! there is the smell of food upon the wind: up, man, up--battle with those birds, drive them away, hew down that fierce white eagle with your axe; what right have they to precious food, when man, their monarch, starves? so, the poor emaciated culprit seized their putrid prey, and the scared fowls hovered but a little space above, waiting instinctively for this new victim: they had not left him much--it was a feast of remnants--pickings from the skeleton of some small creature that had perished in the desert--a wombat, probably, starved upon its travels; but a royal feast it was to that famishing wretch: and, gathering up the remainder of those priceless morsels, which he saved for some more fearful future, again he crept upon his way. still the same, night and day--day and night--for he could only travel a league a-day: and at length, a shadowy line between the sand and sky--far, far off, but circling the horizon as a bow of hope. shall it be a land of plenty, green, well-watered meadows, the pleasant homes of man, though savage, not unfriendly? o hope, unutterable! or is it (o despair!) another of those dreadful woods, starving solitude under the high-arched gum-trees. onward he crept; and the line on the horizon grew broader and darker: onward, still; he was exulting, he had conquered, he was bold and hard as ever. he got nearer, now within some dozen miles; it was an indistinct distance, but green at any rate; huzza--never mind night-fall; he cannot wait, nor rest, with this elysium before him: so he toiled along through all the black night, and a friendly storm of rain refreshed him, as his thirsty pores drank in the cooling stream. aha! by morning's dawn he should be standing on the edge of that green paradise, fresh as a young lion, and no thanks to any one but his own shrewd indomitable self. morning dawned--and through the vague twilight loomed some high and tangled wall of green foliage, stretching seemingly across the very world. most sickening sight! a matted, thorny jungle, one of those primeval woods again, but closer, thicker, darker than the park-like one before; rank and prickly herbage in a rotting swamp, crowding up about the stately trees. must he battle his way through? well, then, if it must be so, he must and will; any thing rather than this hot and blistering sand. if he is doomed by fate to starve, be it in the shade, not in that fierce sun. so, he weakly plied his hatchet, flinging himself with boldness on that league-thick hedge of thorns; his way was choked with thorns; he struggled under tearing spines, and through prickly underwood, and over tangled masses of briery plants, clinging to him every where around, as with a thousand taloned claws; he is exhausted, extrication is impossible; he beats the tough creepers with his dulled hatchet, as a wounded man vainly; ha! one effort more--a dying effort--must he be impaled upon these sharp aloes, and strange-leafed prickly shrubs; they have caught him there, those thirsty poisoned hooks, innumerable as his sins; his way, whichever way he looks, is hedged up high with thorns--thick-set thorns--sturdy, tearing thorns, that he cannot battle through them. emaciated, bleeding, rent, fainting, famished, he must perish in the merciless thicket into which hard-heartedness had flung him! before he was well dead, those flapping carrion fowls had found him out; they were famishing too, and half forgot their natural distaste for living meat. he fought them vainly, as the dying fight; soon there were other screams in that echoing solitude, besides the screeching falcons! and when they reached his heart (if its matter aptly typified its spirit), that heart should have been a very stone for hardness. so let the selfish die! alone, in the waste howling wilderness; so let him starve uncared-for, whose boast it was that he had never felt for other than himself--who mocked god, and scorned man--whose motto throughout life, one sensual, unsympathizing, harsh routine, was this: "take care of the belly, and the heart will take care of itself!"--who never had a wish for other's good, a care for other's evil, a thought beyond his own base carcase; who was a man--no man--a wretch, without a heart. so let him perish miserably; and the white eagles pick his skeleton clean in yonder tangled jungle! chapter xix. wherein matters are concluded. certain folks at ballyriggan, near belfast, observe to me, with not a little irish truth, that it is by no means easy to conclude a history never intended to be finished. it so happens that my good friends the clan clements are still enjoying life and all it sweets, beneficent in their generation; and as for their hearts' affections, that story without an end will still be heard, ringing on its happy changes, in the presence of god and of his immortal train, when every reader of these records shall have been to this world dead. out of the heart are the issues of life, and within, it is life's well-spring. death is but a little narrow gate, in a dark rough pass among the mountains, where each must go alone, one by one, in solemn silence, for the avalanches hanging overhead; one by one, in breathless caution, for there is but barely a footing; one by one, for none can help his brother on the track: the steady eye of faith, the firm foot of righteousness, the staff of hope to comfort and support--these be the only helps. and each one carries with him, as his sole possession on that lonely journey, no heaps of wealth--no trappings of honour; these burdens of the camel must all be lifted off, ere he can struggle through that gully in the rocks--"the needle's eye;" but the sole possession which every wayfarer must take with him into those broad plains where only spirit can be seen, and sin no longer can be hid, is the shrine of his affections, the casket of his precious pearls in life--his heart, unmantled and unmasked. and if in time it had been a well of love, flowing towards god in penitence, and irrigating this world's garden with charities and blessed works, that little sparkling stream shall then burst forth from this rocky portal of the grave, a river of joy and peace, to gladden even more the sunny provinces of heaven. for the heart with its affections, never dieth: they may, indeed, flow inward, and corrupt to selfishness; becoming then, in lieu of fountains of waters, gushing forth to everlasting life, a bottomless volcano of hot lava, tempestuous and involved, setting up the creature as his own foul god, and living the perpetual death-bed of the damned; or they may nobly burst the banks of self, and, rising momentarily higher and higher, till every nilometer is drowned, will seek for ever, with expanding strength, to reach the unapproachable level of that source in the most highest whence they originally sprung. for this cause, the kindest fatherly word which ever reached man's ear, the surest scheme for happiness that ever touched his reason, was one from god's own heart--"my son, give me thy heart." they lived upon the blessing of that word, our noble, kindly pair. to enlarge upon the thought as respects a better world is well for those who will: for if he that made the eye and framed the ear, by the stronger argument himself must see and hear, so he that fashioned loveliness and moulded the affections, how well-deserving must that beautiful spirit be of his rational creature's heart! away with mawkish cant and stale sentimentalities! let us think, and speak, and feel as men, framed by nature's urgent law to the lovely and to hate the vile. oh, that the advocates for him, the good one, would oftener plead his cause by the human affections--by generosity, by sympathy, by gentleness and patience, by self-denying love, and soul absolving beauty; for these are of the essence of god, and their spiritual influence on reason. a child writes upon his heart that warmer code of morals, which the iron tool of threatening availeth not to grave upon the rock, while the voice of love can change that rock into a spring of water. but we must descend from our altitudes, and speak of lower things; for the time and space forbid much longer intrusion on your courtesy. a few ravelling threads of this our desultory tale have yet to be gathered up, as tidily as may be. suffer, then, such mingling of my thoughts: the web i weave has many threads, woven with divers colours. human nature is nothing if not inconsistent; and i have no more notion of irreverence in turning from a high topic to a low one, than a bee may be fancied to have of irrelevant idleness in flitting from the sweet violet to the scented dahlia. we may gather honey out of every flower. have you not often noticed, that riches generally come to a man, when he least stands in need of them? directly a middle-aged heir succeeds to his long-expected heritage, half-a-dozen aunts and second cousins are sure to die off and leave him super-abounding legacies, any one of which would have helped his poverty stricken youth, and made him of independent mind throughout his servile manhood. the other day (the idea remains the same, though the fact is to be questioned) the richest lord in europe dug up a chest of hoarded coins, many thousand pound's worth, simply because he didn't want it: and, if such particularization were not improper or invidious, you or i might name a brace of friends a-piece, who, having once lacked bread in the career of life, suddenly have found themselves monopolizing two or three great fortunes. as too few things are certain, novel writers less like truth in their descriptions, than where ample wealth falls upon the hero just in the nick of time. providence intends to teach by penury: yes, and by prosperity too: and we almost never see the reward given, or the no less reward withheld, just as the scholar has begun to spell his lesson, and before he has had the chance of getting it by heart. that another death should occur, in the progress of this tale, must be counted for no fault of mine; especially as i am not about to introduce another death-bed. one need not have the mummy always at our feasts. surely, too, these deaths have ever been on fit occasion: one broken heart; one bereaved, yet comforted; and one which perished in its sin of uttermost hard-heartedness. and here, if any insurance clerk, or other interested person, will show cause why mrs. jane mackenzie should not die at the age of ninety-two, i would keep her alive if i could; but the fact is, i cannot: she died. henry clements never saw her, any more that i, nor dear maria. but that was no earthly reason wherefore-- _first_, maria should not bewail the dear old relative's loss with all her heart and eyes, and children and household in mourning. nor, _secondly_, wherefore mrs. jane mackenzie, aforesaid, of ballyriggan, province of ulster, should not leave her estate of ballyriggan, aforesaid, and a vast heap of other property, to the only surviving though distant scion of her family, henry clements. nor, _thirdly_, wherefore i should not record the fact, as duly bound in my capacity of honest historian. this accession of property was large, almost overwhelming, when added to maria's patrimony of three thousand a-year, the produce of st. benet's sherehog: for besides and beyond a considerable breadth of irish acres, sundry houses in belfast, and an accumulation of half-forgotten funds, the bank of england found itself necessitated (from particular circumstances of ill-caution in its servants) to refund the whole of that twelve thousand forty-three pounds bank annuities, which jack dillaway and his ladies had already made away with. rich, however, as clements had become, he felt himself only as a great lord's steward to help a needy world; and i never heard that he spent a sixpence more upon himself, his equipage, or his family, from being some thousands a-year richer: though i certainly did hear that, owing to this legacy, every tenant upon ballyriggan, and a vast number of struggling families in spitalfields and round about st. benet's, had ample cause to bless heaven and the good man of finsbury square. as for dear maria, it rejoiced her generous heart to find that henry (whose gentlemanly pride had all along been reproaching him for pauperism) was now become pretty well her equal in wealth; even as her humility long had known him her superior in mind, good looks, and good family. another thread in my discourse, hanging loosely on the world, concerns our lady-legatees. what became of miss julia, after the safe and successful issue of that vengeful trial, i never heard: and, perhaps, it may be wise not to inquire: if she changed her name, she did not change her nature: and is probably still to be numbered among the sect of strand peripatetics. but of anna bates i have pleasanter news to tell. with respect to repentance, let us be charitable, and hope, even if we cannot be so sanguine as firmly to believe; but at any rate we may rest assured of an outward reformation, and an honest manner of life. the miracle happened thus: after the trial and condemnation of dillaway, poor anna bates felt entirely disappointed that she had not the chance of better things presented to her mind by transportation; the two approvers, to her dismay--poor thing!--were graciously pardoned for their evidence; and, whereas, the one of them returned to her old courses more devotedly than ever, the other resolved to make one strong effort to extricate her loathing self from the gulf in which she lay. fortunately for her, our maria had the heart to pity and to help a frail and fallen sister; and when the poor disconsolate woman, finding her to be the sister of that evil paramour, came to mrs. clements in distress, revealing all her past sins and sorrows, and pleading for some generous hand to lift her out of that miserable state, she did not plead in vain. maria spurned her not away, nor coldly disbelieved her promise of amendment; but, taking counsel of her husband, she gave the poor woman sufficient means of setting up a milliner's shop at hull, where, under her paternal name of stellingburne, our fleet street lady-legatee still survives, earning a decent livelihood, and little suspected amongst her kindly neighbours of ever having been much worse than a strictly honest woman. for another thread, if the reader, in his ample curiosity, wishes to be informed how it became possible for me to learn the fate of dillaway, let him know, that up to the hour of escape, i derived it easily from living witnesses; and thereafter, that certain settlers, having set out to explore the country, found a human skeleton stretched upon a thicket which, from the _débris_ of convicts' clothes, and the hatchet stamped with his initials, was easily decided to be that bad man's. it always had struck me, as a remarkable piece of retribution, that whereas john made austral shares a plea for ruining henry clements, a howling austral wilderness was made the means of starving him. maria never heard what became of her brother; but still looks for his return some day with affectionate and earnest expectation. another little matter to be mentioned is the fact, that henry clements, in his leisure from business, and freedom from care, resolved to attain some literary glories; and first, he published his now-renowned tragedy of '_boadicea_,' with his name at length, giving a mint of proceeds to that very proper charity the theatrical fund. secondly, he followed up his tragic triumph by a splendid '_caractacus_,' by way of a companion picture. thirdly, he turned to his maligned law-treatise on _defence_, and boldly published a capital vindication thereof, flinging down his gauntlet to the judges both of law and literature. it was strange, by the way, and instructive also, to find with what a deferential air the wealthy writer now was listened to; and how meekly both '_watchman_' and '_corinthian_' kissed the smiling hand of the literary genius, who--gave such sumptuous dinners; for henry, of his mere kindness, (not bribery--don't imagine him so weak,) now that he was known as a mæcenas amongst authors, made no invidious distinctions between literary magnates, but effectually overcame evil with good by his hearty hospitality to '_corinthian_' and '_watchman_' editors, as well as to other potent wielders of the pen of fame, who had erstwhile favoured the productions of his genius. the last dinner he gave, i, an old friend of the family, was present; and when the ladies went up-stairs, i had, as usual, the honour of enacting vice. it was according to finsbury taste and custom, to produce toasts and speeches; whether cold high-breeding would have sanctioned this or not, little matters: it was warm and cordial, and we all liked it; moreover, finding ourselves at rome, we unanimously did as other romans do: and this i take to be politeness. among the speeches, that which proposed the health of the host and hostess caused the chiefest roar of clamorous joy: it was a happy-looking friend who spoke, and what he said was much as follows: "clements, my dear fellow, you are the happiest man i know--except myself; at least, in one thing i am happier--for i can call you friend, whereas you can only return the compliment with such a sorry substitute as i am." [this ingenious flattery was much ridiculed afterwards; but i pledge my word the man intended what he said; moreover, he went on, utterly regardless of surrounding critics, in all the seeming egotism of a warm and open heart.] "clements--i cannot help telling you how heartily i love you;" (hear, hear!) "and i wish i had known you thirty years instead of three, to have said so with the unction of my earliest recollections: but we cannot help antiquity, you know. let us all the rather make up now by heartiness for all lost time. i think, nay, am sure, that i speak the language of all present in telling you i love you:" (an enormous hear-hearing, which rose above the drawing-room floor; harry clements singularly distinguished himself, in proving how he loved his father; a fine young fellow he grows too, and i wish, between ourselves, to catch him for a son-in-law some day;)--"yes, clements, i do love you, and your children, and your wife, for there is the charm of heart about you all: in yourself, in your maria, in that fine frank youth, and those dear warm girls up stairs" (every word was bravoed to the echo), "in every one of you, all the charities and amenities, all the kindnesses and the cheerfulness of life appear to be embodied; you love both god and man; the rich and the poor alike may bless you, clements, and your admirable maria; whilst, as for yourselves, you may both well thank god, whose mercy made you what you are." clements hid his face, and harry sobbed with joyfulness. "friends! a toast and sentiment, with all the honours: 'this happy family! and may all who know them now, or come to hear of them in future, cultivate as they do all the home affections, and acknowledge that there is no wealth of man's, which may compare with riches of the heart.'" the end of heart. * * * * * an author's mind; the book of title-pages: "a bookful of books," or "thirty books in one." edited by m.f. tupper, esq., m. a. "en un mot, mes amis, je n'ai entrepris de vous contenter tous en général; ainsi, une et autres en particulier; et par spécial, moymême."--pasquier. * * * * * subjects. page. the author's mind; a ramble nero, a tragedy opium, a history charlotte clopton, a novel the marvellous, a hand-book psychotherion, an argument the confessional, a tale the prior of marrick, an autobiography the seven churches, a dissertation revision, an essay homely expositions, a compilation lay sermons, a contribution scriptural physics, a treatise heathenism, an apology biblical similes, an investigation home, an epic grecian sayings, a series heptalogia, a collection alfred, an oratorio alfred's life, a translation national memorials, a proposal politics, a manual woman, a subject false steps, a pamphlet king's evidence, a satire poetics, a melange humoristics, a medley journals, a decade lay hints, an appeal anti-xurion, a crusade the squire, a portraiture the author's tribunal, an oration zoilomastrix, a title epilogue, a conclusion appendix, an after-thought announcement. by the editor. the writer of this strange book (a particular friend of mine) came to me a few mornings ago with a very happy face and a very blotty manuscript. "congratulate me," he began, "on having dispersed an armada of head-aches hitherto invincible, on having exorcised my brain of its legionary spectres, and brushed away the swarming thoughts that used to persecute my solitude; i can now lie down as calmly as the lamb, and rise as gayly as the lark; instead of a writhing laocoon, my just-found harlequin's wand has changed me into infant hercules brandishing his strangled snakes; i have mowed, for the nonce, the docks, mallows, hogweed, and wild-parsley of my rank field, and its smooth green carpet looks like a rich meadow; i am free, happy, well at ease: argal, an thou lovest me, congratulate." wider and wider still stared out my wonder, to hear my usually sober friend so voluble in words and so profuse of images: i saw at once it was a set speech, prepared for an impromptu occasion; nevertheless, as he was clearly in an enviable state of disenthraldom from thoughtfulness, i graciously accorded him a sympathetic smile. and then this more than gregorian cure for the head-ache! here was an anodyne infinitely precious to one so brain-feverish as i: had all this pleasure and comfort arisen from such common-place remedials as a dear young lover's courtesy or a deceased old miser's codicil, i should long ago have heard all about it; for, between ourselves, my friend was never known to keep a secret. there was evidently more than this in the discovery; and when my curiosity, provoked by his laughing silence, was naturally enough exhibiting itself in a "what on earth----?" he broke out with the abruptness of an abernethy, "read my book." well, i did read it; and, in candid disparagement, as amicably bound, can readily believe what i was told afterwards, that, to except a very small portion of older material, it had been at chance intervals rapidly thrown off in a couple of months, (the old current-quill style,) chiefly with the view of relieving a too prolific brain: it appeared to me a mere idle overflowing of the brimful mind; an honest, indeed, but often useless exposure of multifarious fancies--some good, some bad, and not a few indifferent; an incautious uncalled-for confession of a thousand thoughts, little worth the printing, if the very writing were not indeed superfluous. nevertheless, with all its faults, i thought the book a novelty, and liked it not the less for its off-hand fashion; it had something of the free, fresh, frank air of an old-school squire at christmas-tide, suggestive as his misletoe, cheerful as his face, and careless as his hospitality. knowing then that my friend had been more than once an author--indeed, he tells us so himself--and perceiving, from innumerable symptoms, that he meditated putting also this before the world, i thought kindly to anticipate his wishes by proposing its publication: but i was rather curtly answered with a "did i suppose these gnats were intended to be shrined in amber? these mere minnows to be treated with the high consideration due only to potted char and white bait? these fleeting thoughts fixed in stone before that gorgon-head, the public? these ephemeral fancies dropped into the true elixir of immortality, printer's-ink? these----" i stopped him, for this other mighty mouthful of images betrayed the hypocrite--"yes, i did." an involuntary smile assured me he did too, and the cause proceeded thus: first, a promise not to burn the book; then a bentley to the rescue, with accessory considerations; and then, the due administration of a little wholesome flattery: by this time we had obtained permission, after modest reluctance pretty well enacted, to transform the deformity of manuscript into the well-proportioned elegance of print. but, this much gained, our author would not yield to any argument we could urge upon the next point, viz: leave to produce the volume, duly fathered with his name. "not he indeed; he loved quiet too well; he might, it was true, secretly like the bantling, but cared not to acknowledge it before a populous reading-world, every individual whereof esteems himself and herself competent to criticize!" mr. publisher, deeply disinterested, of course, bristled up at the notion of any thing anonymous; and the only alternative remaining was the stale expedient of an editor; that editor, in brief, to be none other than myself, a very palpable-obscure: and let this excuse my name upon the title-page. now, as editor, i have had to do--what seems, by the way, to be regarded by collective wisdom as the best thing possible--nothing: my author would not suffer the change of a syllable, for all his seeming carelessness about the thing, as he called it; so, i had no more for my part than humbly to act the helot, and try to set decently upon the public tables a genuine mess of spartan porridge. m. f. t. _albury, guildford_. an author's mind: the book of title-pages. a ramble. in these days of universal knowledge, schoolmaster and scholars all abroad together, quotation is voted pedantry, and to interpret is accounted an impertinence; yet will i boldly proclaim, as a mere fact, clear to the perceptions of all it may concern, "this book deserves richly of the sosii." and that for the best of reasons: it is not only a book, but a book full of books; not merely a new book, but a little-library of new books; thirty books in one, a very harvest of epitomized authorship, the cream of a whole fairy dairy of quiescent post-octavos. it is not--o, mark ye this, my sosii, (and by the way, gentle ladies, these were worshipful booksellers of old, the murrays and the bentleys of imperial rome,)--it is not the dull concreted elongation of one isolated hackneyed idea--supposing in every work there _be one_, a charitable hypothesis--wire-drawn, and coaxed, and hammered through three regulation volumes; but the scarcely-more-than-hinted abstractions of some forty thousand flitting notions--hasty, yet meditative hamlets; none of those lengthy, drawling emblems of laertes--driven in flocks to the net of the fowler, and penned with difficult compression within these modest limits. so "goe forth, littel boke," and make thyself a friend among those good husbandmen, who tend the trees of knowledge, and bring their fruit to the world's market. now, reader, one little preliminary parley with you about myself: here beginneth the trouble of authorship, but it is a trouble causing ease; ease from thoughts--thoughts--thoughts, which never cease to make one's head ache till they are fixed on paper; ease from dreams by night and reveries by day, (thronging up in crowds behind, like deucalion's children, or a serried host in front, like jason's instant army,) harassing the brain, and struggling for birth, a separate existence, a definite life; ease, in a cessation of that continuous internal hum of aërial forget-me-nots, clamouring to be recorded. o, happy unimaginable vacancy of mind, to whistle as you walk for want of thought! o, mental holiday, now as impossible to me, as to take a true school-boy's interest in rounders and prisoner's base! an author's mind--and remember always, friend, i write in character, so judge not as egotistic vanity merely the well playing of my _rôle_--such a mind is not a sheet of smooth wax, but a magic stone indented with fluttering inscriptions; no empty tenement, but a barn stored to bursting: it is a painful pressure, constraining to write for comfort's sake; an appetite craving to be satisfied, as well as a power to be exerted; an impetus that longs to get away, rather than a dormant dynamic: thrice have i (let me confess it) poured forth the alleviating volume as an author, a real author--real, because for very peace of mind, involuntarily; but still the vessel fills; still the indigenous crop springs up, choking a better harvest, seeds of foreign growth; still those lernæan necks sprout again, claiming with many mouths to explain, amuse, suggest, and controvert--to publish invention, and proscribe error. truly, it were enviable to be less apprehensive, less retentive; to be fitted with a colander-mind, like that penal cask which forty-nine danaïdes might not keep from leaking; to be, sometimes at least, suffered for a holiday to ramble brainless in the paradise of fools. memory, imagination, zeal, perceptions of men and things, equally with rank and riches, have often cost their full price, as many mad have known; they take too much out of a man--fret, wear, worry him; to be irritable, is the conditional tax laid of old upon an author's intellect; the crowd of internal imagery makes him hasty, quick, nervous as a haunted hunted man: minds of coarser web heed not how small a thorn rends one of so delicate a texture; they cannot estimate the wish that a duller sword were in a tougher scabbard; the river, not content with channel and restraining banks, overflows perpetually; the extortionate exacting armies of the ideal and the causal persecute my spirit, and i would make a patriot stand at once to vanquish the invaders of my peace: i write these things only to be quit of them, and not to let the crowd increase; i have conceived a plan to destroy them all, as jehu and elijah with the priests of baal; i feel malthusian among my mental nurselings; a dire resolve has filled me to effect a premature destruction of the literary populace superfoetating in my brain--plays, novels, essays, tales, homilies, and rhythmicals; for ethics and poetics, politics and rhetorics, will i display no more mercy than sundry commentators of maltreated aristotle: i will exhibit them in their state chaotic; i will addle the eggs, and the chicken shall not chirp; i will reveal, and secrets shall not waste me; i will write, and thoughts shall not batten on me. the world is too full of books, and i yearn not causelessly to add more than this involuntary unit: bottles, bottles--invariable bottles--was the one idea of a most clever head at nieder-selters; books, books--accumulating books--press upon my conscience in this literary london: despairing auctioneers hate the sound, ruined publishers dread it, surfeited readers grumble at it, and the very cheese-monger begins to be an epicure as to which grand work is next to be demolished. friendships and loves tremble at the daily recurrence of "have you read this?" and "mind you buy that;" wise men shun a blue-belle, sure that she will recommend a book; and the yet wiser treat themselves to solitary confinement, that they may not have to meet the last new batch of authors, and be obliged to purchase, if not to peruse, their never-ending books. i fear to increase the plague, to be convicted an abettor of great evils, though by the measure of a little one. i am infected, and i know it: but for science-sake i break the quarantine, and in my magnanimity would be victimized unknown, consigning to a speedy grave this useless offspring, together with its too productive parent, and saving of a race so hopeless little else than their prëdetermined names--in fact, their title-pages. but is that indeed little? speak, authors with piles of ready-written copy, is not the theme (so often carried out beyond, or beside, or even against its original purpose) less perplexing than the after-thought thesis? bear witness, readers, bit by a mysterious advertisement in the '_morning post_,' are names, indeed, not matters of much weight? press forward, sosii aforesaid, and answer me truly, is not a title-page the better part of many books? cheap promises of stale pleasure, false hopes of dull interest, imprimaturs of deceived fancy, lying visions of the future unfulfilled, title-pages still do good service to the cause of--bookselling. and, to commence, let me elucidate mine own--i mean the first, the head and front of this offending phalanx--mine own, _par excellence_, '_an authors mind_:' such in sooth it shall be found, for richer or poorer, for better or for worse; not of selfish, but of common application; not so much individually of mine own, as generically of authors; a medley of crudities; an undigested mass, as any in the maw of polypheme; a fermenting hotchpotch of half-formed things, illustrative, among other matters, of the lucretian theory, those close-cohering atoms; a farrago of thoughts, and systems of thoughts, in most admired disorder, which would symbolize the copernican astronomy, with its necessary clash of whirling orbs, about as well as the intangible chaos of berkeleyan metaphysics. so much then on the moment for the monosyllable "mind;"--whereof followeth, indeed, all the more hereafter; but--"an author's?"--what author's? you would see my patent of such rank, my commission to wear such honourable uniform. pr'ythee be content with simple assurance that it is so; consider the charm of unsatisfied curiosity, and pry not; let me sit unseen, a spectator; for this once i would go _in domino_. heretofore, "credit me, fair discretion, your affability" hath achieved glory, and might solomonize on its vanity at least as well as poor discomfited, discovered sir piercie shafton: heretofore, i have stood forth in good causes, with helm unbarred, and due proclamation of name, style, and title, an avowed author; and might sermonize thus upon success, that a little censure loseth more friends than much praise winneth enemies. so now, with visor down, and a white shield, as a young knight-candidate unknown, it pleases my leisure to take my pastime in the tourney: and so long as in truthful prowess i bear me gallantly and gently, who is he that hath a right to unlatch my helmet, or where is the herald that may challenge my rank? nevertheless, inquisitive, consider the mysteries that lie in the turkish-looking _sobriquet_ of "mufti;" its vowels and its consonants are full of strict intention i never saw cause why the most charming of essayists hid himself in "elia," but he may for all that have had pregnant reasons; even so, (but that slender wit could read my riddle,) you shall perhaps find fault with my mussulman agnomen; still you and i equally participate in this shallow secret, and within so brief a word is concealed the key to unlock the casket that tempts your curiosity: however, the less said of so diaphanous a mystery, the better. and let me remark this of the mode anonymous; a mode, indeed, to purposes of shame, and slander, and falsity of all kinds too often prostituted for the present, bear with it; sometimes it is well to go disguised, and the voice of one unseen lacks not eager listeners; we address your judgment, unbiased by the prejudice or sanction of a name: we put forth, lightly and negligently, those lesser matters which opportunity hath not yet matured; we escape the nervous pains, the literary perils of the hardier acknowledged. only of this one thing be sure; we--(no, i; why should unregal, unhierarchal i affect pluralities?)--i hope to keep inviolate, as much when masked as when avowed, the laws of truth, charity, sincerity, and honour; and, although, among my many booklets, the grave and the gay will be found in near approximation, i trust--will it offend any to tell them that i pray?--to do no ill service at any time to the cause of that true religion which resents not the neighbourhood of innocent cheerfulness. i show you, friend, my honest mind. i by itself, i; odious mono-literal; thinnest, feeblest, most insignificant of letters, i dread your egotistic influence as my bane; they will not suffer you, nor bear with a book so speckled with your presence. still, world, hear me; mercifully spare a poor grammarian the penance of perpetual third persons; let an individual tender conscience escape censure for using the true singular in preference to that imposing lie, the plural. suffer a humble unit to speak of himself as i, and, once for all, let me permissively disclaim intentional self-conceit in the needful usage of isolated i-ship. these few preliminaries being settled, though i fear little to the satisfaction of either party concerned, let us proceed--further to preliminarize; for you will find, even to the end, as you may have found out already from the beginning, that your white knight is mounted rather on an ambling preambling palfrey, than on any determinate charger; curveting and prancing, and rambling and scrambling at his own unmanaged will: scorning the bit and bridle, too hot to bear the spur, careless of listing laws, and wishing rather playfully to show his paces, than to tilt against a foe. an author's mind, _quà_ author, is essentially a gossip; an oral, ocular, imaginative, common-place book: a _pot pourri_ mixed from the _hortus siccus_ of education, and the greener garden of internal thought that springs in fresh verdure about the heart's own fountain; a compound of many metals flowing from the mental crucible as one--perchance a base alloy, perchance new, and precious, and beautiful as the fine brass of corinth; an accidental meeting in the same small chamber of many spiritual essences that combine, as by magnetism into some strange and novel substance; a mixture of appropriations, made lawfully a man's own by labour spent upon the raw material; corn-clad egypt rescued from a burnt africa by the richness of a swelling nile--the black forest of pines changed into a laughing vineyard by skill, enterprise, and culture--the mechanism of frankenstein's man of clay, energized at length by the spark promethean. and now, reader, do you begin to comprehend me, and my title? '_an author's mind_' is first in the field, and, as with root and fruit, must take precedence of its booklets; bear then, if you will, with this desultory anatomization of itself yet a little longer, and then in good time and moderate space you will come to the rudiments--bones, so to speak--of its many members, the frame-work on which its nerves and muscles hang, the names of its unborn children, the title-pages of its own unprinted books. philosophers and fools, separately or together, as the case may be--for folly and philosophy not seldom form one janus-head, and minerva's bird seems sometimes not ill-fitted with the face of momus--these and their thousand intermediates have tried in all ages to define that quaint enigma, man: and i wot not that any pundit of literature hath better succeeded than the nameless, fameless man--or woman, was it?--or haply some innocent shrewd child--who whilom did enunciate that man is a writing animal: true as arithmetic, clear as the sunbeam, rational as euclid, a discerning, just, exclusive definition. that he is "capable of laughter," is well enough even for thy deathless fame, o stagyrite! but equally (so buffon testifies) are apes and monkeys, horses and hyenas; whether perforce of tickling or sympathy, or native notions of the humorous, we will not stop to contend. that he actually is "an animal whose best wisdom is laughter," hath but little reason in it, democrite, seeing there are such obvious anomalies among men as suicidal jesters and cachinating idiots; nevertheless, my punster of abdera, thy whimsical fancy, surviving the wreck of dynasties, and too light to sink in the billows of oblivion, is now become the popular thought, the fashionable dress of heretofore moping wisdom: crow, an thou wilt, jolly old chanticleer, but remember thee thou crowest on a dunghill; man is not a mere merry-andrew. neither is he exclusively "a weeping animal," lugubrious heraclite, no better definer than thy laughter-loving foe: that man weeps, or ought to weep, the world within him and the world without him indeed bear testimony: but is he the only mourner in this valley of grief, this travailing creation? no, no; they walk lengthily in black procession: yet is this present writing not the fit season for enlarging upon sorrows; we must not now mourn and be desolate as a poor bird grieving for its pilfered young--is macduff's lamentable cry for his lost little ones, "all--what, all?" more piteous?--we must now indulge in despondent fears, like yonder hard-run stag, with terror in his eye, and true tears coursing down his melancholy face: we must not now mourn over cruelty and ingratitude, like that poor old worn-out horse, crying--positively crying, and looking imploringly for merciful rest into man's iron face; we must not scream like the wounded hare, nor beat against our cage like the wild bird prisoned from its freedom. moreover, heraclite, even in thine own day thou mightest well have heard of the classic wailings of philomel for atys, or of consumptive canens, that shadow of a voice, for her metamorphosed pie, and have known that very crocodiles have tears: pass on, thy desolate definition hath not served for man. with flippant tongue a mercantile cosmopolite, stable in statistics and learned in the leger, here interposes an erudite suggestion: "man is a calculating animal." surely, so he is, unless he be a spendthrift; but he still shares his quality with others; for the squirrel hoards his nuts, the aunt lays in her barley-corns, the moon knoweth her seasons, and the sun his going down: moreover, chinese slates, multiplying rulers, and, as their aggregated wisdom, babbage's machine, will stoutly contest so mechanical a fancy. savoury steams, and those too smelling strongly of truth, assault the nostrils, as a vitellite--what a name of hungry omen for the imperial devourer!--plausibly insinuates man to be "a cooking animal." who can gainsay it? and wherewithal, but with domesticated monkeys, does he share this happy attribute? it is true, the butcher-bird spits his prey on a thorn, the slow epicurean boa glazes his mashed antelope, the king of vultures quietly waits for a gamey taste and the rapid roasting of the tropics: but all this care, all this caloric, cannot be accounted culinary, and without a question, the kitchen _is_ a sphere where the lord of creation reigns supreme: still, thou best of practical philosophers, caterer for daily dinners--man--man, i say, is not altogether a compact of edible commons, a falstaff pudding-bag robbed of his seasoning wit, a mere congeries of food and pickles; moreover, honest gingel of "fair" fame hath (or used to have, "in my warm youth, when george the third was king,") automatons, [pray, observe, sosii, i am not pedant or wiseacre enough to indite _automata_; we conquering britons stole that word among many others from poor dead greece, who couldn't want it; having made it ours in the singular, why be bashful about the plural! so also of memorandums, omnibuses, [you remember farren's _omni_bi!] necropolises, gymnasiums, eukeirogeneions, and other unlegacied property of dear departed rome and greece. all this, as you see, is clearly parenthetical;] well, then, gingel has automatons, that will serve you up all kinds of delicate viands, pleasant meats, and choice cates by clock-work, to say nothing of jones' patent all-in-a-moment-any-thing-whatsoever cooking apparatus: no mine apiciite, heliogabalite, sardanapalite, seftonite, udite, thou of extravagant ancestry and indifferent digestion; little, indeed, as you may credit me, man is not all stomach, nor altogether formed alone for feeding. remember Æsop's parable, the belly and the members; and, above them all, do not overlook the head. what think you then of "a featherless biped?" gravely suggests a rusty plinyite. absolute sir, and most obsolete roman, doubtless you never had the luck to set eyes upon a turkey at christmas; the poor bare _bipes implumis_, a forked creature, waiting to be forked supererogatively; ay, and _risibilis_ to boot, if ever all concomitants of the hearty old festival were properly provocative of decent mirth. thus then return we to our muttons, and time enough, quotha: literary pundit, (whose is the notable saying?) thy definition is bomb-proof, thy fancy unscaleable, thy thought too deep for undermining; that notion is at the head of the poll, a candidate approved of truth's most open borough; for, in spite of secretary-birds with pens stuck clerk-like behind their ears (as useless an emblem of sinecure office as gold keys, silver, and coronation armour)--in spite of whole flights of geese, capable enough of saving capitols, but impotent to wield one of their own all-conquering quills--in spite, also, (keen-eyed categorists, be to my faults in ratiocination a little blind, for very cheerfulness,) in spite, i say, of copying presses, manifold inditers, and automaton artists, man is a writing animal. wearily enough, you will think, have we disposed of this one definition: but recollect, and take me for a son of leisure, an amateur tourist of parnassus, an idling gatherer of way-side flowers in the vale of thessaly, a careless, unbusied, "contemplative man," recreating himself by gentle craft on the banks of much-poached helicon; and if you, my casual friend, be neither like-minded in fancy nor like-fitted in leisure, courteously consider that we may not travel well together: at this station let us stop, freely forgiving each other for mutual misliking; to your books, to your business, to your fowling, to your feasting, to your mummery, to your nunnery--go: my track lays away from the highroad, in and out between yonder hills, among thickets, mossy rocks, green hollows, high fern, and the tangled hair of hiding river-gods; i meet not pedlers and bagsmen, but stumble upon fawns just dropped, and do not scare their doting mothers; i quench not my noonday thirst with fiery drams from a brazen tap, but, lying over the cold brook, drink to its musical naiades; i walk no dusty roads of a working-day world, but flit upon the pleasant places of one made up of holidays. a truce to this truancy, and method be my maxim: let us for a moment link our reasonings, and solder one stray rivet; man being a writing animal, there still remains the question, what is writing? ah, there's the rub: a very comfortable definition would it be, if every pen-holder and pen-wiper could truly claim that kingship of the universe--that imagery of his maker--that mystical, marvellous, immortal, intellectual, abstraction, manhood: but, what then is writing? ye tons of invoices, groaning shelves of incalculable legers, parchment abhorrences of rare charles lamb, we think not now of you; dreary piles of unhealthy-looking law-books, hypochondriacal heaps of medical experiences, plodding folios of industrious polemics, slow elaborations of learned dullness, we spare your native dust; letters unnumbered, in all stages of cacography, both physical and metaphysical, alack! most of you must slip through the meshes of our definition yet unwove; poor deciduous leaves of the forest, that, at your best, serve only--it is yet a good purpose--to dress the common soil of human kindness, without attaining to the praise of wreaths and chaplets ever hanging in the muses' temple; flowers withered on the stalk, whose blooming beauty no lover's hand has dropped upon the sacred waters of siloa, like the hindoo's garland on her ganges; prolix, vain, ephemeral letters (especially enveloped penny-posters)--and sparing only some few redolent of truth, wisdom, and affection--your bulky majority of flippant trash, staid advices, dunnings, hoaxings, lyings, and slanderings, degrade you to a lower rank than that we take on us to designate as "writing." and what, o what--"how poor is he that hath not patience!"--shall we predicate of the average viscera of circulating libraries?--abominable viscera!--isn't that the word, my young hippocrates?--a parley--a parley! and the terms of truce are these: if this present pastime of mine (for pastime it is, so spurn not at its logic,) be mercifully looked on by you, lady novelists and male dittoes--yet truly there are giants in your ranks, as scott, and ward, and hugo, and le sage, towering above ten thousand pigmies--if i be spared your censures well-deserved, interchangeably as toward your authorships will i exercise the charitable wisdom of silence: a white flag or a white feather is my best alternative in soothing or avoiding so terrible a host; and verily, to speak kinder of those whose wit, and genius, and graphic powers have so smoothed this old world's wrinkled face of care, many brilliant, many clever, many well-intended caterers to public amusement, throng your ill-ordered ranks: still, there are numbered to your shame as followers of the fool's-cap standard, the huge corrupting mass of depraved moralists, meagre trash-inditers, treacherous scandal-mongers, men about town who immortalize their shame, and the dull, pernicious school of feather-brained romancists: and take this sentence for a true one, a _verum-dictum_. but enough, there are others, and those not few, even far less veniable; ye priers into family secrets--fawning, false guests at the great man's open house, eagerly jotting down with paricidal pen the unguarded conversation of the hospitable board--shame on your treason, on its wages, and its fame! ye countless gatherers and disposers of other men's stuff; chiels amang us takin' notes, an' faith, to prent 'em too, perpetually, without mitigation or remorse; ye men of paste and scissors, who so often falsely, feebly, faithlessly, and tastelessly are patching into a harlequin whole the _disjecta membra_ of some great hacked-up reputation; can such as ye are tell me what it is to write? writing is the concreted fruit of thinking, the original expression of new combinations of idea, the fresh chemical product of educational compounds long simmering in the mind, the possession of a sixth sense, distinguishing intelligence, and proclaiming it to the four winds; writing is not labour, but ease; not care, but happiness; not the petty pilferings of poverty, but the large overflowings of mental affluence; it begs not on the highway, but gives great largess, like a king; it preys not on a neighbour's wealth, but enriches him; it may light, indeed, a lamp, at another's candle, but pays him back with brilliancy; it may borrow fire from the common stock, but uses it for genial warmth and noble hospitality. remember well, good critic, (for verily bad there be,) my purposes in this odd volume--this queer, unsophisticate, uncultivated book: to empty my mind, to clear my brain of cobwebs, to lift off my head a porters's load of fancy articles; and as in a bottle of bad champaign, the first glass, leaping out hurryskurry, at a railroad pace boiling a gallop, carries off with it bits of cork and morsels of rosin, even such is the first ebullition of my thoughts: take them for what they are worth, and blame no one but your discontented self that they are no better. do you suppose, keen sir, that i am not quite self-conscious of their shallowness, utter contempt of subordination and selection, their empty reasoning and pellucid vanity?--there i have saved you the labour of a sentence, and present you with a killing verdict for myself. after a little, perhaps, your patience may find me otherwise; of clearer flow, but flatter flavour: these desultorinesses must first of all be immolated, for in their ariel state they vex me, but i bind them down like slaving calibans, by the magic of a pen; and glad shall i be to victimize my monsters, eager to dissipate my musquito-like tormentors; yea, i would "take up arms against a sea"--["arms against a sea?" dearest shakspeare, would that theobald, or johnson's stock-butt, "the oxford editor," had indeed interpolated that unconscionable image! it has been sapiently remarked by some hornet of criticism, that "shakspeare was a clever man;" but cleverer far must that champion stand forth who wars with any prospect of success upon seas; perhaps xerxes might have thought of it--or your astley's brigand, who rushes sword in hand on an ocean of green baize. who shall cure me of parentheses?]--well, "a sea of troubles, [thoughts trouble us more than things--i sin again; close it;] and by opposing, end them;" that is, by setting forth these troublous thoughts opposite, in stately black and white, i clip their wings, and make them peck among my poultry, and not swarm about my heaven. but soon must i be more continuous; turn over to my future title-pages, and spare your objurgation; a little more of this medley while the fit lasts, and afterward a staid course of better accustomed messes; a few further variations on this lawless theme of authorship, and then to try simpler tunes; briefly, and yet to be grandiloquent, as a last round of this giddy climax, after noisy clashing chaos there shall roll out, "perfect, smooth, and round," green young worldlets, moving in quiet harmony, and moulded with systematic skill. as an author, meanwhile, let man be most specifically characterized: a real author, voluntary in his motives, but involuntary as regards his acts authorial; full of matter, prolific of images and arguments, teeming, bursting, with something, much, too much, to say, and well witting how to say it: none of your poor devils compulsory from poverty--plutus help them!--whose penury of pocket is (pardon me) too often equitably balanced by their emptiness of head; and far less one of the lady's-maid school, who will glory in describing a dish of cutlets at calais, or an ill-trimmed bonnet, or the contents of an old maid's reticule, or of a young gentleman's portmanteau, or those rare occasions for sentimentality, moonlight, twilight, arbours, and cascades, in the moderate space of an hour by shrewsbury clock: but a man who has it weightily upon his mind to explain himself and others, to insist, refute, enjoin: a man--frown not, fair helpmates; the controversial pen, as the controversial sword, be ours; we will leave your flower-beds and sweeter human nurseries, despotism over cooks and penelobean penance upon carpet-work; nay, a trip to margate prettily described, easy lessons and gentle hymns in behalf of those dear prattlers, and for the more coerulean sort, "lyrics to the lost one," or stanzas on a sickly geranium, miserably perishing in the mephitic atmosphere of routs--these we masculine tyrants, we dionysii of literature, ill-naturedly have accounted your prerogatives of authorship. but who then are sévigné and somerville, edgeworth and de staël, barbauld and benger, and aikin, and jameson, hemans, landon, and a thousand more, not less learned, less accomplished, nor less useful? forgive, great names, my half-repeated slander: riding with the self-conceited _cortège_ of male critics, my boasted loyalty was well-nigh guilty of _lèze majesté_: but i repudiate the thought; my verdict shall have no reproach in it, as my championship no fear: how much has man to learn from woman! teach us still to look on humanity in love, on nature in thankfulness, on death without fear, on heaven without presumption; fairest, forgive those foolish and ungallant calumnies of my ruder sex, who boast themselves your teachers--making yet this wise use of the slander: never be so bold in authorship, as to hazard the loss of your sweet, retiring, modest, amiable, natural dependence: never stand out as champions on the arena of strife, but if you will, strew it with posies for the king of the tournament; it ill becomes you to be wrestlers, though a lycurgus allowed it, and atalanta, another eve, was tripped up by an apple in the foot-race. so digressing, return we to our author; to wit, a man, _homo_--a human, as they say in the west--with news of actual value to communicate, and powers of pen competent to do so graphically, honestly, kindly, boldly. much as we may emulate homer's wordy braggadocios in boasting ourselves far better than our fathers, still, great was the wisdom of our ancestors: and that time-tried wisdom has given us three things that make a man; he must build a house, have a child, write a book: and of this triad of needfuls, who perceives not the superior and innate majesty of the last requisite?--"build a house?" i humbly conceive, and steal my notion from the same ancestral source, that, in nine cases out of ten, fools build houses for wise men to live in; besides, if houses be made a test of supreme manhood, your modern wholesale runner-up of lath and plaster tenements, warranted to stand seven years--provided quadrilles be excluded, and no larger flock of guests _than six_ be permitted to settle on one spot--such a jackal for surgeons, such a reprobate provider for accident-wards as this, would be among our heroes, a prize-man, the flower of the species. "children" too?--very happy, beautiful, heart-gladdening creations--god bless them all, and scatter those who love them not!--but still for a proof of more than average humanity, somewhat common, somewhat overwhelming: rabbits beat us here, with all our fecundity, so offensive to martineau and malthus. but as to "books"--common enough, too, smirks gentle reader: pardon, courteous sir, most rare--at least in my sense; i speak not of flat current shillings, but the bold medallions of ancient syracuse; i heed not the dull thousands of minted gold and silver, but the choice coin-sculptures of larissa and tarentum. there do indeed flow hourly, from an ever-welling press, rivers of words; there are indeed shoaling us up on all sides a throng of well-bound volumes--novels, histories, poems, plays, memoirs, and so forth--to all appearance, books: but if by "books" be intended originality of matter, independent arguments, water turned wine, by the miracle of right-thinking, and not a mere re-decantering of dregs from other vessels--these many masqueraded forms, these multiplied images of little-varied likenesses, these protean herds, will not stay to be counted, nor abide judgment, nor brook scrutiny, but will merge and melt by thousands into the one, or the two, real, original, sterling books. we live in a monopolylogue of authorship: an idea goes forth to the world's market-place well dressed from the wardrobe of some master-mind; it greets the public with a captivating air, and straightway becomes the rage; it seems epidemical; it comes out simultaneously as a piece of political economy, a cookery-book, a tragedy, a farce, a novel, a religious experience, an abstract _ism_, or a concrete _ology_; till the poor worn-out, dissipated shadow of a thought looks so feeble, thin, fashionably affected and fashionably infected, that its honest, bluff old father, for very shame, disowns it. thus has it come to pass, that one or two minds, in this golden age of scribbling, have, to speak radically, been the true originators of a million volumes, which haply shall have sprung from the seed of some singular book, or of books counted in the dual. indignant authors, be not merciless on my candour: i confess too much whereof i hold you guilty; i am one of yourselves, and i question not that few of you can beat me in a certain sort of--i will say, unintended, plagiarism; you are thieves--patience--i thieve from thieves; diogenes cannot see me any more than you; you copy phrases, i am perpetually and unconsciously filching thoughts; my entomological netted-scissors, wherewith i catch those small fowl on the wing, are always within reach; you will never find me without well-tenanted pill-boxes in my pocket, and perhaps a buzzing captive or two stuck in spinning thraldom on my castor; you are petty larceners, i profess the like _métier_ of intellectual abstractor; you pilfer among a crowd of volumes, manuscripts, rare editions, conflicting commentators, and your success depends upon rëusage of the old materials; whereas i sit alone and bookless in my dining-parlour, thinking over bygone fancies, rëconsidering exploded notions, appropriating all i find of lumber in the warehouse of my memory, and, if need be, without scruple, quietly digesting, as my special provender, the thoughts of others, originated ages ago. is it necessary to remind you--dropping this lightsome vein for a precious moment--that i am penning away my "crudites," off-hand, at the top of my speed? that my set intention is, if possible, to jot down instanter my heavy brainful, and feel for once light headed?--i stick to my title, '_an author's mind_,' and that with a laudable scorn of concealment, and an honest purpose not to pretend it better or wiser than it is; then let no one blame me on the score of my fashion of speech, or my sarcasms mingled with charity; for consistency with me were inconsistent. neither let me, poor innocent, be accused of giving license to what a palled public and dyspeptical reviewers will call for the thousandth time a _cacoethes_; word of cabalistic look, unknown to dr. dilworth. truly, my masters, though disciple i be of venerable martinus the scribbler; though, for aught i know, himself in progress of transmigration; still, i submit, my cornucopia is not crammed with leaves and chopped straw; and if, in utter carelessness, the fruit is poured out pell-mell after this desultory fashion, yet, i wot, it _is_ fruit, though whether ripe or crude, or rotten, my husbandry takes little thought: the mixture serves for my cider-press, and, fermentation over, the product will be clarified. judge me too, am i not consecutive? i've shown man to be a writing animal; and writing, what it is and is not; and meanwhile have been routing recreatively at pen's point whims, and fancies, and ideas, and images, pulled in manfully by head and shoulders: and now--after an episode, quite relevant and quite herodotean, concerning the consequences of a bit of successful authorship on a man's scheme of life, to illustrate yet more the "author's mind"--i shall proceed to tell all men how many books i might, could, should, or would have written, but for reiterated and legitimated _buts_, and how near of kin i must esteem myself to the illustrious j. of nursery rhymes, being, as he is or was, "mister joe jenkins, who played on the fiddle, and began twenty tunes, but left off in the middle." moreover, no one can be ignorant of the close consanguinity recognised in every age and every dictionary between i and j. but now for the episode: if ever a toy were symbolical of life, that toy was a kaleidoscope: the showy bits of tinsel, coloured glass, silk, beads, and feathers, with here and there perchance a stray piece of iridescent ore or a pin, each, in its turn of ideal multiplication, filling successively the field of vision; the trifling touch that will disenchant the fairest patterns; the slightest change, as in chemical arithmetic, that will make the whole mixture a poison or a cordial. a man is vexed, the nerve of his equanimity thrillingly touched at the tender elbow, and forthwith his whole wholesome body writhes in pain; while, to speak morally, those useful reminders of life's frailty, the habitual side-thorns--spurs of diligence, incentives to better things--are exaggerated into sixfold spears, and terribly stop the way, like long-lanced achæans: a careless fit succeeds to one of spleen, and vanity well spangled, pretty baubles, stars and trinkets and trifles, fill their cycle, to magnetize with folly that rolling world the brain: another twist, and love is lord paramount, a paltry bit of glass, casually rose-coloured, shedding its warm blush over all the reflective powers: suddenly an overcast, for that marplot, disappointment, has obtruded a most vexatiously reiterated morsel of lamp-black: again hope's little bit of blue paint makes azure rainbows all about the firmament of man's own inner world; and at last an atom of gold-dust specks all the glasses with its lurid yellow, and haply leaves the old miser to his master-passion. so, ever changing day by day, every man's life is but a kaleidoscope. stay; this simile is somewhat of the longest, but the whim is upon me, and i must have my way; the fit possesses me to try a sonnet, and i shall look far for a fairer thesis; he that hates verse--and the muses now-a-days are too old-maidish to look many lovers--may skip it, and no harm done; but one or two may like this stave on life. i saw a child with a kaleidoscope, turning at will the tesselated field; and straight my mental eye became unseal'd, i learnt of life, and read its horoscope: behold, how fitfully the patterns change! the scene is azure now with hues of hope; now sobered gray by disappointment strange; with love's own roses blushing, warm and bright; black with hate's heat, or white with envy's cold; made glorious by religion's purple light; or sicklied o'er with yellow lust of gold; so, good or evil coming, peace or strife, zeal when in youth, and avarice when old, in changeful, chanceful phases passeth life. it is well i was not stopped before my lawful fourteenth rhyme by yonder prosaic gentleman, humbly listening in front, who asks, with somewhat of malicious triumph, whereto does all this lead?--categorically, sir, [there is no argument in the world equal to a word of six syllables,] categorically, sir, to this: of all life's turns and twists, few things produce more change to the daring _debutant_ than successful authorship; it is as if, applying our simile, a fragment of printed bookishness among those kaleidoscopic morsels, having worked its way into the field of vision, had there got stereotyped by a photogenic process: in fact, it fixes on it a prëdestinated "author's mind." an author's mind! what a subject for the lights and shadows of metaphysical portraiture! what a panorama of images! what a whirling scene of ever-changing incidents! what a store-house for thoughts! what a land of marvels! what untrodden heights, what unexplored depths of an ever-undiscovered country! that strange world hath a structure and a furniture all its own; its chalcedonic rocks are painted with rare creatures floating in their liquid-seeming hardness; forms of other spheres lie buried in its lias cliffs; seeds of unknown plants, relics of unlimnèd reptiles, fragments of an old creation, the ruins of a fanciful cosmogony, lie hid until the day of their requiral beneath its fertile soil: and then its lawless botany; flowers of glorious hue hung upon the trees of its forests; luscious fruits flung liberally among the mosses of its banks; air-plants sailing in its atmosphere; unanchored water-lilies dancing in its bright cascades; and this, too, a world, an inner secret world, peopled with unthought images, specimens of a peculiar creation; outlandish forms are started from its thickets, the dragon and the cherub are numbered with its winged inhabitants, and herds of uncouth shape pasture on its meadows. who can sound its seas, deep calling unto deep? who can stand upon the hill-tops, height beckoning unto height? who can track its labyrinths? who can map its caverns? a limitless essence, an unfailing spring, an evergreen fruit-tree, a riddle unsolved, a quaint museum, a hot-bed of inventions, an over-mantling tankard, a whimsical motley, a bursting volcano, a full, independent, generous--a poor, fettered, jealous, anomaly, such--bear witness--is an author's mind. o, theme of many topics! chaos of ill-sorted fancies! let us come now to the jealousies, the real or imaginary wrongs of authorship: hereafter treat we this at lengthier; "for the time present"--i quote the facetious lord coke, when writing on that highly exhilerating topic, the common-law--"hereof let this little taste suffice." is it not a wrong to be taken for a mere book-merchant, a mercenary purveyor of learning and invention, of religion and philosophy, of instruction, or even of amusements, for the sole consideration of value received, as one would use a stalking-horse for getting near a stag? this, too, when ten to one some cormorant on the tree of knowledge, some staid-looking publisher in decent mourning, is complacently pocketing the profits, and modestly charging you with loss? and this, moreover and more poignantly, when the flame of responsibility on some high subject is blazing at your heart, and the young elihu, even if he would, cannot keep silence? is it not a wrong to find pearls unprized, because many a modern, like his celtic progenitors, (for i must not say like swine,) would sooner crush an acorn? to know your estimation among men ebbs and flows according to the accident of success, rather than the quality of merit? to be despised as an animal who must necessarily be living on his wits in some purlieu, answering to that antiquated reproach, a grub-street attic; or suspected among gentler company in this most mercantile age for a pickpocket, a pauper, a _chevalier d'industrie_? and then those hounds upon the bleeding flanks of many a hunted author, those open-mouthed inexorable critics, (i allude to the pariah class, not to the higher caste brethren,) how suddenly they rend one, and fear not! only for others do i speak, and in no degree on account of having felt their fangs, as many have done, my betters; gentle and kind, as domesticated spaniels, have reviewers in general been to your humble confessor, and for such courtesies is he their debtor. but who can be ignorant how frequently some hapless writer is impaled alive on the stake of ridicule, that a flagging magazine may be served up with _sauce piquante_, and pander to the world for its waning popularity by the malice of a pungent article? who, while as a rule he may honour the bench of critics for patience, talent, and impartiality, is not conusant of those exceptions, not seldom of occurence, where obvious rancour has caused the unkindly condemnation; where personal inveteracy aims from behind the ajax shield of anonymous reviewing, and shoots, like a cowardly teucer, the foe fair-exposed whom he dares not fight with?--but, as will be seen hereafter, i trespass on a title-page, and here will add no more than this: is it not a wrong of double edge, that while the world makes no excuse for the writhing writer, on the reasonable ground that after all he may be innocent of what his critics blame him for, the same good-natured world, on almost every occasion of magazine applause, believes either that the author has written for himself the favourable notice, or that pecuniary bribes have made the honest editor his tool? verily, my public, thou art not generous here; ay, and thou art grievously deceived, as well as sordid: for by careless praise, causeless censure, credit given for corrupt bribery, and no allowance made for unamiable criticisms, poor maltreated authors speak to many wrongs: and of them more anon. what moreover shall we say of chilling friendships, near estrangements, heartless lovers loitering behind, shy acquaintance dropping off? verily, there is a mighty sifting: you have dared to stand alone, have expounded your mind in imperishable print, have manifested wit enough to outface folly, sufficient moral courage to condemn vice, and more than is needful of good wisdom to shame the oracles of worldliness: and so some dread you, some hate, and many shun: the little selfish asterisks in that small sky fly from your constellatory glories: you are independent, a satellite of none: you have dared to think, write, print, in all ways contrary to many; and if wise men and good be loud in their applause, you arrive at the dignity of manifold hatreds; but if those and their inferiors condemn, you sink into the bathos of multiplied contempts. of other wrongs somewhen and where, hereafter; meanwhile, a better prospect glows on the kaleidoscopic field--a flattering accession of new and ardent friends: "sir," said an old priest to a young author, "you have made a soft pillow for your head when it comes to be as white as mine is;" a pretty saying of sweet charity, and such sink deep: as for the younger and the warmer, being mostly of the softer sex, some will profess admiring sensations that border not a little on idolatries; others, gayer, will appear in the dress of careless, unskillful admiration; not a few, both men and women, go indeed weakly along with the current stream of popularity, but, to say truth, look happiest when they find some stinging notice that may mortify the new bold candidate for glory; while, last and best, a fewer, a very much fewer, do handsomely the liberal part of friends, commending where they can, objecting where they must, sincere in sorrow for a fault, rejoicing without envy for a virtue. many like phenomena has authorship: a certain class of otherwise humanized and well-intentioned people begin to regard your scribe as a monster--not a so-called "lion" to be sought, but some strange creature to be dreaded: perdition! what if he should be cogitating a novel or a play, and means to make free with our characters? what if that libellous cöpartnership of saunders and ottley is permitted to display our faults and foibles, flimsily disguised, before a mocking world? disappointed maidens that hover on the verge of forty, and can sympathize with jephtha's daughter in her lonely mournings, causelessly begin to fear that a mischievous author may appropriate their portraits; venerable bachelors, who have striven to earn some little local notoriety by the diligent use of an odd phrase, a quaint garment, or an eccentric fling in the peripatetic, dread a satirist's powers of retributive burlesque; table orators suddenly grow dumb, for they suspect such a caitiff intends cold-blooded plagiarisms from their eloquence; the twinkling stars of humble village spheres shun him for an ominous comet, whose very trail robs them of light, or as paling glow-worms hide away before some prying lantern; and all who have in one way or another prided themselves on some harmless peculiarity, avoid his penetrating glance as the eye of a basilisk. then, again, those casual encounters of witlings in the world authorial, so anticipated by a hostess, so looked-forward-to by guests! in most cases, how forlorn they be! how dull; constrained, suspicious! like rival traders, with pockets instinctively buttoned up, and glaring each upon the other with most uncommunicative aspects; not brothers at a banquet, but combatants and wrestlers, watching for solecisms in the other's talk, or toiling to drag in some laboured witticism of their own, after the classical precedent of hercules and cerberus: those feasts of reason, how vapid! those flows of soul, how icily congealing! those attic nights, how dim and dismal! once more; and, remember me, i speak in a personated character of the general, and not experimentally; so, flinging self aside, let me speak what i have seen: grant that the world-without crown a man with bays, and lead him to his theban home with tokens of rejoicing; is the victor there set on high, chapleted, and honoured as nemean heroes should be or does he not rather droop instantly again into the obscure unit among a level mass, only the less welcome for having stood up, a saul or a musæus, with his head above his fellows? verily, no man is a proph--enough, enough! for ours is a prerogative, a glorious calling, and the crown of barren leaves is costlier than his of rabbah; enough, enough! sing we the praises, count we well the pleasures of fervent, overflowing authorship. there, in perfect shape before the eyes--there, well born in beauty--there perpetually (so your fondness hopes) to live--slumbers in her best white robe the mind's own fairest daughter; the minerva has sprung in panoply from that parental aching head, and stands in her immortal independence; an eve, his own heart's fruit, welcomes delighted adam. you have made something, some good work, bodily; your communion has commenced with those of times to come; your mind has produced a witness to its individuality; there is a tablet sacred to its memory standing among men for ever. a thinker is seldom great in conversation, and the glib talkers who have silenced such a one frequently in clamorous argument, founder in his deep thoughts, blundering, like stephanos and trinculos--(let caliban be swamped;) such generous revenge is sweet: a writer often unexplained, because speaking little, and that little foolishly mayhap, and lightly for the holiday's sake of an unthoughful rest, finds his opportunities in printing, and gives the self-expounding that he needs; such heart-emptyings yield heart-ease: an author, who has done his good work well--for such a one alone we speak--while, privately, he scarce could have refreshed mankind by petty driblets--in the perpetuity, publicity, and universal acceptation of his high and honourable calling, does good by wholesale, irrigates countries, and gladdens largely the large heart of human society. and are not these unbounded pleasures, spreading over life, and comforting the struggles of a death-bed? yes: rising as ezekiel's river from ankle to knee, from knee to girdle, from girdle to the overflowing flood--far beyond those lowest joys, which many wise have trampled under foot, of praise, and triumph, and profit--the authorship of good, that has made men better; that has consoled sorrow, advanced knowledge, humbled arrogance, and blest humanity; that has sent the guilty to his prayers, and has gladdened the christian in his praises--the authorship of good, that has shown god in his loveliness, and man in his dependence; that has aided the cause of charity, and shamed the face of sin--this high beneficence, this boundless good-doing, hath indeed a rich recompense, a glorious reward! but we must speed on, and sear these hydra-necks, or we shall have as many heads to our discourse, and as puzzling, as any treatise of the puritan divinity. let us hasten to be practical; let us not so long forget the promised title-pages; let it at length satisfy to show, more than theoretically, how authorship stirs up the mind to daily-teeming projects, and then casts out its half-made progeny; how scraps of paper come to be covered with the cabala of half-written thoughts, thenceforward doomed to suffer the dispersion-fate of sibylline leaves; how stores of mingled information gravitate into something of order, each seed herding with its fellows; and how every atom of mixed metal, educationally held in solution by the mind, is sought out by a keen precipitating test, gregariously building up in time its own true crystal. hereabouts, therefore, and hereafter, in as frank a fashion as heretofore, artlessly, too, and, but for crowding fancies, briefly shall follow a full and free confession of the embryo circulating library now in the book-case of my brain; only premising, for the last of all last times, that while i know it to be morally impossible that all should be pleased herewith, i feel it to be intellectually improbable that any one mind should equally be satisfied with each of the many parts of a performance so various, inconsistent, and unusual; premising, also, that wherein i may have stumbled upon other people's titles, it is unwittingly and unwillingly; for the age breeds books so quickly, that a man must read harder than i do to peruse their very names; and premising this much farther, that i profess to be a sort of dog in the manger, neither using up my materials myself, nor letting any one else do so; and that, whether i shall happen or not, at any time future to amplify and perfect any of these matters, i still proclaim to all bookmakers and booksellers, steal not; for so surely as i catch any one thus behaving--and truly, my masters, the temptation is but small--i will stick a "_sic vos, non vobis,_" on his brazen forehead. wait! there remaineth yet a moment in which to say out the remnant of my mind, "an author's mind," its last parting speech, its dying utterances before extreme unction. i owe all the world apologies; i would pray a catholic forgiveness. authors and reviewers, critics, and the undiscriminating many, fair women, honest men, i cry your pardons universally! i do confess the learning of my mind to lie, strangely and pisa-like, inveterately as at welsh caérphilli, out of the perpendicular of truth; it is my disposition to make the most of all things, for good or for evil; i write, speak, and think, as if i were but an unhallowed special pleader; i colour highly, and my outlines are too strong; i am guilty on all sides of unintentional misstatements, consequent on the powerful gusts of feeling that burst upon my irritable breast; my heart is no smooth dead sea, but the still vexed bermoothes: therefore i would print my penitence; i would publish my confessions; i would not hide my humbleness; and it pleases me to pour out in sonnet-form my unconventional apology to all. --for i have sinn'd; oh! grievously and often; exaggerated ill, and good denied; blacken'd the shadows only born to soften; and truth's own light unkindly misapplied: alas! for charities unloved, uncherish'd, when some stern judgment, haply erring wide, hath sent my fancy forth, to dream and tell other men's deeds all evil! oh, my heart! renew once more thy generous youth, half perish'd; be wiser, kindlier, better than thou art! and first, in fitting meekness, offer well all earnest, candid prayers, to be forgiven for worldly, harsh, unjust, unlovable thoughts and suspicions against man and heaven! friends all, let this be my best amendment: bear with the candour, homely though it may be, of your author's mind; and suffer its further revelations of unborn manuscript with charitable listening; for they would come forth in real order of time, the first having priority, and not the best, ungarnished, unweeded, uncared-for, humbly, and without any further flourish of trumpets. * * * * * serjeant ion--i beg his pardon, talfourd--somewhere gives it as his opinion, that most people, in any way troubled with a mind, have at some time or other meditated a tragedy. truly, too, it _is_ a fine vehicle for poetical solemnities, a stout-built vessel for an author's graver thoughts; and the bare possibility of seeing one's own heart-stirring creation visually set before a crowded theatre, the preclusive echoes of anticipated thundering applause, the expected grilling silence attendant on a pet scene or sentiment, all the tangible, accessories of painting and music, clever acting and effective situation, and beyond and beside these the certain glories of the property-wardrobe, make most young minds press forward to the little-likely prize of successful tragedy. that at one weak period i was bitten, my honesty would scorn to deny; but fortunately for my peace of mind, "melpomene looked upon me with an aspect of little favour," and sturdy truth-telling tacitus made me at last but lightly regardful of my subject. moreover, my pegasus was visited with a very abrupt pull-up from other causes; it has been my fatality more than once or twice, as you will ere long see, to drop upon other people's topics--for who can find any thing new under the sun?--and i had already been mentally delivered of divers fag-ends of speeches, stinging dialogues, and choice tit-bits of scenes, (all of which i will mercifully spare you,) when a chance peep into johnson's '_lives of the poets_' showed me mine own fine subject as the work of some long-forgotten bard! this moral earthquake demolished in a moment my goodly aërial fabric; the fair plot burst like a meteor; and an after-recollection of a certain french tragedy-queen, agrippina, showed me that the ground was still further preoccupied. but it is high time to tell the destined name of my abortive play; in four letters, then, nero; a classical tragedy: in seven scenes. and now, in pity to an afflicted parent, hear for a while his offspring's roscian capabilities. first of all, however, (and you know how i rejoice in all things preliminary,) let me clear my road by explanations: we must pioneer away a titular objection, "in seven scenes," and an assumed merit, in the term "classical." i abhor scene-shifters; at least, their province lies more among pantomimes, farces, and comedies, than in the region of the solemn tragic muse; her incidents should rather partake of the sculpture-like dignity of _tableaux_. my unfashionable taste approves not of a serious story being cut up into a vast number of separate and shuffled sections; and the whistle and sliding panels detract still more from the completeness of illusion: i incline as much as is possible to the classic unities of time, place, and circumstances, wishing, moreover, every act to be a scene, and every scene an act; with a comfortable green curtain, that cool resting-place for the haggard eye, to be the grass-like drop, mildly alternating with splendid crime and miserable innocence: away with those gaudy intermediates, and, still worse, some intruded ballet; bring back garrick's baize, and crush the dynasty of head-aches. but onward: let me further extenuate the term, seven scenes; the utterance seven "acts" would sound horrific, full of extremities of weariness; but my meaning actually is none other than seven acts of one scene each: for the number seven, there always have been decent reasons, and ours may best appear as we proceed, less than a brief seven seeming insufficient, and more, superfluous; again, so mystical a number has a staid propriety, and a due double climax of rise and fall. now, as to our adjective "classical:" why not, in heroic drama, have something a-kin to the old greek chorus, with its running comment upon motives and moralities, somewhat as the mighty-master has set forth in his truly patriotic '_henry the fifth?_'--however, taking other grounds, the epithet is justified, both by the subject and the proposed unmodern method of its treatment: but of all this enough, for, on second thoughts, perhaps we may do without the chorus. it is obvious that no historical play can strictly preserve the true unity of time; cause and effect move slower in the actual machinery of life, than the space of some three hours can allow for: we must unavoidably clump them closer; and so long as a circumstance might as well have happened at one time as at another, i consider that the poet is justified in crowding prior events as near as he may please towards the goal of their catastrophe. if then any slight inaccuracy as to dates arrests your critical ken, believe that it is not ignorantly careless, but learnedly needful. one other objection, and i have done. no man is an utter inexcusable, irremediable villain; there is a spot of light, however hidden, somewhere; and, notwithstanding the historian's picture, it may charitably be doubted whether we have made due allowance for his most reasonable prejudice even in nero's case. human nature has produced many monsters; but, amongst a thousand crimes, there has proverbially lingered in each some one seedling of a virtue; and when we consider the corruption of manners in old rome, the idolatrous flatteries hemming in the prince, the universal lie that hid all things from his better perceptions, we can fancy some slight extenuation for his mad career. not that it ever was my aim, in modern fashion, to excuse villany, or to gild the brass brow of vice; and verily, i have not spared my odious hero; nevertheless, in selecting so unamiable a subject, (or rather emperor,) i wished not to conceal that even in the worst of men there is a soil for hope and charity; and that if despotism has high prerogatives, its wealth and state are desperate temptations, whose dangers mightily predominate, and whose necessary influences, if quite unbiased, tend to utter misery. now to introduce our _dramatis personæ_, with their "cast,"--for better effect--rather unreasonably presumed. _nero_--(macready, who would impersonate him grandly, and who, moreover, whether complimented or not by the likeness, wears a head the very counterpart of nero's, as every numismatist will vouch,)--a naturally noble spirit, warped by sensuality and pride into a very tyrant; liberal in gifts, yet selfish in passion; not incapable of a higher sort of love, yet liable to sudden changes, and at times tempestuously cruel. _nattalis_--(say vandenhoff,)--his favourite and evil genius, originally a persian slave, and still wearing the eastern costume: a sort of iago, spiriting up the willing nero to all varieties of wickedness, getting him deified, and otherwise mystifying the poor besotted prince with all kinds of pleasure and glory, to subserve certain selfish ends of rapine, power, and licentiousness, and to avenge, perhaps, the misfortunes of his own country on the chief of her destroyers. _marcus manlius_--(who better than charles kean?--supposing these artistic combinations not to be quite impossible,)--a fine young soldier, of course loving the heroine, captain of nero's body-guard, chivalrous, honourable, noble, and faithful to his bad master amid conflicting trials. _publius dentatus_--(any _bould_ speaker; besides, it would be rather too much to engage all the actors yet awhile;)--a worthy old roman, father of the heroine. _galba_, the chief mover in the catastrophe, as also the opener of its causes, an intriguing and fierce, but well-intentioned patriot, who ultimately becomes the next emperor. with _curtius_ a tribune, senators, conspirators, soldiers, priests, flamens, &c. and so, after the ungallant fashion of theatrical play-wrights, as to a class inferior to the very &c. of masculines--(of less intention withal than one of those &cs. of crabbed littleton, like an old shoe fricasséed into savourings of all things by its inimitable coke,)--come we to the women-kind. _agrippina_, (one of the school of siddons,) empress-mother, a strong-minded, lady-macbeth sort of woman, and the only person in the world who can awe her amiable son. _lucia,_ (_you_ cannot be spared here, clever helen faucit)--the heroine, secretly a christian affianced to manlius; a character of martyr's daring and woman's love. _rufa_, a haggard old sibyl, with both private and public reasons for detesting nero and nattalis: and all the fitting female attendants to conclude the list. each scene, in which each act will be included, should be pictorially, so to speak, a _tableau_ in the commencement, and a _tableau_ of situation in the end. let us draw up upon scene _the first_. back-ground, rome burning; in front, ruins of fine tuscan villa, still smoking; and a terminal altar in the garden. plebs. running to and fro, full of conventional little speeches, with goods, parents, penates, and other lumber, rescued from the flames; till a tribune, (hight curtius,) in a somewhat incendiary oration concerning poor men's calamities, and against the powers that be, sends them to the capital with a procession of flamines diales and vestals, dirging solemnly a roman hymn [some "_ad capitolium, ad jovis solium_," and so forth] to good music. at the end of the train come in publius and lucia, to whom from opposite hurriedly walks galba, full of talk of omens, direful doings, patriotism, and old rome's ruin. to these let there be added--to speak mathematically--open-hearted manlius; and let there follow certain disceptatious converse about nero, manlius excusing him, extenuating his vices by his temptations, giving military anecdotes of his earlier virtues, and in fact striving to make the most of him, a very gentle monster: galba throwing in, sarcastically, blacker shadows. after disputation, the father and lovers walk off, leaving galba alone for a moment's soliloquy; and, from behind the terminal altar, unseen sibyl hails him cæsar; he, astonished at the airy voice so coincident with his own feelings, thinks it ideal, chides his babbling thoughts, and so forth: then enter to him suddenly chance-met noble citizens, burnt out of house and home, who declaim furiously against nero. sibyl, still unseen from behind the altar, again hails galba as future cæsar; who, no longer doubting his ears, and all present taking the omen, they conspire at the altar with drawn swords, and as the sibyl suddenly presides--_tableau_--and down drops the soft green baize. this first act, you perceive, is stirring, introductory of many characters; and the picture of the seven-hilled city, seen in a transparent blaze, might give the followers of stanfield a triumph. _second_: the senate scene, producing another monstrous crime of nero's, also inaccurately dated. in the full august assembly, nero discovered enthroned, not unmajestic in deportment, yet effeminately chapleted, and holding a lyre: suppose him just returned from elis, a pancratist, the world's acknowledged champion. nattalis, ever foremost in flatteries, after praising the prince's exploits in greece, avows that, like paris in troy, and alexander at persepolis, nero _had_ gloriously fired rome; he found it wood, and wished to leave it marble; (so, the catafalque at the invalides of the twice-buried corsican;) in destroying, as well as blessing, he had asserted his divinity; any after due allusions to phoenixes, and fire-kingships, and _coups-de-soliel_ falling from the same apollo so great upon the guitar, nattalis moves that nero should be worshipped, and calls on the priest of jupiter to set a good example. none dare refuse, and the senate bend before him; whereupon enter, in clerical procession, augurs, and diviners, men at arms with pole-axes, and coronaled white bulls, paraded before sacrifice: all this pandering to present love of splendour and picturesque effect. in the midst of these classical preparations, enters, with a bevy of attendants, the haughty queen-like agrippina, whom nero, having sent for to complete his triumph, commands to bend too; but she stoutly refusing, and taking him fiercely to task, objurgating likewise rome's degenerate gray-beards--great bustle--senate broken up hurriedly--and she, with a "_feri ventrem_," dragged off to be killed by her son's order. nero alone with nattalis by imperial command; his momentary compunction nullified by the wily iago, who turns off the subject smoothly to a new object of desire: publius was the only senator not in his place, and publius has a daughter, the fairest in rome, lucia--had not the emperor noticed her among agrippina's women? nero, charmed with any scheme of novelty that may change remorseful thoughts, is induced, nothing loth, to attempt the subtle abduction of the heroine; a body-guard, headed as always by manlius, ready in the vestibule to escort him, and exit. nattalis, alone for a minute, betrays his own selfish schemes concerning lucia, who had refused him before, and alludes to his secret reasons for urging on the maddened nero to the worst excesses. _third scene_ (or part, or _act_, if it must be so), expounds, in fitting contrast to the foregoing, the tender loves of lucia and manlius; a gentle home-scene, a villa and its terraced gardens: also, as lucia is a christian, we have, poetically, and not puritanically, an insight into her scruples of conscience as to the heathenism of her lover: and also into _his_ consistent nobility of character, not willing to surrender the religion of his fathers unconvinced. to them rushes in publius, who has been warned by friend galba of the near approach of nattalis and a guard, to seize lucia for disreputable nero: no possible escape, and all urge lucia to imitate virginia, lucretia, and others of like dian fame, by cowardly self-murder; she is high-principled, and won't: then they--the father and lover--request leave to kill her; conflicting passions and considerable stage effect; lucia, who with calm courage derides the dastard sacrifice, standing unharmed between those loving thirsty swords: in a grand speech, she makes her quiet departure a test of manlius' love, and her ultimate deliverance to be a proof to him that her god is the true god, the god who guards the innocent. manlius, struck with her martyr-like constancy, professes that if indeed she is saved out of this great trouble, he will embrace her faith, renounce his own, and so break down the of wealth and rank, are alike thrown away upon publius; at last, the prince promises; and when publius, after a burst of earnest eloquence, proclaims the new pleasure to consist in _showing mercy_, nero's utter wrath, his hurricane of hate, revoking that hasty promise, and hurrying away old publius to die at the same stake with his daughter. _seventh_: the catastrophe scene lies in the coliseum amphitheatre; (i mean the older one, anterior to vespasian's:) bloody games pictured behind, and those "human torches" at fiery intervals. nero, enthroned in side front, surrounded by a brilliant court, amongst whom are some of the conspirators: at other side publius and lucia, tied at one stake in white robes, back to back, to die before nero's eyes, manlius and soldiers guarding them: he, manlius, having nobly resolved to test miraculous assistance to the last, but now tremblingly believing the chance of a providence interfering, since lucia's escape from nero at the golden house. just as the emperor, after a sarcastic speech, characteristically interlarded with courtier conversation, is commanding the fagot to be lighted, and lucia's constant faith has bade manlius _do it_--a rush of nattalis with attendant conspirators and rufa the sibyl, up to nero; nattalis strikes him, but the sword breaks short off on the hidden armour; nero's majestic rising for a moment, asserting himself cæsar still, the inviolable majesty;--suddenly stopped by a centripetal rush of the conspirators; who kill him, (after he has vainly attempted in despair to kill himself,) and galba sits on the throne, while nero, unpitied and unhelped, gasps out in the middle his dying speech. meanwhile, at the other side, manlius has killed nattalis for his treachery, cut the bonds of publius and lucia, and all ends in moral justice for the triumph of good, and the defeat of evil; manlius and lucia, hand in hand, publius with white head and upraised hands blessing them, nero, a mangled corpse, nattalis in his dying agonies persecuted by the vindictive rufa, and galba hailed as cæsar by the assembled romans. so, upon a magnificent _tableau_, slowly falls the lawny curtain. patient reader, what think you of my long-winded tragedy? no quibbling about nero having really died in a drain, four years after the murder of aggrippina; no learned disquisitions, if you please, as to his innocence of rome's fire, a counterpart to our slander on the papacy in the matter of london's; spare me, i pray you, learned pundit, your suspicions about galba's too probable _alibi_ in spain. tell me rather this: do i falsify history in any thing more important than mere accidental anachronisms and anatopisms? do i make an untrue delineation of character, blackening the good, or white-washing the wicked? do i not, by introducing nero's three greatest crimes so near upon his assassination, merely accelerate the interval between causes and effect? and is not tragic dignity justified in varnishing, with other compost than the dregs of rome, the exit of the last true cæsar of the augustan family? for all the rest, good manager, provide me actors, and i am even now uncertain--such is my weakness--whether this skeleton might not at some time be clad with flesh and skin, and a decent roman toga. i fear it will yet haunt me as a '_midsummer night's dream_,' destroying my quiet with involuntary shreds and patches of long-metred blank; the notion is still vivacious, albeit scotched: alexandrine though the synopsis appear, it must not be thrown on the highroad as a dead snake; nay, let me cherish it yet on my hearth, and not hurl it away like a _bonum waviatum_; a little more boiling up of roman messes in my brain, and my tragedy might flow forth spontaneously as lava. what if this book be, after all, a sort of pilot-balloon, to show my huge nassau the way the wind blows--a feeler as to which and which may please? whether or not this be so, i will still confess on, emptying my brain of booklets, and, if by happy possibility i can keep my secret, shall hear unsuspected, friend, _your_ verdict. * * * * * i must rather hope, than expect, that my next bit of possible authorship is not like the last, a subject forestalled. scribbling as i find myself for very listlessness in a dull country-house, there's not a publisher's index within thirty miles; so, for lack of evidence to the contrary, i may legitimately, for at least a brief period of self-delusion, imagine the intoxicating field my own. and yet so fertile, important, interesting a subject, cannot have been quite overlooked by the corps of professed literary labourer's: the very title-page would insure five thousand readers (especially with a brunswicker death's-head and marrow-bones added underneath). opium; a history; standing alone in single blackiness: opium, a magnificent theme, warranted to fill a huge octavo: and certain, from sheer variety of information, to lead into the captivity of admiring criticism minds of every calibre. its natural history, with due details of all manner of poppies, their indigenous habitats, botanical characters, ratios of increase, and the like; its human history, discovery as a drug; how, when, where, and by whom cultivated; dissertations as to the possibility of chaldean, pharaonic, grecian, or roman opium eating, with most erudite extracts out of all sorts of scribes, from sanchoniathon down to juvenal, on these topics; its medicinal uses, properties, accidents, and abuses; as to whether it might not be used homoeopathically or in infinitesimal doses, to infuse a love of the pleasures of imagination into clodpoles, lawyers' clerks, and country cousins; its intellectual possibilities of usefulness, stimulating the brain; its moral ditto, allaying irritability; together with a dreadful detail of its evils in excess, idiotizing, immoralizing, ruining soul and body. plenty of stout unquestionable statistics, from all crannies of the globe, to corroborate all the above to the extreme satisfaction of practical men, with causes and consequences of its insane local popularity. all this, moreover, at present, with especial reference to china and the east; added to the moral bearings of the opium-war, and our national responsibilities relative to that unlucky traffic. the metaphysical question stated and answered, whether or not prohibition of any thing does not lead to its desire; showing the increasing appetency of those sottish serics for the forbidden vice, and illustrating gay's fable of the foolish young cock, who ne'er had been in that condition, but for his mother's prohibition: moreover, how is it, that so captivating a form of intoxication is so little rife among our drunken journeymen? queries, however, as to this; and whether or not the humbug of teetotalism (a modern speculation, got up by and for the benefit of grocers and sugar-planters on the one side, schismatics and conspiring demagogues on the other,) has already substituted opium-eating, drinking, or smoking, for the wholesomer toddies, among factory folk and the finest pisantry. millions of anecdotes regarding eastern rajahs, western locofocos, southern moors, and north-country muscovites, as to the drug in its abuses: strange cures (if any) of strange ailments of mind or body by its prudent use: how to wean men and nations from those deleterious chewings and smokings; with true and particular accounts of such splendid self-conquests as coleridge and de quincey, and--shall i add another, a living name?--have attained to. then, again, what a field for poetical vagaries, and madnesses of imagination, would be afforded by the subject of opium-dreams! now, strictly speaking, in order to hallucinate honestly, your opium-writer ought to have had some practical knowledge of opium-eating: then could he descant with the authority of experience--yea, though he write himself thereby down an ass--on its effects upon mind and body; then could he tell of luxuries and torments in true frenchified detail; then could he expound its pains and pleasures with all the eloquence of personal conviction. but, as to such real risk of poisoning myself, and of making i wot not how actual a mooncalf, of my present sound mind and body, i herein would reasonably demur: and, if i wanted dreams, would tax my fancy, and not my apothecary's bill. dreams? i need not whiff opium, nor toss off laudanum negus, to imagine myself--a young titan, sucking fiery milk from the paps of a volcano; a despot so limitless and magnificent, as to spurn such a petty realm as the solar system, with cassiopeia, boötes, and his dog, to boot; an intellect, so ravished, that it feels all flame, or a mass of matter so inert, that it lies for ages in the silent depths of ocean, a lump of primeval metal: madness, with the red-hot iron hissing in his brain: murder, with the blood-hound ghost, over land, over sea, through crowds, deserts, woods, and happy fields, ever tracking silently in horrid calmness; the oppression of indefinite guilt, with that holy eye still watching; the consciousness of instant danger, the sense of excruciating pain, the intolerable tyranny of vague wild fear, without will or power to escape: spurring for very life on a horse of marble: flying upward to meet the quick-falling skies--o, that universal crash!--greeted in a new-entered world with the execrations of the assembled dead--that hollow, far-echoing, malicious laughter--that hurricane-sound of clattering skulls; to be pent up, stifling like a toad, in a limestone rock for centuries; to be haunted, hunted, hooted; to eat off one's own head with its cruel madly crunching under-jaw; to--but enough of horrors: and as to delights, all that delacroix suggests of perfume, and mahomet of houris, and gunter of cookery, and the german opera of music: all camilla-like running unexertive, all that sea unicorns can effect in swift swimming, or storm-caught condors in things aërial; all the rapid travellings of puck from star to star, system to system, all things beauteous, exhilarating, ecstatic--ages of all these things, warranted to last. now, multiply all these several alls by forty-nine, and the product will serve for as exaggerated a statement as possible of opium pandering to pleasure; yes, by forty-nine, by seven times seven at the least, that we be not accused of extenuating so fatal an excitement; for it is competent to conceive one's self expanded into any unlimited number of bodies, seven sevens being the algebraic _n_, and if so, into their huge undefined aggregate; a giant's pains are throes indeed, a giant's pleasures indeed flood over. but, we may do harm to morality and truth, by falsely making much of a faint, fleeting, paltry, excitation. the brain waltzing intoxicated, the heart panting as in youth's earliest affection, the mind broad, and deep, and calm, a pacific in the sunshine, the body lapped in downy rest, with every nerve ministering to its comfort; what more can one, merely and professedly of this world of sensualism--an opium-eater for instance--conceive of bliss? such imaginative flights as these, with its pungent final interrogatory, suggestive to man's selfishness of joys as yet untried, might tempt to tamper with the dear delight; whereas the plain statement of the most that opium could minister to happiness, as contrasted with those false vain views of it, remind me of tennyson's poetical '_timbuctoo_,' gorgeous as a new jerusalem in apocalyptic glories, and the mean filth-obstructed kraals dotted on an arid plain, to which, for very truthfulness, his soaring fancy drops plumbdown, as the shot eagle in '_der freischutz_.' let this then serve as a meagre sketch of my defunct treatise on opium: think not that i love the subject, curious and fertile though it be; perhaps, philosophically regarded, it is not a better one than _gin_; but ears polite endure not the plebeian monosyllable, unless indeed with a rëduplicated _n_, as mr. lane _will_ have it our whilom genie should be spelt: accordingly, i magnanimously give up the whole idea, and am liberal enough, in this my dying determination, to sign a codicil, bequeathing opium to my executors. * * * * * novelism is a field so filled with copy-holders, so populously tenanted in common, that it requires no light investigation to find a site unoccupied, and a hero or heroine waiting to be hired. nevertheless, i seem to myself to have lighted on a rich and little-cultivated corner; imagining that the subject is a good one, because still untouched, founded on facts, and with amplifiable variations that border on the probable. he that lionizes stratford-on-avon, will remember in one of the shakspearian museums of that classic town, the pictured trance of hapless charlotte clopton, as it was limned in death-seeming life. he will be shown the tombs of her ancient family in stratford church, and the door of that fatal vault; he will hear something of her noble birth--her fine character--her fascinating beauty--her short, innocent, eventful life--her horrible death. consider, too, the age and locality in which she lived, elizabethan, shakspeare's; the great contemporary characters that might be casually introduced; the mysterious suicide, in that dim dreadful pool at the end of the terraced walk among the cropped yews, of her poor only sister, margaret; equalled only in the miserable interest by that of charlotte herself. and then for a plot: some darkly hinted parricide of years agone, in the generation but one preceding, has dropt its curse upon the now guiltless, but, by the law of providence, still-not-acquitted family; a parricide consequent on passionate love, differing religions, and the montague-and-capulet-school of hating feudal fathers--theodore clopton having been a catholic, alice beauvoir a protestant; an introductory recountal of old beauvoir's withering curse on the clopton family for theodore's abduction of his daughter, followed by the tragic event of the father and son, cloptons', mutual hatred, and the former found in his own park with the broken point of his son's sword in him, the latter flying the realm: the curse has slept for a generation; and now two fair daughters are all that remain to the high-bred sir clement and his desponding lady, on whom the beauvoir descendant, a bitterest enemy, takes care to remind them the hovering curse must burst. this rowland beauvoir is the villain of the story, whose sole aim it is, after the fulfilment of his own libertine wishes, to see the curse accomplished: and charlotte's love for a certain young saville, whom beauvoir hates as his handsome rival in court patronage, as well as her pointed refusal of himself, gives new and present life to his ancestral grudge. the lovers are espoused, and to make sir clement's joy the greater, saville has interest sufficient to meet the old knight's humour of keeping up the ancient family name, by getting it added to his own; so that the beauvoir hatred and parricidal curse seem likely to be frustrated. but--the first hindrance to their union is poor sister margaret's secret and infatuated love for that scheming villain rowland, her then too probable seduction, melancholic madness, and suicide: successively upon this follow the last illnesses and deaths of the heart-broken old people, whom rowland's dreadful ubiquity terrifies in their very chamber of disease; and as the too likely consequence of such accumulated sorrows on a creature of exquisite sensibility, charlotte, the only remaining heiress of that ancient lineage, gradually, and with all the semblance of death, falls into her terrible trance. rowland, who, through his intimacy with margaret, knows all the secret passages and sliding panels of the old mansion, and who thereby gets mysterious admission whenever he pleases, comes into that silent chamber, and finds saville mourning over his dead-seeming bride: she, all the while, though unable to move, in an agony of self-consciousness; and at last, when rowland in fiendish triumph pronounces the curse complete, to the extreme horror of both, by an effort of tortured mind over apparently inanimate matter, rolls her glazed eyes, and gives an involuntary groan: having thus to all appearance confirmed the curse, she lies more marble-white, more corpse-like, more entranced than ever. then, after long lingering, draws on the horrible catastrophe: a catastrophe, alas! as far at least as regards the heroine, _quite true_. fully aware of all that is going on--the preparations for burial, the misery of her lover, the gratified malice of her foe--she is placed in the coffin: the rites proceed, her heart-stricken espoused takes his last long leave, she is carried to the grave, locked in the family vault under stratford church, and there left alone, fearfully buried alive! and then, after a day or two, how shrieks and groans are heard in the church-yard by truant school-boys, and are placed to the account of the curse: how, at last, her despairing lover demands to have the vault opened; and the wretch rowland--partly from curiosity, partly from malice--determined to be there to see. as they and some church-followers come near the door of the vault, they hear knockings, and desperate plunges within; saville swoons away, the crowd falls back in terror, and the hardened rowland alone dares unlock the door. instantly, in her shroud, mad, starved, with the flesh gnawed from her own fair shoulders, rushes out the maniac charlotte: in phrensied half-reason she has seized rowland by the throat, with the strength of insanity has strangled him, and then falls dead upon the steps of the vault! of saville--who, as having swooned, is spared all this scene of horror, and who leaves the country for ever--little or nothing is more said: and clopton hall remains a ruin, tenanted by ghosts and bats. p.s. if thought fit, after the fashion of parisian charcoal-burners in ill-ventilated bed-rooms, charlotte may have recorded her experiences in the vault, by writing with a rusty nail on the coffin-plates. now, the gist of this victor-hugo tale of terror is its general truth: a true end of a truly-named family, in its own neighbourhood, and long since extinct: the house, now rëbuilt and rëstyled--the vault--the picture of that poor unfortunate, (how unsearchable in real life often are the ways of providence! how frequently the innocent suffer for the guilty!)--the gloomy well--and something extant of the story--remains still, and are known to some at stratford. to do the thing graphically, one should go there, and gain materials on the spot: and nothing could be easier than to mix with them fifteenth-and-sixteenth-century costumes, modes of thought, and historical allusions; accessories of the humorous, if the age demands it, might relieve the pathetic; charlotte's own innocence and piety might be made to soften her hard fate, with the assurance of a better life; saville might become a wisely-resigned recluse; and while the sins of the fathers are not gently, though justly, visited on the children, the villain of the story meets his full reward. behold, then, hungry novel-monger, what grist is here for the mill! behold, sosii, what capabilities of orders from every library in the kingdom!--as doomed ones, and denounced ones, and undying ones, and unseen ones, seem to be such taking titles, what think you of the _buried-alive-one_!--is it not new, thrilling, terrible? who is he that would pander to the popular taste for details of dreadful, cruel, criminal, and useless abominations? "should such a one as i?" in emptying my head of the notion, i have ministered too much already: but the sample of henbane is poured out, an offering to the infernal manes, and poisons no longer the current of my thoughts. thy ghost, poor beautiful charlotte! shall not be disturbed by me; thy misfortunes sleep with thee. nevertheless, this tale about a more amiable charlotte than werter's, so naturally also falling into the orthodox three-volume measure, is capable of being fabricated into something of deep, romantic, tragical interest; such a character, in such circumstances, in such an age, and such a place: i commend it to those of the anglo-gallic school, who love the domestically horrible, and delight in unsunned sorrows: but, i throw not any one topic away as a waif, for the casual passer-by to pick up on the highway. shadows, indeed, are flung upon the waters, but phulax still holds the substance with tenacious teeth. stop awhile, my dog and shadow, and generously drop the world a morsel; be not quite so bold when no one thinks of robbing you, and spare your gasconade: the expediency of a sample has been cleverly suggested, and we _ego et canis meus_, royal in munificence, do graciously accede. will this serve the purpose, my ever-pensive public? at any rate, with some aid of intellect in readers, it is happily an extract which explains itself--the death of poor infatuated margaret: we will suppose preliminaries, and hazard the abrupt. * * * * * "that bitter speech shot home; it had sped like an arrow to her brain: it had flown to her heart like the breath of pestilence: for rowland to be rough, uncourteous, unkind, might cause indeed many a pang; but such conduct had long become a habit, and woman's charitable soul excused moroseness in him, whom she loved more than life itself, more than honour. but now, when the dread laugh of a seemingly more righteous world was daily, hourly, to be feared against her--when the cold finger of scorn was preparing to be pointed at her fading beauty, and her altered form--now, when indulgence is most due, and cruelty has a sting more scorpion than ever--to be taunted with that once-kind tongue with having rightfully inherited _a curse_--to be told, in a sort of fiendish triumph, that some ancient family grudge, forsooth, against her father's fame, certainly as much as the selfish motives of a libertine professed, had warped the will of rowland to her ruin--to know, to hear, yea, from his own lips, that the oft-repented crime of her warm and credulous youth--of her too free, unsuspicious affection--had calmly been contrived by the heart she clung to for her first, her only love--here was misery, here was madness! "rowland, at the approach of footsteps, had hastily slunk away behind the accustomed panel, and alone in the chamber was left poor margaret: his last sneering speech, the mockery of his sarcastic pity, were still haunting her ear with echoes full of wretchedness; and she had uttered one faint cry, and sunk swooning on a couch, when her sister entered. "charlotte, gentle charlotte, had nothing of the hardness of a heroine; her mind, as her most fair body, was delicate, nervous, spiritualized; but the instinct of imperious duty ever gave her strength in the day of trial. long with an elder sister's eye had she watched and feared for margaret; she had palliated natural levity by evident warmth of disposition, and excused follies of the judgment by kindness of the heart. charlotte was no child; in any other case, she had been keener of perception; but in that of a young, generous, and most loving sister, suspicion had been felt as a wickedness, and had long been lulled asleep: now, however, it awaked in all its terrors; and, as margaret lay fainting, the sorrowful condition of one soon to be a mother who never was a wife, was only too apparent. she touched her, sprinkled water on her pale face, and, as the fixed eyes opened suddenly, charlotte started at their strange wild glare: they glittered with a freezing brilliancy, and stared around with the vacuity of an image. could margaret be mad? she bit her tender lips with sullen rage, and a gnashing desperation; her cheek was cold, white, and clammy as the cheek of a corpse; her hair, still woven with the strings of pearl she often wore, hung down loose and dishevelled, except that on her flushing brow the crisp curls stood on end, as a nest of snakes. and now a sudden thought seemed to strike the brain; her eyes were set in a steady horror; slowly, with dread determination, as if inspired by some fearful being, other than herself, uprose margaret; and, while her frightened sister, shuddering, fell back, she glided, still gazing on vacancy, to the door: so, like a ghost through the dark corridor, down those old familiar stairs, and away through the armory-hall; charlotte now more calmly following, for her father's library, where his use was to study late, opened out of it, and surely the conscience-stricken margaret was going in her penitence to him. but, see! she has silently passed by; her hand is on the lock of the hall-door; with one last look of despairing recklessness behind her, as taking an eternal leave of that awe-struck sister, the door turns upon its hinge, and she, still with slow solemnity, goes out. whither, oh god!--whither? the night is black as pitch, rainy, tempestuous; the old knight's guests at clopton hall have gladly and right wisely preferred even such questionable accommodation as the blue chamber, the dreary white apartment looking on the moat--nay, the haunted room of the parricide himself--to encountering the dangers and darkness of a night-return so desperate; but margaret, in her gayest evening attire, near upon so foul a midnight in november, stalks like a spectre down the splashy steps. charlotte follows, calls, runs to her--but cannot rescue from some settled purpose, horribly suggested, that gentle fearful creature, now so changed. suddenly in the dark she has lost her. which way did the maniac turn?--whither in that desolate gloom shall charlotte fly to find her? guided by the taper still twinkling in her father's study, she rushes back in terror to the hall; and then--help, help!--torches, torches! the household is roused, dull lanterns glance among the shrubberies; pine-lights, ill-shielded from wind and rain by cap or cloak, are seen dotting the park in every direction, and dance about through the darkness, like sportive wild-fires: sir clement in moody calmness looks prepared for any thing the worst, like a man who anticipates evil long-deserved; the broken-hearted mother is on her knees at the cold door-steps, striving to pierce the gloom with her eyes, and ejaculating distracted prayers: and so the live-long night--that night of doubt, and dread, and dreariness--through bitter hours of confusion and dismay, they sought poor margaret--and found her not! "but, with morning's light came the awful certainty. at the end of a terraced walk, mournfully shaded by high-cropped yews, stood an arbour, and behind it, half-hidden among rank weeds, was an old half-forgotten fountain; there, on many a sultry summer night, had rowland met with margaret, and there had she resolved in terrible remorse to perish. with the seeming fore-thought of reason, and the resolution of a phrensied fortitude, she had bound a quantity of matted weeds about her face, and twisted her hands in her fettering garments, that the shallow pool might not in cruel kindness fail to drown her; she lay scarcely half immersed in those waters of death; a few lazy tench floating sluggishly about, appeared to be curiously inspecting their ghastly, uninvited guest; and the fragments of an enamelled miniature, with some torn letters in the hand-writing of rowland beauvoir, were found scattered on the overflowing margin of the pool." * * * * * well, unkindly whelp, if your bone has no pickings better than this, not a cur shall envy you the sorry banquet. yet, had my genius been better educated in the science of french cookery, this might have been served up with higher seasoning as a savoury _ragout_: but you get it in simplicity, scarce grilled; and in sooth, good world, it is easier to sneer at a novel than to imagine one; and far more self-complacency may be gained by manfully affecting to despise the novelist, than by adding to his honours in the compliment of humble imitation. * * * * * things supernatural have every where and every when exercised mortal curiosity. fear and credulity support the arms of superstition, fierce as city griffins, rampant as the lion and the unicorn; and forasmuch as no creature, nelson not excepted, can truly boast of having never known fear, and no man also--from polite voltaire, shrewd hume, leviathan hobbes, and erudite gibbon, down to the most stultified van-diemanite--can honestly swear himself free from the influence of some sort of faith, for thus much the marvellous and the terrible meet with universal popularity. now, one or two curious matters connected with those "more things in heaven and earth, horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," which have even occurred to mine own self, (whereof, to gratify you, shall be a little more anon), have heretofore induced me to touch upon sundry interesting points, which, like pikemen round their chief, throng about the topic of the marvellous. a book, so simply titled, with haply underneath a gigantic note of admiration between two humble queries ?!? would positively, my worthy publisher, make your worship's fortune. for it should concern ghosts, dreams, omens, coincidences, good-and-bad luck, warnings, and true vaticinations: no childish collection, however, of unsupported trumpery, but authenticated cases staidly evidenced, and circumstantially detailed; no mother goose-cap's tales, no dick the ploughman's dreams, no stories from the '_terrific register_,' nor fancies of hysterical females in adult asylums; even merlin witch-finders, and taliesins should be excluded: and, in lieu of all such common-places, i should propose an anecdotic treatise in the manner scientifical. macnish's '_philosophy of sleep_,' scott's '_demonology_,' treatises on apparitions, and many a rare black-letter alchemical pamphlet, might lend us here their aid; the british museum is full of well-attested ghost-stories, and there are very few old ladies unable to add to the supply: then, this ghost department might be climaxed by the author's own experience; forasmuch as he is ready to avouch that a person's fetch was heard by many, and seen by some, in an old country-house, a hundred miles away from the place of death, at the instant of its happening. as to omens, aforesaid witness deposes that the sceptre, ball, and cross were struck by lightning out of king john's hand, in the schools quadrangle at oxford, immediately on the accession of william the reformer; and all the world is cognusant that york minster, the royal exchange, and the houses of parliament were destroyed by fire near about the commencement of open hostility, among ruling powers, to our church, commerce, and constitution; and i myself can tell a tale of no less than eight remarkable warnings happening one day to a poor friend, who died on the next, which none could be expected to believe unless i delivered it on oath as having been an eye-witness to the facts. dreams also--strange, vague, mysterious word; there is a gloomy look in it, a dreary intonation that makes the very flesh creep: the records of public justice will show many a murder revealed by them, as instance the red barn; more than one poor client, in the clutch of a "respectable" attorney, has been helped to his rights by their influence; from agamemnon and pilate, down to napoleon, the oppressors of mankind have in those had kindly warning. dreams--how many millions false and foolish, for the one proving to be true!--but that one, how clear, determinate, and lasting, as ministered by far other agency than imagination taking its sport while reason slumbers! who has not tales to tell of dreams? a warning not to go on board such and such a ship--which founders; a strange unlikely scene fixed upon the mind, concerning friends and circumstances miles away, exactly in the manner and at the time of its occurrence; the fore-shown coming of an unexpected guest; the pourtrayed visage of a secret enemy: these, and others like these, many can attest, and i not least. and of other marvels, though here left unconsidered, yet might much be said: truths so strange, that the pages of romance would not trench on such extravagance; combinations so unlikely, that thrice twelve cast successively by proper dice, were but probability to those. thus, in authorial fashion, has the marvellous dwelt upon my mind; and thus would i suggest a hand-book thereof to catering booksellers and the insatiable public. * * * * * against bears in a stage-coach, pointers in a drawing-room, lap dogs in a _vis-à-vis_, and monkeys in a lady's boudoir, my love of comfort and propriety enters strong protest; an emancipated parrot attracts my sympathy far less than bright-eyed children feeding their testy pet, for i dread the cannibal temptation of those soft fair fingers, when brought into collision with polly's hook and eye; gigantic newfoundlanders dragging their perpetual chains, larks and linnets trilling the faint song of liberty behind their prison bars, cold green snakes stewing in a school-boy's pocket, and dormice nestling in a lady's glove, summon my antipathies; a cargo of five hundred pigs, with whom i had once the honour of sailing from cork to london, were far from pleasant as _compagnons de voyage_; neither can i sleep with kittens in the room. nevertheless, no one can profess truer compassion, truer friendship (if you will) for the animal creation: often have i walked on in weariness, rather than increase the strain upon the rosinantes of an omnibus; and my greatest school scrape was occasioned by thrashing the favoured scion of a noble house for cruelty to a cat. such and such-like--for we learn from Æsop (fable eighty-eight, to wit) that trumpeters deserve to be unpopular--is my physical zeal in the cause of poor dumb brutes: nor is my regard for them the less in matters metaphysical. bishop butler, we may all of us remember, in 'the _analogy_' argues that the objector against a man's immortality must show good cause why that which exists, should ever cease to exist; and, until that good cause be shown, the weight of probability is in favour of continual being. now, for my part, i wish to be informed why this probability should not be extended to that innocent maltreated class, whom god's mercy made with equal skill, and sustains with equal care, as in the case of man, and--dare we add?--of angels. doth he not feed the ravens? do the young lions not gather what he giveth? doth a sparrow fall to the ground without our father? and is not the unsinning multitude of nineveh's young children climaxed with "much cattle?" it is true, there may be mighty difference between "the spirit of a man that goeth upward, and the spirit of a beast that goeth downward in the earth:" but mark this, there _is_ a spirit in the beast; and as man's eternal heaven may lie in some superior sphere, so that temporarily designed for the lower animals may be seen in the renovated earth. it is also true, that st. paul, arguing for the temporal livelihood of christian ministers from the type of "not muzzling the ox that treadeth out the corn," asks, "doth god care for oxen?"--or, in effect, doth he legislate (i speak soberly, though the sublime treads on the ridiculous,) for a stable?--and the implication is, "to thy dutiful husbandry, o man! such lesser cares are left." sorry, righteously sorry, would it make any good man's heart to think that the creator had ceased to care for the meanest of his creatures: in a certain sense "he sees with equal eye, as god of all, a hero perish, or a sparrow fall;" and, assured that carelessness in a just creator of his poor dependent creatures must be impossible, i submit that, critically speaking, some laudable variation might be made in that text by the simple consideration that [greek: melei] is not so strictly rendered "care for" as [greek: kedetai]. scripture, then, so far from militating against the possible truth, that animals have souls, would seem, by a side-long glance, to countenance the doctrine: and now let us for a passing moment turn and see what aid is given to us by moral philosophy. no case can be conceived more hard or more unjust than that of a sentient creature (on the hypothesis of its having no soul, no conscience, necessarily quite innocent), thrown into a world of cruelty and tyranny, without the chance of compensation for sufferings undeserved. neither can any good government be so partial, as (limiting the whole existence of animals to an hour, a day, a year,) to allow one of a litter to be pampered with continual luxuries, and another to be tortured for all its little life by blows, famine, disease--and in its lingering death by the scientific scalpels of a critical majendie or a cold-blooded spallanzani. remember, that in the so-called parallel case of partialities among men--the this-world's choice of a jacob, the this-world's rejection of an esau--the answer is obvious: there are two scales to the balance, there is yet another world. far be it from us to think that all things are not then to be cleared up; that the innocent little ones of kedar and the exterminated canaanites will not then be heard one by one, and no longer be mingled up indiscriminately in an overwhelming national judgment; that the pleas of evil education and example, of hereditary taint and common usage, will be then thrown aside as vain excuse; and that eventual justice will not with facility explain every riddle in the moral government of god. but in the case of soulless extinguished animals, there is, there can be no compensation, no explanation; whether in pain or pleasure, they have lived and they have died forgotten by their maker, and left to the casual kindness or cruelty of, towards them at least, irresponsible masters. how different the view opened to us by the possibility of soul being apportioned in various measure among the lower animals: there is a clue given "to justify the ways of god to"--brutes: we need not then consider, with a certain french abbé, that they are fallen angels, doing penance for their sins; we need not, with old pythagoras and latter brahmins, account them stationed lodges, homes of transmigration for the spirits of men in process of being purged from their offences: we need not regard them as avatars of vishnu, or incarnations of apis, visible deities craving the idolatries of india and egypt. the truth commends itself by mere simplicity: nakedness betrays its eve-like innocence of guile or error: those living creatures whom we call brutes and beasts, have, in their degree, the breath of god within them, as well as his handiwork upon them. and, candid theologian, tell me why--in that millenium so long looked-for, when, after a fiery purgation, this earth shall have its sabbath, and when those who for a time were "caught up into the air," descending again with their lord and his ten thousand saints, shall bodily dwell with others risen in the flesh for that happy season on this renovated globe--tell me why there should not be some tithe of the animal creation made to rise again to minister in pleasure, as they once ministered in pain? and for the rest, the other nine, what hinders them from tenanting a thousand happy fields in other of the large domains of space? what hinders those poor dumb slaves from enjoying some emancipate existence--we need not perhaps accord them more of immortality than justice, demands for compensation--for a definite time, a millennium let us think, in scores of those million orbs that twinkle in the galaxy? space stretches wide enough for every grain of the broad sands that curb our swelling seas, each separate in its sphere, to stand apart as far as sun from sun. shall i then say what hinders?--the littleness of man's mind, refusing possibility of room for those countless quadrillions; and the selfishness of his pride, scorning the more generous savage, whose doctrine (certainly too lax in liberality) raises the beast to a level with mankind, and "who thinks, admitted to that equal sky, his faithful dog shall bear him company." truly, the creator's justice, and mercy, and the majesty of his kingdom, give hope of after-life to all creation: saint antony of padua did waste time in homilizing birds, beasts, and fishes; but may they not find blessings, though ignorant of priests?--and now, suffer me, in my current fashion, to glance at a few other considerations affecting this topic. it will be admitted, i suppose, that the lower animals possess, in their degree, similar cerebral or at least nervous mechanism with ourselves; in their degree, i say; for a zoöphyte and a caterpillar have brains, though not in the head; and to this day waterton does not know whether he shot a man or a monkey, so closely is his nondescript linked with either hand to the grovelling australian and the erect orang outang. brutes are nerved as we are, and uncivilized man possesses instincts like them: all we can with any show of reason deny them is moral sense, and in our arbitrary refusal of this, and our summary disposal of what we are pleased to term instinct, we take credit to ourselves for exclusive participation in that immaterial essence which is called soul. but is it, in candour, true that brutes have no moral sense? obviously, since moral sense is a growing thing, and ascending in the scale of being, and since man is its chief receptacle on earth, we ought to be able to take the best instances of animal morals from those creatures which have come most within the influence of human example; as pets of every kind, but mainly dogs. does not a puppy, that has stolen a sweet morsel from some butcher's stall, fly, though none pursue him? is a fox-hound not conscience-stricken for his harry of the sheep-fold? and who will deny some sense of duty, and no little strength of affection, in a shepherd's dog? have not cowper's now historic hares displayed an educated and unnatural confidence; and many a gray parrot, though limited in speech, said many a witty thing?--again, read some common collection of canine anecdotes: what essential difference is there between the affectionate watch kept by man over his brother's bed of sickness, and that which has been known of more than one poor cur, whose solicitude has extended even to dying on his master's grave? the soldier's faithful poodle licks his wounds upon the stormy battle-field; and landseer's colley-dog tears up the turf, and howls the shepherd's requiem. what real distinction can we make between a high sense of duty in the captain who is the last to leave his sinking ship, and that in the watchful terrier, whom neither tempting morsels nor menaced blows can induce to desert the ploughman's smock committed to his care? once more: who does not recognise individuality of character in animals? a dog, or a horse, or a tame deer, or, in fact, any domesticated creature, will act throughout life, in a certain course of disposition, at least as consistently as most masters: it will also have its whims and ways, likings and dislikings, habits, fears, joys, and sorrows; and, verily, in patience, courage, gratitude, and obedience, will put its monarch to the blush. but upon this theme--meagre as the sketch may be, fanciful, illogical--my cursory notions have too long detained you. i had intended barely to have introduced a black-looking greek composite, serving for name to an unwritten essay which we will imagine in existence as psychotherion, an inconclusive argument on the souls of brutes; and my thoughts have run on thus far so little conclusively (i humbly admit to you), that we will, to save trouble, leave the riddle as unsolved as ever, and gain no better advantage than thus having loosely adverted to another fancy of your author's mind. * * * * * not yet is my mind a simple freeman, a private, unincumbered, individual self-possessor: its slaves are not yet all manumitted; i lack not subjects; i am no lord of depopulated regions; albeit my aim is indeed akin to that of old rufus, and goldsmith's tyrannical squire of auburn; i wish to clear my hunting-grounds, to make a solitude, and call it peace. slowly, but still surely, am i working out that will. meanwhile, however, there is no need to advertise for heroes; they are only too rife, clinging like bats to the curtains of my chambers of imagery, or with attendant satellites hanging in bunches, as swarming bees about their monarch, to the rafters of my brain. selection is the hardest difficulty; here is the labour, here the toil; because for just selection there should be good reasons. now, amongst other my multitudinous authorial projects, this perhaps is not the worst; namely, by a series of dissimilar novels, psychological rather than religious, and for interest's sake laid in diverse ages and countries, to illustrate separately the most rampant errors of the papacy. for example, say that lewis's '_monk_' is a strong delineation of the evils consequent on constrained and unchosen celibacy; though its colouring be meretricious, though its details offend the moralities of nature, still it is a book replete to thoughtful minds with terrible teaching--be not high-minded, but fear. in like manner, guilty thoughts dropped upon innocent young hearts in that foul corner, the confessional, might make a stirring tale, or haply a series of them: the cowled hypocrite suggesting crime to those whose answer is all innocence; his schemes of ambition, or avarice, or lust, slowly elaborated by the fiend-like purposes to which he puts his ill-used knowledge of the human heart; his sacrilegious violation of the holy grievings made by mistaken penitence. history should bring its collateral assistance: the medicean queens, venice, bloody spain, hard-visaged monks calmly directing the engines of torture, the poison of anonymous calumny, and dread secrets more dreadfully betrayed, could furnish much of truthful precedent. the bad obstructions placed between the sinner and his god by selfish priestcraft; the souls that would return again, like noah's weary dove, enticed by ravens to forsake the ark, mate with them, and feed on their banquet of corruption; the social, religious, philosophic, and eternal harms brought out in full detail; the progress of this world's misery in the lives of the confessing, and of studious crime in the heart of the absolver: a scene laid among the high alps, and the sunny plains they topple over; the time, that of some murderous simon de montfort; the actors, waldensian saints, and demon inquisitors; the prominent characters, a plausible intriguing friar, (as of old a monk of cluni,) whose ambition is the popedom, and whose conscience has no scruple about means, bloody, bad, vindictive, atheistic; and then his victims, a youth that he trains from infancy to the sole end of poisoning, subtly and slowly, all who stand in his path; a girl who loves this youth, and who, flying from the foul friar in the day of temptation, betakes her to the mountains, and ultimately saves her lover from his terrible destination in guilt, by hiding him in her own haven of refuge, the persecuted little church; and with these materials to work upon, i need hardly detail to you an intricate plot and an obvious _dénouement_. this class of theme, it is probable, has exercised the talents of many; but as the evils of confessing to deceitful man, and of blind trust in his deleterious advice, have not specifically met my eye, the subject is new to me, and may be so to others. still, i stay not now further to enlarge upon it; i must press on; and will not cruelly encourage the birth of thoughts brought forth only to be destroyed, like father saturn's babes--the anthropophagite. a good reason for selection at last presents itself. sundry collateral ancestors of mine [every body from cain downwards must have had ancestors; so no quibbling, please, nor quarrelling about so exploded an absurdity as family-pride,] were lucky enough in days lang syne to appropriate to themselves, amongst other matters, a respectable allowance of forfeited monastic territory; and i know it by this token: that in yonder venerable chest of archives and muniments, rest in their own dust of ages, duly and clearly assorted, all those abbey deeds from the times of henry beauclerc. here's a fine unlooked-for opportunity of making dull ancestral spots classic ground, famous among men; here's a chance of immortalizing the crumbling ruins of an obscure, but interesting, abbey-church; here's a fair field for dragging in all that one knows or does not know, all that parchments can prove, or fancy can invent, of redoubtable or reprobate progenitors, and investing the place of their possessions with a glory beyond heraldry. much is on my mind of the desperate evils consequent on the romish rule of idol-worship: and why not lay my scene on the wild banks of the swale, among the bleak, rough moors that stand round richmond, and the gullies that run between the yorkshire hills? why not talk about those names of gentle blood, familiar to the ear as household words, uvedale and scrope, vavasour and ratcliffe? why not press into the service of instructive novelism truths stranger than fiction, among characters more marked, and names of higher note, than the whole hot-pressed family of the fitzes? all this might be accomplished, were it worth the worry, in the prior of marrick. and now for a story of idolatry. it seems an absurdity, an insanity; it is one--both. but think it out. is it quite impossible, quite incredible? let me sketch the outline of so strange infatuation. our prior was once a good man--an easy, kind, and amiable: he takes the cowl in early youth, partly because he is the younger son of an unfighting family, and must, partly because he is melancholy, and will. and wherefore melancholy? there was brought up with him, from the very nursery, a fair girl, the weeping orphan of a neighbouring squire, who had buckled on his harness, and fallen in the wars: they loved, of course, and the deeper, because secretly and without permission: they were too young to marry, and indeed had thought little of the matter; still, substance and shadow, body and soul, were scarcely more needful to each other, or more united. but--a hacking cough--a hectic cheek--a wasting frame, were to blue-eyed mary the remorseless harbingers of death, and eustace, standing on her early grave, was in heart a widower: henceforth he had no aim in life; the cloister was--so thought he, as many do--his best refuge, to dream upon the past, to soothe his present sorrows, and earn for a future world the pleasures lost in this. time, the best anodyne short of what eustace could not buy at rome--true-healing godliness--alleviates his grief, and makes him less sad, but not wiser; years pass, the desire of prëeminence in his own small world has hitherto furnished incentives to existence, and he find himself a prior too soon; for he has nothing more to live for. yes: there is an object; the turmoil of small ambition with its petty cares is past, and the now motiveless man lingers in yearning thought on the only white spot in his gloomy journey, the green oasis of his desert life, that dream of early love. he has long loved the fair, quiet image of our lady of marrick, unwittingly, for another mary's sake; half-oblivious of the past in scheming for the present, he has knelt at midnight before that figure of the virgin-mother, and knew not why he trembled; he thought it the ecstacy of devotion, the warm-gushing flood of calmness, which prayer confers upon care confessed. but now, he sees it, he knows it; there is, indeed, good cause: how miraculously the white marble face grows into resemblance with _hers!_ the same sainted look of delicate unearthly beauty, the same white cheek, so still and unruffled even by a smile, the same turn of heavenly triumph on the lip, the same wild compassion in the eye! great god--he loves again!--that staid, grave, melancholy man, loves with more than youthful fondness; the image is now dearer than the most sacred; there is a halo round it, like light from heaven: he adores its placid, eternal, changeless aspect; if it could move, the charm would half dissolve; he loves it--as an image! and then how rapturously joins he with the wondering choir of more stagnant worshippers, while they yield to this substantial form, this stone-transmigration of his love, this tangible, unpassionate, abiding, present deity, the holy hymns of praise, due only to the unseen god! how gladly he sings her titles, ascribing all excellence to her! how tenderly falls he at her feet, with eyes lighted as in youth! how earnestly he prays to his fixed image--_to_ it, not _through_ it, for his heart is _there_! how zealously he longs for her honour, her worship among men--hers, the presiding idol of that gothic pile, the hallowed lady, the goddess-queen of marrick! stop--can he do nothing for her, can he venture nothing in her service? other shrines are rich, other images decked in gold and jewels; there is yet an object for his useless life, there are yet ends to be attained, ends--that can justify the means. he longs for wealth, he plots for it, he dares for it: he plans lying miracles, and thousands flock to the shrine; he waylays dying men, and, by threatened dread of torments of the damned, extortionizes conscience into unjust riches for himself; he accuses the innocent, and reaps the fine; he connives at the guilty, and fingers the bribe. so wealth flows in, and the altar of his idol is hung with cloth of gold, her diadem is alight with gems, costly offerings deck her temple, bending crowds kneel to her divinity. is he not happy? is he not content? oh, no: an insatiate demon has possessed him; with more than pygmalion's insanity, he loves that image; he dreams, he thinks of that one unchanging form. the marvelling brotherhood, credulous witnesses of such deep devotion, hold him for a saint; and rome, at the wish of the world, sends him, as to a living st. eustatius, the patent of canonization: they praise him, honour him, pray to him; but he contemptuously (and they take it for humility) spurns a gift which speaks of any other heaven than the presence of that one fair, beautiful, beloved statue. a thought fills him, and that with joy: he has heard of sacrifices in old time, immolations, offerings up of self, as the highest act of a devout worshipper; he cares not for earth nor for heaven; and one night, in his enthusiastic vigils, the phrensy of idolatry arms that old man's own weak hand against himself, and he falls at the statue's feet, self-murdered, _its_ martyr. here were scope for psychology; here were subtle unwindings of motive, trackings of reason, intricate anatomizations of the heart. all ages, before these last in which we live, have been worshippers, even to excess, of "unknown gods," "too superstitious:" we, upon whom the ends of the world are fallen, may be thought to be beyond a danger into which the wisest of old time were entrapped: we scarcely allow that the brahmin may, notwithstanding, be a learned man and a shrewd, when we see him fall before his monster; we have not wits to understand how the babylonian, persian, grecian, and roman dynasties could be so besotted. for this superior illumination of mind, let us thank not ourselves, but the light of the world; and, warned by the history of ages, let us beware how we place created things to mediate between us and the most high; let us be shy of symbolic emblems--of pictures, images, observances--lest they grow into forms that engross the mind, and fill it with a swarm of substantial idols. now, this tale of the '_prior of marrick_' would, but for the present premature abortion, have seen daylight in the form of an auto-biography--the catastrophe, of course, being added by some brother-monk, who winds up all with his moral: and to get at this auto-biographical sketch--a thing of fragments and wild soliloquies, incidentally laying bare the heart's disease, and the poisonous breathings of idolatrous influence--i could easily, and after the true novelist fashion, fabricate a scheme, somewhat as follows: let me go gayly to the moors by rail, coach, or cart, say for a sportsman's pastime, a truant vicar's week, or an audit-clerk's holiday: i drop upon the ruined abbey, now indeed with scarcely a vestige of its former beauty remaining, but still used as a burial-place; being a bit of an antiquary, i rout up the sexton, (sexton, cobbler, and general huckster,) resolved to lionize the old desecrated precinct: i find the sexton a character, a humourist; he, cobbler-like, looks inquisitively at my caoutchouc shooting-shoes, and hints that he too is an artist in the water-proof line; then follows question as how, and rejoinder as thus. our sexton has got a name among his neighbours for his capital double-leather brogues, warranted to carry you dry-shod through a river; and, warmed by my brandy-flask and _bonhomie_, considering me moreover little likely to set up a rival shop, cunningly communicates his secret: he puts parchment between the leathers--parchment, my good man? where can you get your parchment hereabouts? i spoke innocently, for i thought only of ticketing some grouse for my friends southward: but the question staggered my sexton so sensibly, that i came to the uncharitable conclusion--he had stolen it. and then follows confession: how, among the rubbish in a vault, he had found a small oak chest--broke it open--no coins, no trinkets, "no nothing,"--except parchment; a lot of leaves tidily written, and--warranted to keep out the wet. a few shillings and a tankard make the treasure mine, i promising as extra to send a huge bundle of ancient indentures in place of the precious manuscript. thus, in the way of mackenzie's '_man of feeling_,' we become fragmentary where we fear to be tedious; and so, in a good historic epoch, among the wars of the roses, surrounded by friars and nuns, outlaws and border-riders, chivalrous knights and sturdy bowyers, consign i to the oblivescent firm of capulet and co. my happily destroyed '_prior of marrick_.' * * * * * a crank boat needs ballast; and of happy fortune is it for a disposition towards natural levity, when educational gravity has helped to steady it. upon the vivacious, let the reflective supervene: to the gay, suffer in its season the addition of the serious. amongst other wholesome topics of meditation--for wholesome it is to the healthy spirit, although of some little danger to the presumptuous and inflated--the study of the sure word of prophecy has more than once excited the writing propensity of your author's mind. on most matters it has been my fate, rather from habits of incurable revery than from any want of opportunities, to think more than to read; and therefore it is, with very due diffidence, that as far as others and their judgments are concerned, i can ever hope to claim originality or novelty. to my own conscience, however, these things are reversed; for contemplation has produced that as new to my own mind, which may be old to others deeper read, and has thought those ideas original, which are only so to its own fancy. very little, then, must such as i reasonably hope to add on prophetical interpretation; the universal wisdom of two millenaries cannot be expected to gain any thing from the passing thought of a hodiernal unit: if any fancies in my brain are really new, and hitherto unbroached upon the subject, it can scarcely be doubted but that they are false; so very little reliance do principles of catholicity allow to be placed upon "private interpretations." with thus much of apology to those alike who will find, and those who will not find, any thing of novelty in my notions, i still do not withhold them. by here a little and there a little, is the general mind instructed: it would be better for the world if every mighty tome really contributed its grain. the prophecies of holy writ appear to me to have one great peculiarity, distinguishing them from all other prophecies, if any, real or pretended; and that peculiarity i deferentially conceive to be this: that, whereas all human prophecies profess to have but one fulfilment, the divine have avowedly many true fulfilments. the former may indeed light upon some one coincidence, and may exult in the accident as a proof of truth; the latter bounds as it were (like george herbert's sabbaths) from one to another, and another, through some forty centuries, equally fulfilled in each case, but still looking forward with hope to some grander catastrophe: it is not that they are loosely suited, like the delphic oracles, to whatever may turn up, but that they, by a felicitous adaptation, sit closely into each era which the architect of ages has arranged. pythonic divination may be likened to a loose bag, which would hold and involve with equal ease almost any circumstance; biblical prophecy to an exact mould, into which alone, though not all similar in perfection, its own true casts will fit: or again, in another view of the matter, accept this similitude: let the all-seeing eye be the centre of many concentric circles, beholding equally in perspective the circumference of each, and for accordance with human periods of time measuring off segments by converging radii: separately marked on each segment of the wheel within wheel, in the way of actual fulfilment, as well as type and antitype, will appear its satisfied word of prophecy, shining onward yet as it becomes more and more final, until time is melted in eternity. thus, it is perhaps not impossible that every interpretation of wise and pious men may alike be right, and hold together; for different minds travel on the different peripheries. so our lord (to take a familiar instance) speaks of his second advent in terms equally applicable to the destruction of one city, of the accumulated hosts at armageddon, and of this material earth: antiochus and antichrist occur prospectively within the same pair of radii at differing distances; and, in like manner and varying degrees, may, for aught we can tell, such incarnations of the evil principle as papal rome, or revolutionary europe, or infidel cosmopolitism; or, again, such heads of parties, such indexes of the general mind, as a cæsar, an attila, a cromwell, a napoleon, a--whoever be the next. so also of hours, days, years, eras; all may and do cöexist in harmonious and mutual relations. good men, those who combine prayer with study, need not fear necessary difference of result, from holding different views; the grand error is too loosely generalizing; a little circle suits our finite ken; we cannot, as yet, mentally span the universe. these crude and cursory remarks may serve to introduce a likely-looking idea to which my thoughts have given entertainment, and which, with others of a similar sort, were once to have come forth in an essay-form, headed the seven churches; moreover, for aught that has come across my reading, to be additionally styled '_a new interpretation, for these latter days_.' without desiring to do other than quite confirm the literal view, as having related primarily to those local churches of old times, geographically in asia minor; without attempting to dispute that they may have an individual reference to varieties of personal character, and probably of different christian sects; i imagine that we may discover, in the apocalyptic prospect of these seven churches, an historical view of christianity, from the earliest ages to the last: beginning as it did, purely, warmly, and laboriously, with the apostolic emblematic ephesus, and to end with the "shall he find faith on earth" of lukewarm laodicea: thus smyrna would symbolize the state of the church under diocletian, the "tribulation ten days:" pergamus, perhaps the byzantine age, "where satan's seat is" the balaam and balak of empire and priesthood; thyatira, the avowed commencement of the papacy, "jezebel," &c.; sardis, the dreary void of the dark ages, the "ready to die;" philadelphia, the rise of protestantism, "an open door, a little strength;" and laodicea, (the riches of civilization choking the plant of christianity,) its decline, and, but for the founder's second coming, its fall; if, indeed, this were possible. the elucidation of these several hints might show some striking confirmations of the notion; which, as every thing else in this book, would humbly claim your indulgence, reader, for my sketches must be rapid, and their descriptions brief. concurrently, however, with this, (which i know not whether any prophetic scholiasts have mentioned or not,) there may be deduced a still further interpretation, equally, as far as i am concerned, underived from the lucubrations of others. this other interpretation involves a typical view of the general characteristics of christendom's seven true churches, as they are to be found standing at the coming of their lord; the asiatic seven may be assimilated, in their religious peculiarities, with the national protestant churches of modern europe: what order should be preserved in this assimilation, unless indeed it be that of eldership, it might be difficult to decide; but, excluding those communities which idol-worship has unchurched, and leaving out of view such anomalies as america presents, having no national religion, we shall find seven true churches now existing, between which and the asiatics many curious parallels might be run: the seven are, those of england, scotland, holland, prussia, perhaps switzerland, sweden, and germany. without professing to be quite confident as to the list, the idea remains the same: it is but a light hint on a weighty subject, demanding more investigation than my slender powers can at present compass. it is merely thrown out as undigested matter; a crude notion let it rest: if ever i aspire to the dignity and dogmatism of a theological teacher, it must be after more and deeper inquiry of the newtons, faber, frere, croly, keith, and other learned interpreters, than it is possible or proper to make in a hurry: volumes have been, and volumes might be again, written for and against any prophecy unfulfilled; it is dangerous to teach speculations; for, if found false, they tend to bring holy truths into disrepute. let me then put upon the shelf, as a humble layman should, my hitherto unaccomplished prophetical treatise; and receive its mention for little more than my true revelation of another phase of authorship. * * * * * and many like attempts have been hazarded by me in the mode theological; though, from some cause or other, they have mostly fallen abortive. were mention here made of the more completed efforts of your author's mind, in this walk of literature, or of others, it might too evidently lay bare the mystery of my mask; a piece of secret information intended not as yet to be bestowed. but this book--purporting to be the medley of my mind, the _bonâ fide_ emptying of its multifarious fancies--must of necessity, if honest, pourtray all the wanings and waxings of an ever-changing lunar disposition: so, haply you shall turn from a play to a sermon, from a novel to a moral treatise, from a satire or an epigram to a religious essay. such and so inconsistent is authorial man. here then, in somewhat of order, should have followed lengthily various other writings of serious import, half-fashioned, and from conflicting reasons left--perhaps for ever--half-finished. but considering the crude and apparently careless nature of this present book, and taking into account the solemn and responsible manner in which such high topics ought invariably to be treated, i have struck out, without remorse or mercy, all except a mere mention of the subjects alluded to. the contiguity of lighter matter demands this sacrifice; not that i am one of those who deem a cheerful face and a prayerful heart incongruous: there is danger in a man, however religious, when his brow lowers, and his cheek is stern; so did cromwell murder charles; so did mary (though bigoted, sincere,) consign cranmer to the flames and jane to the scaffold: innocence and mirth are near of kin, and the tear of penitence is no stranger to the laughter-loving eye. but i ramble as usual. let it suffice to say, that in accordance with common prejudices, i suffer my mind to be shorn of its consecrated rays; for albeit my moral censor has spared the prophetical ideas, and one or two other serious sobrieties, on the ground that, although they are mere hints, they are at all events hints of good, still more experimental and more hazardous pieces of biblical criticism have been not unwisely immolated. the full cause of this will appear in the mere title of the first of these half-attempted essays, viz: the wisdom of revision; whereof my predication shall be simply and strictly _nil_. the next piece of serious study, as yet little more than a root in my mind, was to have fructified in the form of homely expositions, or domestic readings in scripture for daily use in family worship, with an easy, sensible, useful sort of commentary; a book calculated expressly for the understandings, wants, vices, temptations, and peculiarities of household servants, and quite opposed to the usual plans of injuriously raising doubts to lay them, of insisting upon obsolete judaisms, of strict theological controversy, of enlarging to satiety on the meaning of passages too obvious to require explanation, and ingeniously slurring over those which really need it; indeed, of pursuing the courses generally adopted by the mass of commentators. a further notion extended to lay sermons, whereof are many written: their principal peculiarities consist in being each of a quarter-hour length, as little as possible regarding jews and their didactic histories, and, as much as might be, crowding ideas, and images, and out-of-the-way knowledge of all sorts, into the good service of illustrating gospel truths. another religious essay has been relinquished, although to a great degree effected, from the apprehension that it may suggest matter fanciful or false: also, in part, from the material being perhaps of too slender a character to insist upon. its name stood thus, scriptural physics; being an attempt to vindicate the wisdom of holy writ in matters of natural science; for example, cosmogony, geology, the probable centre of the earth, the vitality and circulation of the blood, hints of magnetism and electricity, a solar system, a plurality of worlds, the earth's shape, inclined axis, situation in space, and connection with other spheres, the separate existence of disembodied life, the laws of optics, much of recondite natural history:--all these can be easily proved to be alluded to in detached, or ingeniously compared, passages of the hebrew scriptures. it is very likely, however, that huntington has anticipated some of this, although i have never met with his writings; and a great deal more of it is mentioned in notes and sermons which many have read or heard. until, therefore, i become surer of neither invading the provinces of others, nor of detracting from their wisdom, let those ill-written fancies still lie dormant in my desk. a fifth tractate on things theological, still in the egg state, was to have been indued with the rather startling appellation of an apology for heathenism; especially as contrasted with practical atheism, which, truth to tell, is the contradictory sort of religion most universally professed among the moderns: working out the idea, that any-how it is better to have many objects of veneration than none, and that, although idol-worship is a dreadful sin, still it is not so utterly hopeless as actual ungodliness. that, among the heathens, temporal judgment ever vindicated the true divinity; whereas the consummation of the more modern unworshiping world will be an eternal one: so, by the difference in punishments comparing that of their criminalities. showing also that, however corrupted afterwards by impure rites and fatuous iniquities, heathenism was, in its most ancient form, little more than the hieroglyphic dress of truth: this exemplified by moses and the brazen serpent, by interpretations of grecian mythology, shown, after the manner of perhaps too ingenious lord bacon, to be consistent with philosophy and religion; by the way, in which egyptian priests satisfied so good and shrewd, though credulous, a mind as that of herodotus; by hesiod's '_theogony_;' by the practical testimony of the whole educated world in earliest times to the deep meaning involved in idolatrous rites; by the mysteries of eleusis in particular; by the characters of all most enlightened heathens--as cicero, socrates, and plato--(half-convinced of the godhead's unity, and still afraid to disavow his plurality,) contrasted with those of the school of pyrrho, and lucretius, and the later epicureans. the possibility of early allusions to the trinity, as "let us make man," _etc._, having led to the idea of more than one god; and if so, in some sort, its veniality. all the above might be applied with some force, and, if so, with no little value, to modern false semblances of religion, and non-religion; to roman catholicism, with its images, its services in an unknown tongue, its symbols, its adoption of heathen festivals, its actual placing of many gods in the throne of one; to mammonism, as practically a religion as if the golden calf of babylon were standard at cornhill; to voluptatism--if i may fabricate a name for pleasure-hunters, following still, with corybantic fury, the orgic revels of osiris or astarte: in brief, to all the shades of human heresy, on this side or on that of the golden mean, the worship of one true god, as revealed to us in his three mysterious characters. but, query? has not all this, and the very title, for any thing i know, been done already by another, by a wiser? and, if so, by whom?--speak, some friend: it is the misfortune of mere thinkers (and this present amygdaloid mass, this breccia book, exemplifies it well) to stumble frequently upon fancies too good not to have been long ago appropriated by others like-minded. a read, or heard, hint may be the unerring clue, and we vainly imagine some old labyrinth to be our new discovery: education renders up the master-key, and we come to regard ancient treasuries as wealth of our own amassing, from which we deem it our right to filch as recklessly as he from the mint of croesus, who so filled his pockets--ay, his mouth--that we read he [greek: hebebusto]. who, in this age of literature, can be fully condemned, or heartily acquitted of plagiarism? an age--and none so little in advance or in arrear of it as i--of easy writing and discursive reading, of ideas unpatented, and books that have outlived copy-right. but this has detained us long enough: for the present, my brain is quit of its heathenish exculpations: let us pass on; many regiments are yet to be reviewed; their uniforms [_hibernicè_] are various, but their flag is one. a last serious subject--(they grow tedious)--is a fair field for ingenious explanation and oriental poetry, the similes of scripture: (of course "similes" is an english word: the author of a recent '_essay on magna charta_' has been _learned_ enough to write it "similæ," for which original piece of latinity let him be congratulated; i safely follow johnson, who would have roared like a lion at "similia;" and, though shakspeare does write it "similies," it may stoutly be contended that this is of mixed metal, and that matthew prior's "similes" is the purer sample: all the above being a praiseworthy parenthesis.) the similes of scripture, then, were to have been demonstrated apt and happy: for there is indeed both majesty, and loveliness, and propriety, and strict resemblance in them. "as a rolling thing before the whirlwind,"--"as when a standard-bearer fainteth"--"as the rushing of mighty waters,"--"as gleaning grapes when the vintage is done,"--"as a dream,"--"as the morning dew,"--"as"--but the whole book is a garden of similitudes; they are "like the sand upon the sea-shore for multitude." it is, however, too true, that often-times the baldness of translation deprives poetry, eastern especially, of its fervour, its glow, its gush, and blush of beauty: to quote aristotle's example, it too frequently converts the rosy-fingered morn into the red-fisted; and so the poetry of dawning-day, with its dew-dropped flowers, its healthy refreshment, its "rosy-fingers" drawing aside the star-spangled curtain of night, falls at once into the low notion of a foggy morning, and is suggestive only of red-fisted abigails struggling continuously with the deposits of a london atmosphere. in like manner, (for all this has not been an episode beside the purpose,) many a roughly rendered similitude of scripture might be advantageously vindicated; local diversities and orientalisms might be explained in such a treatise: for example, in the '_canticles_,' the "beloved among the sons," is compared with an apple-tree among the trees of the wood: now, amongst us, an apple-tree is stunted and unsightly, and always degenerates in a wood; whereas the eastern apple-tree, probably one of the citron class, (to be more correct,) may be a magnificent monarch of the forest. "camphire," to a western mind, is not suggestive of the sweetest perfume, and perhaps the word may be amended into the marginal "cypress," or cedar, or some other: as "a bottle in the smoke," loses its propriety for an image, until shown to be a wine-skin. "who is this that cometh out of the wilderness, like pillars of smoke?"--probably intending the swiftly-rushing columns of _sand_ flying on the wings of the whirlwind. "thine eyes are like the fish-pools in heshbon," might well be softened into fountains--tearful, calm, resplendent, and rejoicing; and in showing the poetic fitness of comparing the bride to a landscape, it might clearly be set out how emblematic of jewish millennial prosperity and of christian universality, that bride was; while comparisons of a like un-european imagery might be taken from other eastern poets, who will not scruple to compare that rare beauty, a straight grecian nose, with a tower, and admire above all things the cleopatra-coloured hair which they call purple, and we auburn. very much might be done in this vein of literature, but it must be by a man at once an oriental scholar and a natural poet: the idioms of ancient and modern times should be more considered, and something of apologetic explanation offered to an english ear for phrases such as "the mountains skipping like rams," "the horse swallowing the ground with fierceness," and represented as being afraid as a grasshopper. a thousand like instances could be displayed with little searching; let the above be taken as they are meant, for good, and as of zeal for showing the best of books to the best advantage: but it will appear that this essay trenches on the former one so slenderly hinted at, as '_the wisdom of revision_,' therefore has been stated too much at length already. let it then rest on the shelf till a better season. for this time, good reader, i, following up the object of self-relieving, thank you for your patience, and will turn to other themes of a more sublunary aspect. * * * * * one of the most natural and indigenous productions of a true author's mind, is, by common consent, an epic poem: verily, a wearisome, unnecessary, unfashionable bit of writing. nevertheless, let my candour humbly acknowledge that, for the larger canticle of two mortal days, i was brooding over, and diligently brewing up, a right happy, capital, and noble-minded thesis, no other than home. alas, for the epidemy to which, few can doubt, ideas are subject! alas, for the conflict of prolific geniuses, wherewith the world's quiet is disturbed! not impossibly, this very book now in progress of inditing will come to be classed as a "patch-work," an "olla podrida," a "book without a name," or some other such like _rechauffée_ publication; whereas i protest its idea to be exclusively mine own, and conceived long before its seeming congeners saw the light in definite advertisements--at least to my beholding. and similarly went it with my poor epic: scarcely had a general plan suggested itself to my musings, and divers particular morsels thereof assumed "their unpremeditative lay;" scarcely had i jotted down a staid synopsis, and a goodly array of metrical specimens; when some intrusive newspaper displayed to me in black and white a good-natured notice of somebody else's '_home, an epic_.' so, as in the case of '_nero_,' and haply of other subjects, had it come to pass, that my high-mettled racer had made another false start; that my just-discovered island, so gladly to have been self-appropriated, was found to have, sticking on one corner of it, the flag of another king; that the havoc of my brain, subsiding calmly into the pendulum regularities of metre, was much ado about nothing; and all those pretty fancies were the catalogued property of another. such a subject, too! intrinsically worthy of a niche in the temple of fame, besides hope, memory, and imagination, _if_ only one could manage it well enough to be named in the same breath with campbell, rogers, and akenside. well, it was a mental mortification; for i am full of moral land-marks, and would not (poetically speaking) for the world move rooted termini into other people's grounds. whether the field has been well or ill preoccupied i wot not, having neither seen the poem nor heard its maker's name: therefore shall my charity hope well of it, and mourn over the unmerited oblivion which generally greets modern poetry--yea, upon its very natal-day. nevertheless, as an upright man will never wish barefacedly to steal from others, so does he determine at all times to claim independently his own: to be robbed, and not resent it (i speak foolishly), is the next mean thing after pilfering itself; and rash will be thy daring, o literary larcener! (can such things be?) if thou art found unpermissively appropriating even such sorry spoil as these poor seedlings of still possible volumes. prose and verse are allowed to have some disguising differences, at least in termination; and as we must not--so hints the public taste--spoil honest prose, bad as it may be, with too much intermixture of worse verse, it will be prudent in me to be sparing of my specimens. yet, who will endure so _staccato_ a page of jerking sentences as a confirmed synopsis?--"well, any thing rather than poetry," says the world; so, for better or worse, i will jot down prosaically a few of my all but impromptu imaginings on home. after some general propositions, it would be proper to indulge the orthodoxy of invocation; not to muses, however, but to the subject itself; for now-a-days, in lieu of definite deities, our worship has regard to theories, doctrines, and other abstract idolisms: and thereafter should follow at length an historical retrospect of domestic life, from the savage to the transition states of hunters and warriors; nimrods and new zealanders; actæons and avanese, attilas, roderics, and all the ercles' vein or that of mad cambyses, hindoos and fuegians, greece, egypt, etruria, and troy, in those old days when funds and taxes were not invented, but people had to fight for their dinner, and be their own police: so in a due course of circumconsideration to more modern conditions, from ourselves as central civilization, to cochin china, and extreme mexico, to archangel and polynesia. divers national peculiarities of the _physique_ of homes; as, tartars' tents, esquimaux snow-pits, caffre kraals, steppe huts, south-sea palm-thatch, tree-villages, caves, log-cabins, and so forth. then, a wide view of the homes of higher society, first continental, afterwards british through all the different phases of comfort to be found in heath-hovels, cottages, ornées, villas, parsonage-houses, squirealities, seats, town mansions, and royal palaces. thus, with a contrastive peep or two about the feverish neighbourhood of a factory, up this musty alley, and down that winding lane, we should have considered briefly all the external accidents of home. the miserable condition of the homeless, whether rich or poor; an oak with its tap-root broken, a house on wheels, a boat without a compass, and all that sort of thing: together with due declamation about soldiers spending twenty years in india, shipwrecked robinson crusoes far from native hull, cadets going out hopelessly forever, emigrants, convicts, missionaries, and all other absentees, voluntary or involuntary. tirades upon abject poverty, wanton affluence, poor laws, mendicancy, and ireland; not omitting some thrilling cases of barbaric destitution. now come we lawfully to descant upon matters more mental and sentimental--the _metaphysique_ of the subject--the pleasures and pains of home. as thus, most cursorily: the nursery, with its dear innocent joys; the school-boy, holiday feelings and scholastic cruelties; the desk-abhorring clerk; the over-worked milliner; the starving family of factory children, and of agricultural labourers, and of workers in coal mines and iron furnaces, with earnest exhortations to the rich to pour their horns of plenty on the poor. england, once a safer and a happier land, under the law of charity: now fast verging into a despotic centralized system, kept together by bayonets and constables' staves. home a refuge for all; for queens and princes from their cumbrous state, as well as for clowns from their hedging and ditching. the home of love, and its thousand blessings, founded on mutual confidence, religion, open-heartedness, communion of interest, absence of selfishness, and so on: the honoured father, due subordination, and results; the loving wife, obedient children, and cheerful servants. absolute, though most kind, monarchy the best government for a home; with digressions about austria and china, and such laudable paternal rule; and _contra_, bitter castigation of republican misrule, its evils and their results, for which see old athens and new york, and certain spots half-way between them. the pains of home: most various indeed, caused by all sorts of opposite harms--too much constraint or too little, open bad example or impossible good example, omissions and commissions, duty relaxed by indulgence, and duty tightened into tyranny; but mainly and generally attributable to the non-assertion or other abuse of parental authority. the spoiled child, and his progress of indulgence, unchecked passions, dissipation, crime, and ruin. interested interlopers, as former friends, relatives, flatterers, and busy parasites, undermining that bond of confidence without which home falls to pieces; the gloomy spirit of reserve, discouraging every thing like generous open-heartedness; menial influences lowering their subject to their own base level; discords, religious, political, and social; the harmful consequence of over-expenditure to ape the hobbies or grandeur of the wealthier; foolish education beyond one's sphere, as the baker's daughter taking lessons in italian, and opera-stricken butcher's-boys strumming the guitar; immoral tendencies, gambling, drinking, and other dissipations; and the aggregate of discomforts, of every sort and kind; with cures for all these evils; and to end finally by a grand climax of supplication, invocation, imprecation, resignation, and beatification, in the regular crash of a stout-expiring overture. it's all very well, objects reader, and very easy to consider this done; but the difficulty is--not so much to do it, answers writer, as to escape the bother of prolixity by proving how much has been done, and how speedily all might be even completed, had poor poesy in these ticketing times only a fair field and no disfavour; for there is at hand good grist, ready ground, baked and caked, and waiting for its eaters. but in this age of prose-devouring and verse-despising, hardy indeed should i be, if i adventured to bore the poor, much-abused, uncomplaining public with hundreds of lines out of a dormant epic; the very phrase is a lullaby; it's as catching as a yawn; well will it be for me if my thread-bare domino conceals me, for whose better fame could brook the scandal of having fathered or fostered so slumbering an embryo?--let then a few shreds and patches suffice--a brick or two for the house: and verily i know they will, be they never so scanty; for what man of education does not now entertain a just abhorrence of the muses, the nine antiquated maiden aunts destined for ever to be pensioned on that money-making nice young man, mammon's great heir-at-law, prose prose, esq.? with humblest fear, then, and infinite apology, behold, in all sober seriousness, what the labour of such a file as i am might betimes work into a respectable commencement; i don't pretend it _is_ one; but _valeat quantum_, take it as it stands, unweeded, unpruned, uncared-for, unaltered, home, happy word, dear england's ancient boast, thou strongest castle on her sea-girt coast, thou full fair name for comfort, love, and rest, haven of refuge found and peace possest, oasis in the desert, star of light spangling the dreary dark of this world's night, all-hallowed spot of angel-trodden ground where jacob's ladder plants its lowest round, imperial realm amid the slavish world, where freedom's banner ever floats unfurl'd, fair island of the blest, earth's richest wealth, her plague-struck body's little all of health, home, gentle name, i woo thee to my song, to thee my praise, to thee my prayers belong: inspire me with thy beauty, bid me teem with gracious musings worthy of my theme: spirit of love, the soul of home thou art, fan with divinest thoughts my kindling heart; spirit of power, in pray'rs thine aid i ask, uphold me, bless me to my holy task; spirit of truth, guide thou my wayward wing; love, power, and truth, be with me while i sing. _v'la_: my consolation is that somewhere may be read, in hot-pressed print, too, many worse poeticals than these, which, however, nine readers out of ten will have had the worldly wisdom to skip; and the tenth is soon satiated: yet a tithe is something, at least so think the modern levites; so, then, on second thoughts, a victim who is so good a listener must not be let off quite so cheaply. however, to vary a little this melancholy musing, and to gild the compulsory pill, reserve shall be served up sonnet-wise. (p. s. i love the sonnet, maligned as it is both by ill-attempting friend and semi-sneering foe: of course, in our epic, reserve ambles not about in this uncertain rhyme, but duly stalks abroad in the uniform dress; iambically still, though extricated from those involutions, time out of mind the requisite of sonnets.) stand forth to be chastised, unpopular reserve. thou chilling, freezing fiend, love's mortal bane, lethargic poison of the moral sense, killing those high-soul'd children of the brain, warm enterprise and noble confidence, fly from the threshold, traitor--get thee hence! without thee, we are open, cheerful, kind; mistrusting none but self, injurious self, of and to others wishing only good; with thee, suspicions crowd the gloomy mind, suggesting all the world a viperous brood that acts a base bad part in hope of pelf: virtue stands shamed, truth mute misunderstood, honour unhonoured, courage lacking nerve, beneath thy dull domestic curse, reserve. without professing much tendency to the uxorious, all may blamelessly confess that they see exceeding beauty in a good wife; and we need never apologize for the unexpected company of ladies: at off-hand then let this one sit for her portrait. enduring listener, will the following serve our purpose in striving worthily to apostrophize the wife. behold, how fair of eye, and mild of mien, walks forth of marriage yonder gentle queen: what chaste sobriety whene'er she speaks, what glad content sits smiling on her cheeks, what plans of goodness in that bosom glow, what prudent care is throned upon her brow, what tender truth in all she does or says, what pleasantness and peace in all her ways! for ever blooming on that cheerful face home's best affections grow divine in grace; her eyes are ray'd with love, serene and bright; charity wreathes her lips with smiles of light; her kindly voice hath music in its notes; and heav'n's own atmosphere around her floats! thus, wife-like, for better or worse, is the above _portrait charmant_ consigned to the dingy digits of an unidistinguishing printer's-devil; so doth cæsar's dust come to stop a bung-hole. one morsel more, about children, blessed children, and for this bout i shall have tilted sufficiently in the muses' court; or, if it must be so said, unhandsome critic, stilted to satiety in false heroics: stay--not false; judge me, my heart. suppose then an imaginary parent thus to speak about his infant daughters. oh ye, my beauteous nest of snow-white doves, what wealth could price for me your guileless loves? my earthly cherubim, my precious pearls, my pretty flock of loving little girls, my stores of happiness with least alloy, my treasuries of hope and trembling joy! yon toothless darling, nestled soft and warm on a young yearning mother's cradling arm; the soft angelic smiles of natural grace tinting with love that other little face; and the sweet budding of this sinless mind in winning ways, that round my heart-strings wind, dear winning ways--dear nameless winning ways, that send me joyous to my god in praise. enough! not heartlessly, but to shame the heartlessness of your _ennui_, let me veil those holiest affections; yes, even at the risk of leaving nominatives widowed of their faithful verbs, will i, until required, epicise no more. let these mauled bits be intimations of what a little care might have made a little better. gladly will i keep all the remainder in a state quiescent, even to doubling horace's wholesome prescription of nine years: for it is impossible but that your fervent poet, in the heat of inspiration, (credit me, lack-wits, there is such a thing,) should blurt out many an unpalatable bit of advice, rebuke, or virtuous indignation against homes in general, for the which sundry conscience-stricken particulars might uncharitably arraign him. but divers other notions are crowding into the retina of my mind's-eye: i must leave my epic as you see it, and bid farewell, a long farewell, to '_home_.' still shall my egotism have to appear for many weary pages a most impartial and universal friend to the world of bibliopolists; i cater multifariously for all varieties of the literary profession: booksellers at least must own me as their friend, though the lucky purse of fortunatus saves me from being impaled upon the point of poor goldsmith's epigram, and i leave to [----] the questionable praise of being their hack. for bentley and hatchard, alike with rivington and frazer, for colburn and nisbet, as well as knight, tilt, tyas, moxon, and murray, i seem to be gratuitously pouring out in equal measure my versatile meditations; at this sign all customers may be suited; only, shop-lifters will be visited with the utmost rigour of that obnoxious monosyllable.--well, poor epic, good night to you, and my benison on those who love you. * * * * * to any one, much in the habit of thoughtful revery, how very unsatisfactory those notions look in writing. he can't half unravel the chaotic cobwebs of his mind; as he plods along penning it, a thousand fancies flit about him too intangibly for fixed words, and his ever-teeming hot imagination cannot away with the slow process of concreted composition. for me, i must write impromptu, or not at all; none of your conventional impromptus, toils of half-a-day, as little instantaneous as sundry patent lights; no working-up of laborious epigrams, sedulously sharpened antitheses, or scintillative trifles, diligently filed and polished; but the positive impromptu of longing to be an adept at shorthand-writing, by way of catching as they fly those swift-winged thoughts; not quick enough by half; most of those bright colours unfixed; most of those fair semi-notions unrecorded. to say nothing of reasons of time, there being other things to do, and reasons of space, there being other things to write. and thus, good friend, affectionately believe the best of these crude intimations of things intellectual, which the husbandry of good diligence, and the golden shower of danæ's enamoured, and the smiles of the sun of encouragement might heretofore have ripened into authorship; nay, more, perhaps may still: believe, generously, that if i could coil off quietly, like unwrapped cocoons, all these epics, tragics, theologies, pathetics, analytics, and didactics, they would show in fairer forms, and better-defined proportions: believe, also, truly, that i could, if i would, and that i would, if the game were worth its candle. but, sooth to say, the over-gorged public may well regard that small-tomed author with most favourable eye, who condenses himself within the narrowest limits; a _diable boiteux_, not the huge spirit of the hartz; concentrated meat-lozenges, not _soup maigre_; pocket-pistols of literature, not lumbering parks of its artillery. verily, there is a mightier mass of typography than of readers; and the reading world, from very brevity of life, must rush, at a bedouin pace, over the illimitable plains of newspaper publication, while the pyramids of dusty folio are left to stand in solitary proud neglect. the cursory railroad spirit is abroad: we abhor that old painful ploughing through axle-deep ruts: the friend who will skate with us, is welcomer than he who holds us freezing by the button; and the teacher, who suggestively bounds in his balloon on the tops of a chain of arguments, is more popular in lecturing than he of the old school, who must duteously and laboriously struggle up and down those airy promontories. i love an avenue, though, like lord ashburton's magnificent mile of yew-trees, it may lead to nothing, and therefore have not expunged this unnecessary preface: rather, will i bluntly come upon a next subject, another work in my unseen circulating library, the seven sayings of grecian wisdom, illustrated in seven tales. cordially may this theme be commended to the more illuminating booksellers: well would it be greeted by the picture-loving public. it might come out from time to time as a periodical, in a classical wrapper: might be decorated with the sages' physiognomies, copied from antique gems, with the fancied passage in each one's life that provoked the saying, and with specific illustrations of the exemplifying story. there should be a brilliant preface, introducing the seven sages to each other and the reader, after the ensample of plutarch, and exhausting all the antiquarianism, all the memoirism, and all the varia-lectionism of the subject. the different tales should be of different countries and ages of the world, to insure variety, and give an easier exit to _ennui_. as thus: solon's "know thyself" might be fitted to an eastern favourite raised suddenly to power, or a poor and honest glasgow weaver all upon a day served as heir to a scotch barony, when he forthwith falls into fashionable vices. chilo's "note the end of life" might concern the merriment of the drunkard's career, and its end--delirium tremens, or spontaneous combustion: better, perhaps, as less vulgarian, the grandeur and assassination of some milanese ducal tyrant. the "watch your opportunity" of pittacus could be shown in the fortunes of some whittington of trade, some washington of peace, or some napoleon of war. bias's uncharitable bias, believing the worst of the world, might seem to some a truism, to others a falsehood, according as their fellows have served them well or ill; but a brief history of some hypocrite's life, some misanthrope's experience, or some arabian stylobatist's resolve to be perched above this black earth on a column like a stork, might help to prove that "the majority are wicked." as for periander's aphorism, that "to industry all things are possible," pyramid-building old egypt, or the druids of stonehenge, or scottish proverbial perseverance in australian sheep rearing and canadian timber clearing, will carry the point by acclamation. cleobulus, praising "moderation in all things," would glorify a moral warning of universal application, as to pleasures, riches, and rank; or especially perhaps as preferring true temperance before its modern tee-total false pretences; or lauding some richard cromwell's choice of a quiet country life, before the turbulent honours of a proffered protectorate; while thales, with his all but old english proverb of "more haste, less speed," would apply admirably to sultan mahmoud's ruinous reforms; or to the actual injury gulled britain has done to the condition of negroes in general by a vastly too precipitate abolition of the slave-trade: a vile evil, indeed, but a cancer of too long creeping to be cured in a day, a rottenness too deeply seated in the frame-work of the world to be extirpated by such caustic surgery as fire and sword; or to be quacked into health by patent gold-salve. seven such tales, shrewdly setting out their several aims, and illustrative of good moral maxims which wise heathens live by, would (i trow and trust) be somewhat better, more original--ay, and more entertaining, too--than the common run of magazine adventures. it may not here be fair to particularize further than in the way of avowing my unmitigated contempt for the exploits of highwaymen, swindlers, men about town, and ladies of the _pavé_. i protest against gilding crimes, and palliating follies. serve the public tables with better food, good pandarus. those commentators on the newgate calendar, those bringers-into-fashion of the mysteries of vice, must not be quite acquitted of the evils they have caused: brilliancy of dialogue, and graphic power of delineation, are only weapons in a madman's hand, if the moral be corrupting and profane. to cheerful, hearty, care-dispelling humour, to such merry faces as pickwick and co.--inimitable pickwick--hail, all hail! but triumphs of burglary, and escapes of murderers, aroint ye! why then should i throw this cargo overboard?--friend, my ship is too full; _if_ i could only do one thing at a time, and could finish it within the limits of its originating fit, these things all might be less abortive. but i doubt if my glorification of greek aphorisms ever reaches any higher apotheosis than the airy castles sketchily built above. * * * * * similar in idea with these last tales, but essentially more sacred as to character, would be an illustrative elucidation of the seven last sayings of our blessed lord, when dying in the crucifixion. the romish church, in some of her imposing ceremonies, has caused the sayings to be exhibited on seven banners, which are occasionally carried before the holy cross: from this i probably derived the idea of detaching these sentences from the frame-work of their contexts, and regarding them in some sort as aphorisms. for a name, not to be tautologous, should be proposed a græco-anglicism, the heptalogia; our saviour's seven last sayings. the addition of "hagia" might be rather too attic for english ears; and i know not whether "the sacred heptalogia" would not also be too mystical. this series of tales is capable of like illustration with the last, except in the matter of portraits, unless indeed some eminent fathers of the church, or some authenticated enamels, gems, or coins, (if any,) displaying our lord's likeness, served the purpose; and of course the character of the stories should not be much in dissonance with the sacredness of the text. the first might well enforce forgiveness of enemies, especially if their hatred springs from misapprehension. "father, forgive them; for they know not what they do:" many a true story of religious persecution, as of inquisitorial torture, exacted by sincere bigotry, and endured by equally sincere conviction, would illustrate the prayer, and the scene might be laid among waldensian saints and the friars of madrid. the second tale might enlarge upon a promised paradise, the assurance of pardon, and the efficacy of repentance: the certainty of hope and life being co-extensive, so that it might still be said of the seeming worst, the brigand and the blasphemer, "to-day shalt thou be with me in paradise;" a story to check presumption, while it encourages the humility of pentitent hope; the details of a prodigal's career and his return, say a falsely philosophizing german student, or the excesses of some not ungenerous outburst of youthful wantonness; haply, a fair and passionate neapolitan. the third might well regard filial piety: "behold thy son--behold thy mother:" illustrated perhaps by a slave scene in morocco, or the last adieus between a maccabæan mother, and her noble children rushing on duteous death; or the dangers of a son, during the reign of terror, protecting his proscribed parents; or allusive to the case of many razed and fired homes in the irish rebellion. the fourth, necessarily a tale of overwhelming calamity ultimately triumphant, "my god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me?"--the confidence of _my_ god still, even in his recognised judgments trusted in as merciful: the history of many an unrecorded job; a parent bereaved of his fair dear children; an aged merchant beggared by the roguery of others, and his very name blamelessly dishonoured; the extremity of a martyr's sufferings; or some hunted soul's temptation. the fifth, "i thirst;" which might be commented on, either morally only, as referring to a thirst after religion, virtue, and knowledge--or physically also, in some story of well-endured miseries at sea on a wrecking craft; or of christian resignation even to the horrible death of drought among the torrid sands of africa; or some noble act, like that of sir philip sidney on the battle-field, or david's libation of that desired draught from the well of bethlehem. i need not remark that all these sayings might primarily be applied to their good utterer, if it seemed more advisable to shape the publication into seven sermons: but this, it will at once be perceived, is not the present object; the word "sermons" has to most men a repulsive sound, and a tale, similar in disguised motive, may win, where an orderly discourse might unhappily repel: a teacher's best influences are the indirect: like the conquering troops at culloden, his charge will be oblique; his weapon will strike the unguarded flank, and not the opposing target. the sixth, "it is finished;" perhaps, not only as a fact on the true, the necessary value of the christian scheme of redemption being so completed; but, more generally, to display the evils and dangers of leaving mental, spiritual, or even worldly good designs unfinished: a tale of natural procrastination conquered, difficulties overcome, prejudices broken down, and gigantic good effected: a russian peter, a literary johnson, a missionary neff, a wesley, or a henry martyn. the seventh, descanting upon noble patience, and agonies vanquished by faith, the death and glorious expectance of a martyr, the end of one of fox's heroes; "father, into thy hands i commend my spirit." of necessity in these christian tales there would be more of sameness than in those heathen; because it would be improper and impolitic, with such theses, to enter much into the lower human passions and the common events of life. but my intentions of further proceeding in this matter have, as at present, very sensibly subsided; for many wise and many good might reasonably object to making those holy last dying words mere pegs to hang moral tales upon. the idea might please one little sect, and anger half the world; i care not to behold it accomplished, and question my own capabilities; only, as it has been an authorial project heretofore conceived by me, suffer it to boast this brief existence. * * * * * it is scandalously reported of some folks that they are not musical, a calumny that has been whispered of myself: and, though against my own convictions, (who will confess he "has not music in his soul?") i partly acquiesce; that is to say--for, of such a charge, self-defence claims to explain a little--although i _am_ charmed with all manner of music, still for choice i prefer a german chorus to an italian solo, and an english glee to a french jig. accordingly the operatic world have every reason to despise my taste: especially if i add that welsh songs, and scotch and irish national melodies--[where are our english gone?]--rejoice my heart beyond mozart and rossini. and now this next little notion is scarcely of substance sufficient to assume the garb of authorship: it is little more than a passing whim, but i choose for the very notion's sake to make it better known. except in a very few instances--as haydn's '_seasons_,' e.g.--oratorios, from some conventional idea of lent, we may suppose, seem obligated to concern matters sacred. of course, every body is aware of the prayerful meaning of the name; but we know also that a madrigal has long ago put off its monkish robe of a hymn to the virgin, and worn the more laic habit of a love song. now, it is a fact, that very many good men who delight in handel's melody, and of course cannot object to psalms and anthems, entertain conscientious objections to hearing the bible set to music in a concert-room; and sure may we all be, that, unless the whole thing be regarded as a religious service, (in a mixed gay company who think of sound more than sense, not very easy,) the warbling of sacred phrases, and variations on the summoning trumpet, and imitated angelic praise, and the unfelt expressions of musical repentance, and unfearing despondency of guilt in recitative, are any thing but congenial to a mind properly attuned. i hope i am neither prudish, nor squeamish, nor splenetic, but speak only what many feel, and few care to express. now, the cure in future for all this would be very simple: why not have some lay oratorios? protestants have appropriated the madrigal, and listen, delighted with its melody, without the needless offence of seeming to countenance idolatry; why should they not have solemn music, new or ancient as may be adapted, administering to their patriotism, or their tragic interests, or historic recollections, without grating against their feelings of religious veneration?--to be specific, let me suggest a subject, and show, for the benefit of any pindar of this day, its musical capabilities: we are, or ought to be as englishmen, all stirred at the name of alfred; and he would minister as well to the harmonies of an oratorio as abel, or jephtha, moses, or st. paul--nay, as the messiah, or the last dread judgment. remember, our alfred was a proficient himself, and spied the danish forces in the character of a harper. what scope were here for gentle airs, and stirring saxon songs! he harangues his patriot band, and a manly phillips would personify with admirable taste the truly royal bard: he leaves athel-switha his wife, and a fair flock of children in sanctuary, while he rushes to the battle-field: the churchmen might receive their queenly charge with music: the danes riot in their unguarded camp with drinking-snatches, and old-country-staves: a storm might occur, with elemental crash: the succeeding silence of nature, and distant coming on of the patriot troops at midnight; their war-songs and marches nearer and nearer; the invaders surprised in their camp and in their cups; the hurlyburly of the fight--a hail-stone chorus of arrows, a clash of thousand swords, trumpets, drums, and clattering horse-hoofs; a silent interval, to introduce a single combat between alfred and hubba the dane, with homeric challenges, tenor and bass; the routed foe, in clamorous and discordant staccato; the conquerors pressing on in steady overwhelming concord; how are the mighty fallen--and praise to the god of battles! most briefly, then, thus: there is religion enough to keep it solemn, without being so experimental as to intrude upon personal prejudice. the notion is too slight, and too slenderly worked out, even for admission here, if i were not still, my shrewd and mindful reader, sedulously endeavouring to get rid of all my brain-oppressing fancies: and this, happening to come uppermost as i write, finds itself caught, to my comfort. it is commended, if worth any thing, to the musical proficient: for i might as well think of adding a note to the gamut as of trying to compose an oratorio. * * * * * the authorial mind is infinitely versatile: books and book-making are indeed its special privilege, forte, and distinguishing peculiarity; but still its thoughts and regards are ever cast towards originality of idea, though unwritten and unprinted, in all the multitudinous departments of science and of art. thus, mechanical invention, chemical discovery, music as above, painting as elsewhere, sculpture as below, give it exercise continually. the authorial mind never is at rest, but always to be seen mounted and careering on one hobby-horse or other out of its untiring stud. if the coin of some rude parthian, or the fragments of some old ephesian frieze, serve not as a scope for its present ingenuities, it will break out in a new method of grafting raspberries on a rosebush, in the comfortable cut of a pilot-coat, or the safest machinery for a steamer. _ne sutor ultra crepidam_ is a rule of moderation it repudiates; incessant energy provokes unabated meddling, and its intuitive qualities of penetration, adaptation, and concentration, are only hindered by the accidents of life from carrying any one thing out to the point at least of respectable attainment. look at michael angelo; poet, painter, sculptor, architect, and author: and if indeed we are not told of milton having modeled, or horace having built up other monuments than his own imperishable fame, still nothing but manual habit and the world's encouragement were wanting to perfect, in the concrete, the conceptions of those plastic minds. who will deny that hogarth was a novelist and play-wright, if not indeed a heart-rending tragedian? who will refuse to those nameless monastic architects who planned and fashioned the fretted towers of gloucester, the stern solidity of durham, the fairy steeple of strasburg, or the delicate pinnacles of milan, the praise due to them of being genuine poets of the immortal epic? phidas and praxiteles, canova and thorswaldsen, are in this view real authors, as undoubtedly as homer or dante, sallust or racine; and to rise highest in this argument, the heavens and the earth are but mighty scrolls of an omniscient author, fairly written in a universal tongue of grandeur and beauty, of skill, poetry, philosophy, and love. but let me not seem to prove too much, and so leap over my horse instead of vaulting into the saddle: though authorship may claim thus extensively every master-mind, from the adorable former of all things down to the humblest potter at his wheel fashioning the difficult ellipse; still, in human parlance, must we limit it to common acceptations, and think of little more than scribe, in the name of author. nevertheless, let such seeds of thought as here are carelessly flung out, nurtured in the good soil of charity, and not unkindly forced into foolish accusations of my own conceit, whereas their meaning is general, (as if forsooth selfishly dibbled in with vain particularity, and not liberally broadcast that he may run that reads,)--let such crude considerations excuse my own weak and uninjurious invasion of the provinces of other men. the wisdom for social purposes of infinitesimal division of labour, may be proved good by working well; but its lowering influences on the individual mind cannot be doubted: that an intelligent man should for a life-time be doomed to watch a valve, or twist pin-heads, or wind cotton, or lacquer coffin-nails, cannot be improving; and while i grant great evil in my desultory excesses, still i may make some use of that argument in the converse, and plead that it is good to exercise the mind on all things. thus, in my assumed métier of authorship, let notions be extenuated that popularly concern it little, and yield admittance to any thought that may lead to that athenian desideratum, "some new thing." while the echoes of the name of alfred still linger on the mind, and our patriotism looks back with gratitude on his thousand virtues unsullied by a fault, (at least that history, seldom so indulgent, has recorded,)--while we reflect that in him were combined the wise king, the victorious general, the enlightened scholar, the humble christian, the learned author, the excellent father, the admirable man in all public and private relations, in domestic alike with social duties, i cannot help wishing that forgetful england had raised some architectural trophy, as a worthy testimonial of alfred the noble and the good. whether oxford, his pet child--or westminster hall, as mindful of the code he gave us--or greenwich, as the evening resting-place of those sons of thunder whom the genius of alfred first raised up to man our wooden walls--should be the site of some great national memorial, might admit of question; but there can be none that something of the kind has been owing now near upon a thousand years, and that it will well become us to claim boastingly for england so true, so glorious a hero. with a view to expedite this object, and strictly to bear upon the topic in author-fashion, it has come into my thought how much we want a life of alfred: my little reading knows of none, beyond what dictionaries have gathered from popular history and vague tradition, rather than manuscripts of old time, and asser, the original biographer. of this last work, written originally in saxon, and since translated into latin, i submit that a popular english version is imperatively called for; a translation from a translation being never advisable, (compare smollett's anglo-gallified dilution of '_don quixote_,') the primary source should be again consulted; and seeing that profound ignorance of the ancient saxon coupled with, as now, total indifference about its acquisition, place me in the list of incapables, i leave the good suggestion to be used by pundits of the camden or roxburghe or other book-learned society. if it may have been already done by some neglected scribe, bring it to the light, and let us see the bright example set to all future ages by that early crichton; if never yet accomplished, my zeal is over-paid should the hint be ever acted on; and if, which is still possible, an english version of the life of alfred should be positively rife and common among the reading public, your humble ignoramus has nothing for it but to pray pardon of its author for not having known him, and to walk softly with the world for writing so much before he reads. but this is an accessory--an episode; i plead for a statue to king alfred: and--(now for another episode; is there _no_ cure for these desperate parentheses?)--_apropos_ of statues, let me, in the simple untaught light of nature, suggest a word or two with regard to some recent under-takings. notwithstanding classical precedents, whereof more presently, it does seem ridiculous to common sense, to set a man like a scavenger-bird at calcutta, or a stork at athens, or a sonorous muezzin, or a sun-dried simeon stylites, on the top of a column a hundred feet high: sculpture imitates life, and who would not shudder at such an unguarded elevation? sculpture imitates life, and who can recognise a countenance so much among the clouds? again for the precedents: i presume that pompey's pillar, (which, indeed, perhaps never had any thing on its summit except some egyptian emblem, as the cap and throne of higher and lower egypt, or a key of the nile as likely as any thing,) is the most notable, if not the first, of solitary columns: now, pompey, or, as some prefer, diocletian, and others alexander severus, had that fine pillar ferried over from the quarries of lycian xanthus; at least, this is a good idea, seeing that near that place still lie three or four other columns of like gigantic dimensions, unfinished, and believed to have been intended to support the triglyph of some new temple. pompey's idea was to fix the pillar up as a sea-mark, for either entering the harbour of alexandria, or to denote shallows, anchorage, or the like; but apart from this actual utility, and apart also from its acknowledged ornament as a sentinel on that flat strand, i take it to be an architectural absurdity to erect a regular-made column with little or nothing to support: an obelisk now, or a naval trophy, or a tower decorated with shields, or a huge stele or cippus, or a globe, or a pyramid, or a waltham-cross sort of edifice, (of course all these supporting nothing on their apices,) in fact, _any thing but_ a corinthian or tuscan, or other regular pillar, seems to be permissable; but for base, shaft, and capital to have nothing to do but lift a telescopic man from earth's maternal surface, does look not a little unreasonable; and therefore as much out of taste, as for the marble arch at buckingham palace to spend its energies in supporting a flag-staff. the magnificent column of trajan is exempted from this hasty bit of criticism, (as also of course is its modern counterpart, napoleon's,) because it is, both from decoration and proportions, out of the recognised orders of architecture; it partakes rather of the character of a triumphal tower, than of one among many pillars separated chiefly from the rest; the man is a superlative accessory, a climax to his positive exploits; he does not stand a-top, as if dropt from a balloon, but like a gallant climber treading on his conquests: and, as to phocas's column at rome, i shall only say, that it illustrates my meaning, except in so far as an immense base to the super-imposed statuere deems it from the jockey imputation of carrying too light a weight. now, with respect to the nelson memorial, your meddlesome scribe had an unexhibited notion of his own. mehemet ali is understood to have given certain two obelisks respectively to the french and english nations: the parisians appropriated theirs, and have set it up, thorn-like, in their midst, perhaps as an emblem of what african conquest has been in the heartside of france; but we english, less imaginative, and therefore less antiquarian, have permitted our _petit cadeau_ to lie among its ruins of luxor or karnac, unclaimed and unconsidered. nelson of the nile might have had this consecrated to his honour: and if, as is probable, it be of insufficient elevation, i should have proposed a high flight of steps and a base, screened all round by shallow egyptian entrances, with an etruscan sarcophagus just within the principal one, (egypt and etruria were cousins germane,) and an alto-relievo of nelson dying, but victorious, recumbent on the lid: the globe and wings, emblems alike of nelson's rapidity, his universal fame, and his now-emaciated spirit, might be sculptured over each entrance; a sphinx, or a prudhoe lion, being allusive to england as well as egypt, should sit guardiant at each corner of the steps; and the three remaining doorways would be represented closed, and carved externally with some allegorical personations of nelson's career, of the nile, copenhagen, and trafalgar. this, then, had it been strictly in my métier, (a happy métier mine of literary leisure,) should have been my limnèd outline for the nelson testimonial: the real interesting antique needle, rising from the midst of its solid egyptian architecture, and pointing to the skies; not a steeple, however, but merely the obelisk raised upon a heavy base, only hollowed far enough to admit of an interior alto-relievo. it is probable that the exhibition of designs, which an _alibi_ prevented me from seeing, included several obelisks; but the peculiarities i should have insisted on, would have been first to make good use of the real thing, the rarely carved old egypt's porphyry; and, next, to have had our hero's likeness within reasonable distance of the eye. but to return from this other desperate digression: alfred, the great and wise, deserves his saxon cross; or let him lie enshrined in a grove of florid gothic pinnacles, a fretted roof on clustered columns reverently keeping off the rain; or, best of all, let him stand majestic in his own-time costume, colossal bronze on a cube of granite, and so put to shame the elegancies of a windsor uniform, and the absurdity of sticking heroes, as at st. george's, bloomsbury, and elsewhere, on the summit of a steeple. so, friend, let all this tirade serve to introduce a most unlikely and chaotic treatise on national memorials. politics are a sore temptation to any writer, and of dalliance with a delilah so seductive it is futile to declare that i am innocent. my principles positively are known to myself; which is a measure of self-knowledge, in these any-thing-arian days, of that cabinet coin-climax the " th degree of rarity;" and that those choice principles may not be concealed from so kind an eye as yours, friend reader, hear me profess myself honestly--if you approve, or shamelessly--if you _will_ so think it--"a rabid tory!" at least, by such a nomenclature sundry veracious journals, daily leaders of the public opinion, would call me, were such a groundling as i prominent enough to attract their indignation; and, from all that can be gathered from their condemnatory clauses against others like minded, i have no little reason to be proud of the title. for, on collation of such clauses with their causes, i find, and therefore take (under correction always) the rabid tory to be--a temperate lover of order, whom his mother has taught to "fear god," his father to "honour the king," and his pastor to "meddle not with them who are given to change." a rabid tory, in matters of national expenditure, remembers to have heard an old unexploded proverb, "there is that scattereth, and yet increaseth, and there is that withholdeth what is due, but it tendeth to poverty;" and he is by no means sure that a certain mismanaged nation is not immolating her prosperity to what actuaries would call economical principles. a rabid tory is bigoted enough to entertain a ridiculous fear of that generation abstraction, catholic rome, whom further he is sufficiently vulgar-minded to consider as a lady of easy virtue arrayed in the colours of a cardinal: he thinks one luther to be somewhat more than a renegade monk; and is childish enough to venerate, when a man, the same liturgy which his grandmother had taught him when a boy. for other matters, the higher born, the better bred, the more classically educated, and the more extensively possessed of moneys and lands our honest-spoken tory may be, ten to one the more is he afflicted with this rabbies: and his mad propensities become positively criminal, when, as a magistrate or a captain of dragoons, he thinks himself bound in honourable duty to quell the enthusiasm of some disinterested patriots, whose innocent wishes rise no higher than to subvert the existing order of things, to secure for themselves a reasonable share of parks, palaces, and pocket-money, and (as the very justifiable means for so happy an end) manfully to sacrifice in the temple of freedom the rogues who would object to being robbed, and the tyrants who would be bloody enough to fight for life and liberty. a rabid tory--you see it is a pet name of mine--feels no little contempt for a squeezable character; and he is well assured, from history as well as on his own conviction, that the noble army of martyrs lived and died upon his principles: whereas the retrograde regiment of cowards, whom the wisdom of providing for personal safety has in battle induced to run away, _relictis non bene parmulis_--the clamorous cohort of bullies, whom the necessities of impending castigation have sensibly induced to eat their words--the volunteer company of light-heeled swindlers, whom nature instructs that they must live, and honesty has neglected to inform how--every one, in short, whose grand maxim (_quocunque modo rem_) is temporizing expediency, and with whom the cogent argument "you shall" has more force than the silly conscience-whisper of "you ought,"--contributes to swell the band which the professor of toryism, the abstracted follower of principles and not of men, has the honour of beholding in the angle of his diagram, inscribed "contradictory." not that your true tory believes so ill of _all_ his adversaries; there are some few geese among the cranes; an abdiel here and there, who has long felt irksome in the host, but for false shame is there still; sundry men, having ambitious or illuminated wives, and too amiable, or too prudent, to attempt a breach of peace at home; some thronging the opposite benches, because their fathers and grandfathers topographically occupied those same seats--a decent reason, supposing similarity of places and names, to insure similarity of principles and practice; and some--i dislike them not for honesty--confessing and upholding the republican extremes, upon a belief that all short of these are but an unsatisfactory part of a great and glorious experiment. now, the rabid tory prefers an open foe to a false friend; but your go-between, your midway sneak, your shuttlecock, your perjured miser who will swear to any thing for an extra per centage--all these are his detestation: and although he will readily acknowledge some good and some wise in the adversary's ranks, still he recognises that tri-coloured banner as the one under which all naturally fight, who are poor in both worlds--with neither money nor religion. thus much of my reasonable rabies. one may hate principles without hating men; and for this sentiment we have the highest example. things are either right or wrong; if right, do; if wrong, forbear: nothing can be absolutely indifferent, and to do a little actual evil in order to compass great hypothetical good, is false morality, and, therefore bad government. why should not honesty and plain-dealing be as inviolable publicly as privately? why be guilty of such mean self-stultification as to say one thing and do another? it is criminal in rulers to give a helping hand to the evil which they deem unavoidable; let them, in preference, cease to rule, and imitate the noble threat of that king for half a century whose conscience bade him abdicate rather than do wrong. but to come abruptly on a title-page: often-times, in reading deleterious leading articles in wrong-sided newspapers, have i longed to set before the world of faction a manual of good politics, which indeed has already been half-done, if decently begun be synonymous. with this view has my author's mind heretofore thought over many scriptural texts, characters, doctrines, and usages; yet, let me freely confess the upshot of those efforts to be little satisfactory: for i fear much, that though there be grounds enough to go upon for one who is already fixed in right political principle, [orthodoxy being, as is common among arguers, _my_ doxy,] there may not be sufficient so to reason from as to convince the thousands, ready and willing to gainsay them: and locke's utter annihilation of poor ridiculous well-intentioned filmer, makes one wary, of taking up and defending a position so little tenable, as, for instance, adam's primary grant for the foundation of absolute monarchy, or of attempting to nullify natural freedom by the dubious succession of patriarchal power. at the same time, (competency for so great a task being conceded--no small supposition, by the way,) much remains to be done in this field of discourse; as, the fearful example made of korah, dathan, and abiram, for conduct very analogous with numberless instances of modern liberalism; the rights of rulers, as well as of the governed; of kings, as well as people; the connexion subsisting now, as through all former ages, between church and state--well indeed and deeply argued out already by such great minds as coleridge and gladstone, but perhaps, for general usefulness, requiring a more brief and popular discourse; the question of passive obedience; the true though unfashionable doctrine of man's general depravity invalidating the consignment of power to the masses; and so forth. there are, however, if scripture is to be held a constitutional guide, some examples to a certain extent contrary to the argument: as, elective monarchy in the case of saul; non-legitimate succession in families even where election is omitted, as in the case of solomon; and, honestly to say it, many other difficulties of a like nature. in fact, upon the whole, this distinction might be drawn; that although the bible at large favours what we may, for shortness' sake, term conservative politics, still it would not be easy to deduce from its page as code of rules, so necessarily of a social, temporary, and accidental nature: the principle is given, but little of the practice; the seed of true and undefiled religion produces among other good fruit what we will call conservatism, but we must be very microscopic to detect that fruit in the seed: of this admission let my _liberal_ adversary make--as indeed he will--the most; but let him remember that truth has always been most economically distributed. it is a material too costly to be broadcast before swine; and in slender evidence lurks more of moral test, than in stout arguments and open miracles. at any rate, as unfitted for the task, i leave it. for any thing mine un-book-learned ignorance can tell, the very title may be as old as christianity itself; it is a good name, and a fair field. this manual was commenced in the form of familiar letters to a radical acquaintance, whom i had resolved to convert triumphantly; but john locke disarmed me, without, however, having gained a convert: he made me drop my weapon as prospero with ferdinand; but the fault lay with ferdinand, for want of equal power in the magic art. * * * * * "measures, not men" is, as we have hinted already, the ground-work of a true tory's political creed; and measures themselves only in so far as they expound and are consistent with principles. a man may fail; the stoutest partisan become a renegado; and the pet measure of a doughtiest champion may after all prove traitorous, unwise, unworthy: but principle is eternally an unerring guide, a master to whose words it is safe to swear, a leader whose flag is never lowered in compromise, nor sullied by defeat. defalcations of the generally upright, derelictions of duty by the usually noble-minded, shake not that man's faith which is founded on principle: for the cowardice, or rashness, or dishonesty of some individual captain, he may feel shame, but never for the _cause_ in which such hold commissions; he may often find much fault with _soi-disant_ tories, but never with the 'ism they profess. we over-step their follies; we disclaim their corruptions; we date above their faults; we wash our hands of their abuses. an abstracted student in his chamber, building up his faith from the foundations, and trying every stone of the edifice, takes little heed of who is for him, and who against him, so conscience is the architect, and the master of the house looks on approving. a man's mind is but one whole; be it palace or hovel, feudal stronghold or italian villa, it is all of a piece: a duly subordinated spirit bears no superstructure of the radical, and the friable soil of discontented liberalism, is too sandy a foundation for ponderous fanes of the religious. i rejoice in being accounted one of those unheroic, and therefore more useful, members of society, who profess to be by no means ambitious of reigning. a plain country gentleman, with a mind (thank heaven!) well at ease, and things generally, both external and internal, being in his case consentaneous with happiness, would appear to have reached the acme of human felicity; and no one but a fool cares, in any world, to exemplify the dog's preference for the shadow. unenvious, therefore, of royalty, and fully crediting that _never-quoted_ sentiment of shakspeare's "uneasy," &c., my motto, within the legitimate limits of right reason, and in common with that of some ridiculed philosopher of roundhead times, is the prudent saying, "whoever's king, i'll be subject!"--ay, and for the masculine i place the epicene. while, however, in sober practice of right subordination, and under existing circumstances of just rule, we gladly would amplify the maxim, (as in courtesy, gallantry, loyalty, and honest kind feeling strongly bound,) still in mere speculation, and irrespectively of things as they are, our abstract musings tended to approve the original word in its unextended gender. every one of edmund burke's school would honour the ensign of divine vice-regency wherever he found it; but, apart from this uninquisitive respect, he will claim to be reasonably patriotic, patriotically rational; habit encourages to practice one thing, but theory may induce to think another. now, little credence as so unenlightened so illiberal an integer as i give to an equalization in the rights of man, certainly on many accounts my blindness gives less to the rights of women with man, and very far less to those rights over man: it might be inconvenient to be specific as to reason; but the working of an ultra-republican scheme, in which females should ballot as well as males, would briefly illustrate my meaning. barbarism makes gentle woman our slave; right civilization raises her into a loving helpmate; but what kind of wisdom exalts her into mastery? readily, however, shall sleep in dull suppression sundry comments on a certain rhenish law, whereof my author's mind had at one time studiously cogitated a grave and wholesome homily. for our censor of the press, one strait-laced mr. better judgment, has, "with his abhorred shears," clipped off the more eloquent and spirited portion of a trenchant argument concerning--the revealed doctrine of a superior sex, the social evils of female domination, church-headships considered as to type and antitype, improper influences, necessary hindrances, anomalous example, feminine infirmities, and an infinitude more such various objections springing out of this fertile subject. thereafter might have come the historical view, evils and perils, for the majority of instances, following in the wake of such mastery. however, to leave these questionable matters quiescent, the principles of passive obedience mildly interpose, forbidding to stir the waters of commotion, although with healing objects, for the sake of an abstract theory; there is ill-meant change enough afloat, without any call for well-intentioned meddlers to launch more. so, judicious after-thought resolves rather to strengthen too-much-weakened authority, in these ungovernable times, than attempt to prove its weaknesses inherent; to look obstinately at the golden side only of the double-wielded shield: instead of picking away at a soft stone in constitutional foundations, our feeble wish magnanimously prefers to prop it and plaster it, flinging away that injurious pick-axe. the title of this once-considered lucubration is far too suggestive to carping minds of more than the much that it means, to be without objection: nevertheless, i did begin, and therefore, always under shelter of a domino, and protesting against any who would move my mask, i confess to woman, a subject: it was a mere speculative argument; a flock of fancies now roaming unregarded in some cloudy limbo. let them fly into oblivion--"black, white, and gray, with all their trumpery." * * * * * notwithstanding these present hostile argumentations, politics are to me what they doubtless are to many others, subjects and disquisitions little short of hateful; perpetual mulligatawney; curried capsicums; a very heating, unsatisfactory, unwholesome sort of food. how many pleasant dinner-parties have been abruptly broken up by the introduction of this dish! how many white waistcoats unblanched by projectile wine-glasses on account of this impetuous theme! how many little-civil wars produced from the pips of this apple of contention! yes, i hate it; and for this cause, good readers, (who may chance to have been used scurvily, some six pages back, in respect of your opinions, honest as my own, though fixed in full hostility--and so, courteously be entreated for your pardons,) for this cause of hate, i beseech you to regard me as sacrificing my present inclination to my future quiet. we have heard of women marrying men they may detest, in order to get rid of them: even with such an object is here indited the last i ever intend to say about politics. the shadows of notions fixed upon this page will cease to haunt my brain; and let no one doubt but that after relief from these pent-up humours, i shall walk forth less intolerant, less unamiable, less indignant than as heretofore. but, meanwhile, suffer with all brevity that i say out this small say, and deliver my patriotic conscience; for many a head-ache has obfuscated your author's mind in consequence of other abortive bits of political common-place. every successive measure of small triumphant whiggery, every piece of what my view of the case would designate non-government or mis-government, has pinched, vexed, bruised, and stung my fervent country's love day by day, session after session. like thousands of others, i have been a greyhound in the leash, a bolt in the bow, longing to take my turn on the arena: eager as any shrovetide 'prentice for a fling at negligence, peculation and injustice, and other the long black catalogue of british injuries. socialism, chartism, ribandism; spain, canada, china; freed criminals, and imprisoned poverty; penny wisdom, and pound folly; the universal centralizing system, corrupting all generous individualities: patriotism ridiculed, and questionable loyalty patted on the back; vice in full patronage, and virtue out of countenance; protestantism discouraged, popery taken by the hand; dissent of _any_ kind preferred to sober orthodoxy; and, fitting climax, all this done under pretences of perfect wisdom, and most exquisite devotion to the crown and the constitution:--these things have made me too often sympathize in colonel crockett's humour, tiger-like, with a dash of the alligator. accordingly let me not deny having once attempted a bitter diatribe, in petto, surnamed false steps; britain's highroad to ruin; a production of the pamphlet class, and, like its confraternity, destined at longest to the life ephemeral. but, to say truth, i found all that sort of thing done so much better, spicier, cleverer, in numberless newspaper articles, than my lack of the particular knowledge requisite, and my little practice in controversy, could have managed, that i wisely drew in my horns, sheathed my toasting-iron, and decided upon not proceeding political pamphleteer, till, on awaking some fine morning, i find myself returned to parliament for an immaculate constituency. patient reader, of whatever creed, do not hate me for my politics, nor despise the foolish candour of confession. henceforth, i will not trouble you, but abjure the subject; except, indeed, my sturdy friend "the squire," soon to be introduced to you, insists upon his after-dinner topic: but we will cut him short; for, in fact, nothing can be more provoking, tedious, useless, and causative of ill-blood, than this perpetual intermeddling of private ignoramuses, like him and me, with matters they do not understand, nor can possibly ameliorate. * * * * * a poet is born a poet, as all the world is well aware; and your thorough-paced lawyer is not less born a lawyer; while the junction of these two most militant incompatibles clearly bears out the hackneyed quotation as above, with the final misfit, that is, "_non fit_." your poetaster at the bar is that grotesque ideal, which flaccus thought so funny that his friends _must_ laugh; (although really, romans, it _is_ possible to contemplate a sort of sphinx figure, "a human head to a horse's neck," and so on, varied plumes and all, without much chance of a guffaw;) and yonder sickly-looking clerk, perched upon his high stool, penning "stanzas while he should engross," is the lugubrious caricature of apollo on his pegassus, with helicon for inkstand. it may be nothing extraordinary that, jostled in so wide a theatre as ours of the world, chance-comers should not, at once or at all, comfortably find their proper places; but that wise-looking chaperons, having with prospective caution duly taken a box, should by malice prepense thrust all the big people in front, and all the little folks behind, is rather hard upon the latter, and not a little foolish in itself. even so in life: who does not wish a thousand times he could help some people to change places? look at this long fellow, fit for frederick of prussia's regiment of giants: his parents and guardians have bent him double, broken his spirit, and spoiled his paces, by cramming him, a giraffe in the stable, between that frigate's gun-decks as a middy: while yonder martial little bantam, by dint of exaggerated heels, and exalted bear-skin, peeps about among his grenadiers, much as brutus and cassius did with their collossal cæsar. so also of minds: look at brilliant burns, the exciseman; and quaintly versatile lamb, the common city clerk: look at--had you only patience, you should have examples by the gross; but, to make a shorter tale of it, (i presume this shows the etymology of cur-tail,) just think over the pack of your acquaintance, and see if you could not shuffle those kings, queens--yes, and knaves too--more to your satisfaction, and their own advantage: at least, so most folks imagine, silly meddlers as they are; for, after all, what with human versatility, and the fact of a probationary state, and the influence of habit, and the drudging example set by others, things work so kindly as they are, that, notwithstanding misfits, the wiser few must be of pope's mind, "whatever is, is right;"--ay, that it is. a year or two ago--if your author is little better than one of the foolish now, what in charity must he have been then?--i took it upon me to indite an innocent, stingless satire, whereof for samples take the following. skip them one and all; you will, if you are wise, for they bear the ban of rhyme, are peevish, dull, ill-reasoned; but if you are not wise, (and, strange to say, malicious people tell me there are many such,) you may wish to see in print a metred inconclusive grumble. take it, then, if you will, as i do, merely for a change; at any rate, your manciple has furnished this buttery of yours with ample choice of viands; and omnivoracious as man may be--gormandizing, with gusto, fat moths in australia, cockchafers at florence, frogs in france, and snails in switzerland, equally as all less objectionable meats, drinks, fruits, roots, composites, and simples--still, in reason, no one can be expected or expect himself to like every thing: have charity, for what suits not one man's taste may please the palate of another; so hear me complacently turn "king's evidence," and give heed to certain confessions, extorted under the _peine forte et dure_ of a whilom state legal. yet, when i come to consider of this, (_mihi cogitanti_, as school themes invariably commenced,) it strikes my memory that all confessions, short of the last dying one, are weak and foolish impertinence; whether jean jacques or mr. adams thought so, or caused others to think so, are separate topics beside the question: for myself, i will spare you a satire dotted with as many i's as an argus pheasant; and, without exacting upon good-nature by troublesome contributions, will hazard a few couplets concerning blackstone's cast-off mistress, the law. one word more though: undoubting of thine amiability, friend that hast walked with me hitherto in peace, i will be tame as a purring cat, and sheathe my talons; therefore are you still unteased by divers sly speeches and sarcastic hints, of and concerning innumerable black sheep that crowd about a woolsack; especially of certain "highly respectables," whom the omnipotence of parliament (no less power presumably being competent) commands to be accounted "gentlemen." should then my meagre sketches seem but little spiteful, accord me credit for tolerance at the expense of wit, (yea, in mine own garbled satire, hear it juvenal!) and view them kindly in the same light as you would sundry emasculated extracts from a discreet family shakspeare. indignation ever speaks in short sharp queries; and it is well for the printer's pocket that the self-experience hereof was considered inadmissible, for a new fount of notes of interrogation must have been procured: as it is, we are sailing quietly on the didactic ocean, and have, i fear, been engaged some time upon topics actionable on a charge of _scandalum magnatum_. hereof then just a little sample: let us call it '_a judgment in the rolls court_;' or in any other; i care not. precedent's slave, this mountebank decides as great authority, not reason, guides. "'tis not for him, degenerate wight, to say faults can be mended at this time of day, for coke himself declared--no matter what-- can justice suffer what lord coke would not? and if siderfin, p. , you scan, lord hoax has fixed the rule, that learned man: i cannot, dare not, if i would, be just, my hands are tied, and follow hoax i must; that _very_ learned lord could not be wrong. besides, in fact, it has been settled long, for the great case of hitchcock versus bundy decided--(cro. eliz. per justice grundy), that [black was white];--and so, what can i say? landmarks are things must not be moved away: i cannot put the clock of wisdom back, and solemnly pronounce that black _is_ black. though plaintiff has the right, i grant it clear, i must be ruled by hoax and hitchcock here: equity follows, does not mend the laws: therefore declare, defendant gains the cause." then, as virtuously bound, indignation interrogates sundry ejaculations; or, if you like it better, ejaculates sundry interrogations: as thus, take a brace: if right and reason both combine in one, why, in god's name, should justice not be done? if law be not a lie, and judgments jokes, why not _be just_, and cut adrift lord hoax? after a vast deal more in this vein of literature--for you perceive my present purpose is dissection in part of this ancient rhyme--we arrive at a magnanimous-- no! right shall have his own, put off no longer by rule of former, or by whim of stronger; nor, because jack goes tumbling down the hill, shall precedent create a tumbling jill. public opinion soon shall change the scene, and wash the law's augæan stable clean; sweep out the temple, drive the sellers thence, and lead, in novel triumph, common sense. verily, this is of the dullest, but it is brief: endure it, and pray you consider the deadliness of the topic, and the barbarous cruelty wherewith courtesy has clipped the wings of my poor spite. let us turn to other title-pages; assuring all the world that no specific mountebank has been here intended, and that nothing more is meant than a nerveless blow against legal cant, quainter than quarles's, and against that well-known species of equity, which must have been so titled from like antiquated reasons with those that induced numa and his company to call a dark grove, lucus. * * * * * how many foes, in this utilitarian era, has that very unwarrantable vice, called poetry! all who despise love and love-making, all who prefer billiards to meditation, all who value hard cash above mental riches, feel privileged to hate it; while really, typographers, the illegible diamond print in which you generally set it up, whether in book, or newspaper, or handbill, or magazine, induces many an indifferent peruser to skip the poem for the sake of his eye-sight. i presume that the monosyllable, rhyme, comprehends pretty nearly all that the world at large intends by poetry; and, in the same manner as certain critics have sneered at livy--no, it was tacitus--for commencing his work with a bad hexameter, so many a reader will now-a-days condemn a whole book, because it is somewhere found guilty of harbouring a distich. but poetry, friend world, means far other than rhyme; its etymology would yield "creation," or "fabrication," of sense as well as sound, and of melody for the eye as well as melody for the ear. so did [_epoiese_] milton; and so did not---- well, i myself, if you will. yet, in fact, there are fifty other kinds of poetries, beside the poetry of words: as the poetry of life--affection, honour, and hope, and generosity; the poetry of beauty--never mind what features decorate the dulcinea, for this species of poetry is felt and seen almost only in first love; the poetry of motion, as first-rates majestically sailing, furiously scudding waves, bending corn-fields, and, briefly, all things moveable but railway-trains; the poetry of rest, as pyramids, a tropical calm, an arctic winter, and generally all things quiescent but a slumbering alderman; the poetry of music, heard oftener in a country milkmaid's evening song, than in many a concert-room; the poetry of elegance, more natural to weeping willows, unbroken colts, flames, swans, ivy-clad arches, greyhounds, yea, to young donkeys, than to those _pirouette_-ing and _very_ active _danseuses_ of the opera; the poetry of nature, as mountains, waterfalls, storms, summer evenings, and all manner of landscapes, except holland and siberia; the poetry of art, acqueducts, minarets, raphael's colouring, and poussin's intricate designs; the poetry of ugliness, well seen in monkeys and skye terriers; and the poetry of awkwardness, whereof the brightest example is mr. trans-atlantic rice. and, verily, many other poetries there be, as of impudence (for which consult the experience of swindlers); of prose, (for which see addison); of energy, of sleep, of battle and of peace: for it is an easy-seeming artfulness, the most fascinating manner of doing as of saying, complication simplified, and every thing effected to its bravest advantage. poetry wants a champion in these days, who will save her from her friends: o, namby-pamby "lovers of the nine!" your innumerous dull lyrics--ay, and mine--your unnatural heroics--i too have sinned thus--your up-hill sonnets--that labour of folly have i known as well--in brief, your misnamed poetry, hath done grievous damage to the cause you toil for. yet i would avow thus much, for i believe it: as an average, we have beaten our ancestors; seldom can we take up a paper or a periodical which does not show us verses worthy of great names; the age is full of highly respectable, if not superlative poetry; and truly may we consider that the very abundance of good versification has lowered the price of poets, and therefore, in this marketing world, has robbed them of proper estimation. doubtless, there have been mighty men of song higher in rank, as earlier in time, than any now who dare to try a chirrup: but there are also many of our anonymous minstrels, with whom the greater number of the so-called old english poets could not with advantage to the ancients justly be compared. look at '_johnson's lives_.' who can read the book, and the specimens it glorifies, without rejoicing in his prose, and thoroughly despising their poetry?--with a few brilliant exceptions, of course, (for ill-used milton, pope--and shall we in the same sentence put dryden?--are there,) a more wretched set of halfpenny-a-liners never stormed mob-trodden parnassus. the poetry of queen anne's time and thereabouts, i judge to have been at the lowest bathos of badness; all satyrs, and swains, fulsome flattery of titles, and foolish adoration of painted shepherdesses: poor weak hobbling lines, eked out by 'eds and expletives, often terminated by false rhymes, and made lamer by triplets and dreary alexandrines; ill-selected subjects, laboured, indelicate, or impossible similes, passions frigid as diana, wit's weapons dull as lead. yet these (many exceptions doubtless there were, and many redeeming _morceaux_ even in the worst, charitable reader, but as of the rule we speak not falsely), these are the poets of england, the men our great grandfathers delighted to honour, the feared, the praised, the pensioned, and those whom we their children still denominate--the poets! praise, praise your stars, ye lucky imps of fame! who could tolerate you now-a-days?--you lived in golden times, when dorset, harley, bolingbroke, halifax, and company, gave away places of a thousand a-year, as but justly due to any man who could pen a roaring song, fabricate a fulsome sonnet, or bewail in meagre elegiacs the still-resisting virtue of some persecuted stella! happy fellows, easy conquisitors of wealth and fame, autocrats of coffee-houses, feted and favoured by town-bred dames! in those good old times for the fashionable nine, an epic was sure to lead to a ministry-of-state, and even an epigram produced its pension: to be a poet, or reputed so, was to be--eligible for all things; and the fortunate possessor of a rhyming dictionary might have governed europe with his metrical protocols. but these halcyon times are of the past--and so, verily, are their heroes. farewell, a long farewell, children of oblivion! farewell, spratt, smith, duke, hughes, king, pomfret, phillips, and blackmore: ye who, in that day of very small things, just rose, as your leviathan biographer so often testifies, "to a degree of merit above mediocrity:" ye who--but (candor and good charity, i thank you for the hint,) limited indeed is my knowledge of your writings, ye long-departed poets, whom i thus am base enough to pilfer of your bays; and therefore, if any man among you penned aught of equal praise with "_my mind to me a kingdom is_," or "_no glory i covet, no riches i want_," humbly do i cry that good man's pardon. believe that i have only seen the château of your fame, but never the rock on which it rested; and therefore candidly consider, if i might not with reason have accounted it a castle in the air? now, after this wholesale species of poetical massacre, this rifling of old etruscan tombs of their honourable spoil, a very pleasant ninny would that poetaster stand forth, whose inanely conceited daring exhibited specimens from his own mint, as medals in fit contrast with those slandered "things of base alloy." no, as with politics, so with poetry; in public i abjure and do renounce the minx: and although privately my author's mind is so silly as to doat right lovingly on such an ancient mistress, and has wasted much time and paper in her praise or service, still that mind is sufficiently self-possessed in worldly prudence, as to set seemingly little store on the worth of an acquaintance so little in the fashion. therefore i disown and disclaim a volume of poetics, ill-fated offspring of a foolish father; miscellaneous collection of occasionals and fugitives, longer or shorter, as the army of bombastes. poetical as in verity i must confess to have been, (using the word "poetical" as most men use it, and the words "have been" in the sense of troy's existence,) there must have lingered in me, even at that hallucinating period, some little remnant of prosaic wisdom; for it is now long since that i consigned to the most voracious of elements all the more love-sick rhythmicals, and all the more hateful satiricals. now, i will maintain that act of incremation to be one of true heroism, nearly equal to the judgment of brutus; nor less is it matter of righteous boasting to have immolated (warned by charles lamb's ghost) divers albuminous preparations, which to have to do, were, clio knows, little pleasure, and to have done, we all know, as little praise. such light follies are like skeins of cotton, or adjectives, or babies, unfit to stand alone; haply, well enough, times and things considered, but totally unworthy to be dragged out of their contexts into the imperishability of print; it is to take flies out of treacle, and embalm them in clear amber. as to sonnets, what real author's mind will not, if honest, confess to the almost daily recurrence of that symptom of his disease? with mine, at least, they have increased, and are increasing; yea, more--as a certain statesman suggested of ireland's multitudinous _pisantry_, or as tavern patriots declare of the power of the crown--they ought to be diminished. nevertheless, resolutely do i hope that some of these at least are little worthy of the days of good queen anne. in matters of the sacred muse, lengthily as others have i trespassed heretofore; the most protracted _fytte_, however, made a respectable inroad on a new metrical version of the '_psalms_,' attempting at any rate closer accuracy from the hebrew than brady's, and juster rhymes than sternhold's: but this has since been better done by another bard. on the whole budget of exploded poeticals is now legibly inscribed "to be kept till called for," a period rather more indefinite than the promise of a spendthrift's payment. let them rest in peace, those unfortunate poetics! there are also in the bundle, if i rightly do remember me, sundry metricals of the humorous sort, which may be considered as really _waste-failures_ as any tainted hams that ever were yclept westphalias. for of all dreary and lugubrious perpetrations in print, nothing can be more desolate than laboured witticism. a pun is a momentary spark dropt upon the tinder-box of social intercourse; and to detach such a sentence from its producing circumstances, is about as efficacious a method of producing laughter, as the scintillatory flint and steel struck upon wet grass would be of generating light. few things are less digestible than abortive efforts at the humorous; the stream of conversation instantly freezes up; the disconcerted punster wears the look of his well-known kinsman, the detected pickpocket; and a scribe, so mercilessly suicidal as regards his better fame, deserves, when a plain blunt jury comes to sit upon the body, to be found in mystical latin, _felo de se_, or in plain english "a fellow deceased." "there shall come in the last days, scoffers;" those same last days in which "many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased." it is true that these phrases (quoted with the deepest reverence, though found in lighter company) are forcibly taken from their context; but still, the judgment of many wise among us will agree that they present a remarkable coincidence: in this view of the case, and it is a most serious one, the concurrent notoriety of humour having just arisen like a phoenix from its ashes, of railroads and steamboats having partially annihilated space, and of the strides which education, if not intellect, has made upon the highroad of human improvement, assumes an importance greater than the things themselves deserve. to a truly philosophic ken, there is no such thing as a trifle; the ridiculous is but skin-deep, papillæ on the surface of society; cut a little deeper, you will find the veins and arteries of wisdom. therefore will a sober man not deride the notion that comic almanacs, comic latin grammars, comic hand-books of sciences and arts, and the great prevalence of comicality in popular views taken of life and of death, of incident and of character, of evil and of good, are, in reality, signs of the times. these straws, so thick upon the wind, and so injuriously mote-like to the visual organs, are flying forward before a storm. as symptoms of changing nationality, and of a disposition to make fun of all things ancient and honourable, and wise, and mighty, and religious, they serve to evidence a state of the universal mind degenerated and diseased. still, let us not be too severe; and, as to individual confessions, let not me play the hypocrite. like every thing else, good in its good use, and evil only in abuse of its excesses, humour is capable of filling, and has filled, no lightly-estimable part in the comedy of temporal happiness. what a good thing it is to raise an innocent and cheerful laugh; to inoculate moroseness with hearty merriment; to hunt away misbelieving care, if not with better prayers, at the lowest with a pack of yelping cachinations; to make pain forget his head-ache by the anodyne of mirth! truly, humour has its laudable and kindly uses: it is the mind's play-time after office-drudgery--an easy recreation from thought, anxiety, or study. only when it usurps, or foolishly attempts to usurp, the office of more than a temporary alleviation; when it affects to set up as an atheistic panacea; when it professes to walk as an abiding companion, lighting you on your way with injurious gleams (as that dreadful figure in dante, who lanterns his path by the glaring eyes of his own truncated head); and when it ceases to become merely the casual scintillation, the flitting _ignus fatuus_ of a summer evening--then only is wit to be condemned. often, for mine own poor part in this most mirthful age, have i had hearty laughs, in prose and verse; but take no thought of preserving their echoes, or of shrining them in the eternal basalt of print, like to the oft-repeated cries of lurley's hunted in-dweller. the humorous infection caught also me, as a thing inevitable; but the case, i wot, proved an unfavourable one: and who dare enter the arena of contention with these mighty men of momus, these acknowledged sages of laughter, (pardon me for omitting some fifty more,) so familiar to the tickled ear, as boz, and sam slick, ingoldsby, and peter plymley, titmarsh, hood, hook; not to mention--(but that artists are authors)--laughter-loving leech, pickwickian phiz, and inimitable cruikshank? nevertheless, let a tender conscience penitently ask, is it quite an innocent matter to lend a hand in rendering the age more careless than perchance, but for such ministrations, it would cease to be? is it quite wise in a writer, by following in that wake, to be reputed at once to help in doing harm, and help to do harm to his own reputation? there are professors enough in this quadrangle of the college of amusement, popular and extant in flourishing obesity, without so dull a volunteer as mr. self intruding his humours on the world: and surely the far-echoing voices of a couple of cannons, thundering their mirth throughout europe from the jolly quarters of st. paul's, may well frighten into silence a poor solitary pop-gun, which, as the frog with the bull, might burst in an attempt at competition, or, like bottom's numidian lion, could imitate the mighty roar only as gently as your sucking-dove. * * * * * grapho-mania, or the love of scribbling, is clearly the great distinguishing characteristic of an author's mind; pen and ink are to it, what bread and butter are to its lodging-house the body: observe, we do not hazard a remark so false as that the one produces the other--their relations are far from being mutual; but we only suggest that the mind, as well as the body, hobbles like a three-legged oedipus, resting on its proper staff of life. and what can be more provocative of scribbling than travel? how eagerly we hasten to describe unheard-of adventures, how anxiously record exaggerated marvels! to prove some printed hand-book _quite wrong_ in the number of steps up a round-tower: or to crush, as a wicked vender of execrable wines, the once fair fame of some over-charging inn-keeper! then, again, how pleasant to immortalize the holiday, and read in after-years the story of that happy trip langsyne; how pleasant to gladden the kind eyes of friends, that must stay at home, with those wonder-telling journals, and to taste the dulcet joys of those first essays at authorship. a great charm is there in jotting down the day's tour, and in describing the mountains and museums, the lakes and lazzaroni, the dishes and disasters that have made it memorable: moreover, for fixing scenery on the mental retina, as well as for comparison of notes as to an _alibi_, for duly remembering things heard and seen, as well as for being humbled in having (as a matter inevitable) left unseen just the best lion of the whole tour, journals are a most praiseworthy pastime, and usually rank among the earliest efforts of an embryo author's mind. it is a thing of commonest course, that, in this age of inveterate locomotion, your present humble friend, now talking in this candid fashion with your readership, has been every where, seen every thing, and done his touristic devoirs like every body else about him: also, as a like circumstance of etymological triviality, that he has severally, and from time to time, recorded for self-amusement and the edification of others all such matters as holiday-making school-boys and boarding-misses, and government-clerks in their swift-speeding vacation, and elderly gentlemen vainly striving to enjoy their first fretful continental trip, usually think proper to descant upon. of such manuscripts the world is clearly full; no catacomb of mummies more fertile of papyri; no traveller so poor but he has by him a packet of precious notes, whereon he sets much store: every tourist thinks he can reasonably emulate clever basil hall, in his eloquent fragments of voyages and travels; and i, for my part, a truth-teller to my own detriment, am ashamed to confess the existence of a decade of journals; which of olden time my _cacoethes_ produced as regularly as recurred the summer solstice. unlike that of livy's, i am satisfied that this poor decade be irrevocably lost; but, for dear recollection's sake of days gone by, intend it at least to be spared from malicious incremation. records of roamings in romantic youth, witnesses of wayward way-side wanderings, gayly with alliterative titles might your contents, _à la roscoe_, be set forth. but--what conceivable news can be told at this time of day about the trampled continent, and the crowded british isles? had my luck led me to lapland or formosa, to mexico or timbuctoo, to the top of egyptian pyramids or the bottom of polish salt-mines, my authorship would long since have publicly declared, in common with many a monkey, that it had "seen the world." as things are, to bruce, buckingham, belzoni, and that glorious anomaly, the blind brave holman, let us leave the harvest of praise, worthy to be reaped as their own by modern travellers. * * * * * more, yet more, most exemplary of listeners; and a web or webs of very various texture. let any man tell truths of himself, and seem to be consistent, if he can. from grave to gay, from simple to severe, is the line most expressive of such foolish versatility as mine; _varium et mutabile semper_, to one thing constant never. i have heard, or read, among the experiences of a popular preacher, that one of his most vexatious petty temptations, was the rise of humorous notions in his mind the moment he stepped into the pulpit; and it is well known that many a comic actor has been afflicted with the blackest melancholy while supporting right facetiously his best, because most ludicrous character. let such thoughts then as these, of the frailties incident to man, serve to excuse the present juxtaposition of fancies in themselves diametrically opposite. it is proper to preamble somewhat of apology before announcing the next presumptuous tractate; presumptuous, because affecting to advise some thousands of men whose office alike and average character are sacred, and just, and excellent. why then intrude such unrequired counsel? read the next five pages, and take your answer. zealously inflamed for the cause of truth, if not also charitably wroth against sundry lukewarm cumber-earth incumbents, and certainly more in love with the church-of-england prayer-book than with her no-ways-extenuated evils of omission or commission, i wrote, not long since, [and truly, not long since, for few things in this book can boast of higher antiquity than a most modern existence, some things being the birth of an hour, some of a day, a week, or a month; and not more than one or two above a twelve month's age.--alas, for horace's forgotten counsels!--alas, for pope's and boileau's reiterated prescription of revisal for--_morbleu et parbleu_--nine years!] i wrote then a good cantle of an essay addressed to the clergy on some matters of judicious amelioration, which we will call, if you please--and if the word hints be not objectionable-- lay hints. now, as to the unclerical authorship of this, it is wise that it be done out of métier. laymen are more likely to gain attention in these matters, from the very fact of their influence being an indirect one, speaking as they do rather from the social arm-chair, the high-stool of the counting-house, or the benches of whilom st. stephen's, than _ex cathedrâ_ as of office and of duty. it would be a fair exemplification of the stolid prowess of a quixote tilting against, yea, stouter foes than wind-mills, were i to have commenced with an attack upon external church architecture: this topic let us leave to the fraternity of builders; only asking by what rule of taste an obelisk-like spire, is so often stuck upon the roof of a grecian temple, and by what rule of convenience gigantic columns so commonly and resolutely sentinel the narrowest of exits and entrances. let us be more commonly contented, as well we may, with our grand, appropriate, and impressive indigenous kind of architecture--gothic, norman, and saxon: the temple of ephesus was not suitable to be fitted up with galleries, nor was the parthenon meant to be surmounted by a steeple. but all this is useless gossip. similarly quixotic would be any tirade against pews, those pet strongholds of snug exclusive selfishness; bad in principle, as perpetually separating within wooden walls members of the same communion; unwholesome in practice, confining in those antre-like parallelograms the close-pent air; unsightly in appearance, as any one will testify, whose soul is exalted above the iron beauties of a plain conventicle; expensive in their original formation, their fittings and repairs; and, when finished, occupying perhaps one-fourth of the area of a church already ten times too small for its neighbouring population. fixed benches, or a strong muster of chairs, or such modes of congregational accommodation as public meeting-rooms and ordinary lecture-rooms present, seems to me more consistent and more convenient. but all this again is vain talking--a very empty expenditure of words; we must be satisfied with churches as they are; and, after all, let me readily admit that steeples are imposing in the distance, and of use as belfries; (probably of like intent were the strange columnar towers of ireland;) and with regard to pews, let me confess that practice finds perfect what theory condemns as wrong, so--let these things pass. nevertheless, let me begin upon the threshold with the extortionate and abominable race of pew-women, beadles, clerks, vergers, bell-ringers, and other fee-hungry ravens hovering around and about almost every hallowed precinct: pray you, reform all that, and copy railroad companies in forbidding those begrudged gratuities to mendicant and ever-grumbling menials. next, give more sublunary heed, we beseech you, to the comforts or discomforts incidental to doors, windows, stoves, paint, dust, dirt, and general ventilation; consider the cold, fevers, lumbagos, rheums, life-long aches, and fatal pains too often caught helplessly and needlessly by the devout worshipper in a town or country church. look to your organist, that he wot something of the value of time and the mysteries of tune; or, if a country parson, drill cleverly that insubordinate phalanx of _soi-disant_ musicians, a rustic orchestra; and exclude from the latter, at all mortal hazards, the huntsman's horn, the volunteer fiddle, and the shrill squeaking of the wry-necked pipe. much is being now done for congregational psalmody; but when will country folks give up their murderous execution of the fugue-full anthem, and when will london congregations understand that the singing-psalms are not set apart exclusively for charity-children? when shall bishop kenn's '_awake my soul_,' cease to be our noonday exhortation; and a literal invocation for sweet sleep to close our eye-lids no longer be the ill-considered prelude to an afternoon discourse? take some trouble to improve and educate, or get rid of, if possible, your generally vulgar, illiterate, ill-conditioned clerk; insist upon his v's and h's: let him shut up his shoe-stall; and raise in the scale of society one of the leaders of its worship: as, at present, these stagnant, recreant, ignorant clerks are sad stumbling-blocks; no help to the congregation, and a nuisance to its minister. in reading--suffer this foolishness, my masters--fight against the too frequent style of dogged, dormant, dull formality; we take you for earnest living guides to our devotion, not mere dead organs of an oft-repeated service; quicken us by your manner; a psalm so spoken is better than the sermon. in more fitting places has your author long ago delivered his mind concerning matters of a character more directly sacred than shall here find room; as, the sacrament with its holy mysteries, and the many things amendable in ordinary preachments; but for these my unseasonable wisdom shrouds itself in silence: therefore, to do away with details, and apply a general rule, above all things, and in all things, strive by judicious acquiescence with human wants, and likings, and failings too, if conscientiously you can, as well as by spirited and true devotion, to break down the sluggish mounds of needful uniformity, and to build up round the church a rampart of good sense: and so, heaven bless your labours! a word more: if it be possible, take no fees at a baptism, and let it not be thought, by either rich or poor, that an entrance into christ's fold must be paid for; no, nor at a burial; but let the service for the christian dead be accorded freely, without money and without price. to a wedding, the same ideas are not perhaps so closely applicable; therefore we will generously suffer that you keep your customs there; but on the introduction of a little one to the bosom of the church, or restoring the body of a saint to him who made it of the dust, nothing can be more repulsive to right religious feelings than to be bothered by a fee-seeking clerk, thrusting in your face an itching palm: to the poor, these things are more than a mere annoyance; they amount to a hardship and a hindrance; for such demands at such seasons are often nothing less than a bitter extortion upon the self-denial of conscientious duty. more might be added; but enough, too much has been alluded to. nothing would strengthen the bulwarks of our zion more than such easy reforms as these: recent happy revivals in our church would thus be more solidified; and where, as now, many have been lulled to slumber, many grieved, many become disgusted or dissenters, our sons and our daughters would grow up as the polished corners of the temple, and crowds would throng the courts of our holy and beautiful house. suffer thus far, clerical and lay, these crude hints: in all things have i studied brevity, throughout this little bookful; therefore are you spared a perusal of my reasons, and so be indulgent for their absence. i "touch your ears" but lightly; be you for charity, as in old rome, my favourable witnesses. * * * * * my before-mentioned censor of the press had a very considerable mind to dock all mention of the following intended _brochure_. but i answered, really, mr. judgment, (better or worse, as occasion may register your agnomen,) you must not weigh trifles in gold-assaying scales; be not so particular as to the polish of a thumb-nail; endure a little incoherent pastime; count not the several stems of hay, straw, stubble--but suffer them to be pitch-forked _en masse_, and unconsidered: it is their privilege, in common with that of certain others--lightnesses that froth upon the surface of society. moreover, let me remind your worship's classicality that no one of mortals is sapient at all times. item, that if friend flaccus be not a calumniator, even the rigid virtue of the antiquer cato delighted in so stimulant a vanity as wine hot. so give the colt his head, and let it go: remembering always that this same colt, as straying without a responsible rider, is indeed liable to be impounded by any who can catch him; but still, if he be found to have done great damage to his master's character, or to a neighbour's fences, the estray shall rather be abandoned than acknowledged. let then this unequal work, this ill-assorted bundle of dry book-plants, this undirected parcel of literary stuff, be accounted much in the same situation as that of the wanton caitiff-colt, so likely to bait a-pound, and afterwards to be sold for payment of expenses, in true bailiff-sense of justice. and let thus much serve as discursive prolegomena to a notion, scarcely worth recording, but for the wonder, that no professed writer (at least to my small knowledge) has entered on so common-sense a field. paris, i remember, some years ago was inundated with copies of a treatise on the important art of tying the cravat; every shop-window displayed the mystic diagrams, and every stiff neck proclaimed its popularity. this was my yesterday's-conceived precedent for entertaining the bright hope of illuminating london on the subject of shaving: anti-xurion; a crusade against razors, should have been my taking title; and perchance the learned treatise might have been characteristically illustrated with steel cuts. shaving is a wider topic than most people think for; it is a species of insanity that has afflicted man in all ages, deprived him of nature's best adornment in every country under heaven. so contradictorily too; as thus: the spanish friar shaves all but a rim round his head, which rim alone sundry north american aborigines determine to extirpate; john chinaman nourishes exclusively a long cue, just on that same inch of crown-land which the p.p. sedulously keeps as bare as his palm: all the orientals shave the head, and cherish the beard; all the occidentals immolate the beard, and leave the honours of the head untouched. then, again, the strange successive fashions in this same unnatural, unneedful depilation; look at the vagaries of young france: not to descend also to savage men, and their clumsy shell-scrapings; and to devote but little time to the voluminous topic of wigs, male and female, cavalier and caxon, marlborough and monstrous maccaroni--from the plaited absalom-looking periwig of a pharaoh in the british museum, to truefitt's last patent self-adjuster. of all these follies, and their root a razor, might we show the manifest absurdity: we might argue upon eastern stupidity as caused by thickness of the skull, such thickness being the substitute for thatchy hair suggested by kind ill-used nature as the hot brain's best protection: we might reason upon the average sheepishness of this peaceful west, as due to having shorn the lion of his mane, phoebus of his glory, man of his majestic beard. then the martyrdom it is to many! who stoically, day after day, persist in scratching to the quick their irritable chins, and after all to little better end than the diligent earning of tooth-aches, ear-aches, colds, sore throats, and unbecoming blank faces. habit, it is true, makes us deem that a comfort, and our better halves (or those we would fain have so) think that a beauty, which our forerunners of old time would have held a plague, a disgrace, a deformity, a mortification: prisoned paupers in the union think it an insufferable hardship to go bearded, and king david's ambassadors would have given their right eyes _not_ to have been shaved; so much are we the slaves of custom: sheffield also, it is equally true, is a town that humane men would not wish to ruin; by razors they of sheffield live, and shaving is their substance. but, as in the case of the smoother and softer sex, we are convinced that the wand of fashion would presently convert their heterodox anti-barbal prejudices: so, in the case of harder-ware sheffield, while we hope to live to see razors regarded as antiquarian rarities, (even as a watchman's rattle, or the many-caped coats of the semi-extinct class _welleria coachmanensis_ are now some time become,) still we desire all possible multiplication to the tribe of trimming scissors. like ireland, we shout for long-denied justice; give us our beards. that reasonable indulgence shall never be abused; our catholic emancipation of moustache and imperial, whisker and the rest, shall not be a pretence for lion's manes, or the fringe of goats and monkeys: we would not so far follow unsophisticated nature as to relapse into barbarous wild men; but diligently squaring, pointing, combing, and perfuming those natural manly decorations, after the most approved modes of raleigh, walsingham, and shakspeare, and heroical edward the black prince, and venerable apostolic bede, we will encroach little further than to discard our comfortless starched collars and strangling stocks, to adopt once more in lieu thereof open necks and vandyke borders. of course, (here, priest-like, we take our ell,) there must follow upon this a grand and glorious revolution in male attire. this present close-fitting, undignified set of habiliments, which no chisel dare imitate--this cumbersome, unbecoming garb--might, should, ought to be, and would be, superseded by slashed gay jerkins, and picturesque nether garments: cap and feather throwing into shade the modern hat, ugliest of all imaginable head-dresses; and in lieu of the smock-frock macintosh, or coarse-featured bear-skin, ciceronian mantles flowing from the shoulders, or lighter capes of the elegant olden-time venitian. by way of distinguishing the now confused classes of society, my radical reform in dress would go to recommend that nobles and gentry wear their own heraldic colours and livery buttons; and humbler domesticated creatures walk, as modest gentlefolks do now, in what sundry have presumed to call "mufti." to be briefer; in dress, if nothing more, let us sensibly retrograde to the days of good queen bess: i will not say, copy a sir piercie shafton, who boasts of having "danced the salvage man at the mummery of clerkenwell, in a suit of flesh-coloured silk, trimmed with fur;" neither, under these dingy skies, would i care to walk abroad with sir philip sidney in satin boots, or with oliver goldsmith in a peach-coloured doublet: but still, for very comfort's sake, let us break our bonds of cloth and buckram, and, in so far as adornment is concerned, let us exchange this staid funeral monotony for the gallant garb of our ancestors, the brave costumes of our edwards and the bluff king hal. behold, too scornful friend, how my tory rabies reaches to the wardrobe. the modern dress of illuminated europe has, in my humble opinion, gone far to weaken the old empire of the porte, to denationalize egypt, to degenerate the jews, to mammonize once generous greece, and carry republican equality into the great prairies of america: it is the undistinguishing, humiliating, unchivalrous livery of our cold cosmopolites. but enough of this: pews and spires are to my quixotism not more unextinguishable foes, than coats, cravats, waistcoats, and unnameables. and now an honest word at parting, about such trivialities of authorship. why should a poor shepherd of the landes for ever wear his stilts? or a tragic actor, like some mortified la trapist, never be allowed to laugh? or mr. green be denied any other carriage than the wicker car of his balloon? even so, dear reader, pr'ythee suffer a serious sort of author sometimes to take off his wig and spectacles, and condescend to think of such minor matters as the toilet and its still-recurring duties. and, if you _should_ find out the veritable name of your weak confessing scribe, think not the less kindly of his graver volumes; this one is his pastime, his holiday laugh, his purposely truant, lawless, desultory recreance: impute not folly to the face of cheerfulness; be charitable to such mixtures of alternate gayety and soberness as in thine own mind, if thou searchest, thou shall find; let me laugh with those that laugh, as well as sympathize with weepers; and cavil not at those inconsistencies, which of a verity are man's right attributes. * * * * * ideas lie round about us, thick as daisies in a summer meadow. for my own part, i know not what a walk, or a talk, or a peep into a book may lead me to. brunel hit upon the notion of a tunnel-shield, from the casual sight of a certain water-beetle, to whom the god of nature had given a protecting buckler for its head. newton found out gravitation, by reasoning on the fall of an apple from the tree. almost every invention has been the suggestion of an accident. even so, to descend from great things to small, did a solitary stroll in most-english devonshire hint to me the next fair topic. it was while wandering about the pyrenean neighbourhood of linton and ly'mouth not many months ago, that my reveries became concentrated for divers hallucinating hours on a very pretty book, with a very pretty title. and here let me remark episodically, that i pride myself on titles; what compositors call "monkeyfying the title-page" is known to be a talent of itself, and one moreover to which in these days of advertisements and superficialities many a meagre book has owed its popular acceptance. the titles of generations back seemed not to have been regarded honest, if they did not exhibit on their face a true and particular table of contents; whereas in these sad times, (with many, not with me,) mystery is a good rule, but falsehood is a better. again, those honest-speaking authors of the past scrupled not to designate their writings as '_a most erudite treatise_' on so-and-so, or a '_a right ingenious handling of the mysteries_' of such-and-such, whereas modern hypocrisy aims at under-rating its own pet work; and more than one book has been ruined in the market, for having been carelessly titled by the definite the; as if, forsooth, it were the world's arbiter of that one topic, self-constituted pundit of, e.g., title-pages. and this word brings me back: consider the truly english music of this one: the squire, and his beautiful home, a fine old country gentleman, pleasantly located, affluent, noble-minded, wise, and patriotic. this was to have been shown forth, in wish at least, as somewhat akin to, or congenerous with '_the doctor_, &c.,'--that rambling wonder of strange and multifarious reading: or '_the rectory of valehead_,' or '_vicar of wakefield_,' or '_the family robinson crusoe_,' still unwrecked; or many another hearty, cheerful or pathetic tale of home, sweet home: and yet as to design and execution strictly original and unplagiaristic. the first chapters (simple healthy writing, redolent of green pastures, and linchened rocks, and dew-dropt mountains,) might introduce localities; the beautiful home itself, an elizabethan mansion, with its park, lake, hill and valley scenery; a peep at the blue mile-off sea, brawling brooks, oak-woods, conservatories, rookery, and all such pleasant adjuncts of that most fortunate of pleasure-hunters, a country squire, with a princely rent-roll. then should be detailed, circumstantially, the lord of the beautiful home, a picture of the hospitable virtues; the wife of the beautiful home, a portraiture of happy domesticity, admirable also as a mother, a nurse, a neighbour, and the poor's best friend: children must abound, of course, or the home is a heaven uninhabited; and shrewd hints might hereabouts be dropped as to the judicious or injudicious in matters educational: servants, too, both old and young, with discussions on their modern treatment, and on that better class of bygones, whom kindness made not familiar, and the right assertion of authority provoked not into insolence; whose interest for the dear old family was never merged in their own, and whose honesty was as unsuspected as that of young master himself, or sweet little mistress alice. after all this, might we descant upon the squire's characteristics. take him as a politician: liberal, that is to say, (for his frown is on me at a phrase so doubtful,) generous, tolerant, kind, and manly; but none of your low-bred slanderers of that noble name, so generally tyrants at home and cowardly abroad--mean agitating fellows, the scum of disgorging society, raised by turbulence and recklessness from the bottom to the surface: oh no, none of these; but, for all his just liberality, an honest, honourable, loyal, church-going, uncompromising tory: with a detail of his reasons, notions, and practices thereabouts, inclusive of his conduct at elections, his wholesome influence over an otherwise unguided or ill-guided tenantry, and as concerning other miscalled corruptions: his open argumentation of the representative doctrine, that it ought to stop short as soon as ever the religion, the learning, and the wealth of a country are fairly represented; that in fact the poor man thinks little of his vote, unless indeed in worse cases looking for a bribe; and that the principle is pushed into ruinous absurdities when the destitution, the crime, and the ignorance of a nation demand their proper representatives; that, almost as a consequence of human average depravity, the greater the franchise's extension, the worse in all ways become those who impersonate the enfranchised; and so, after due condemnation of whiggery, to stultify chartism, and that demoralizing lie, the ballot. then as to the squire's religion; and certain confabulations with his parson, his household, his harvest-home tenantry, and local preachers of dissent and schism; his creed, practice, and favourable samples of daily life. moreover, our squire should have somewhat to tell of personal history and adventures; a youth of poor dependence on a miser uncle; a storm-tost early manhood, consequent on his high uncompromising principles; then the miser's death, without the base injustice of that cruel will, which an eleventh-hour penitence destroyed: the squire comes to his property, marries his one old flame, effects reformations, attains popularity, happiness, and other due prosperities. anecdotes of particular passages, as in affliction or in joy; his son lamed for life, or his house half burnt down, his attack by highwaymen, or election for parliament. the squire's general confidence in man, sympathy with frailties, and success in regenerating long-lost characters. his discourse on field sports, displaying the amiable intellectuality of a gilbert white as opposed to the blood-thirsty nimrodism and ramrodism of a mad mytton. a marriage; a funeral; a disputed legacy of some eccentric relative; with its agreeable concomitants of heartless selfish strife, rebuked by the squire's noble example: the conventicle gently put down by dint of gradual desertions, and church-going as tenderly extended; vestry demagogues and parochial incendiaries chastised by our squire; and divers other adventures, conversations, situations, and conditions, illustrative of that grand character, a fine old english gentleman, all of the olden time. altogether, if well managed, a book like this would be calculated to do substantial good in these days of no principle or bad principle. a captivating example well applied--witness the uses of biography--is infectious among the well-inclined and well-informed. but--but--but--i fancy there may exist, and do exist already, admirable books of just this character. i have heard of, but not seen, '_the portrait of a christian gentleman_,' and another '_of a churchman_:' doubtless, these, combined with a sort of mr. dovedale in that clever impossible '_floreston_,' or an equally unnatural and charming sir charles grandison, with a dash of scenery and a sprinkle of anecdote, would make up, far better than i could fabricate, the fair fine character that once i thought to sketch. moreover, to a plain gentleman, living in the country, of perfectly identical ideas with those of the squire on all imaginable topics, gifted too (we will not say with quite his princely rent-roll, but at any rate) with sundry like advantages in the way of decent affluence, pleasant scenery, an old house, a good wife, and fair children--with plenty of similar adventures and circumstantials--and the necessary proportion of highwaymen, radicals, rascals, and schismatics dotted all about his neighbourhood, the idea would seem, to say the least, somewhat egotistic. but why may not humble individualities be generalized in grander shapes? why not glorify the picture of a cottage with colouring of turner's most imaginative palette? an author, like an artist, seldom does his work well unless he has nature before him: exalted and idealized, the roman beggar goes forth a jupiter, and country wenches help a howard to his naiads. nevertheless, let the squire and his train pass us by, indefinite as banquo's progeny: let his beautiful home be sublimely indistinct; even such are martin's ætherial cities: the thought shall rest unfructified at present--a mummied, vital seed. the review is over, and the squire's troop of yeomanry not required: so let them wait till next year's muster. * * * * * few novelties are more called for, in this halcyon age of authorship, this summer season for the sosii, this every-day-a-birth-day for some five-and-twenty books, than the establishment of a recognised literary tribunal, some judgment-hall of master spirits, from whose calm, unhurried, unbiased verdict, there should be no appeal. far, very far be it from me to arraign modern reviewers either of partialities or incapacity; indeed, it is probable that few men of high talent, character, and station, have not, at some time or other, temporarily at least contributed to swell their ranks: moreover, from one they have treated so magnanimously, they shall not get the wages of ingratitude; they have been kind to my dear book-children, and i--_don't be so curious_--thank them for their courtesy with all a father's feeling toward the liberal friends of his sons and daughters. speaking generally, (for, not to flatter any class of men, truly there are rogues in all,) i am bold to call them candid, honest, clever men; quite superior, as a body, to every thing like bribery and corruption, and, with human limitations, little influenced by motives, either of prejudice or favour. for indefatigable industry, unexampled patience, and powers of mind very far above what are commonly attributed to them, i, for my humble judgment, would give our periodical journalists their honourable due: i am playing no aberdeenshire game of mutual scratching; i am too hardened now in the ways of print to be much more than indifferent as to common praise or censure; that honey-moon is over with me, when a laudatory article in some kindly magazine sent a thrill from eye to heart, from heart to shoe-sole understanding: i no longer feel rancorous with inveterate wrath against a poor editor whose faint praise, impotent to d----, has yet abundant force to induce a hearty return of the compliment: like some case-hardened rock, so little while ago but soft young coral, the surges may lash me, but leave no mark; the sun may shine, but cannot melt me. argal, as the clown says, is my verdict honest: and further now to prove it so, shall come the limitations. with all my gratitude and right good feeling to our diurnal and hebdomadal amusers and instructors, i cannot but consider that gazette and newspaper reviewers are insufficient and unsatisfactory judges of literature, if not indeed sometimes erring guides to the public taste; the main cause of this consisting in the essential rapidity of their composition. there is not--from the multiplicity of business to be got through, there cannot be--adequate time allowed for any thing like justice to the claims of each author. periodicals that appear at longer intervals are in all reason more or less excepted from this objection; but by the daily and weekly majority, the labours of a life-time are cursorily glanced at, hastily judged from some isolated passage, summarily found laudable or guilty; and this weak opinion, strongly enough expressed as some compensation in solid superstructure for the sandiness of its foundations, is circulated by thousands over all corners of the habitable world. to say that the public (those so-called reviewers of reviews, but wiser to be looked on only as perusers,) balance all such false verdicts, might indeed be true in the long run, but unfortunately it is not: for first, no run at all, far less a long one, is permitted to the persecuted production; and next, it is notorious, that people think very much as they are told to think. now, i have already stated at too much length that i have no personalities to complain of, no self-interests to serve: for the past i have been well entreated; and for the future, supposing such an unlikelihood as more hypothetical books, i am hard, bold, sanguine, stoical; while, as for the present, though i refuse not my gauntlet to any man, my visor shall be raised by none. but i enter the list for others, my kinsmen in composing. authors, to speak it generally, are an ill-used race, because judged hastily, often superciliously, for evil or for good. it is impossible for the poor public, (who, besides having to earn daily bread, have to wade through all the daily papers,) from mere lack of hours in the day, to entertain any opinions of their own about a book or books: the money to buy them is one objection, the time to read them another; to say less of the capacity, the patience, and the will. without question, they are guided by their teachers; and the grand fault of these is, their everlasting hurry. at another necessary failing of reviewers i would only delicately hint. the royal we is very imposing; for example, the king of magazines, no. , (need i name it?) informs us, p. , "we happen to have now in wear a good long coat of imperial gray," &c.; and some fifteen lines lower down, "we are now mending our pen with a small knife," and so forth: now all this grandiloquence serves to conceal the individual; and to reduce my other great objection to a single letter, let us only recollect that this powerful, this despotic we, is, being interpreted, nothing but an i by itself, a simple scribe, a single and plebeian number one. a mere unit, an anonymous, irresponsible unit, dissects in a quarter of an hour the grand result of some ten years; and this momentary influence on one man's mind, (perhaps wearied, or piqued, or biased, or haply unskilled in the point at issue, but at all events inevitably in a hurry to jump at a conclusion,) this light accidental impression is sounded forth to the ends of the earth, and leads public opinion in a verdict of thunder. and as for yon impertinent parenthesis--or pertinent, as some will say--give me grace thus blandly to suggest a possibility. the mighty editorial we, upon whose authoritative tones the world's opinion will probably be pivoted--whose pen by casual ridicule or as casual admiration makes or mars the fortune of some pains-taking literary labourer--whose dictum carelessly dispenses local honour or disgrace, and has before now by sharp sarcasms, speaking daggers though using none, even killed more than one over-sensitive keats--this monarchic we is but a frail mortal, liable at least to "some of the imperfections of our common nature, gentlemen," as, for example, to be morose, impatient, splenetic, and the more if over-worked. neither should i waive in this place, in this my rostrum of blunt, plain speech, the many censurable cases, unhappily too well authenticated, where personal enmity has envenomed the reviewing pen against a writer, and stabs in the dark have wounded good men's fame. neither, again, those other instances where reviewers, not being omniscient, (yet is their knowledge most various and brilliant,) having been from want of specific information incompetent to judge of the matters in question, have striven to shroud their ignorance of the greater topic in clamorous attacks of its minor incidents; burrowing into a mound if they cannot force a breach through the rampart; and mystifying things so cleverly with doubts, that we cannot see the blessed sun himself for very fog. now really, good folk, all this should be amended: would that the we were actually plural; would that we had a well-selected bench of literary judges; would that some higher sort of stationers' hall or athenæum were erected into an acknowledged tribunal of an author's merits or demerits; would that, to wish the very least, the wholesome practice of a well-considered imprimatur were revived! let famous men, whose reputation is firm-fixed--our wordsworths, hallams, campbells, crolys, wilsons, bulwers, and the like--decide in the case of at least all who desire such decision. i suppose, as no one in these selfish times will take trouble without pay, that either the judges should be numbered among state pensioners, or that each work so calmly examined must produce its regular fee: but these are after-considerations; and be sure no writer will grudge a guinea for calm, unbought, unsuspected justice bestowed upon his brain-child. let all those members of the tribunal, deciding by ballot, (here in an assembly where all are good, great, and honest, i shrink not from that word of evil omen,) judge, as far as possible, together and not separately, of all kinds of literature: i would not have poets sentencing all the poetry, historians all the history, novelists all the novels, and theologists all the works upon religion; for humanity is at the best infirm, and motives little searchable; but let all judge equally in a sort of open court. the machinery might be difficult, and i cannot show its workings in so slight an essay; but surely it is a strange thing in civilization, and a stranger when we consider what literature does for us, blessing our world or banning it--it is a wonder and a shame that books of whatever tendency are so cast forth upon the waters to sink or swim at hazard. i acknowledge, friend, your present muttering, utopian! arcadian! formosan! to be not ill-founded: the sketch is a hasty one; but though it may have somewhat in common with the vagaries of sir thomas more, sir philip sidney, and that king in impudence, george psalmanazar, still i stand upon this ground, that many an ill-used author wants protection, and that society, for its own sake as well as his, ought to supply a court for literary reputation. some poor man the other day, and in a reputable journal too, had five new-born tragedies strangled and mangled in as many lines: we need not suppose him a shakspeare, but he might have been one for aught of evidence given to the contrary; at any rate, five at once, five mortal tragedies, (so puppy-fashion born and drowned,) must, however carelessly executed, have been the offspring of no common mind. again, how often is not a laborious historiographer, particularly if of contrary politics, dismissed with immediate contempt, because, perchance, in his three full volumes, he has admitted two false dates, or haply mistakes the christened name of some spanish admiral! once more, how continually are not critical judgments falsified by the very extracts on which they rest! how often the pet passage of one review is the stock butt of another! here you will say is cure and malady together, like viper's fat and fang: i trow not; mainly because not one man in a thousand takes the trouble to judge for himself. but it is needless to enumerate such instances; every man's conscience or his memory will supply examples wholesale: therefore, maltreated authors, bear witness to your own wrongs: jealously regarded by a struggling brotherhood, cruelly baited by self-constituted critics, the rejected of publishers, the victimized by booksellers, the garbled in statement, misinterpreted in meaning, suspected of friends, persecuted by foes--"o that mine enemy would write a book!" it is to put a neck into a noose, to lie quietly in the grove of dr. guillot's humane prescription: or, if not quite so tragical as this, it is at least to sit voluntarily in the stocks with sir hudibras, and dare the world's contempt; while fashionable--or unfashionable idiots, who are scarcely capable of a grammatical answer to a dinner invitation, (those formidably confounded he's and him's!)--think themselves privileged to join some inane laugh against a clever, but not yet famous, author, because, forsooth, one character in his novel may be an old acquaintance, or one epithet in a long poem may be weak, indelicate, tasteless, or foolish, or one philosophical fact in an essay is misstated, or one statistical conclusion seems to be exaggerated. it is perfectly paltry to behold stupid fellows, whose intellects against your most ordinary scribe vary from a rush-light to a "long four," as compared with a roasting, roaring kitchen-fire, affecting contemptuously to look down upon some unjustly neglected or mercilessly castigated labourer in the brick-fields of literature, for not being--can he help it?--a first-rate author, or because one reviewer in seven thinks he might have done his subject better justice. take my word for it--if indeed i can be a fair witness--the man who has written a book, is above the unwriting average, and, as such, should be ranked mentally above them: no light research, and tact, and industry, and head-and-hand labour, are sufficient for a volume; even certain stolid performances in print do not shake my judgment; for arrant blockheads as sundry authors undoubtedly are, the average (mark, not all men, but the average) unwriting man is an author's intellectual inferior. all men, however well capable, have not perchance the appetite, nor the industry, nor the opportunity to fabricate a volume; nor, supposing these requisites, the moral courage (for moral courage, if not physical, must form part of an author's mind,) to publish the lucubration: but "i magnify mine office" above the unnumbered host of unwriting, uninformed, loose, unlettered gentry, who (as full of leisure as a cabbage, and as overflowing with redundant impudence as any radical mob,) mainly tend to form by their masses the average penless animal-man, who could not hold a candle to any the most mediocre of the marsyas-used authors of haply this week's journals. spare them, victorious apollos, spare! if libels that diminish wealth be punishable, is there no moral guilt in those legalized libels that do their utmost to destroy a character for wisdom, wit, learning, industry, and invention?--critical flayer, try thou to write a book; learn experimentally how difficult, yet relieving; how nervous, yet gladdening; how ungracious, yet very sweet; how worldly-foolish, yet most wise; how conversant with scorn, yet how noble and ennobling an attribute of man, is--authorship. all this rhetoric, impatient friend--and be a friend still, whether writer, reviewer, or unauthorial--serves at my most expeditious pace, opposing notions considered, to introduce what is (till to-morrow, or perhaps the next coming minute, but at any rate for this flitting instant of time,) my last notion of possible, but not probable, authorship: a rhodomontade oration, rather than an essay, after my own desultory and yet determinate fashion, to have been entituled--so is it spelled by act of parliament, and therefore let us in charity hope rightly--to have been entituled then, the author's tribunal; a court of appeal against amateur and connoisseur criticisms: and (the present being the next minute whereof i spake above) there has just hopped into my mind another taking title, which i generously present to any smarting scribe who may meditate a prose version of '_english bards and scotch reviewers_'--_videlicet_, zoilomastrix. at length then have i liberty to yawn--a freedom whereof doubtless my readers have long been liverymen: i have written myself and my inkstand dry as rosamond's pond; my brain is relieved, recreated, emptied; i go no longer heavily, as one that mourneth; and with gleeful face can i assure you that your author's mind is once again as light as his heart: but when crowding fancies come thick upon it, they bow it, and break it, and weary it, as clouds of pigeons settling gregariously on a trans-atlantic forest; and when those thronging thoughts are comfortably fixed on paper, one feels, as an apple-tree may be supposed to feel, all the difference between the heavy down-dragging crop of autumn and the winged aërial blossom of sweet spring-tide. an involuntary author, just eased for the time of ever-exacting and accumulating notions, can sympathize with holiday-making atlas, chuckling over a chance so lucky as the transfer of his pack to hercules; and can comprehend the relief it must have been to that foolish sage in rasselas, when assured that he no longer was afflicted with the care of governing a galaxy of worlds. some people are born to talk, with an incessant tongue illustrating perpetuity of motion in the much-abused mouth; some to indite solid continuous prose, with a labour-loving pen ever tenanting the hand; but i clearly was born a zoölogical anomaly, _with a pen in my mouth_, a sort of serpent-tongue. heaven give it wisdom, and put away its poison! such being my character from birth, a paper-gossip, a writer from the cradle, i ought not demurely to apologize for nature's handicraft, nor excuse this light affliction of chattering in print.--who asks you to read it?--neither let me cast reflections on your temper or your intellect by too humble exculpation of this book of many themes; or must i then regard you as those sullen children in the market-place, whom piping cannot please, and sorrow cannot soften? and now, friend, i've done. require not, however shrewd your guess, my acknowledgment of this brain-child; forgive all unintended harms; supply what is lacking in my charities; politically, socially, authorially, think that i bigotize in theoretic fun, but am incarnate tolerance for practical earnest. and so, giving your character fairer credit than if i feared you as one of those captious cautious people who make a man offender for an ill-considered word; commending to the cordial warmth of humanity my unhatched score and more of book-eggs, to perfect which i need an eccaleobion of literature; and scorning, as heartily as any sioux chief, to prolong palaver, when i have nothing more to say; suffer me thus courteously to take of you my leave. and forasmuch as lord chesterfield recommends an exit to be heralded by a pungent speech, let me steal from quaint old norris the last word wherewith i trouble you: "these are my thoughts; i might have spun them out into a greater length, but that i think a little plot of ground, thick-sown, is better than a great field, which for the most part of it lieth fallow." appendix. an after-thought. it will be quite in keeping with your author's mind, and consistently characteristic of his desultory indoles--(not indolence, pray you, good anglican, albeit thereunto akin,)--if after having thus formally taken his _congé_ with the help of a petronius so redoubtable as chesterfield, he just steps back again to induce you to have another last ramble. now, the wherefore of this might sentimentally be veiled, were i but little honest, in professed attachment for my amiable reader, as though with romeo i cried, "parting in such sweet sorrow, that i could say farewell till it be morrow;" or it might be extenuated cacoethically, as though a new crop of fancies were sprung up already, an after-math rank and wild, before the gladdening shower of commendation has yet freshened-up my brown hay-field: or it might be disguised falsely, as if a parcel of precious mss. had been lost by penny-postage, or stolen in the purlieus of shoe-lane; but, instead of all these unworthy subterfuges, the truth shall be told plainly; we are yet too short by a sheet (so hints our publishing procrustes) of the marketable volume. accordingly, whether or not in this booklet your readership has already found seed sufficient for cyclopædias, i am free to admit that the expectant butter-man at least has not his legitimate post-octavo allowance of three hundred pages; and to fill this aching void as cleverly and quickly as i can, is my first object in so rapid a return. that honesty is the best policy, deny who dare? still it is competent for me to confess worthier objects, (although, in point of their arising, they were secondary,) as further illustrative of my '_author's mind_' shown in other specimens; for example, a linsey-woolsey tapestry of many colours shall be hung upon the end of this arcade; the last few trees in this poor avenue shall bear the flowers of poetry as well as the fruit of prose; my swan (o, dub it not a goose!) would, like a _prima-donna_, go off this theatre of fancy, singing. and again, suffer me, good friend, to think your charity still willing to be pleased: many weary pages back, i offered you to part with me in peace, if you felt small sympathies with a rambler so whimsical and lawless; surely, having walked together kindly until now, we shall not quarrel at the last. empty, however--empty, and rejoicing in its unthoughtful emptiness--have i boasted this my head but a page or two ago; and that boast, for all the critic's sneer, that no one will deny it, shall not be taken from me by renewal of determined meditations; now that my house is swept and garnished, i would not beckon back those old inhabitants. neither let me heed so lightly of your intellect, as to hope to satisfy its reading with the scanty harvest of a _soil effete_; this license of writing up to measure shall not show me sterile, any more than that emancipation shall, by indulgence of thought, be disenchanted. and now to solve the problem: not to think, for my mind is in a regimen of truancy; not to fail in pleasing, if it be possible, the great world's implacable palate, therefore to eschew dilution of good liquor; and yet to render up in fair array the fitting tale of pages: well, if i may not metaphysically draw upon internal resources, i can at least externally and physically resort to yonder--desk; (drawer would have savoured of the punic, which scipio and i blot out with equal hate;) for therein lie _perdus_ divers poeticals i fain would see in print; yea, start not at "poeticals," carp not at the threatening sound, for verily, even as carp--so called from _carpere_, to catch if you can, and the saxon capp, to cavil, because when caught they don't pay for mastication--even as carp, a muddy fish, difficult to hook, and provocate of hostile criticism, conceals its lack of savour in the flavour of port-wine--even so shall strong prose-sauce be served up with my poor dozen of sonnets: and ye who would uncharitably breathe that they taste stronger of lethe's mud than of helicon's sweet water, treat me to a better dish, or carp not at my fishing. imagination, as i need not tell psychologists by this time, is my tyrant; i cannot sleep, nor sit out a sermon, nor remember yesterday, nor read in peace, (how calm in blessed quiet people seem to read!) without the distraction of a thousand fancies: i hold this an infirmity, not an accomplishment; a thing to be conquered, not to be coveted: and still i love it, suffering those chains of gossamer to wind about me, that seductive honey-jar yet again to trap me, like some poor insect; thus then my foolish idolatry heretofore hath hailed imagination. my fond first love, sweet mistress of my mind, thy beautiful sublimity hath long charm'd mine affections, and entranced my song, thou spirit-queen, that sit'st enthroned, enshrined within this suppliant heart; by day and night my brain is full of thee: ages of dreams, thoughts of a thousand worlds in visions bright, fear's dim terrific train, guilt's midnight schemes, strange peeping eyes, soft smiling fairy faces, dark consciousness of fallen angels nigh, sad converse with the dead, or headlong races down the straight cliffs, or clinging on a shelf of brittle shale, or hunted thro' the sky!-- o, god of mind, i shudder at myself! now, friend reader, you have accustomed yourself to think that every thing in rhyme, _i. e._, poetry, as you somewhat scornfully call it, must be false: and i am sorry to be obliged to grant you that a leaning towards plain matter-of-fact, is no wise characteristic of metrical enthusiasts. but believe me for a truth-teller; that sonnet (did you read it?) hints at some fearful verities; and that you may further apprehend this sweet ideal mistress of your author's mind, suffer me to introduce to your acquaintance imagination personified. dread monarch-maid, i see thee now before me, searching my soul with those mysterious eyes, spell-bound i stand, thy presence stealing o'er me, while all unnerved my trembling spirit dies: oh, what a world of untold wonder lies within thy silent lips! how rare a light of conquer'd joys and ecstasies repress'd beneath thy dimpled cheek shines half-confess'd! in what luxuriant masses, glossy bright, those raven locks fall shadowing thy fair breast! and, lo! that bursting brow, with gorgeous wings, and vague young forms of beauty coyly hiding in thy crisp curls, like cherubs there abiding-- charmer, to thee my heart enamour'd springs. such, then, and of me so well beloved, is that abstracted platonism. but verily the fear of imagination would far outbalance any love of it, if crime had peopled for a man that viewless world with spectres, and the medusa-head of justice were shaking her snakes in his face. and, by way of a parergon observation, how terrible, most terrible, to the guilty soul must be the solitary silent system now so popular among those cold legislative schemers, who have ground the poor man to starvation, and would hunt the criminal to madness! how false is that political philosophy which seeks to reform character by leaving conscience caged up in loneliness for months, to gnaw into its diseased self, rather than surrounding it with the wholesome counsels of better living minds. it is not often good for man to be alone: and yet in its true season, (parsimoniously used, not prodigally abused,) solitude does fair service, rendering also to the comparatively innocent mind precious pleasures: religion prësupposed, and a judgment strong enough of muscle to rein-in the coursers of imagination's car, i judge it good advice to prescribe for most men an occasional course of solitude. therefore delight thy soul in solitude, feeding on peace; if solitude it be to feel that million creatures, fair and good, with gracious influences circle thee; to hear the mind's own music; and to see god's glorious world with eyes of gratitude, unwatch'd by vain intruders. let me shrink from crowds, and prying faces, and the noise of men and merchandise; far nobler joys than chill society's false hand hath given, attend me when i'm left alone to think. to think--alone?--ah, no, not quite alone; save me from that--cast out from earth and heaven, a friendless, godless, isolated one! but of these higher metaphysicals, these fancy-bred extravagations, perhaps somewhat too much: you will dub me dreamer, if not proser--or rather, poet, as the more modern reproach. let us then, by way of clearing our mind at once of these hallucinations, go forth quickly into the fresh green fields, and expatiate with glad hearts on these full-blown glories of summer. warm summer! yes, the very word is warm; the hum of bees is in it, and the sight of sunny fountains glancing silver light, and the rejoicing world, and every charm of happy nature in her hour of love, fruits, flowers, and flies, in rainbow-glory bright: the smile of god glows graciously above, and genial earth is grateful; day by day old faces come again with blossoms gay, gemming in gladness meadow, garden, grove: haste with thy harvest, then, my softened heart, awake thy better hopes of better days, bring in thy fruits and flowers of thanks and praise, and in creation's pæan take thy part. how different in sterner beauty was the landscape not long since! the energies of universal life prisoned up in temporary obstruction; every black hedge-row tufted with woolly snow, like some egyptian mother mourning for her children; shrubs and plants fettered up in glittering chains, motionless as those stone-struck feasters before the head of gorgon; and the dark-green fir-trees swathed in heavy curtains of iridescent whiteness. contrast is ever pleasurable; therefore we need scarcely apologize for an ice in the dog-days--i mean for this present unseasonable introduction of dead winter. as some fair statue, white and hard and cold, smiling in marble, rigid, yet at rest, or like some gentle child of beauteous mould, whose placid face and softly swelling breast are fixed in death, and on them bear imprest his magic seal of peace--so, frozen, lies the loveliness of nature: every tree stands hung with lace against the clear blue skies; the hills are giant waves of glistering snow; rare and northern fowl, now strangely tame to see, with ruffling plumage cluster on the bough, and tempt the murderous gun; mouse-like, the wren hides in the new-cut hedge; and all things now fear starving winter more than cruel men. ay, "cruel men:" that truest epithet for monarch-man must be the tangent from which my pegasus shall strike his hoof for the next flight. who does not writhe while reading details of cruelty, and who would not rejoice to find even there somewhat of consolation? scholar of reason, grace, and providence, restrain thy bursting and indignant tears; with tenderest might unerring wisdom steers through those mad seas the bark of innocence. doth thy heart burn for vengeance on the deed-- some barbarous deed wrought out by cruelty on woman, or on famish'd childhood's need, yea, on these fond dumb dogs--doth thy heart bleed for pity, child of sensibility? those tears are gracious, and thy wrath most right yet patience, patience; there is comfort still; the judge is just; a world of love and light remains to counterpoise the load of ill, and the poor victim's cup with angel's food to fill. for, as my psycotherion has long ago informed you, i hope there is some sort of heaven yet in reserve for the brute creation: if otherwise, in respect of costermongers' donkeys, kamskatdales' gaunt starved dogs, the guacho's horse, spurred deep with three-inch rowels, the angler's worm, strasburgh geese, and poor footsore curs harnessed to ill-balanced trucks--for all these and many more i, for one, sadly stand in need of consolation. meanwhile, let us change the subject. after a dose of cruel cogitations, and this corrupting converse with phalaris and domitian, what better sweetener of thoughts than an "olive-branch" in the waters of marah? spend a moment in the nursery; it is happily fashionable now, as well as pleasurable, to sport awhile with nature's prettiest playthings; the praises of children are always at the tip of my--pen, that is, tongue, you remember, and often have i told the world, in all the pride of print, of my fond infantile predilections: then let this little chanson be added to the rest; we will call it margaret. a song of gratitude and cheerful prayer still shall go forth my pretty babes to greet, as on life's firmament, serenely fair, their little stars arise, with aspects sweet of mild successive radiance: that small pair, ellen and mary, having gone before in this affection's welcome, the dear debt here shall be paid to gentle margaret: be thou indeed a pearl--in pureness, more than beauty, praise, or price; full be thy cup, mantling with grace, and truth with mercy met, with warm and generous charities flowing o'er; and when the great king makes his jewels up, shine forth, child-angel, in his coronet! and while hovering about this fairy-land of sweet-home scenery, and confessing thankfully to these domestic affections, your author knows one heart at least that will be gladdened, one face that will be brightened by the following birth-day prayer. mother, dear mother, no unmeaning rhyme, no mere ingenious compliment of words, my heart pours forth at this auspicious time: i know a simple honest prayer affords more music on affection's thrilling cords, more joy, than can be measured or express'd in song most sweet, or eloquence sublime. mother, i bless thee! god doth bless thee too! in these thy children's children thou _art_ blest, with dear old pleasures springing up anew: and blessings wait upon thee still, my mother! blessings to come, this many a happy year; for, losing thee, where could we find another so kind, so true, so tender, and--so dear? is it an impertinence--i speak etymologically--to have dropped that sonnet here?--be it as you will, my zoilus; let me stand convicted of honesty and love: i ask no higher praise in this than to have pleased my mother. * * * * * penman as i am, have been, and shall be, innumerable letters have grown beneath my goose-quill. who cannot say the same indeed? for in these patriotic days, for mere country's love and post-office prosperity, every body writes to every body about every thing, or, as oftener happens, about nothing. nevertheless, i wish some kind pundit would invent a corrosive ink, warranted to consume a letter within a week after it had been read and answered: then should we have fewer of those ephemeral documents treasured up in pigeon-holes, and docketed correspondence for possible publication. not byron, nor lamb, nor west, nor gray, with all their epistolary charms, avail to persuade my prejudice that it is honest to publish a private letter: if written with that view, the author is a hypocrite in his friendships; if not so, the decent veil of privacy is torn from social life, confidence is rebuked, betrayed, destroyed; and the suspicion of eaves-droppings and casual scribblings to be posthumously printed, makes silence truly wisdom, and grim reserve a virtue. this public appetite for secret information, and, if possible, for hinted scandal--this unhallowed spirit of outward curiosity trespassing upon the sacred precincts of a man's own circle--is to the real author's mind a thing to be feared, if he is weak--to be circumspectly watched, if he is wise. such is the present hunger for this kind of reading, that it would be diffidence, not presumption, in the merest school-boy to dread the future publication of his holiday letters; who knows--i may jump scathless from the monument, or in these popish times become excommunicated by special bull, or fly round the world in a balloon, or attain to the authorship of forty volumes, or be half-smothered by a valet-de-place, or get indicted for inveterate toryism, or any how, i may--notwithstanding all present obscurities that intervene--wake one of these fine mornings, and find myself famous: and what then? the odds at tattersall's would be twelve to one that sundry busy-bodies, booksellers or otherwise, would scrape together with malice prepense, and keep _câchet_ for future print, a multitude of careless scrawls that should have been burnt within an hour of the reading. now, is not this a thing to be exclaimed against? and, utterly improbable on the ground of any merit in themselves as i should judge their publication (but for certain stolidities of the same sort, that often-times have wearied me in print), i choose to let my author's mind here enter its eternal protest against any such treachery regarding private letters. tear, scatter, burn, destroy--but keep them not; i hate, i dread those living witnesses of varying self, of good or ill forgot, of altered hopes, and withered kindnesses. oh! call not up those shadows of the dead, those visions of the past, that idly blot the present with regret for blessings fled: this hand that wrote, this ever-teeming head, this flickering heart is full of chance and change; i would not have you watch my weaknesses, nor how my foolish likings roam and range, nor how the mushroom friendships of a day hastened in hot-bed ripeness to decay, nor how to mine own self i grow so strange. so anathema to editors, maranatha to publishers of all such hypothetical post-obits! * * * * * every one can comprehend something of an author's ease, when he sees his manuscript in print: it is safe; no longer a treasure uninsurable, no longer a locked-up care: it is emancipated, glorified, incapable of real extermination; it has reached a changeless condition; the chrysalis of illegible cacography has burst its bonds, and flies living through the world on the wings of those true dædali, faust, and gutenberg: the transition-state is passed: henceforth for his brain-child set free from that nervous slumber, its parent calmly can expect the oblivion of no more than a death-like sleep, if he be not indeed buoyed up with certain hope of immortality. "'tis pleasant sure to see one's self in print," is the adequate cause for ninety books out of a hundred; and, though zeal might be the ostentatious stalking-horse, my candour shall give no better excuse for the fourteen lines that follow; they require but this preface: a most venerable chapel of old time, picturesque and full of interest, is dropping to decay, within a mile of me; where it is, and whose the fault, are askings improper to be answered: nevertheless, i cast upon the waters this meagre morsel of appeal. shame on thee, christian, cold and covetous one! the laws (i praise them not for this) declare that ancient, loved, deserted house of prayer as money's worth a layman landlord's own. then use it as thine own; thy mansion there beneath the shadow of this ruinous church stands new and decorate; thine every shed and barn is neat and proper; i might search thy comfortable farms, and well despair of finding dangerous ruin overhead, and damp unwholesome mildew on the walls: arouse thy better self: restore it; see, through thy neglect the holy fabric falls! fear, lest that crushing guilt should fall on thee. i fear much, poor book, this finale of jingling singing will jar upon the public ear; all men must shrink from a lengthy snake with a rattle in its tail: and this ballast a-stern of over-ponderous poetry may chance to swamp so frail a skiff. but i have promised a dozen sonnets in this after-thought appendix; yea, and i will keep that promise at all mortal hazards, even to the superadded unit proverbial of dispensing fornarinas. ten have been told off fairly, and now we come upon the gay court-cards. after so much of villanous political ferment, society returns at length to its every-day routine, heedful of other oratory than harangues from the hustings, and glad of other reading than figurative party-speeches. yet am i bold to recur, just for a thought or two, to my whilom patriotic hopes and fears: fears indeed came first upon me, but hopes finally out-voted them: briefly, then, begin upon the worst, and endure, with what patience you possess, this creaky stave of bitter politics. chill'd is the patriot's hope, the poet's prayer: alas for england, and her tarnish'd crown, her sun of ancient glory going down, her foes triumphant in her friends' despair: what wonder should the billows overwhelm a bark so mann'd by comus and his crew, "youth at the prow, and pleasure at the helm?" yet, no!--we will not fear; the loathing realm at length has burst its chains; a motley few, the pseudo-saint, the boasting infidel, the demagogue, and courtier, hand in hand no more besiege our zion's citadel: but high in hope comes on this nobler band for god, the sovereign, and our father-land. that last card, you may remember, must reckon as the knave; and therefore is consistently regarding an ominous trisyllable, which rhymes to "knavish tricks" in the national anthem; our suit now leads us in regular succession to the queen, a topic (it were milesian to say a subject) whereon now, as heretofore, my loyalty shall never be found lacking. in old rome's better antiquity, a slave was commissioned to whisper counsel in the ear of triumphant generals or emperors; and, in old england's less enlightened youth, a baubled fool was privileged to blurt out verities, which bearded wisdom dared not hint at. now, i boast myself free, a citizen of no mean city--my commission signed by duty--my counsel guarantied by truth: and if, o still intruding zoilus, the liberality of your nature provokes you to class me truly in the family of fools, let your antiquarian ignorance of those licensed gothamites blush at its abortive malice; the arrow of your sarcasm bounds from my target blunted; pick up again the harmless reed: for, not to insist upon the prevalence of knaves, and their moral postponement to mere lack-wits, let me tell you that wise men, and good men, and shrewd men, were those ancient baubled fools: therefore would i gladly be thought of their fraternity. but our twelfth sonnet is waiting, save the mark! stay: there ought to intervene a solemn pause; for your author's mind, on the spur of the occasion, pours forth an unpremeditated song of free-spoken, uncompromising, patriotic counsel; let its fervency atone for its presumption bold in my freedom, yet with homage meek, as duty prompts and loyalty commands, to thee, o, queen of empires! would i speak. behold, the most high god hath giv'n to thee kingdoms and glories, might and majesty, setting thee ruler over many lands; him first to serve, o monarch, wisely seek: and many people, nations, languages, have laid their welfare in thy sovereign hands; them next to bless, to prosper and to please, nobly forget thyself, and thine own ease: rebuke ill-counsel; rally round thy state the scattered good, and true, and wise, and great: so heav'n upon thee shed sweet influences! and now for my raffaellesque disguise of a vulgar baker's twelve, the largess muffin of mistress fornarina: thirteen cards to a suit, and thirteen to the dozen, are proverbially the correct thing; but, as in regular succession i have come upon the king card, i am free to confess--(pen, why will you repeat again such a foolish, stale joe-millerism?)--the subject a dilemma. natheless, my good nature shall give a royal chance to criticism most malign: whether candour acknowledge it or not, doubtless the author's mind reigns dominant in the author's book; and, notwithstanding the self-silence of blind mæonides, (a right notable exception,) it holds good as a rule that the majority of original writings, directly or indirectly, concern a man's own self; his whims and his crotchets, his knowledge and his ignorance, wisdom and folly, experiences and suspicions, therein find a place prepared for them. scott's life naturally produced his earlier novels; in the '_corsair_,' the '_childe_,' and the '_don_,' no one can mistake the hero-author; southey's works, shelley's, and wordsworth's, are full of adventure, feeling, and fancy, personal to the writers, at least equally with the sonnets of petrarch or of shakspeare. and as with instances illustrious as those, so with all humbler followers, the skiffs, pinnaces, and heavy barges in the wake of those gallant ships: an author's library, and his friends, his hobbies and amusements, business and pleasure, fears and wishes, accidents of life, and qualities of soul, all mingle in his writings with a harmonizing individuality; nay, the very countenance and hand-writing, alike with choice of subject and style and method of their treatment, illustrate, in one word, the author's mind. these things being so, what hinders it from occupying, as in honesty it does, the king's place in this pack of sonnets? nevertheless, forasmuch as by such occupancy an ill-tempered sarcasm might charge it with conceit; know then that my humbler meaning here is to put it lowest and last, even in the place of wooden-spoon; for this also (being mindful of the twelve apostle-spoons from old time antecedent) is a legitimate thirteener: and so, while in extricating my muse from the folly of serenading a non-existent king, i have candidly avowed the general selfishness of printing, believe that, in this avowal, i take the lowest seat, so well befitting one of whom it may ungraciously be asked, where do fools buy their logic? list, then, oh list! while generically, not individually i claim for authorship the cathedral mind. temple of truths most eloquently spoken, shrine of sweet thoughts veiled round with words of power, the '_author's mind_,' in all its hallowed riches, stands a cathedral: full of precious things; tastefully built in harmonies unbroken, cloister, and aisle, dark crypt, and aëry tower: long-treasured relics in the fretted niches, and secret stores, and heap'd-up offerings, art's noblest gems, with every fruit and flower, paintings and sculpture, choice imaginings, its plenitude of wealth and praise betoken: an ever-burning lamp portrays the soul; deep music all around enchantment flings; and god's great presence consecrates the whole. now at length, in all verity, i have said out my say: nor publisher nor printer shall get more copy from me: neither, indeed, would it before have been the case, for all that damastic argument, were it not that many beginnings--and you remember my proverbial preliminarizing--should, for mere antithesis' sake, be endowed with a counterpoise of many endings. so, in this second parting, let me humbly suggest to gentle reader these: that nothing is at once more plebeian and unphilosophical than--censure, in a world where nothing can be perfect, and where apathy is held to be good-breeding; _item_, (i am quoting scott,) that "it is much more easy to destroy than to build, to criticise than to compose;" _item_, (sir walter again, _ipsissima verba_, in a letter to miss seward,) that there are certain literary "gentlemen who appear to be a sort of tinkers, who, unable to _make_ pots and pans, set up for _menders_ of them, and often make two holes in patching one;" _item_, that in such possible cases as "exercise" for "exorcise," "repeat" for "repent," "depreciate" for "deprecate," and the like, an indifferent scribe is always at the mercy of compositors; and lastly, that if it is, by very far, easier to read a book than to write one, it is also, by at least as much, worthier of a noble mind to give credit for good intentions, rather than for bad, or indifferent, or none at all, even where hyper-criticism may appear to prove that the effort itself has been a failure. * * * * * probabilities; an aid to faith. by martin farquhar tupper, a.m., f.r.s. the author of "proverbial philosophy almost thou persuadest me to be a christian." * * * * * contents subjects. page. an aid to faith god and his attributes the triunity the godhead visible the origin of evil cosmogony adam the fall the flood noah babel job joshua the incarnation mahometanism romanism the bible heaven and hell an offer conclusion an aid to faith. the certainty of those things which most surely are believed among us, is a matter quite distinct from their antecedent probability or improbability. we know, and take for facts, that cromwell and napoleon existed, and are persuaded that their characters and lives were such as history reports them: but it is another thing, and one eminently calculated to disturb any disbeliever of such history, if a man were enabled to show, that, from the condition of social anarchy, there was an antecedent likelihood for the use of military despots; that, from the condition of a popular puritanism, or a popular infidelity, it was previously to have been expected that such leaders should have the several characteristics of a bigoted zeal for religion, or a craving appetite for worldly glory; that, from the condition liable to revolutions, it was probable to find such despots arising out of the middle class; and that, from the condition of reaction incidental to all human violences, there was a clear expectability that the power of such military monarchs should not be continued to their natural heirs. such a line of argument, although in no measure required for the corroboration of facts, might have considerable power to persuade _à priori_ the man, who had not hitherto seen reason to credit such facts from posterior evidence. it would have rolled away a great stone, which to such a mind might otherwise have stood as a stumbling-block on the very threshold of truth. it would have cleared off a heavy mist, which might prevent him from discerning the real nature of the scene in which he stood. it would have shown him that, what others know to be fact, is, even to him who does not know it, become antecedently probable; and that reason is not only no enemy to faith, but is ready and willing to acknowledge its alliance. take a second illustration, by way of preliminary. a woodman, cleaving an oak, finds an iron ball in its centre; he sees the fact, and of course believes; some others believing on his testimony. but a certain village-pundit, habitually sceptical of all marvels, is persuaded that the wonder has been fabricated by our honest woodman; until the parson, a good historian, coming round that way, proclaims it a most interesting circumstance, because it was one naturally to have been expected; for that, here was the spot where, two hundred years ago, a great battle had been fought: and it was no improbability at all that a carbine-bullet should have penetrated a sapling, nor that the tree should thereafter have grown old with the iron at its heart. how unreasonable then would appear the pundit's incredulity, if persisted in: how suddenly enlightened the rational faith of the rustic: how seasonable would be felt the useful learning of him, whose knowledge well applied can thus unfetter truth from the bandages of ignorance. illustrations, if apt, are so well adapted to persuade towards a particular line of argument, that, at the risk of diffuseness, and because minds being various are variously touched, one by one thought and one by another, i think fit to add yet more of a similar tendency: in the hope that, by a natural induction, such instances may smoothe our way. when an eminent living geologist was prosecuting his researches at kirkdale cave, yorkshire, he had calculated so nicely on the antecedent probabilities, that his commands to the labourers were substantially these: "take your mattocks, and pick up that stone flooring; then take your basket, and fill it--with the bones of hyænas and other creatures which you will find there." we may fancy the ridicule wherewith ignorance might have greeted science: but lo, the triumph of philosophy, when its mandate soon assumed a bodily shape in--bushels of bones gnawed as by wild beasts, and here and there a grinning skull that looked like a hyæna's! do we not see how this bears on our coming argument? such a deposit was very unlikely to be found there in the eyes of the unenlightened: but very likely to the wise man's ken. the real probabilities were in favour of a strange fact, though the seeming probabilities were against it. take another. we are all now convinced of the existence of america; and so, some three or four hundred years back, was christopher columbus--but nobody else. alone, he proved that mighty continent so probable, from geometrical measurements, and the balance of the world, and tides, and trade-winds, and casual floatsams driven from some land beneath the setting sun, that he was antecedently convinced of the fact: and it would have been a shock to his reason, as well as to his faith, had he found himself able to sail due west from lisbon to china, without having struck against his huge probability. i purposely abstain from applying every illustration, or showing its specific difference regarding our theme. it is better to lead a mind to think for itself than to endeavour to forestall every notion. another. a kissoor merchant in timbuctoo is told of the existence of water hard and cold as marble. all the experience of his nation is against it. he disbelieves. however, after no long time, the testimony of two native princes who have been _fêted_ in england, and have seen ice, shakes his once not unreasonable incredulity: and the additional idea brought soon to his remembrance, that, as lead cools down from hot fluidity to a solid lump, so, in the absence of solar heat, in all probability would water--corroborates and makes acceptable by analogous likelihood the doctrine simultaneously evidenced by credible witnesses. yet one more illustration for the last. few things in nature appear more unlikely to the illiterate, than that a living toad should be found prisoned in a block of limestone; nevertheless, evidence goes to prove that such cases are not uncommon. now, if, instead of limestone, which is a water-product, the creature had been found embedded in granite, which is a fire-product; although the fact might have been from eye-sight equally unimpeachable, how much more unlikely such a circumstance would have appeared in the judgment of science. to the rustic, the limestone case is as stout a puzzle as the granite one; but _à priori_, the philosopher--taking into account the aqueous fluidity of such a matrix at a period when reptiles were abundant, the torpid qualities of the toad itself, and the fact that time is scarcely an element in the absence of air--arrives at an antecedent probability, which comforts his acceptance of the fact. the granite would have staggered his reason, even though his own experience or the testimony of others were sufficient, nay, imperative, to assure his faith: but in the case of limestone, reason even helps faith; nay, anticipates and leads it in, by suggesting the wonder to be previously probable. how truly, and how strongly this bears upon our theme, let any such philosophizing mind consider. but enough of illustrations: although these, multipliable to any amount, might bring, each in its own case, some specific tendency to throw light upon the path we mean to tread: it is wiser perhaps, as implying more confidence in the reader's intellectual powers, to leave other analogous cases to the suggestion of his own mind; also, not to vex him in every instance with the intrusive finger of an obvious application. meanwhile, it is a just opportunity to clear the way at once of some obstructions, by disposing of a few matters personal to the writer; and by touching upon sundry other preliminary considerations. . the line of thought proposed is intended to show it probable that any thing which has been or is, might, viewed antecedently to its existence, by an exercise of pure reason, have by possibility been guessed: and on the hypothesis of sufficient keenness and experience, that this idea may be carried even to the future. any thing, meaning every thing, is a word not used unadvisedly; for this is merely a suggestive treatise, starting a rule capable of infinite application: and, notwithstanding that we have here and now confined its elucidation to some matters of religious moment only, as occupying a priority of importance, and at all times deserving the lead; still, if knowledge availed, and time and space permitted, i scarcely doubt that a vigorous and illuminated intellect might so far enlarge on the idea, as to show the antecedent probability of every event which has happened in the kingdoms of nature, providence, and grace: nay, of directing his guess at coming matters with no uncertain aim into the realms of the immediate future. the perception of cause in operation enables him to calculate the consequence, even perhaps better than the prophecy of cause could in the prior case enable him to suspect the consequence. but, in this brief life, and under its disturbing circumstances, there is little likelihood of accomplishing in practice all that the swift mind sees it easy to dream in theory: and if other and wiser pens are at all helped in the good aim to justify the ways of god with man, and to clear the course of truth, by some of the notions broadcast in this treatise, its errand will be well fulfilled. . whether or not the leading idea, so propounded, is new, or is new in its application as an auxiliary to christian evidences, the writer is unaware: to his own mind it has occurred quite spontaneously and on a sudden; neither has he scrupled to place it before others with whatever ill advantage of celerity, because it seemed to his own musings to shed a flood of light upon deep truths, which may not prove unwelcome nor unuseful to the doubting minds of many. it is true that in this, as in most other human efforts, the realization of idea in concrete falls far short of its abstract conception in the mind: there, all was clear, quick, and easy; here, the necessity of words, and the constraints of an unwilling perseverance, clog alike the wings of fancy and the feet of sober argument: insomuch that the difference is felt to be quite humiliating between the thoughts as they were thought, and the thoughts as they are written. minerva, springing from the head of jove, is not more unlike the heavily-treading vulcan. . necessarily, that the argument be (so to speak) complete, and on the wise principle that no fortresses be left untaken in the rear, it must be the writer's fate to attempt a demonstration of the anterior probability of truths, which a child of reason can not only now never doubt as fact, but never could have thought improbable. instance the first effort, showing it to have been expectable that there should, in any conceived beginning, have existed a something, a great spirit, whom we call god. to have to argue of the mighty maker, that he was an antecedent probability, would appear a most needless attempt; if it did not occur as the first link in a chain of arguments less open to objection by the thoughtless. with our little light to try to prove _à priori_ the dazzling mystery of a divine tri-unity, might (unreasonably viewed) be assailed as a presumptuous and harmful thing; but it is our wise prerogative, if and when we can, to "prove all things." moreover, we live in a world wherein truth's greatest enemy is the man who shrinks from endeavouring at least to clear away the mists and clouds that veil her precious aspect; and at a time when it behooves the reverent christian to put on his panoply of faith and prayer, and meet in argument, according to the grace and power given to him--not indeed the blaspheming infidel, for such a foe is unreasonable and unworthy of an answer, but--the often candid, anxious, and involuntary doubter; the mind, which, righteously vexed with the thousand corruptions of truth, and sorely disappointed at the conduct of its herd of false disciples, from a generous misconception is embracing error: the mind, never enough tenderly treated, but commonly taunted as a sceptic which yet with a natural manliness asserts the just prerogative of thinking for itself: fairly enough requiring, though rarely finding, evidence either to prop the weakness of a merely educational faith, or to argue away the objections to christianity so rife in the clashing doctrines and unholy lives of its pseudo-sectaries. one of our poets hath said, "he has no hope who never had a fear:" it is quite as true (and take this saying for thy comfort, any harassed misbelieving mind), he has no faith, who never had a doubt. there is hope of a mind which doubts, because it thinks; because it troubles itself to think about what the mass of nominal christians live threescore years and die of very mammonism, without having had one earnest thought about one difficulty, or one misgiving: there is hope of a man, who, not licentious nor scornful, from simple misconception, misbelieves; there is just and reasonable hope that (the misconception once removed) his faith will shine forth all the warmer for a temporary state of winter. to such do i address myself: not presumptuously imagining that i can satisfy by my poor thoughts all the doubts, cavils and objections of minds so keen and curious; not affecting to sail well among the shoals of metaphysics, nor to plumb unerringly the deeper gulphs of reason; but asking them for awhile to bear with me and hear me to the end patiently; with me, convinced of what ([greek: kat' exochên]) is truth, by far surer and stronger arguments than any of the less considerations here expounded as auxiliary thereto; to bear with me, and prove for themselves at this penning of my thoughts (if haply i am helped in such high enterprise), whether indeed those doctrines and histories which the christian world admit, were antecedently improbable, that is, unreasonable: whether, on the contrary, there did not exist, prior to any manifestation of such facts and doctrines, an exceeding likelihood that they would be so and so developed: and whether on the whole, led by reason to the threshold of faith, it may be worth while to encounter other arguments, which have rendered probabilities now certain. . it is very material to keep in memory the only scope and object of this essay. we do not pretend to add one jot of evidence, but only to prepare the mind to receive evidence: we do not attempt to prove facts, but only to accelerate their admission by the removal of prejudice. if a bed-ridden meteorologist is told that it rains, he may or he may not receive the fact from the force of testimony; but he will certainly be more prëdisposed to receive it, if he finds that his weatherglass is falling rather than rising. the fact remains the same, it rains; but the mind--precluded by circumstances from positive personal assurance of such fact, and able only to arrive at truth from exterior evidence--is in a fitter state for belief of the fact from being already made aware that it was probable. let it not then be inferred, somewhat perversely, that because antecedent probabilities are the staple of our present argument, the theme itself, religion, rests upon hypotheses so slender: it rests not at all upon such straws as probabilities, but on posterior evidence far more firm. what we now attempt is not to prop the ark, but favourably to prëdispose the mind of any reckless uzzah, who might otherwise assail it; not to strengthen the weak places of religion, but to annul such disinclination to receive truth, as consists in prejudice and misconception of its likelihood. the goodly ship is built upon the stocks, the platforms are reared, and the cradle is ready; but mistaken prëconceptions may scatter the incline with gravel-stones rather than with grease, and thus put a needless hindrance to the launching: whereas a clear idea that the probabilities are in favour, rather than the reverse, will make all smooth, lubricate, and easy. if, then, we fail in this attempt, no disservice whatever is done to truth itself; no breach is made in the walls, no mine sprung, no battlement dismantled; all the evidences remain as they were; we have taken nothing away. even granting matters seemed anteriorily improbable, still, if evidence proved them true, such anterior unlikelihood would entirely be merged in the stoutly proven facts. moreover, if we be adjudged to have succeeded, we have added nothing to truth itself; no, nor to its outworks. that sacred temple stands complete, firm and glorious from corner-stone to top-stone. we do but sweep away the rubbish at its base; the drifting desert sands that choke its portals. we only serve that cause (a most high privilege), by enlisting a prëjudgment in its favour. we propose herein an auxiliary to evidence, not evidence itself; a finger-post to point the way to faith; a little light of reason on its path. the risk is really nothing; but the advantage, under favour, may be much. . it is impossible to elude the discussion of topics, which in their direct tendencies, or remoter inferences, may, to the author at least, prove dangerous or disputable ground. if a "great door and effectual" is opened to him, doubtless he will raise or meet with many adversaries. besides mere haters of his creed, despisers of his arguments, and protestors, loud and fierce against his errors; he may possibly fall foul of divers unintended heresies; he may stumble unwittingly on the relics of exploded schisms; he may exhume controversies in metaphysical or scholastical polemics, long and worthily extinct. if this be so, he can only plead, _mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa_. but it is open to him also to protest against the common critical folly of making an offender for a word: of driving analogies on all four feet, and straining thoughts beyond their due proportions. above all, never let a reader stir one inch beyond, far less against, his own judgment: if there seem to be sufficient reasons, well: if otherwise, let me walk uncompanied. the first step especially is felt to be a very difficult one; perhaps very debatable: for aught i know, it may be merely a vain insect caught in the cobweb of metaphysics, soon to be destroyed, and easily to be discussed at leisure by some aranean logician. however, it seemed to my midnight musings a probable mode of arriving at truth, though somewhat unsatisfactorily told from poverty of thought and language. moreover, it would have been, in such _à priori_ argument, ridiculous to have commenced by announcing a posterior conclusion: for this cause did i do my humble best to work it out anew: and however supererogatory it may seem at first sight to the majority of readers, those keener minds whom i mainly address, and whose interests i wish to serve, will recognise the attempt as at least consistent: and will be ready to admit that if the arduous effort prove anteriorly a first great cause, and his attributes, be futile (which, however, i do not admit), it was an attempt unneeded on the score of its own merits; albeit, with an obvious somewhat of justice, pure reason may desire to begin at the beginning. no one, who thinks at all upon religion, however misbelieving, can entertain any mental prejudice against the existence of a deity, or against the received character of his attributes. such a man would be merely in a savage state, irrational: whilst his own mind, so speculating, would stand itself proof positive of an intellectual father; either immediately, as in the first man's case, or mediately, as in our own, it must have sprung out of that being, who is emphatically the good one--god. but if, as is possible, a mind, capable of thinking, and keen to think on other themes, from any cause, educational or moral, has neglected this great track of mediation, has "forgotten god," and "had him _not_ in all his thoughts," such an one i invite to walk with me; and, in spite of all incompleteness and insufficiency, uncaptious of much that may haply be fanciful or false, briefly and in outline to test with me sundry probabilities of the christian scheme, considered antecedently to its elucidation. a god: and his attributes. i will commence with a noble, and, as i believe, an inspired sentence: than which no truth uttered by philosophers ever was more clearly or more sublimely expressed. "in the beginning was the word: and the word was with god; and the word was god." in its due course, we will consider especially the difference between the word and god; likewise the seeming contradiction, but true concord, of being simultaneously god, and with god. at present, and previously to the true commencement of our _à priori_ thoughts, let us, by a word or two, paraphrase that brief but comprehensive sentence, "in the beginning was the word." eternity has no beginning, as it has no end: the clock of time is futile there: it might as well attempt to go in vacuo. nevertheless, in respect to finite intelligences like ourselves, seeing that eternity is an idea totally inconceivable, it is wise, nay it is only possible, to be presented to the mind piecemeal. even our deepest mathematicians do not scruple to speak of points "infinitely remote;" as if in that phrase there existed no contradiction of terms. so, also, we pretend in our emptiness to talk of eternity past, time present, and eternity to come; the fact being that, muse as a man may, he can entertain no idea of an existence which is not measurable by time: any more than he can conceive of a colour unconnected with the rainbow, or of a musical note beyond the seven sounds. the plain intention of the words is this: place the starting-post of human thought as far back into eternity as you will, be it what man counts a thousand ages, or ten thousand times ten thousand, or be these myriads multiplied again by millions, still, in any such beginning, and in the beginning of all beginnings (for so must creatures talk)--then was god. he was: the scholar knows full well the force of the original term, the philological distinctions between [greek: eimi] and [greek: gignomai]: well pleased, he reads as of the divinity [greek: ên], he self-existed; and equally well pleased he reads of the humanity [greek: egennêthê], he was born. the thought and phrase [greek: ên] sympathizes, if it has not an identity, with the hebrew's unutterable name. he then, whose title, amongst all others likewise denoting excellence supreme and glory underivative, is essentially "i am;" he who, relatively to us as to all creation else, has a new name wisely chosen in "the word,"--the great expression of the idea of god; this mighty intelligence is found in any such beginning self-existent. that teaching is a mere fact, known posteriorly from the proof of all things created, as well as by many wonderful signs, and the clear voice of revelation. we do not attempt to prove it; that were easy and obvious: but our more difficult endeavour at present is to show how antecedently probable it was that god should be: and that so being, he should be invested with the reasonable attributes, wherewithal we know his glorious nature to be clothed. take then our beginning where we will, there must have existed in that "originally" either something, or nothing. it is a clear matter to prove, _à posteriori_, that something did exist; because something exists now: every matter and every derived spirit must have had a father; _ex nihilo nihil fit_, is not more a truth, than that creation must have had a creator. however, leaving this plain path (which i only point at by the way for obvious mental uses), let us now try to get at the great antecedent probability that in the beginning something should have been, rather than nothing. the term, nothing, is a fallacious one: it does not denote an existence, as something does, but the end of an existence. it is in fact a negation, which must prësuppose a matter once in being and possible to be denied; it is an abstraction, which cannot happen unless there be somewhat to be taken away; the idea of vacuity must be posterior to that of fullness; the idea of no tree is incompetent to be conceived without the previous idea of _a_ tree; the idea of nonentity suggests, _ex vi termini_, a pre-existent entity; the idea of nothing, of necessity, prësupposes something. and a something once having been, it would still and for ever continue to be, unless sufficient cause be found for its removal; that cause itself, you will observe, being a something. the chances are forcibly in favour of continuance, that is of perpetuity; and the likelihoods proclaim loudly that there should be an existence. it was thus, then, antecedently more probable, than in any imaginable beginning from which reason can start, something should be found existent, rather than nothing. this is the first probability. next; of what nature and extent is this something, this being, likely to be?--there will be either one such being, or many: if many, the many either sprang from the one, or the mass are all self-existent; in the former case, there would be a creation and a god: in the latter, there would be many gods. is the latter antecedently more probable?--let us see. first, it is evident that if many are probable, few are more probable, and one most probable of all. the more possible gods you take away, the more do impediments diminish; until, that is to say, you arrive at that one being, whom we have already proved probable. moreover, many must be absolutely united as one; in which case the many is a gratuitous difficulty, because they may as well be regarded for all purposes of worship or argument as one god: or the many must have been in essence more or less disunited; in which case, as a state of any thing short of pure concord carries in itself the seeds of dissolution, needs must that one or other of the many (long before any possible beginnings, as we count beginnings, looking down the past vista of eternity), would have taken opportunity by such disturbing causes to become absolute monarch: whether by peaceful persuasion, or hostile compulsion, or other mode of absorbing disunions, would be indifferent; if they were not all improbable, as unworthy of the god. perpetuity of discord is a thing impossible; every thing short of unity tends to decomposition. any how then, given the element of eternity to work in, a one great supreme being was, in the created beginning, an _à priori_ probability. that all other assumptions than that of his true and eternal oneness are as false in themselves as they are derogatory to the rational views of deity, we all now see and believe; but the direct proofs of this are more strictly matters of revelation than of reason: albeit reason too can discern their probabilities. wise heathens, such as socrates and cicero, who had not our light, arrived nevertheless at some of this perception; and thus, through conscience and intelligence, became a law unto themselves: because that, to them, as now to any one of us who may not yet have seen the light, the anterior likelihood existed for only one god, rather than more; a likelihood which prepares the mind to take as a fundamental truth, "the lord our god is one jehovah." next; self-existence combined with unity must include the probable attribute, or character, ubiquity; as i now proceed to show. on the same principle as that by which we have seen something to be likelier than nothing, we conclude that the same something is more probable to be every where, than the same nothing (if the phrase were not absurd), to be any where: we may, so to speak, divide infinity into spaces, and prove the position in each instance: moreover, as that something is essentially--not a unit as of many, but--unity involving all, it follows as most probable that this whole being should be ubiquitous; in other parlance, that the one god should be every where at once: also, there being no limit to what we call space, nor any imaginable hostile power to place a constraint upon the one great being, this whole being must be ubiquitous to a degree strictly infinite: "he is in every place, beholding the evil and the good." such a consideration (and it is a perfectly true one) renders necessary the next point, to wit, that god is a spirit. no possible substance can be every where at once: essence may, but not substance. corporeity in any shape must be local; local is finite; and we have just proved the anterior probability of a one great existence being (notwithstanding unity of essence) infinite. illocal and infinite are convertible terms: spirit is illocal; and, as god is infinite--that is, illocal--it is clear that "god is a spirit." we have thus (not attempting to build up faith by such slight tools, but only using them to cut away prejudice) arrived at the high probability of a god invested with his natural qualities or attributes; self-existence, unity, the faculty of being every where at once and that every where infinitude; and essentially of a spiritual nature, not material. his moral, or accidental attributes (so to speak), were, antecedently to their expression, equally easy of being proved probable. first, with respect to power: given no disturbing cause--(we shall soon consider the question of permitted evil, and its origin; but this, however disturbing to creatures, will be found not only none to god, but, as it were, only a ray of his glory suffered to be broken for prismatic beauty's sake, a flash of the direction of his energies suffered to be diverted for the superior triumph of good in that day when it shall be shown that "god hath made all things for himself, yea, even the wicked for the time of visitation")--with the _datum_ then of no disturbing cause obstructing or opposing, an infinite being must be able to do all things within the sphere of such infinity: in other phrase, he must be all-powerful. just so, an impetus in vacuity suffers no check, but ever sails along among the fleet of worlds; and the innate impulse of the deity must expand and energize throughout that infinitude, himself. for a like reason of ubiquity, god must know all things: it is impossible to escape from the strong likelihood that any intelligent being must be conversant of what is going on under his very eye. again; in the case both of power and knowledge, alike with the coming attributes of goodness and wisdom--(wisdom considered as morally distinct from mere knowledge or awaredness; it being quite possible to conceive a cold eye seeing all things heedlessly, and a clear mind knowing all things heartlessly)--in the case, i say, of all these accidental attributes, there recurs for argument, one analogous to that by which we showed the anterior probability of a self-existence. things positive must precede things negative. sight must have been, before blindness is possible; and before we can arrive at a just idea of no sight. power must be precursor to an abstraction from power, or weakness. the minor-existence of ignorance is an impossibility, unless you prëallow the major-existence of wisdom; for it amounts to a debasing or a diminution of wisdom. sin is well defined to be, the transgression of law; for without law, there can be no sin. so, also, without wisdom, there can be no ignorance; without power, there can be no weakness; without goodness, there can be no evil. furthermore. an affirmative--such as wisdom, power, goodness--can exist absolutely; it is in the nature of a something: but a negative--such as ignorance, weakness, evil--can only exist relatively; and it would, indeed, be a nothing, were it not for the previous and now simultaneous existence of its wiser, stronger, and better origin. abstract evil is as demonstrably an impossibility as abstract ignorance, or abstract weakness. if evil could have self-existed, it would in the moment of its eternal birth have demolished itself. virtue's intrinsic concord tends to perpetual being: vice's innate discord struggles always with a force towards dissolution. goodness, wisdom, power have existences, and have had existences from all eternity, though gulphed within the godhead; and that, whether evidenced in act or not: but their corruptions have had no such original existence, but are only the same entities perverted. love would be love still, though there were no existent object for its exercise: beauty would be beauty still, though there were no created thing to illustrate its fairness: power would be power still, though there be no foe to combat, no difficulty to be overcome. hatred, ill-favour, weakness, are only perversions or diminutions of these. power exists independently of muscles or swords or screws or levers; love, independently of kind thoughts, words, and actions; beauty, independently of colours, shapes, and adaptations. just so is wisdom philosophically spoken of by a truly royal and noble author: "i, wisdom, dwell with prudence, and find out the knowledge of clever inventions. counsel is mine, and sound wisdom; i am understanding; i have strength. the lord possessed me in the beginning of his way, before his works of old. i was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was. when there were no depths, i was brought forth; before the mountains were fixed, or the hills were made. when he prepared the heavens, i was there; when he set a compass upon the face of the depth; when he established the clouds above; when he strengthened the foundations of the deep: then was i by him, as one brought up with him: and i was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him; rejoicing in the habitable parts of his earth; and my delights were with the sons of men." king solomon well knew of whom he wrote thus nobly. eternal wisdom, power, and goodness, all prospectively thus yearning upon man, and incorporate in one, whose name, among his many names, is wisdom. wisdom, as a quality, existed with god; and, constituting full pervasion of his essence, was god. but to return, and bind to a conclusion our ravelled thoughts. as, originally, the self-existent being, unbounded, all-knowing, might take up, so to speak, if he willed, these eternal affirmative excellences of wisdom, power, and goodness; and as these, to every rational apprehension, are highly worthy of his choice, whereas their derivative and inferior corruptions would have been most derogatory to any reasonable estimate of his character; how much more likely was it that he should prefer the higher rather than the lower, should take the affirmative before the negative, should "choose the good, and refuse the evil,"--than endure to be endowed with such garbled, demoralizing, finite attributes as those wherewith the heathen painted the pantheon. what high antecedent probability was there, that if a god should be (and this we have proved highly probable too)--he should be one, ubiquitous, self-existent, spiritual: that he should be all-mighty, all-wise, and all-good? the triunity. another deep and inscrutable topic is now to engage our thoughts--the mystery of a probable triunity. while we touch on such high themes, the christian's presumption ever is, that he himself approaches them with reverence and prayer; and that, in the case of an unbeliever, any such mind will be courteous enough to his friendly opponent, and wise enough respecting his own interest and safety lest these things be true, to enter upon all such subjects with the seriousness befitting their importance, and with the restraining thought that in fact they may be sacred. let us then consider, antecedently to all experience, with what sort of deity pure reason would have been satisfied. it has already arrived at unity, and the foregoing attributes. but what kind of unity is probable? unity of person, or unity of essence? a sterile solitariness, easily understandable, and presumably incommunicative? or an absolute oneness, which yet relatively involves several mysterious phases of its own expansive love? will you think it a foregone conclusion, if i assert the superior likelihoods of the latter, and not of the former? let us come then to a few of many reasons. first: it was by no means probable to be supposed anteriorly, that the god should be clearly comprehensible: yet he must be one: and oneness is the idea most easily apprehended of all possible ideas. the meanest of intellectual creatures could comprehend his maker, and in so far top his heights, if god, being truly one in one view, were yet only one in every view: if, that is to say, there existed no mystery incidental to his nature: nay, if that mystery did not amount to the difficulty of a seeming contradiction. i judge it likely, and with confidence, that reason would prërequire for his god, a being, at once infinitely easy to be apprehended by the lowest of his spiritual children, and infinitely difficult to be comprehended by the highest of his seraphim. now, there can be guessed only two ways of compassing such a prërequirement: one, a moral way; such as inventing a deity who could be at once just and unjust, every where and no where, good and evil, powerful and weak; this is the heathen phase of numen's character, and is obviously most objectionable in every point of view: the other would be a physical way; such as requiring a god who should be at once material and immaterial, abstraction and concretion; or, for a still more confounding paradox to reason (considered as antagonist to faith, in lieu of being strictly its ally), an arithmetical contradiction, an algebraic mystery, such as would be included in the idea of composite unity; one involving many, and many collapsed into one. some such enigma was probable in reason's guess at the nature of his god. it is the christian way; and one entirely unobjectionable: because it is the only insuperable difficulty as to his nature which does not debase the notion of divinity. but there are also other considerations. for, secondly. the self-existent one is endowed, as we found probable, with abundant loving-kindness, goodness overflowing and perpetual. is it reasonable to conceive that such a character could for a moment be satisfied with absolute solitariness? that infinite benevolence should, in any possible beginning, be discovered existent in a sort of selfish only-oneness? such a supposition is, to the eye of even unenlightened reason, so clearly a _reductio ad absurdum_, that men in all countries and ages have been driven to invent a plurality of gods, for very society sake: and i know not but that they are anteriorly wiser and more rational than the man who believes in a benevolent existence eternally one, and no otherwise than one. let me not be mistaken to imply that there was any likelihood of many cöexistent gods: that was a reasonable improbability, as we have already seen, perhaps a spiritual impossibility: but the anterior likelihood of which i speak goes to show, that in one god there should be more than one cöexistence: each, by arithmetical mystery, but not absurdity, pervading all, cöequals, each being god, and yet not three gods, but one god. that there should be a rational difficulty here--or, rather, an irrational one--i have shown to be reason's prërequirement: and if such a one as i, or any other creature, could now and here (ay, or any when or any where, in the heights of highest heaven, and the far-stretching distance of eternity) solve such intrinsic difficulty, it would demonstrably be one not worthy of its source, the wise design of god: it would prove that riddle read, which uncreate omniscience propounded for the baffling of the creature mind. no. it is far more reasonable, as well as far more reverent, to acquiesce in mystery, as another attribute inseparable from the nature of the godhead; than to quibble about numerical puzzles, and indulge unwisely in objections which it is the happy state of nobler intelligences than man on earth is, to look into with desire, and to exercise withal their keen and lofty minds. but we have not yet done. some further thoughts remain to be thrown out in the third place, as to the prëconceivable fitness or propriety of that holy union, which we call the trinity of persons who constitute the self-existent one. if god, being one in one sense, is yet likely to appear, humanly speaking, more than one in another sense; we have to inquire anteriorly of the probable nature of such other intimate being or beings: as also, whether such addition to essential oneness is likely itself to be more than one or only one. as to the former of these questions: if, according to the presumption of reason (and according also to what we have since learned from revelation; but there may be good policy in not dotting this book with chapter and verse)--if the deity thus loved to multiply himself; then he, to whom there can exist no beginning, must have so loved, so determined, and so done from all eternity. now, any conceivable creation, however originated, must have had a beginning, place it as far back as you will. in any succession of numbers, however infinitely they may stretch, the commencement at least is a fixed point, one. but, this multiplication of deity, this complex simplicity, this intricate easiness, this obvious paradox, this sub-division and con-addition of a one, must have taken place, so soon as ever eternal benevolence found itself alone; that is, in eternity, and not in any imaginable time. so then, the being or beings would probably not have been creative, but of the essence of deity. take also for an additional argument, that it is an idea which detracts from every just estimate of the infinite and all-wise god to suppose he should take creatures into his eternal counsels, or consort, so to speak, familiarly with other than the united sub-divisions, persons, and cöequals of himself. it was reasonable to prëjudge that the everlasting companions of benevolent god, should also be god. and thus, it appears antecedently probable that (what from the poverty of language we must call) the multiplication of the one god should not have been created beings; that is, should have been divine; a term, which includes, as of right, the attribution to each such holy person, of all the wondrous characteristics of the godhead. again: as to the latter question; was it probable that such so-called sub-divisions should be two, or three, or how many? i do not think it will be wise to insist upon any such arithmetical curiosity as a perfect number; nor on such a toy as an equilateral triangle and its properties; nor on the peculiar aptitude for sub-division in every thing, to be discerned in a beginning, a middle, and an end; nor in the consideration that every fact had a cause, is a constancy, and produces a consequence: neither, to draw any inferences from the social maxim that for counsel, companionship, and conversation, the number three has some special fitness. some other similar fancies, not altogether valueless, might be alluded to. it seems preferable, however, on so grand a theme, to attempt a deeper dive, and a higher flight. we would then, reverently as always, albeit equally as always with the free-born boldness of god's intellectual children, attempt to prëjudge how many, and with what distinctive marks, the holy beings into whom (greek: ôst epos eipein) god, for very benevolence sake, pours out essential unity, were likely to be. let us consider what principles, as in the case of a forthcoming creation, would probably be found in action, to influence such creation's author. first of all, there would be will, a will energized by love, disposing to create: a phase of deity aptly and comprehensively typified to all minds by the name of a universal father: this would be the primary impersonation of god. and is it not so? secondly: there would be (with especial reference to that idea of creation which doubtless at most remote beginnings occupied the good one's contemplation), there would be next, i repeat, in remarkable adaptation to all such benevolent views, the great idea of principle, obedience; conforming to a father's righteous laws, acquiescing in his just will, and returning love for love: such a phase could not be better shadowed out to creatures than by an eternal son; the dutiful yet supreme, the subordinate yet cöequal, the amiable yet exalted avatar of our god. this was probable to have been the second impersonation of deity. and is it not so? thirdly: springing from the conjoint ideas of the father and the son, and with similar prospection to such instantly creative universe, there would occur the grand idea of generation; the mighty cöequal, pure, and quickening impulse: aptly announced to men and angels as the holy spirit. this was to have been the third impersonation of divinity. and is it not so? of all these--under illumination of the fore-known fact, i speak, in their aspect of anterior probability. with respect to more possible persons, i at least cannot invent one. there is, to my reflection, neither need nor fitness for a fourth, or any further principle. if another can, let him look well that he be not irrationally demolishing an attribute and setting it up as a principle. obedience is not an attribute; nor generation; nor will: whilst the attribute of love, pervading all, sets these only possible three principles going together as one in a mysterious harmony. i would not be misunderstood; persons are not principles; but principles may be illustrated and incorporative in persons. essential love, working distinctively throughout the three, unites them instinctively as one: even as the attribute wisdom designs, and the attribute power arranges all the scheme of godhead. and now i ask reason, whether, prësupposing keenness, he might not have arrived by calculation of probabilities at the likelihood of these great doctrines: that the nature of god would be an apparent contradiction: that such contradiction should not be moral, but physical; or rather verging towards the metaphysical, as immaterial and more profound: that god, being one, should yet, in his great love, marvellously have been companioned from eternity by himself: and that such holy and united confraternity should be so wisely contrived as to serve for the bright unapproachable exemplar of love, obedience, and generation to all the future universe, such triunity itself existing uncreated. the godhead visible. we have hitherto mused on the divinity, as on spirit invested with attributes: and this idea of his nature was enough for all requirements antecedently to a creation. at whatever beginning we may suppose such creation to have commenced, whether countless ages before our present [greek: kosmos], or only a sufficient time to have prepared the crust of earth; and to whatever extent we may imagine creation to have spread, whether in those remote periods originally to our system alone and at after eras to its accompanying stars and galaxies and firmaments; or at one and the same moment to have poured material existence over space to which our heavens are as nothing: whatever, and whenever, and wherever creation took place, it would appear to be probable that some one person of the deity should, in a sort, become more or less concretely manifested; that is, in a greater or a minor degree to such created minds and senses visible. moreover, for purposes at least of a concentrated worship of such creatures, that he should occasionally, or perhaps habitually, appear local. i mean, that the king of all spiritual potentates and the subordinate excellencies of brighter worlds than ours, the sovereign of those whom we call angels, should will to be better known to and more aptly conceived by such his admiring creatures, in some usual glorious form, and some wonted sacred place. not that any should see god, as purely god; but, as god relatively to them, in the capacity of king, creator, and the object of all reasonable worship. it seems anteriorly probable that one at least of the persons in the godhead should for this purpose assume a visibility; and should hold his court of adoration in some central world, such as now we call indefinitely heaven. that such probability did exist in the human forecast, as concerns a heaven and the form of god, let the testimony of all nations now be admitted to corroborate. every shape from a cloud to a crocodile, and every place from Æther to tartarus, have been peopled by man's not quite irrational device with their so-called gods. but we must not lapse into the after-argument: previous likelihood is our harder theme. neither, in this section, will we attempt the probabilities of the place of heaven: that will be found at a more distant page. we have here to speak of the antecedent credibility that there should be some visible phase of god; and of the shape wherein he would be most likely, as soon as a creation was, to appear to such his creatures. with respect, then, to the former. creatures, being finite, can only comprehend the infinite in his attribute of unity: the other attributes being apprehended (or comprehended partially) in finite phases. but, unity being a purely intellectual thought, one high and dry beyond the moral feelings, involves none of the requisites of a spiritual, that is an affectionate, worship; such worship as it was likely that a beneficent being would, for his creatures' own elevation in happiness, command and inspire towards himself. in order, therefore, to such worship and such inspiration acting through reason, it would appear fitting that the deity should manifest himself especially with reference to that heavenly exemplar, the three divine persons of the one supreme essence already shown to have been probable. and it seems likeliest and discreetest to my thinking, that, with this view, the secondary phase, loving obedience, under the dictate of the primary phase, a loving will, and energized by the tertiary or conjoining phase a loving quickening entity, should assume the visible type of godhead, and thus concentrate unto himself the worship of all worlds. i can conceive no scheme more simply profound, more admirably suited to its complex purposes, than that he, in whom dwelt the fullness of the godhead, bodily, should take the form of god, in order that unto him every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things in regions under the earth. was not all this reasonably to have been looked for? and tested afterwards by scripture, in its frequent allusions to some visible phase of deity, when the lord god walked with adam, and enoch, and abraham, and peter, and james, and john--i ask, is it not the case? the latter point remaining to be thus briefly touched upon, respects the probable shape to be assumed and worn, familiarly enough to be recognised as his, by deity thus vouchsafing himself visible. and here we must look down the forward stream of time, and search among the creatures whom thereafter god should make, to arrive at some good reason for, some antecedent probability of, the form which he should thus frequently inhabit. fire, for example, a pure and spirit-like nature, would not have been a guess unworthy of reason: but this, besides its humbler economic uses, would endanger an idolatry of the natural emblem. so also would light be no irrational thought. and it is true that god might, and probably would, invest himself in one or both of these pure essences, so seemingly congenial to a nature higher than ours: but then there would be some nucleus to the brilliancy and the burning; these would be as a veil to the divinity; we should have need, before he were truly visible, that the veil were laid aside: we should have to shred away to the nucleus, which (and not the fire or light) would be the form of god. similar objections, in themselves or in their idolatrizing tendencies, would lie against any such shape as a cloud, or a rainbow, or an angel (whatever such a being may resemble), or in fact any other conceivable creature, whether good as the angelic case or indifferent as that of the cloud, which the deity, though assuming often, would nevertheless in every instance assume in conjunction with such his ordinary creature, and could not entirely monopolize. i mean; if god had the shape of a cloud, or of a rainbow, common clouds and rainbows would come to be thought gods too. reason would anticipate this objection to such created and too-favoured shapes: more; in every case, but one, he would be quite at a loss to look for some type, clearly apt and probable. that one case he might discern to be this. known unto god are all things from the beginning to the end: and, in his fore-knowledge, reason might have been enlightened to prophesy (as we shall hereafter see) that for certain wise and good ends one great family out of the myriads who rejoice in being called god's children, would in a most marked manner fall away from him through disobedience; and should thereby earn, if not the annihilation of their being, at least its endless separation from the blessed. manifestly, the wisdom and benevolence of god would be eager and swift to devise a plan for the redemption of so lost a race. why he should permit their fall at all will be reverentially descanted on in its proper section; meanwhile, how is it probable that god, first, by any theory consistently with truth and justice, could, and next by power and contrivance actually would, lift up again this sinful family from the pit of condemnation? reason is to search the question well: and after much thought, you will arrive at the truth that there was but one way probable. rebellion against the great and self-existent author of all things, must needfully involve infinite punishment; if only because he is infinite, and his laws of an eternal sanction. the problem then was, how to inflict the unbounded punishment thus claimed by justice for a transgressional condition, and yet at love's demand to set the prisoner free: how to be just, and simultaneously justifier of the guilty. that was a question magnificently solved by god alone: magnificently about to be solved, as according to our argument seemed probable, by god triune, in wondrous self-involving council. the solution would be rationally this. himself, in his character of filial obedience, should pay the utter penalty to himself in his character of paternal authority, whilst himself in the character of quickening spirit, should restore the ransomed family from death to life, from the power of evil unto good. was not this a most probable, a most reasonably probable scheme? was it not altogether wise and philosophical, as well as entirely generous and kind to wretched men? and (returning to our present topic), was it not antecedently to have been expected that god the son (so to put it) should, in the shape he was thereafter to assume upon earth, appear upon the eternal throne of heaven? in a shape, however glorified and etherealized, with glistening countenance and raiment bright as the light, nevertheless resembling that more humble form, the son of man, who was afterwards thus by a circle of probabilities to be made in the form of god; in a shape, not liable, from its very sinfulness, to the deification either of other worlds or of this [hero-worship is another and a lower thing altogether; we speak here of true idolatries:]--was it unlikely, i say, that in such a shape deity should have deigned to become visible, and have blazed manifested god, the central sun of heaven?--this probability, prior to our forth-flowing thoughts on the incarnation, though in some measure anticipating them, will receive further light from the views soon to be set forth. i know not but that something is additionally due to the suggestion following; namely: that, raise our swift imagination to what height we may, and stretch our searching reason to the uttermost, we cannot, despite of all inventive energies and powers of mind, conceive any shape more beautiful, more noble, more worthy for a rational intelligence to dwell in, more in one homeric word [greek: theoeides], than the glorified and etherealized human form divine. let this serve as reason's short reply to any charge of anthropomorphism in the doctrines of his creed: it was probable that god should be revealed to his creation; and as to the form of any such revealed essence in any such infinite beginnings of his work, the most likely of all would appear to be that one, wherein he, in the ages then to come, was well resolved to earn the most glorious of all triumphs, the merciful reconciliation of everlasting justice with everlasting love, the wise and wondrous scheme of god forgiving sinners. the origin of evil. it will now be opportune to attempt elucidation of one of the darkest and deepest riddles ever propounded to the finite understanding; the _à priori_ likelihood of evil: not, mind, its eternal existence, which is a false doctrine; but its probable procession from the earliest created beings, which is a true one. at first sight, nothing could appear more improbable: nothing more inconsistent with the recognised attributes of god, than that error, pain, and sorrow should be mingled in his works. these, the spontaneous offspring of his love, one might (not all wisely) argue, must always be good and happy--because perfect as himself. because perfect?-- therein lies the fallacy, which reason will at once lay bare. perfection is attributable to no possible creature: perfection argues infinity, and infinity is one of the prerogatives of god. however good, "very good," a creation may be found, still it must, from essential finitude, fall short of that best, which is in effect the only state purely unexceptionable. for instance, no creature can be imagined of a wisdom undiminished from the single true standard, god's wisdom: in other phrase, every creature must be more or less departed from wisdom, that is, verging towards folly. again; no creature can be presumed of a purity so spotless as to rank in an equality with that of the almighty: in other words, neither man, nor angel, nor any other creature, can exist who is not more or less--i will not say impure, positively, but--unpure negatively. thus, the birth-mark of creation must have been an inclination towards folly, and from purity. the mere idea of creatures would involve, as its great need-be, the qualifying clause that these emanations from perfection be imperfect; and that these children of purity be liable to grow unpure. they must either be thus natured, or exist of the essence of god, that is, be other persons and phases of the deity: such a case was possible certainly; but, as we have already shown, not probable. and it were possible, that, in consequence of some redemption such as we have spoken of, creatures might by ingraftation into god become so entirely part of him--bone of bone, and flesh of flesh, and spirit of spirit--that an exhortation to such blest beings should reasonably run, "be ye perfect." but this infinite munificence of the godhead in redemption was not to be found among his bounties as creator. it might indeed arise afterwards, as setting up again the fallen creature in some safe niche of deity: and we now know it has arisen: "we are complete in him." but this, though relevant, is a digression. returning, and to produce some further argument against all creature perfectness; let us consider how rational it seems to prësuppose that the mighty maker in his boundless love should have willed to form a long chain of classes of existence more and more subordinated each to the other, each good of its kind and happy in its way, but yet all needfully more or less removed from the high standard of uncreate perfection. these descending links, these graduations downwards, must involve a nearer or remoter approach to evil. now, we must bear in mind that evil is not a principle, but a perversion: it amounts merely to a denial, a limitation, a corruption of good, not to the dignity of its abstract antagonism. familiarly, but fallaciously, we talk of the evil principle, the contradictory to good: we might as well talk of the nosologic principle, the contradictory to health; or the darkness principle, the contradictory to light. they are contraries, but not contradictories: they have no positive, but only a relative existence. good and evil are verily foes, but originally there was one cemented friendship: slender beginnings consequent on a creation, began to cause the breach: the civil war arose out of a state of primitive peace: images betray us into errors, or i might add with a protest against the risk of being misinterpreted, that like brothers turned to a deadly hate, they nevertheless sprang not originally out of two hostile and opposite hemispheres, but from one paternal hearth. not, however, in any sense that god is the author of evil; but that god's workmanship, the finite creature, needfully perverted good. the origin of evil--that is, its birth--is a term true and clear: original evil--that is, giving it no birth but an antedate to all created things, suffering it to run parallel with god and good from all eternity--this is a term false and misty. the probability that good would be warped, and grow deteriorate; that wisdom would be dwindled down into less and less wisdom, or foolishness; and power degenerated more and more towards imbecility; must arise, directly a creature should spring out of the creator; and that, let astronomy or geology name any date they will: adam is a definite date; perhaps also the first day's--or period's--work: but the beginning of creation is undated. it would then, under this impression of the necessary defalcation of the creature from the strict straight line, be rational to look for deviations: it would be rational to prësuppose that god--just, and good, and pure, and wise--should righteously be able to "charge his angels with folly," should verily declare that "the heavens are not pure in his sight." further; it would be a possible chance (which considerations soon succeeding would render even probable) that for a wise humiliation of the reasoning creature, and a just exaltation of the only source of life and light and all things, one or more of such first created beings, or angels, should be suffered to fall, possibly from the vastest height, and at first by the slenderest beginnings, lower and lower into folly, impurity, and all other derelictions from the excellence of god. the lines, once unparalleled, would, without a check, go further apart for all eternity; albeit, the primal deviation arose in time. the aerolite, dropping slowly at first, increases in swiftness as it multiplies the fathoms of descent: and if the abyss be really bottomless, how impossible a check or a return. some such terrible example would amount to a reasonable likelihood, if only for a lesson and a warning: to all intelligent hierarchs, be not high-minded, but fear; to all responsible beings, keep righteousness and reverence, and tempt not god; to all the virtues, dominations, obediences, and due subordinations of unknown glorious worlds, a loud and living exhortation to exercise, and not to let grow dim their spiritual energies, in efforts after goodness, wisdom, and purity. a creature state, to be happy, must be a progressive state: the capability of progression argues lack, or a tendency from good: and progression itself needs a spur, lest indolence relapse towards evil. additionally: we must remember that a creature's excellence before god is the reasonable service which he freely renders: freedom, dangerous prerogative, involves choice: and choice necessitates the possibility of error. the command to a rational intelligence would be, do this, and live; do it not, and die: if thou doest, it is well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast mounted by thine own heaven-blest exertions to a higher approach towards infinite perfection; enter thou into the joy, not merely of a creature, but of thy lord. but, if thou doest not, it is wo to thee, unworthy hireling; thou hast broken the tie that bound thee to thy maker--obedience, the root of happiness; thou livest on indeed, because the former of all things cancelleth not nor endeth his beginning; but henceforth thine existence is, as a river which earthquakes have divorced from its bed, and instead of flowing on for ever through the fair pastures of peace and among the mountain roots of everlasting righteousness, thy downward course is shattery, headlong, turbulent, and destructive; black-throated whirlpools here, miasmatic marshes there, a cataract, a shoal, a rapid; until the remorseless stream, lashing among rocks which its own riot rendered sterile, pours its unresting waters into the thirsty sands of the sahara. it was indeed probable (as since we know it to be true) that the generous giver of all things would in the vast majority of cases minister such secret help to his weaker spiritual children, that, far from failing of continuous obedience, they should find it so unceasingly easier and happier that their very natures would soon come to be imbued with that pervading habit: and that thus, the longer any creature stood upright, the stronger should he rest in righteousness; until, at no very distant period, it should become morally impossible for him to fall. such would soon be the condition of myriads, perhaps almost the whole, of heaven's innumerable host: and with respect to any darker unit in that multitude, for the good of all permitted to make early shipwreck of himself, simply by leaving his intelligence to plume its wings into presumptuous flight, and by allowing his pristine goodness or wisdom to grow rusty from non-usage until that sacred panoply were eaten into holes; with respect to any such unhappy one, and all others (if others be) who should listen to his glozing, and make a common cause in his rebellion, where, i ask, is any injustice, or even unkindness done to him by deity? where is any moral improbability that such a traitor should be; or any just inconsistency chargeable on the attributes of god in consequence of such his being? whom can he in reason accuse but himself for what he is? and what misery can such a one complain of, which is not the work of his own hands? and lest the great offender should urge against his god, why didst thou make me thus?--is not the answer obvious, i made thee, but not thus. and on the rejoinder, why didst thou not keep me as thou madest me? is not the reply just, i made thee reasonable, i led thee to the starting place, i taught thee and set thee going well in the beginning; thou art intelligent and free, and hast capacities of mine own giving: wherefore didst thou throw aside my grace, and fly in the face of thy creator? on the whole; consider that i speak only of probabilities. there is a depth in this abyss of thought, which no human plummet is long enough to sound; there is a maze in this labyrinth to be tracked by no mortal clue. it involves the truth, how unsearchable are his judgments: thou hidest thy ways in the sea, and thy paths in the deep waters, and thy footsteps are not known. the weak point of man's argument lies in the suggested recollection, that doubtless the deity could, if he would, have upheld all the universe from falling by his gracious power; and that the attribute of love concludes that so he would. however, these three brief considerations further will go some way to solve the difficulty, and to strengthen the weak point; first, there are other attributes besides love to run concurrently with it, as truth, justice, and unchangeableness:--secondly, that grace is not grace, if manifested indiscriminately to all: and thirdly, that to our understanding at least there was no possible method of illustrating the amiabilities of goodness, and the contrivances of wisdom, but by the infused permission of some physical and moral evils: mercy, benevolence, design, would in a universe of best have nothing to do; that universe itself would grow stagnant, as incapable of progress; and the principal record of god's excellences, the book of redemption, would have been unwritten. is not then the existence of evil justified in reason's calculation? and was not such existence an antecedent probability? of these matters, thus curtly: it is time, in a short recapitulation, to reflect, that, from foregoing causes, mysteries were probable around the throne of heaven: and, as i have attempted to show, the mystery of imperfection, a concrete not an abstract, was likely to have sprung out of any creature universe. reason perceives that a gordion knot was likely to have become entangled; in the intricate complexities of abounding good to be mingled needfully with its own deficiencies, corruptions, and perversions: and this having been shown by reason as anteriorly probable, its difficult involvements are now since cut by the sword of conquering faith. cosmogony. these deep themes having been descanted on, however from their nature unsatisfactorily and with whatever human weakness, let us now endeavour mentally to transport ourselves to a period immediately antecedent to our own world's birth. we should then have been made aware that a great event was about to take place; whereat, from its foreseen consequences, the hierarchies of heaven would be prompt to shout for joy, and the holy ones of god to sing for gratitude. it was no common case of a creation; no merely onemore orb, of third-rate unimportance, amongst the million others of higher and more glorious praise: but it was a globe and a race about to be unique in character and fate, and in the far-spread results of their existence. on it and of its family was to be contrived the scene, wherein, to the admiration of the universe, god himself in person was going visibly to make head against corruption in creation, and for ever thus to quench that possibility again: wherein he was marvellously to invent and demonstrate how mercy and truth should meet together, how righteousness and peace should kiss each other. there, was going to be set forth the wonderfully complicated battle-plan, by which, force countervailing force, and design converging all things upon one fixed point, good, concrete in the creature, should overwhelm not without strife and wounds evil concrete in the creature, and all things, "even the wicked," should be seen harmoniously blending in the glory of the attributes of god. the mythologic pan, [greek: to pan] the great universal all, was deeply interested in the struggle: for the seed of the woman was to bruise the serpent's head; not merely as respected the small orb about to be, but concerning heaven itself, the unbounded "haysh hamaim," wherefrom dread lucifer was thus to be ejected. on the earth, a mere planet of humble lustre, which the prouder suns around might well despise, was to be exhibited this noble and analogous result; the triumph of a lower intelligence, such as man, over a higher intelligence, such as angel: because, the former race, however frail, however weak, were to find their nature taken into god, and should have for their grand exemplar, leader and brother, the very lord of all arrayed in human guise; while the latter, the angelic fallen mass, in spite of all their pristine wisdom and excellency, were to set up as their captain him, who may well and philosophically be termed their adversary. this dark being, probably the mightiest of all mere creatures as the embodiment of corrupted good and perversion of an archangelic wisdom, was about to be suffered to fall victim to his own overtopping ambitions, and to drag with him a third part of the heavenly host--some tributary monarchs of the stars: thus he, and those his colleagues, should become a spectacle and a warning to all creatures else; to stand for spirits' reading in letters of fire a deeply burnt-in record how vast a gulf there is between the maker and the made; how impassable a barrier between the derived intelligence and its infinite creator. such an unholy leader in rebellion against good--let us call him _a_ or _b_, or why not for very euphony's sake lucifer and satanas?--such a corrupted excellence of heaven was to meet his final and inevitable disgrace to all eternity on the forthcoming battle-field of earth. would it not be probable then that our world, soon to be fashioned and stocked with its teeming reasonable millions, should concentrate to itself the gaze of the universe, and, from the deeds to be done in it, should arrogate towards man a deep and fixed attention: that "the morning stars should sing together, and all the sons of god should shout for joy." let us too, according to the power given to us, partake of such attention antecedently in some detail: albeit, as always, very little can be tracked of the length and breadth of our theme. what would probably be the nature of such world and of such creatures, in a physical point of view? and what, in a moral point of view? it is not necessary to divide these questions: for the one so bears upon the other, or rather the latter so directs and pervades the former, that we may briefly treat of both as one. the first probability would be, that, as the creature man so to be abased and so to be exalted must be a responsible and reasonable being, every thing--with miraculous exceptions just enough to prove the rule--every thing around him should also be responsible and reasonable. in other words, that, with such exceptions as before alluded to, the whole texture of this world should bear to an inquisitive intellect the stamp of cause and effect: whilst for the mass, such cause and effect should be so little intrusive, that their easier religion might recognise god in all things immediately, rather than mediately. for instance: take the cases of stone, and of coal; the one so needful for man's architecture, the other for his culinary warmth. now, however simple piety might well thank the maker for having so stored earth with these for necessary uses; they ought, to a more learned, though not less pious ken, to seem not to have been created by an effort of the great father _quâ stone_, or _quâ coal_. such a view might satisfy the ordinary mind: but thinkers would see no occasion for a miracle; when christ raises lazarus from the dead, it would have been a philosophical fault to have found the grave-clothes and swathing bandages ready loosened also. unassisted man can do that: and unhelped common causes can generate stone and coal. the deposits of undated floods, the periodical currents of lava, the still and stagnant lake, and the furious up-bursting earthquake; all these would be called into play, and not the unrequired, i had almost said unreasonable, energies, which we call miracle. an agglutination of shells, once peopled with life; a crystallized lump of segregate minerals, once in a molten state; a mass of carbonated foliage and trunks of tropical trees, buried by long changes under the soil, whereover they had once waved greenly luxuriant; these, and no other, should have been man's stone and coal. this instance affects the reasonableness of such material creation. take another, bearing upon its analogous responsibilities. as there was to be warred in this world the contest between good and evil, it would be expectable that the crust of man's earth, anteriorly to man's existence on it, should be marked with some traces that the evil, though newly born so far as might regard man's own disobedience, nevertheless had existed antecedently. in other words: it was probable that there should exist geological evidences of suffering and death: that the gigantic ichthyosaurus should be found fixed in rock with his cruel jaws closed upon his prey: that the fearful iguanodon should leave the tracks of having desolated a whole region of its reptile tribes: that volcanoes should have ravaged fair continents prolific of animal and vegetable life: that, in fine, though man's death came by man's sin, yet that death and sin were none of man's creating: he was only to draw down upon his head a prëexistent wo, an ante-toppling rock. observe then, that these geological phenomena are only illustrations of my meaning: and whether such parables be true or false, the argument remains the same: we never build upon the sand of simile, but only use it here and there for strewing on the floor. still, i will acknowledge that the introduction of such fossil instances appears to me wisely thrown in as affects their antecedent probability, because ignorant comments upon scriptural cosmogony have raised the absurdest objections against the truth of scriptural science. there is not a tittle of known geological fact, which is not absolutely reconcilable with genesis and job. but this is a word by the way: although aimed not without design against one of the poor and paltry weak-holds of the infidel. adam. remembering, then, that these are probabilities, and that the whole treatise purports to be nothing but a sketch, and not a finished picture, we have suggestively thus thrown out that the material world, man's home as man, was likely to have been prepared, as we posteriorly know it to be. now, what of man's own person, circumstances, and individuality? was it likely that the world should be stocked at once with many several races, or with one prolific seed? with a specimen of every variety of the genus man, or with the one generic type capable of forming those varieties?--answer. one is by far the likelier in itself, because one thing must needs be more probable than many things: additionally; wisdom and power are always economical, and where one will suit the purpose, superfluities are rejected. that this one seed, covering with its product a various globe under all imaginable differences of circumstance and climate, should, in the lapse of ages, generate many species of the genus man, was antecedently probable. for example, morality, peace and obedience would exercise transforming powers: their opposites the like in an opposite way. we can well fancy a mild and gentle race, as the hindoo, to spring from the former educationals: and a family with flashing eyes and strongly-visaged natures, as the malay, from a state of hatred, war, and license. we can well conceive that a tropical sun should carbonize some of that tender fabric the skin, adding also swift blood and fierce passions: while an arctic climate would induce a sluggish, stunted race. and, when to these considerations we add that of promiscuous unions, we arrive at the just likelihood that the whole family of man, though springing from one root, should, in the course of generations, be what now we see it. further. how should this prolific original, the first man, be created? and for a name let us call him adam; a justly-chosen name enough, as alluding to his medium colour, ruddiness. should he have been cast upon the ground an infant, utterly helpless, requiring miraculous aid and guidance at every turn? should he be originated in boyhood, that hot and tumultuous time, when the creature is most rash, and least qualified for self-government? or should he be first discerned as an adult, in his prime, equal alike to obedience and rule, to moral control and moral energy? add also here; is it probable there would be any needless interval placed to pröcreations? or rather, should not such original seed be able immediately to fulfil the blank world call upon him, and as the greatly-teeming human father be found fitted from his birth to propagate his kind? the questions answer themselves. again. should this first man have been discovered originally surrounded with all the appliances of an after-civilization, clad, and housed, and rendered artificial? nor rather, in a noble and naturally royal aspect appear on the stage of life as king of the natural creation, sole warder of a garden of fruits, with all his food thus readily concocted, and an eastern climate tempered to his nakedness? now, as to the solitariness of this one seed. from what we have already mused respecting god's benevolence, it would seem probable that the maker might not see it good that man should be alone. the seed, originally one, proved (as was likely) to resemble its great parent, god, and to be partitionable, or reducible into persons; though with reasonable differences as between creature and creator. woman--eve, the living or life-giving--was likely to have sprung out of the composite seed, man, in order to companionship and fit society. moreover, it were expectable that in the pattern creature, composite man, there should be involved some apt, mysterious typification of the same creature, after a fore-known fall restored, as in its perfect state of rëunion with its maker. _a posteriori_, the figurative notion is, that the redeemed family, or mystical spouse, is incorporated in her husband, the redeemer: not so much in the idea of marriage, as (taking election into view) of a cöcreation; as it were rib of rib, and life woven into life, not copulated or conjoined, but immingled in the being. this is a mystery most worthy of deep searching; a mystery deserving philosophic care, not less than the more unilluminate enjoyment of humble and believing christians. i speak concerning christ and his church. the fall. there is a special fitness in the fact, long since known and now to be perceived probable, that if mankind should fail in disobedience, it should rather be through the woman than through the man. because, the man, _quâ man_, and the deputed head of all inferior creatures, was nearer to his creator, than the woman; who, _quâ woman_, proceeded out of man. she was, so to speak, one step further from god, _ab origine_, than man was; therefore, more liable to err and fall away. to my own mind, i confess, it appears that nothing is more anteriorly probable than the plain, scriptural story of adam and eve: so simple that the child delights in it; so deep that the philosopher lingers there with an equal, but more reasonable joy. for, let us now come to the probabilities of a temptation; and a fall; and what temptation; and how ordered. the heavenly intelligences beheld the model-man and model-woman, rational beings, and in all points "very good." the adversary panted for the fray, demanding some test of the obedience of this new, favourite race. and the lord god was willing that the great controversy, which he fore-knew, and for wise purposes allowed, should immediately commence. where was the use of a delay? if you will reply, to give time to strengthen adam's moral powers: i rejoin, he was made with more than enough of strength infused against any temptation not entering by the portal of his will: and against the open door of will neither time nor habits can avail. moreover, the trial was to be exceedingly simple; no difficult abstinence, for man might freely eat of every thing but one; no natural passion tempted; no exertion of intelligence requisite. adam lived in a garden; and his maker, for proof of reasonable obedience, provides the most easy and obvious test of it--do not eat that apple. was it, in reality, an improbable test; an unsuitable one? was it not, rather, the likeliest in itself, and the fittest as addressed to the new-born, rational animal, which imagination could invent, or an amiable fore-knowledge of all things could desire? had it been to climb some arduous height without looking back, or on no account to gaze upon the sun, how much less apt and easy of obedience! thus much for the test. now, as to the temptation and its ordering. a creature, to be tempted fairly, must be tempted by another equal or lower creature; and through the senses. if mere spirit strives with spirit, plus matter, the strife is unequal: the latter is clogged; he has to fight in the net of retiarius. but if both are netted, if both are spirit plus matter, (that is, material creatures,) there is no unfairness. therefore, it would seem reasonable that the adversary in person should descend from his mere spirituality into some tangible and humbled form. this could not well be man's, nor the semblance of man's: for the first pair would well know that they were all mankind: and, if the lord god himself was accustomed to be seen of them as in a glorified humanity, it would be manifestly a moral incongruity to invest the devil in a similar form. it must, then, be the shape of some other creature; as a lion, or a lamb, or--why not a serpent? is there any improbability here? and not rather as apt an avatar of the sinuous and wily rebel, the dangerous, fascinating foe, as poetry at least, nay, as any sterner contrivance could invent? the plain fact is, that reason--given keenness--might have guessed this also antecedently a likelihood. a few words more on other details probable to the temptation. wonderful as it may seem to us with our present experience, in the case of the first woman it would scarcely excite her astonishment to be accosted in human phrase by one of the lower creatures; and in no other way could the tempter reach her mind. much as milton puts it, eve sees a beautiful snake, eating, not improbably, of the forbidden apple. attracted by a natural curiosity, she would draw near, and in a soft sweet voice the serpent, _i.e._ lucifer in his guise, would whisper temptation. it was likely to have been keenly managed. is it possible, o fair and favoured mistress of this beautiful garden, that your maker has debarred you from its very choicest fruit? only see its potencies for good: i, a poor reptile, am instantly thereby endued with knowledge and the privilege of speech. am i dead for the eating?--ye shall not surely die; but shall become as gods yourselves; and this your maker knoweth. the marvellous fruit, invested thus with mystery, and tinctured with the secret charm of a thing unreasonably, nay, harmfully, forbidden, would then be allowed silently to plead its own merits. it was good for food: a young creature's first thought. it was pleasant to the eyes: addressing a higher sense than mere bodily appetite, than mental predilection for form and colour which marks fine breeding among men. it was also to be desired to make one wise; here was the climax, the great moral inducement which an innocent being might well be taken with; irrespectively of the one qualification that this wisdom was to be plucked in spite of god. doubtless, it were probable, that had man not fallen, the knowledge of good would never have been long withheld: but he chose to reap the crop too soon, and reaped it mixed with tares, good, and evil. i need not enlarge, in sermon form, upon the theme. it was probable that the weaker creature, woman, once entrapped, she would have charms enough to snare her husband likewise: and the results thus perceived to have been likely, we have long since known for fact. that a depraved knowledge should immediately occasion some sort of clothing to be instituted by the great moral governor, was likely: and there would be nothing near at hand, in fact nothing else suitable, but the skins of beasts. there is also a high probability that some sort of slaying should take place instantly on the fall, by way of reference to the coming sacrifice for sin; and for a type of some imputed righteousness. god covered man's evil nakedness with the skins of innocent slain animals: even so, blessed is he whose unrighteousness is forgiven, and whose sin is covered. with respect to restoration from any such fall. there seems a remarkable prior probability for it, if we take into account the empty places in heaven, the vacant starry thrones which sin had caused to be untenanted. just as, in after years, israel entered into the cities and the gardens of the canaanite and other seven nations, so it was anteriorly likely, would the ransomed race of men come to be inheritors of the mansions among heavenly places, which had been left unoccupied by the fallen host of lucifer. there was a gap to be filled: and probably there would be some better race to fill it. the flood. themes like those past and others still to come, are so immense, that each might fairly ask a volume for its separate elucidation. a few seeds, pregnant with thought, are all that we have here space, or time, or power to drop beside the world's highway. the grand outlines of our race command our first attention: we cannot stop to think and speak of every less detail. therefore, now would i carry my companion across the patriarchal times at once to the era of the deluge. let us speculate, as hitherto, antecedently, throwing our minds as it were into some angelic prior state. if, as we have seen probable, evil (a concretion always, not an abstraction) made some perceptible ravages even in the unbounded sphere of a heavenly creation, how much more rapid and overwhelming would its avalanche (once ill-commenced) be seen, when the site of its infliction was a poor band of men and women prisoned on a speck of earth. how likely was it that, in the lapse of no long time, the whole world should have been "corrupt before god, and filled with wickedness." how probable, that taking into account the great duration of pristine human life, the wicked family of man should speedily have festered up into an intolerable guiltiness. and was this dread result of the primal curse and disobedience to be regarded as the adversary's triumph? had this accuser--the saxon word is devil--had this slanderer of god's attribute then really beaten good? or was not rather all this swarming sin an awful vindication to the universe of the great need-be that god unceasingly must hold his creature up lest he fall, and that out of him is neither strength nor wisdom? was deity, either in adam's case or this, baffled--nor rather justified? was it an experiment which had really failed; nor rather one which, by its very seeming failure, proved the point in question, the misery of creatures when separate from god? yea, the evil one was being beaten down beneath his very trophies in sad tarpeian triumph: through conquest and his children's sins heightening his own misery. let us now advert to a few of the anterior probabilities affecting this evil earth's catastrophe. it is not competent to us to trench upon such ulterior views as are contained in the idea of types relatively to anti-types. neither will we take the fanciful or poetical aspect of coming calamity, that earth, befouled with guilt, was likely to be washed clean by water. it is better to ask, as more relevant, in what other way more benevolent than drowning could, short of miracle, the race be made extinct? they were all to die in their sins, and swell in another sphere the miserable hosts of satan. there was no hope for them, for there was no repentance. it was infinitely probable that god's long-suffering had worn out every reasonable effort for their restoration. they were then to die; but how?--in the least painful manner possible. intestine wars, fevers, famines, a general burning-up of earth and all its millions, were any of these preferable sorts of death to that caused by the gradual rise of water, with hope of life accorded still even to the last gurgle? assuredly, if "the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel," the judgments of the good one are tempered well with mercy. moreover, in the midst of this universal slaughter there was one good seed to be preserved: and, as heaven never works a miracle where common cause will suit the present purpose, it would have been inconsistent to have extirpated the wicked by any such means as must demonstrate the good to have been saved only by super-human agency. the considerations of humanity, and of the divine less-intervention, add that of the natural and easy agency of a long-commissioned comet. no "_deus e machinâ_" was needed for this effort: one of his ministers of flaming fire was charged to call forth the services of water. this was an easy and majestic interference. ever since man fell--yea, ages before it--the omniscient eye of god had foreseen all things that should happen: and his ubiquity had, possibly from the beginning, sped a comet on its errant way, which at a calculated period was to serve to wash the globe clean of its corruptions: was to strike the orbit of earth just in the moment of its passage, and disturbing by attraction the fountains of the great deep, was temporarily to raise their level. was not this a just, a sublime, and a likely plan? was it not a merciful, a perfect, and a worthy way? who should else have buried the carcases on those fierce battle-fields, or the mouldering heaps of pestilence and famine?--but, when at jehovah's summons, heaving to the comet's mass, the pure and mighty sea rises indignant from its bed, by drowning to cleanse the foul and mighty land--how easy an engulfing of the corpses; how awful that universal burial; how apt their monumental epitaph written in water, "the wicked are like the troubled sea that cannot rest;" how dread the everlasting requiem chanted for the whelmed race by the waves roaring above them: yea, roaring above them still! for in that chaotic hour it seems probable to reason that the land changed place with ocean; thus giving the new family of man a fresh young world to live upon. noah. when the world, about to grow so wicked, was likely thus to have been cleansed, and so renewed, the great experiment of man's possible righteousness was probable to be repeated in another form. we may fancy some high angelic mind to have gone through some such line of thought as this, respecting the battle and combatants. were those champions, lucifer and adam, really fit to be matched together? was the tourney just; were the weapons equal; was it, after all, a fair fight?--on one side, the fallen spirit, mighty still, though fallen, subtlest, most unscrupulous, most malicious, exerting every energy to rear a rebel kingdom against god; on the other, a new-born, inexperienced, innocent, and trustful creature, a poor man vexed with appetites, and as naked for absolute knowledge in his mind as for garments on his body. was it, in this view of the case, an equal contest? were the weapons of that warfare matched and measured fairly? some such objection, we may suppose, might seem to have been admissible, as having a show at least of reason: and, after the world was to have been cleansed of all its creatures in the manner i have mentioned, a new champion is armed for the conflict, totally different in every respect; and to reason's view vastly superior. this time, the adam of renewed earth is to be the best and wisest, nay, the only good and wise one of the whole lost family: a man, with the experience of full six hundred years upon his hoary brow, with the unspeakable advantage of having walked with god all those long-drawn centuries, a patriarch of twenty generations, recognised as the one great and faithful witness, the only worshipper and friend of his creator. could a finer sample be conceived? was not noah the only spark of spiritual "consolation" in the midst of earth's dark death? and was not he the best imaginable champion to stand against the wiles of the devil? verily, reason might have guessed, that if deity saw fit to renew the fight at all, the representative of man should have been noah. before we touch upon the immediate fall of this new adam also, at a time when god and reason had deserted him, it will be more orderly to allude to the circumstances of his preservation in the flood. how, in such a hurlyburly of the elements, should the chosen seed survive? no house, nor hill-top, no ordinary ship would serve the purpose: still less the unreasonable plan of any cavern hermetically sealed, or any aerial chariot miraculously lifted up above the lower firmament. to use plain and simple words, i can fancy no wiser method than a something between a house and a diving-bell; a vessel, entirely storm-tight and water-tight, which nevertheless for necessary air should have an open window at the top: say, one a cubit square. this, properly hooded against deluging rain, and supplied with such helps to ventilation as leathern pipes, air tunnels and similar appliances, would not be an impracticable method. however, instead of being under water as a diving-bell, the vessel would be better made to float upon the rising flood, and thus continually keeping its level, would be ready to strike land as the waters assuaged. now, as to the size of this ark, this floating caravan, it must needs be very large; and also take a great time in building. for, suffering cause and effect to go on without a new creation, it was reasonable to suppose that the man, so launching as for another world on the ocean of existence, would take with him (especially if god's benevolence so ordered it) all the known appliances of civilized life; as well as a pair or two of every creature he could collect, to stock withal the renewed earth according to their various excellences in their kinds. the lengthy, arduous, and expensive preparation of this mighty ark--a vessel which must include forests of timber and consume generations in building; besides the world-be-known collection of all manner of strange animals for the stranger fancy of a fanatical old man; not to mention also the hoary preacher's own century of exortations: with how great moral force all this living warning would be calculated to act upon the world of wickedness and doom! here was the great ante-diluvian potentate, noah, a patriarch of ages, wealthy beyond our calculations--(for how else without a needless succession of miracles could he have built and stocked the ark?)--a man of enormous substance, good report, and exalted station, here was he for a hundred and twenty years engaged among crowds of unbelieving workmen, in constructing a most extravagant ship, which, forsooth, filled with samples of all this world's stores, was to sail with our only good family in search of a better. moreover, noah here declares that our dear old mother-earth is to be destroyed for her iniquities by rain and sea: and he exhorts us by a solid evidence of his own faith at least, if by nothing else, to repent, and turn to him, whom abel, seth, and enoch, as well as this good noah, represent as our maker. would not such sneers and taunts be probable: would they not amply vindicate the coming judgment? was not the "long-suffering of god" likely to have thus been tried "while the ark was preparing?" and when the catastrophe should come, had not that evil generation been duly warned against it? on the whole, it would have been reason's guess that noah should be saved as he was; that the ark should have been as we read of it in genesis; and that the very immensity of its construction should have served for a preaching to mankind. as to any idea that the ark is an unreasonable (some have even said ridiculous) incident to the deluge, it seems to me to have furnished a clear case of antecedent probability. lastly: noah's fall was very likely to have happened: not merely in the theological view of the matter, as an illustration of the truth that no human being can stand fast in righteousness: but from the just consideration that he imported with him the seeds of an impure state of society, the remembered luxuries of that old world. for instance, among the plants of earth which noah would have preserved for future insertion in the soil, he could not have well forgotten the generous, treacherous vine. that to a righteous man, little used to all unhallowed sources of exhilaration, this should have been a stepping-stone to a defalcation from god, was likely. it was probable in itself, and shows the honesty as well as the verisimilitude of scripture to read, that "noah began to be a husbandman, and planted a vineyard; and he drank of the wine, and was drunken." there was nothing here but what, taking all things into consideration, reason might have previously guessed. why then withhold the easier matter of an afterward belief? babel. this book ought to be read, as mentally it is written, with at the end of every sentence one of those _et ceteras_, which the genius of a coke interpreted so keenly of the genius of a littleton: for, far more remains on each subject to be said, than in any one has been attempted. let us pass on to the story of babel: i can conceive nothing more _à priori_ probable than the account we read in scripture. briefly consider the matter. a multitude of men, possibly the then whole human family, once more a fallen race, emigrate towards the east, and come to a vast plain in the region of shinar, afterwards chaldæa. fertile, well-watered, apt for every mundane purpose, it yet wanted one great requisite. the degenerate race "put not their trust in god:" they did not believe but that the world might some day be again destroyed by water: and they required a point of refuge in the possible event of a second deluge from the broken bounds of ocean and the windows of the skies. they had come from the west; more strictly the north-west, a land of mountains, as they deemed them, ready-made refuges: and their scheme, a probable one enough, was to construct some such mountain artificially, so that its top might reach the clouds, as did the summit of ararat. this would serve the twofold purpose of outwitting any further attempt to drown them, and of making for themselves a proud name upon the earth. so, the lord god, in his etherealized human form (having taken counsel with his own divine compeers), coming in the guise wherein he was wont to walk with adam and with enoch and his other saints of men, "came down and saw the tower:" truly, he needed not have come, for ubiquity was his, and omniscience; but in the days when god and man were (so to speak) less chronologically divided than as now, and while yet the trial-family was young, it does not seem unlikely that he should. god then, in his aspect of the head of all mankind, took notice of that dangerous and unholy combination: and he made within his triune mind the wise resolve to break their bond of union. omniscience had herein a view to ulterior consequences benevolent to man, and he knew that it would be a wise thing for the future world, as well as a discriminative check upon the race then living, to confuse the universal language into many discordant dialects. was this in any sense an improbable or improper method of making "the devices of the wicked to be of none effect, and of laughing to scorn the counsels of the mighty?" was it not to have been expected that a fallen race should be disallowed the combinative force necessary to a common language, but that such force should be dissipated and diverted for moral usages into many tongues?--there they were, all the chiefs of men congregated to accomplish a vast, ungodly scheme: and interposing heaven to crush such insane presumption--and withal thereafter designing to bless by arranging through such means the future interchange of commerce and the enterprise of nationalities--he, in his trinity, was not unlikely to have said, "let us go down, and confound their language." what better mode could have been devised to scatter mankind, and so to people the extremities of earth? in order that the various dialects should crystallize apart, each in its discriminative lump, the nucleus of a nation; that thereafter the world might be able no longer to unite as one man against its lord, but by conflicting interests, the product of conflicting languages, might give to good a better chance of not being altogether overwhelmed; that, though many "a multitude might go to do evil," it should not thenceforward be the whole consenting family of man; but that, here by one and there by one, the remembrance of god should be kept extant, and evil no longer acquire an accumulated force, by having all the world one nation. job. every scriptural incident and every scriptural worthy deserves its own particular discussion: and might easily obtain it. for example; the anterior probability that human life in patriarchal times should have been very much prolonged, was obvious; from consideration of-- , the benevolence of god; , the inexperience of man; and , the claim so young a world would hold upon each of its inhabitants: whilst holy writ itself has prepared an answer to the probable objection, that the years were lunar years, or months; by recording that arphaxad and salah and eber and peleg and reu and serug and nahor, descendants of shem, each had children at the average age of two-and-thirty, and yet the lives of all varied in duration from a hundred and fifty years to five hundred. and many similar credibilities might be alluded to: what shall i say of abraham's sacrifice, of moses and the burning bush, of jonah also, and elisha, and of the prophets? for the time would fail me to tell how probable and simple in each instance is its deep and marvellous history. there is food for philosophic thought in every page of ancient jewish scripture scarcely less than in those of primitive christianity: here, after our fashion, we have only touched upon a sample. the opening scene to the book of job has vexed the faith of many very needlessly: to my mind, nothing was more likely to have literally and really happened. it is one of those few places where we get an insight into what is going on elsewhere: it is a lifting off the curtain of eternity for once, revealing the magnificent simplicities constantly presented in the halls of heaven. and i am moved to speak about it here, because i think a plain statement of its sublime probabilities will be acceptable to many: especially if they have been harassed by the doubts of learned men respecting the authorship of that rare history. it signifies nothing who recorded the circumstances and conversations, so long as they were true, and really happened: given power, opportunity, and honesty, a life of dr. johnson would be just as fair in fact, if written by smollett, as by boswell, or himself. whether then job, the wealthy prince of uz, or abraham, or moses, or elisha, or eliphaz, or whoever else, have placed the words on record, there they stand, true; and the whole book in all its points was anteriorly likely to have been decreed a component part of revelation. without it, there would have been wanting some evidence of a godly worship among men through the long and dreary interval of several hundred years: there would never have been given for man's help the example of a fortitude, and patience, and trust in god most brilliant; of a faith in the resurrection and redeemer, signal and definite beyond all other texts in jewish scripture: as well as of a human knowledge of god in his works beyond all modern instance. however, the excellences of that narrative are scarcely our theme: we return to the starting-post of its probability, especially with reference to its supernatural commencement. what we have shown credible, many pages back, respecting good and evil and the denizens of heaven, finds a remarkable after-proof in the two first chapters of job; and for some such reason, by reference, these two chapters were themselves anteriorly to have been expected. let us see what happened: "there was a day when the sons of god came to present themselves before the lord, and satan came also among them. and the lord said unto satan, whence comest thou? then satan answered the lord, and said, from going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it. and the lord said unto satan, hast thou considered my servant job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth god and escheweth evil? then satan answered the lord, and said, doth job fear god for naught? hast thou not made a hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side? thou hast blessed the work of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land. but put forth thine hand now, and touch all he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face. and the lord said unto satan, behold, all that he hath is in thy power; only upon himself put not forth thine hand. so satan went forth from the presence of the lord."--[job . - .] it is a most stately drama: any paraphrase would spoil its dignity, its quiet truth, its unpretending, yet gigantic lineaments. note: in allusion to our views of evil, that satan also comes among the sons of god: note, the generous dependence placed by a generous master on his servant well-upheld by that master's own free grace: note, satan's constant imputation against piety when blessed of god with worldly wealth, doth he serve for naught? i can discern no cause wherefore all this scene should not have truly happened; not as in vision of some holy man, but as in fact. let us read on, before further comment: "again, there was a day when the sons of god came to present themselves before the lord, and satan came also among them to present himself before the lord. and the lord said unto satan, whence comest thou? and satan answered the lord, and said, from going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it. and the lord said unto satan, hast thou considered my servant job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth god and escheweth evil? and still he holdeth fast his integrity, although thou movedst me against him, to destroy him without cause. and satan answered the lord, and said, skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life. but put forth thine hand now, and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse thee to thy face. and the lord said unto satan, behold, he is in thine hand; but save his life. so satan went forth from the presence of the lord, and smote job with sore boils, from the sole of his foot unto his crown." some such scene, displaying the devil's malice, slandering sneers, and permitted power, recommends itself to my mind as antecedently to have been looked for: in order that we might know from what quarter many of life's evils come; with what aims and ends they are directed; what limits are opposed to our foe; and who is on our side. we needed some such insight into the heavenly places; some such hint of what is continually going on before the lord's tribunal; we wanted this plain and simple setting forth of good and evil in personal encounter, of innocence awhile given up to malice for its chastening and its triumph. lo, all this so probable scene is here laid open to us, and many, against reason, disbelieve it! note, in allusion to our after-theme, the _locus_ of heaven, that there is some such usual place of periodical gathering. note, the open unchiding loveliness dwelling in the good one's words, as contrasted with the subtle, slanderous hatred of the evil. and then the vulgar proverb, skin for skin: this pious job is so intensely selfish, that let him lose what he may, he heeds it not; he cares for nothing out of his own skin. and there are many more such notabilities. why did i produce these passages at length? for their doric simplicity; for their plain and masculine features; for their obvious truthfulness; for their manifest probability as to fact, and expectability previously to it. why on earth should they be doubted in their literal sense? and were they not more likely to have happened than to have been invented? we have no such geniuses now as this writer must have been, who by the pure force of imagination could have created that tableau. milton had job to go to. simplicity is proof presumptive in favour of the plain inspiration of such passages: for the plastic mind which could conceive so just a sketch, would never have rested satisfied, without having painted and adorned it picturesquely. such rare flights of fancy are always made the most of. one or two thoughts respecting job's trial. that he should at last give way, was only probable: he was, in short, another adam, and had another fall; albeit he wrestled nobly. worthy was he to be named among god's chosen three, "noah, daniel, and job:" and worthy that the lord should bless his latter end. this word brings me to the point i wish to touch on; the great compensation which god gave to job. children can never be regarded as other than individualities: and notwithstanding eastern feelings about increase in quantity, its quality is, after all, the question for the heart. i mean that many children to be born, is but an inadequate return for many children dying. if a father loses a well-beloved son, it is small recompense of that aching void that he gets another. for this reason of the affections, and because i suppose that thinkers have sympathized with me in the difficulty, i wish to say a word about job's children, lost and found. it will clear away what is to some minds a moral and affectionate objection. now, this is the state of the case. the patriarch is introduced to us as possessing so many camels, and oxen, and so forth; and ten children. all these are represented to him by witnesses, to all appearance credible, as dead; and he mourns for his great loss accordingly. would not a merchant feel to all intents and purposes a ruined man, if he received a clear intelligence from different parts of the world at once that all his ships and warehouses had been destroyed by hurricanes and fire? faith given, patience follows: and the trial is morally the same, whether the news be true or false. remarkably enough, after the calamitous time is past, when the good man of uz is discerned as rewarded by heaven for his patience by the double of every thing once lost--his children remain the same in number, ten. it seems to me quite possible that neither camels, &c., nor children, really had been killed. satan might have meant it so, and schemed it; and the singly-coming messengers believed it all, as also did the well-enduring job. but the scriptural word does not go to say that these things happened; but that certain emissaries said they happened. i think the devil missed his mark: that the messengers were scared by some abortive diabolic efforts; and that, (with a natural increase of camels, &c., meanwhile,) the patriarch's paternal heart was more than compensated at the last, by the restoration of his own dear children. they were dead, and are alive again; they were lost, and are found. like abraham returning from mount calvary with isaac, it was the resurrection in a figure. if to this view objection is made, that, because the boils of job were real, therefore, similarly real must be all his other evils; i reply, that in the one temptation, the suffering was to be mental; in the other, bodily. in the latter case, positive, personal pain, was the gist of the matter: in the former, the heart might be pierced, and the mind be overwhelmed, without the necessity of any such incurable affliction as children's deaths amount to. god's mercy may well have allowed the evil one to overreach himself; and when the restoration came, how double was the joy of job over those ten dear children. again, if any one will urge that, in the common view of the case, job at the last really has twice as many children as before, for that he has ten old ones in heaven, and ten new ones on earth: i must, in answer, think that explanation as unsatisfactory to us, as the verity of it would have been to job. affection, human affection, is not so numerically nor vicariously consoled: and it is, perhaps, worth while here to have thrown out (what i suppose to be) a new view of the case, if only to rescue such wealth as children from the infidel's sneer of being confounded with such wealth as camels. moreover, such a paternal reward was anteriorly more probable. joshua. how many of our superficial thinkers have been staggered at the great miracle recorded of joshua; and how few, even of the deeper sort, comparatively, may have discerned its aptness, its science, and its anterior likelihood: "sun! stand thou still upon gibeon; and thou, moon, in the valley of ajalon." now, consider, for we hope to vindicate even this stupendous event from the charge of improbability. baal and ashtaroth, chief idols of the canaanites, were names for sun and moon. it would manifestly be the object of god and his ambassador to cast utter scorn on such idolatry. and what could be more apt than that joshua, commissioned to extirpate the corrupted race, should miraculously be enabled, as it were, to bind their own gods to aid in the destruction of such votaries? again: what should joshua want with the moon for daylight, to help him to rout the foes of god more fiercely? why not, according to the astronomical ignorance of those days, let her sail away, unconsorted by the sun, far beyond the valley of ajalon? there was a reason, here, of secret, unobtruded science: if the sun stopped, the moon must stop too; that is to say, both apparently: the fact being that the earth must, for the while, rest on its axis. this, i say, is a latent, scientific hint; and so, likewise, is the accompanying mention as a fact, that the lord immediately "rained great stones out of heaven" upon the flying host. for would it not be the case that, if the diurnal rotation of earth were suddenly to stop, the impetus of motion would avail to raise high into the air by centrifugal force, and fling down again by gravity, such unanchored things as fragments of rock? once more: our objector will here perhaps inquire, why not then command the earth to stop--and not the sun and moon? if thus probably joshua or his inspirer knew better? answer. only let a reasonable man consider what would have been the moral lesson both to israelite and to canaanite, if the great successor of moses had called out, incomprehensibly to all, "earth, stand thou still on thine axis;"--and lo! as if in utter defiance of such presumption, and to vindicate openly the heathen gods against the jewish, the very sun and moon in heaven stopped, and glared on the offender. i question whether such a noon-day miracle might not have perverted to idolatry the whole believing host: and almost reasonably too. the strictly philosophical terms would have entirely nullified the whole moral influence. god in his word never suffers science to hinder the progress of truth: a worldly philosophy does this almost in every instance, darkening knowledge with a cloud of words: but the science of the bible is usually concealed in some neighbouring hint quite handy to the record of the phenomena expressed in ordinary language. in fact, for all common purposes, no astronomer finds fault with such phrases as the moon rising, or the sun setting: he speaks according to the appearance, though he knows perfectly well that the earth is the cause of it, and not the sun or moon. carry this out in joshua's case. on the whole, the miracle was very plain, very comprehensible, and very probable. it had good cause: for canaan felt more confidence in the protection of his great and glorious baal, than stiff-necked judah in his barely-seen divinity: and surely it was wise to vindicate the true but invisible god by the humiliation of the false and far-seen idol. this would constitute to all nations the quickly-rumoured proof that jehovah of the israelites was god in heaven above as well as on the earth beneath. and, considering the peculiar idolatries of canaan, it seems to me that no miracle could have been better placed and better timed--in other words, anteriorly more probable--than the command of obedience to the sun and to the moon. i suppose that few persons who read this book will be unaware, that the circumstance is alluded to as well in that honest heathen, old herodotus, as in the learned jew josephus. the volumes are not near me for reference to quotations: but such is fact: it will be found in herodotus, about the middle of euterpe, connected with an allusion to the analogous case of hezekiah. no miracles, on the whole (to take one after-view of the matter), could have been better tested: for two armies (not to mention all surrounding countries) must have seen it plainly and clearly: if then it had never occurred, what a very needless exposure of the falsity of the jewish scriptures! these were open, published writings, accessible to all: cyrus and darius and alexander read them, and ethiopian eunuchs; parthians, medes, and elamites, with all other nations of the earth, had free access to those records. only imagine if some recent history of england, adolphus's, or stebbing's, contained an account of a certain day in george the fourth's reign having had twenty-four hour's daylight instead of the usual admixture; could the intolerable falsehood last a minute? such a placard would be torn away from the records of the land the moment a rash hand had fixed it there. but, if the matter were fact, how could any historian neglect it?--in one sense, the very improbability of such a marvel being recorded, argues the probability of it having actually occurred. much more might here be added: but our errand is accomplished, if any stumbling-block had been thus easily removed from some erring thinker's path. surely, we have given him some reason for faith's due acceptance of joshua's miracle. the incarnation. in touching some of the probabilities of our blessed lord's career, it would be difficult to introduce and illustrate the subject better, than by the following anecdote. whence it is derived, has escaped my memory; but i have a floating notion that it is told of socrates in xenophon or plato. at any rate, by way of giving fixity thereto and picturesqueness, let us here report the story as of the athenian solomon: surrounded by his pupils, the great heathen reasoner was being questioned and answering questions: in particular respecting the probability that the universal god would be revealed to his creatures. "what a glorious king would he appear!" said one, possibly the brilliant alcibiades: "what a form of surpassing beauty!" said another, not unlikely the softer crito. "not so, my children," answered socrates. "kings and the beautiful are few, and the god, if he came on earth as an exemplar, would in shape and station be like the greater number." "indeed, master? then how should he fail of being made a king of men, for his goodness, and his majesty, and wisdom?" "alas! my children," was pure reason's just rejoinder, "[greek: oi pleiones kakoi], most men are so wicked that they would hate his purity, despise his wisdom, and as for his majesty, they could not truly see it. they might indeed admire for a time, but thereafter (if the god allowed it), they would even hunt and persecute and kill him." "kill him!" exclaimed the eager group of listeners; "kill him? how should they, how could they, how dare they kill god?" "i did not say, kill god," would have been wise socrates's reply, "for god existeth ever: but men in enmity and envy might even be allowed to kill that human form wherein god walked for an ensample. that they could, were god's humility: that they should, were their own malice: that they dared, were their own grievous sin and peril of destruction. yea," went on the keen-eyed sage, "men would slay him by some disgraceful death, some lingering, open, and cruel death, even such as the death of slaves!"--now slaves, when convicted of capital crime, were always crucified. whatever be thought of the genuineness of the anecdote, its uses are the same to us. reason might have arrived at the salient points of christ's career, and at his crucifixion! i will add another topic: how should the god on earth arrive there? we have shown that his form would probably be such as man's; but was he to descend bodily from the atmosphere at the age of full-grown perfection, or to rise up out of the ground with earthquakes and fire, or to appear on a sudden in the midst of the market-place, or to come with legions of his heavenly host to visit his temple? there was a wiser way than these, more reasonable, probable, and useful. man required an exemplar for every stage of his existence up to the perfection of his frame. the infant, and the child, and the youth, would all desire the human-god to understand their eras; they would all, if generous and such as he would love, long to feel that he has sympathy with them in every early trial, as in every later grief. moreover, the god coming down with supernatural glories or terrors would be a needless expense of ostentatious power. he, whose advent is intended for the encouragement of men to exercise their reason and their conscience; whose exhortation is "he that hath ears to hear, let him hear;" that pure being, who is the chief preacher of humility, and the great teacher of man's responsible condition--surely, he would hardly come in any way astoundingly miraculous, addressing his advent not to faith, but to sight, and challenging the impossibility of unbelief by a galaxy of spiritual wonders. yet, if he is to come at all--and a word or two of this hereafter--it must be either in some such strange way; or in the usual human way; or in a just admixture of both. as the first is needlessly overwhelming to the responsible state of man, so the second is needlessly derogatory to the pure essence of god; and the third idea would seem to be most probable. let us guess it out. why should not this highest object of faith and this lowest subject of obedience be born, seemingly by human means, but really by divine? why should there not be found some unspotted holy virgin, betrothed to a just man and soon to be his wife, who, by the creative power of divinity, should miraculously conceive the shape divine, which god himself resolved to dwell in? why should she not come of a lineage and family which for centuries before had held such expectation? why should not the just man, her affianced, who had never known her yet, being warned of god in a dream of this strange, immaculate conception, "fear not to take unto him mary his wife," lest the unbelieving world should breathe slander on her purity, albeit he should really know her not until after the holy birth. there is nothing unreasonable here; every step is previously credible: and invention's self would be puzzled to devise a better scheme. the virgin-born would thus be a link between god and man, the great mediator: his natures would fulfil every condition required of their double and their intimate conjunction. he would have arrived at humanity without its gross beginnings, and have veiled his godhead for a while in a pure though mortal tenement. he would have participated in all the tenderness of woman's nature, and thus have reached the keenest sensibilities of men. themes such as these are inexhaustible: and i am perpetually conscious of so much left unsaid, that at every section i seem to have said next to nothing. nevertheless, let it go; the good seed yet shall germinate. "cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shall find it after many days." it may to some minds be a desideratum, to allude to the anterior probability that god should come in the flesh. much of this has been anticipated under the head of visible deity and elsewhere; as this treatise is so short, one may reasonably expect every reader to take it in regular course. for additional considerations: the benevolent maker would hardly leave his creatures to perish, without one word of warning or one gleam of knowledge. the question of the bible is considered further on: but exclusively of written rules and dogmas, it was likely that our father should commission chosen servants of his own, orally to teach and admonish; because it would be in accordance with man's reasonable nature, that he should best and easiest learn from the teaching his brethren. so then, after all lesser ambassadors had failed, it was to be expected that he should send the highest one of all, saying, "they will reverence my son." we know that this really did occur by innumerable proofs, and wonderful signs posterior: and now, after the event, we discern it to have been anteriorly probable. it was also probable in another light. this world is a world of incarnations; nothing has a real and potential existence, which is not embodied in some form. a theory is nothing; if no personal philosopher, no sect, or school of learners, takes it up. an opinion is mere air; without the multitude to give it all the force of a mighty wind. an idea is mere spiritual light; if unclad in deeds, or in words written or spoken. so, also, of the godhead: he would be like all these. he would pervade words spoken, as by prophets or preachers: he would include words written, as in the bible: he would influence crowds with spirit-stirring sentiments: he would embody the theory of all things in one simple, philosophic form. as this material world is constituted, god could not reveal himself at all, excepting by the aid of matter. i mean; even granting that he spiritually inspired a prophet, still the man was necessary: he becomes an inspired man; not mere inspiration. so, also, of a book; which is the written labour of inspired men. there is no doing without the humanity of god, so far as this world is concerned, any more than his deity can be dispensed with, regarding the worlds beyond worlds, and the ages of ages, and the dread for ever and ever. mahometanism. it seems expedient that, in one or two instances, i should attempt the illustration of this rule of probability in matters beyond the bible. as very fair ones, take mahometanism and romanism. and first of the former. at the commencement of the seventh century, or a little previously to that era, we know that a fierce religion sprang up, promulgated by a false prophet. i wish briefly to show that this was antecedently to have been expected. in a moral point of view, the christian world, torn by all manner of schisms, and polluted by all sorts of heresies, had earned for the human race, whether accepting the gospel or refusing it, some signal and extensive punishment at the hands of him, who is the great retributor as well as the munificent rewarder. in a physical point of view, the civilized kingdoms of the earth had become stagnant, arguing that corrupt and poisonous calm which is the herald of a coming tempest. the heat of a true religion had cooled down into lukewarm disputations about nothings, scholastical and casuistic figments; whilst at the same time the prevalence of peaceful doctrines had amalgamated all classes into a luxurious indolence. passionate man is not to be so satisfied; and the time was fully come for the rise of some fierce spirit, who should change the tinsel theology of the crucifix for the iron religion of the sword: who should blow in the ears of the slumbering west the shrill war-blast of eastern fervencies; who should exchange the dull rewards of canonization due to penance, or an after-life voluntary humiliation under pseudo-saints and angels, for the human and comprehensible joys of animal appetite and military glory: who should enlist under his banner all the frantic zeal, all the pent-up licentiousness, all the heart-burning hatreds of mankind, stifled either by a positive barbarism, or the incense-laden cloud of a scarcely-masked idolatry. thus, and then, was likely to arise a bold and self-confiding hero, leaning on his own sword: a man of dark sentences, who, by judiciously pilfering from this quarter and from that shreds of truth to jewel his black vestments of error, and by openly proclaiming that oneness of the object of all worship which besotted christendom had then, from undue reverence to saints and martyrs, virgins and archangels, well nigh forgotten; a man who, by pandering to human passions and setting wide as virtue's avenue the flower-tricked gates of vice; should thus, like lucifer before him, in a comet-like career of victory, sweep the startled firmament of earth, and drag to his erratic orbit the stars of heaven from their courses. mahomet; his humble beginnings; his iron perseverance under early probable checks; his blind, yet not all unsublime, dependence on fatality; his ruthless, yet not all undeserved, infliction of fire and sword upon the cowering coward race that filled the western world;--these, and all whatever else besides attended his train of triumphs, and all whatever besides has lasted among moors, and arabs, and turks, and asiatics, even to this our day--constitute to a thinking mind (and it seems not without cause) another antecedent probability. let the scoffer about mahomet's success, and the admirer of his hotchpot koran; let him to whom it is a stumbling-block that error (if indeed, quoth he, it be more erroneous than what christendom counts truth) should have had such free course and been glorified, while so-called truth, _pede claudo_, has limped on even as now cautiously and ingloriously through the well-suspicious world; let him who thinks he sees in mahomet's success an answer to the foolish argument of some, who test the truth of christianity by its gentile triumphs; let him ponder these things. reason, the god of his idolatry, might, with an archangel's ken, have prophesied some mahomet's career: and, so far from such being in the nature of any objection to faith, the idea thus thrown out, well-mused upon, will be seen to lend faith an aid in the way of previous likelihood. "there is one god, and mahomet is his prophet!" how admirably calculated such a war-cry would be for the circumstances of the seventh century. the simple sublimity of oneness, as opposed to school-theology and catholic demons: the glitter of barbaric pomp, instead of tame observances: the flashing scimetar of ambition to supersede the cross: a turban aigretted with jewels for the twisted wreath of thorns. as human nature is, and especially in that time was, nothing was more expectable (even if prophetic records had not taught it), than the rise and progress of that great false prophet, whose waving crescent even now blights the third part of earth. romanism. we all know how easy it is to prophesy after the event: but it would be uncandid and untrue to confound this remark with another, cousin-germane to it; to wit: how easy it is to discern of any event, after it has happened, whether or not it were antecedently likely. when the race is over, and the best horse has won (or by clever jockey-management, the worst), how obviously could any gentleman on the turf, now in possession of particulars, have seen the event to have been so probable, that he would have staked all upon its issue. carry out this familiar idea; which, as human nature goes, is none the weaker as to illustration, because it is built upon the rule "_parvis componere magna_." let us sketch a line or two of that great fore-shadowing cartoon, the probabilities of romanism. that our blessed master, even in his state as man, beheld its evil characteristics looming on the future, seems likely not alone from both his human keenness and his divine omniscience, but from here and there a hint dropped in his biography. why should he, on several occasions, have seemed, i will say with some apparent sharpness, to have rebuked his virgin mother.--"woman, what have i to do with thee?"--"who are my mother and my brethren?"--"yea--more blessed than the womb which bare me, and the paps that i have sucked, is the humblest of my true disciples." let no one misunderstand me: full well i know the just explanations which palliate such passages; and the love stronger than death which beat in that filial heart. but, take the phrases as they stand; and do they not in reason constitute some warning and some prophecy that men should idolize the mother? nothing, in fact, was more likely than that a just human reverence to the most favoured among women should have increased into her admiring worship: until the humble and holy mary, with the sword of human anguish at her heart, should become exaggerated and idealized into mother of god--instead of jesus's human matrix, queen of heaven, instead of a ransomed soul herself, the joy of angels--in lieu of their lowly fellow-worshipper, and the rapture of the blessed--thus dethroning the almighty. take a second instance: why should peter, the most loving, most generous, most devoted of them all, have been singled out from among the twelve--with a "get thee behind me, satan?"--it really had a harsh appearance; if it were not that, prophetically speaking, and not personally, he was set in the same category with judas, the "one who was a devil." i know the glosses, and the contexts, and the whole amount of it. folios have been written, and may be written again, to disprove the text; but the more words, the less sense: it stands, a record graven in the rock; that same petra, whereon, as firm and faithful found, our lord jesus built his early church: it stands, a mark indelibly burnt into that hand, to whom were intrusted, not more specially than to any other of the saintly sent, the keys of the kingdom of heaven: it stands, along with the same peter's deep and terrible apostacy, a living witness against some future church, who should set up this same peter as the jupiter of their pantheon: who should positively be idolizing now an image christened peter, which did duty two thousand years ago as a statue of libyan jove! but even this glaring compromise was a matter probable, with the data of human ambitions, and a rotten christianity. examples such as these might well be multiplied: bear with a word or two more, remembering always that the half is not said which might be said in proof; nor in answering the heap of frivolous objections. why, unless relics and pseudo-sacred clothes were to be prophetically humbled into their own mere dust and nothing-worthiness, why should the rude roman soldiery have been suffered to cast lots for that vestment, which, if ever spiritual holiness could have been infused into mere matter, must indeed have remained a relic worthy of undoubted worship? it was warm with the animal heat of the man inhabited by god: it was half worn out in the service of his humble travels, and had even, on many occasions, been the road by which virtue had gone out; not of it, but of him. what! was this wonderful robe to work no miracles? was it not to be regarded as a sort of outpost of the being who was human-god? had it no essential sacredness, no _noli-me-tangere_ quality of shining away the gambler's covetous glance, of withering his rude and venturous hand, or of poisoning, like some nessus' shirt, the lewd ruffian who might soon thereafter wear it? not in the least. this woven web, to which a corrupted state of feeling on religion would have raised cathedrals as its palaces, with singing men and singing women, and singing eunuchs too, to celebrate its virtues; this coarse cloth of some poor weaver's, working down by the sea of galilee or in some lane of zion, was still to remain, and be a mere unglorified, economical, useful garment. far from testifying to its own internal mightiness, it probably was soon sold by the fortunate roman die-thrower to a second-hand shop of the jewish metropolis; and so descended from beggar to beggar till it was clean worn out. we never hear that, however easy of access so inestimable relic might then have been considered, any one of the numerous disciples, in the fervour of their earliest zeal, threw away one thought for its redemption. is it not strange that no st. helena was at hand to conserve such a desirable invention? why is there no st. vestment to keep in countenance a st. sepulchre and a st. cross? the poor cloth, in primitive times, really was despised. we know well enough what happened afterwards about handkerchiefs imbued with miraculous properties from holy paul's body for the nonce: but this is an inferior question, and the matter was temporary; the superior case is proved, and besides the rule _omne majus continet in se minus_ there are differences quite intelligible between the cases, whereabout our time would be less profitably employed than in passing on and leaving them unquestioned. suffice it to say, that "god worked those special miracles," and not the unconscious "handkerchiefs or aprons." "te deum laudamus!" is protestantism's cry; "sudaria laudemus!" would swell the papal choirs. let such considerations as these then are in sample serve to show how evidently one might prove from anterior circumstances, (and the canon of scripture is an anterior circumstance,) the probability of the rise and progress of the roman heresies. and if any one should ask, how was such a system more likely to arise under a gentile rather than a jewish theocracy? why was a st. paul, or a st. peter, or a st. dunstan, or a st. gengulphus, more previously expectable than a st. abraham, a st. david, a st. elisha, or a st. gehazi? i answer, from the idea of idolatry, so adapted to the gentile mind, and so abhorrent from the jewish. martyred abel, however well respected, has never reached the honours of a niche beside the altar. jephtha's daughter, for all her mourned virginity, was never paraded, (that i wot of,) for any other than a much-to-be-lamented damsel. who ever asked, in those old times, the mediation of st. enoch? where were the offerings, in jewels or in gold, to propitiate that undoubted man of god and denizen of heaven, st. moses? what prows, in wax, of vessels saved from shipwreck, hung about the dripping fane of jonah? and where was, in the olden time, that wretched and insensate being, calling himself rational and godly, who had ventured to solicit the good services of isaiah as his intercessor, or to plead the merits of st. ezekiel as the make-weight for his sins? it was just this, and reasonably to have been expected; for when the jew brought in his religion, he demolished every false god, broke their images, slew their priests, and burnt their groves with fire. but, when a worldly christianity came to be in vogue, when emperors adorned their banners with the cross, and the poor fishermen of galilee, (in their portly representatives,) came to be encrusted with gems, and rustling with seric silk; then was made that fatal compromise; then it was likely to have been made, which has lasted even until now: a compromise which, newly baptizing the damned idols of the heathen, keeps yet st. bacchus and st. venus, st. mars and st. apollo, perched in sobered robes upon the so-called christian altar; which yet pays divine honours to an ancyle or a rusty nail; to the black stones at delphi, or the gold-shrined bones at aix; which yet sanctifies the chickens of the capitol, or the cock that startled peter; which yet lets a wealthy sinner, by his gold, bribe the winking pythoness, or buy dispensing clauses from "the lord our god, the pope." there is yet a swarm of other notions pressing on the mind, which tend to prove that popery might have been anticipated. take this view. the religion of christ is holy, self-denying; not of this world's praise, and ending with the terrible sanction of eternity for good or evil: it sets up god alone supreme, and cuts down creature-merit to a point perpetually diminishing; for the longer he does well, the more he owes to the grace which enabled him to do it. now, man's nature is, as we know, diametrically opposite to all this: and unable to escape from the conviction of christian truth in some sense, he would bend his shrewd invention to the attempt of warping that stern truth to shapes more consistent with his idiosyncrasies. a religious plan might be expected, which, in lieu of a difficult, holy spirituality, should exact easy, mere observances; to say a thousand paters with the tongue, instead of one "our father," from the heart; to exact genuflections by the score, but not a single prostration of the spirit; to write the cross in water on the forehead often-times, but never once to bear its mystic weight upon the shoulder. in spite of self-denial, cleverly kept in sight by means of eggs, and pulse, and hair-cloth, to pamper the deluded flesh with many a carnal holiday; in contravention of a kingdom not of this world, boldly to usurp the temporal dominion of it all: instead of the overwhelming incomprehensibility of an eternal doom, to comfort the worst with false assurance of a purgatory longer or shorter; that after all, vice may be burnt out; and who knows but that gold, buying up the prayers and superfluous righteousness of others, may not make the fiery ordeal an easy one? in lieu of a god brought near to his creatures, infinite purity in contact with the grossest sin, as the good physician loveth; how sage it seemed to stock the immeasurable distance with intermediate numia, cycle on epicycle, arc on arc, priest and bishop and pope, and martyr, and virgin, and saint, and angel, all in their stations, at due interval soliciting god to be (as if his blessed majesty were not so of himself!) the sinner's friend. how comfortable this to man's sweet estimation of his own petty penances; how glorifying to those "filthy rags," his so-called righteousness: how apt to build up the hierarchist power; how seemingly analogous with man's experience here, where clerks lay the case before commissioners, and commissioners before the government, and the government before the sovereign. all this was entirely expectable: and i can conceive that a deep reasoner among the first apostles, even without such supernal light as "the spirit speaking expressly," might have so calculated on the probabilities to come, as to have written, long ago, words akin to these: "in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seductive doctrines, and fanciful notions about intermediate deities, ([greek: daimoniôn],) perverting truth by hypocritical departures from it, searing conscience against its own cravings after spiritual holiness, forbidding marriage, (to invent another virtue,) and commanding abstinence from god's good gifts, as a means of building up a creature-merit by voluntary humiliation." at the likelihood that such "profane and old wives' fables" should thereafter have arisen, might paul without a miracle have possibly arrived. yet again: take another view. the religion of christ, though intended to be universal in some better era of this groaning earth, was, until that era cometh, meant and contrived for any thing rather than a catholicity. true, the church is so far catholic that it numbers of its blessed company men of every clime and every age, from righteous abel down to the last dear babe christened yester-morning; true, the commission is "to all nations, teaching them:" but, what mean the simultaneous and easily reconciled expressions--come out from among them, little flock, gathered out of the gentiles, a peculiar people, a church militant, and not triumphant, here on earth? thus shortly of a word much misinterpreted: let us now see what the romanist does, what, (on human principles,) he would be probable to do, with this discriminating religion. he, chiefly for temporal gains, would make it as expansive as possible: there should be room at that table for every guest, whether wedding-garmented or not; there would be sauces in that poisonous feast, fitted to every palate. for the cold, ascetical mind, a cell and a scourge, and a record kept of starving fancies as calling them ecstatic visions vouchsafed by some old stylite to bless his favoured worshipper; for the painted demirep of fashionable life, there would be a pretty pocket-idol, and the snug confessional well tenanted by a not unsympathizing father; for the pure girl, blighted in her heart's first love, the papist would afford that seemingly merciful refuge, that calm and musical and gentle place, the irrevocable nunnery; a place, for all its calmness, and its music, and its gentle reputations, soon to be abhorred of that poor child as a living tomb, the extinguisher of all life's aims, all its duties, uses and delights: for the bandit, a tythe of the traveller's gold would avail to pay away the murder, and earn for him a heap of merits kept within the cash-box: the educated, high-born and finely-moulded mind might be well amused with architecture, painting, carving, sweet odours, and the most wondrous music that has ever cheated man, even while he offers up his easy adorations, and departs, equally complacent at the choral remedies as at the priestly absolution; while, for those good few, the truly pious and enlightened children of rome, who mourn the corruptions of their church, and explain away, with trembling tongue, her obvious errors and idolatries, for these the wily scheme, so probable, devised an undoubted mass of truth to be left among the rubbish. true doctrines, justly held by true martyrs and true saints, holy men of god who have died in that communion; ordinances and an existence which creep up, (heedless of corruption though,) step by step, through past antiquity, to the very feet of the founder; keen casuists, competent to prove any point of conscience or objection, and that indisputably, for they climax all by the high authority of popes and councils that cannot be deceived: pious treatises and manuals, verily of flaming heat, for they mingle the yearnings of a constrained celibacy with the fervencies of worship and the cravings after god. yes, there is meat here for every human mouth; only that, alas for men! the meat is that which perisheth, and not endureth unto everlasting life. rome, thou wert sagely schemed; and if lucifer devised thee not for the various appetencies of poor, deceivable, catholic man, verily it were pity, for thou art worthy of his handiwork. all things to all men, in any sense but the right, signifies nothing to anybody: in the sense of falsehoods, take the former for thy motto; in that of single truth, in its intensity, the latter. let not then the accident--the probable accident--of the italian superstition place any hindrance in the way of one whose mind is all at sea because of its existence. what, o man with a soul, is all the world else to thee? christianity, whatever be its broad way of pretences, is but in reality a narrow path: be satisfied with the day of small things, stagger not at the inconsistencies, conflicting words, and hateful strifes of those who say they are christians, but "are not, but are of the synagogue of satan." judge truth, neither by her foes nor by her friends but by herself. there was one who said (and i never heard that any writer, from julian to hobbes, ever disputed his human truth or wisdom) "needs must that offences come; but wo be to that man by whom the offence cometh. if they come, be not shaken in faith: lo, i have told you before. and if others fall away, or do ought else than my bidding, what is that to thee? follow thou me." the bible. whilst i attempt to show, as now i desire to do, that the bible should be just the book it is, from considerations of anterior probability, i must expand the subject a little; dividing it, first, into the likelihood of a revelation at all; and secondly, into that of its expectable form and character. the first likelihood has its birth in the just benevolence of our heavenly father, who without dispute never leaves his rational creatures unaided by some sort of guiding light, some manifestation of himself so needful to their happiness, some sure word of consolation in sorrow, or of brighter hope in persecution. that it must have been thus an _à priori_ probability, has been all along proved by the innumerable pretences of the kind so constant up and down the world: no nation ever existed in any age or country, whose seers and wise men of whatever name have not been believed to hold commerce with the godhead. we may judge from this, how probable it must ever have been held. the sages of old greece were sure of it from reason: and not less sure from accepted superstition those who reverenced the brahmin, or the priest of heliopolis, or the medicine-man among the rocky mountains, or the llama of old mexico. i know that our ignorance of some among the most brutalized species of mankind, as the bushmen in caffraria, and the tribes of new south wales, has failed to find among their rites any thing akin to religion: but what may we not yet have to learn of good even about such poor outcasts? how shall we prove this negative? for aught we know, their superstitions at the heart may be as deep and as deceitful as in others; and, even on the contrary side, the exception proves the rule: the rule that every people concluded a revelation so likely, that they have one and all contrived it for themselves. thus shortly of the first: and now, secondly, how should god reveal himself to men? in such times as those when the world was yet young, and the church concentrated in a family or an individual, it would probably be by an immediate oral teaching; the lord would speak with adam; he would walk with enoch; he would, in some pure ethereal garb, talk with abraham, as friend to friend. and thereafter, as men grew, and worshippers were multiplied, he would give some favoured servant a commission to be his ambassador: he would say to an ezekiel, "go unto the house of israel, and speak my words to them:" he would bid a jeremiah "take thee a roll of a book, and write therein all the words that i have spoken to thee:" he would give daniel a deep vision, not to be interpreted for ages, "shut up the words, and seal the book even to the time of the end:" he would make moses grave his precepts in the rock, and job record his trials with a pen of iron. for a family, the beatic vision was enough: for a congregated nation, as once at sinai, oral proclamations: for one generation or two around the world, the zeal and eloquence of some great "multitude of preachers:" but, indubitably, if god willed to bless the universal race, and drop the honey of his words distilling down the hour-glass of time from generation to generation even to the latter days, there was no plan more probable, none more feasible, than the pen of a ready writer. further: and which concerns our argument: what were likely to be the characteristic marks of such a revelation? exclusively of a pervading holiness, and wisdom, and sublimity, which could not be dispensed with, and in some sort should be worthy of the god; there would be, it was probable, frequent evidences of man's infirmity, corrupting all he toucheth. the almighty works no miracles for little cause: one miracle alone need be current throughout scripture: to wit, that which preserves it clean and safe from every perilous error. but, in the succession of a thousand scribes each copying from the other, needs must that the tired hand and misty eye would occasionally misplace a letter: this was no nodus worthy of a god's descent to dissipate by miracle. again: the original prophets themselves were men of various characters and times and tribes. god addresses men through their reason; he bound not down a seer "with bit and bridle, like the horse that has no understanding"--but spoke as to a rational being--"what seest thou?" "hear my words;"--"give ear unto my speech." was it not then likely that the previous mode of thought and providential education in each holy man of god should mingle irresistibly with his inspired teaching? should not the herdsman of tehoa plead in pastoral phrase, and the royal son of amoz denounce with strong authority? should not david whilst a shepherd praise god among his flocks, and when a king, cry "give the king thy judgments?" the bible is full of this human individuality; and nothing could be thought as humanly more probable: but we must, with this diversity, connect the other probability also, that which should show the work to be divine; which would prove (as is literally the case) that, in spite of all such natural variety, all such unbiassed freedom both of thought and speech, there pervades the whole mass a oneness, a marvellous consistency, which would be likely to have been designed by god, though little to have been dreamt by man. once more on this full topic. difficulties in scripture were expectable for many reasons; i can only touch a few. man is rational as he is responsible: god speaks to his mind and moral powers: and the mind rejoices, and moralities grow strong in conquest of the difficult and search for the mysterious. the muscles of the spiritual athlete pant for such exertion; and without it, they would dwindle into trepid imbecility. curious man, courageous man, enterprising, shrewd, and vigourous man, yet has a constant enemy to dread in his own indolence: now, a lion in the path will wake up sloth himself: and the very difficulties of religion engender perseverance. additionally: i think there is somewhat in the consideration, that, if all revealed truth had been utterly simple and easy, it would have needed no human interpreter; no enlightened class of men, who, according to the spirit of their times, and the occasions of their teaching, might "in season and out of season preach the word, reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long-suffering and doctrine." i think there existed an anterior probability that scripture should be as it is, often-times difficult, obscure, and requiring the aid of many wise to its elucidation; because, without such characteristic, those many wise and good would never have been called for. suppose all truth revealed as clearly and indisputably to the meanest intellect as a sum in addition is, where were the need or use of that noble christian company who are every where man's almoners for charity, and god's ambassadors for peace? a word or two more, and i have done. the bible would, as it seems to me probable, be a sort of double book; for the righteous, and for the wicked: to one class, a decoy, baited to allure all sorts of generous dispositions: to the other, a trap, set to catch all kinds of evil inclinations. in these two senses, it would address the whole family man: and every one should find in it something to his liking. purity should there perceive green pastures and still waters, and a tender shepherd for its innocent steps: and carnal appetite should here and there discover some darker spot, which the honesty of heaven had filled with memories of its chiefest servants' sins; some record of adultery or murder wherewith to feast his maw for condemnation. while the good man should find in it meat divine for every earthly need, the sneerer should proclaim it the very easiest manual for his jests and lewd profanities. the unlettered should not lack humble, nay vulgar, images and words, to keep himself in countenance: neither should the learned look in vain for reasonings; the poet for sublimities; the curious mind for mystery; nor the sorrowing heart for prayer. i do discern, in that great book, a wondrous adaptability to minds of every calibre: and it is just what might antecedently have been expected of a volume writ by many men at many different eras, yet all superintended by one master mind; of a volume meant for every age, and nation, and country, and tongue, and people; of a volume which, as a two-edged sword, wounds the good man's heart with deep conviction, and cuts down "the hoary head of him who goeth on still in his wickedness." on the whole, respecting faults, or incongruities, or objectionable parts in scripture, however to have been expected, we must recollect that the more they are viewed, the more the blemishes fade, and are altered into beauties. a little child had picked up an old stone, defaced with time-stains: the child said the stone was dirty, covered with blotches and all colours: but his father brings a microscope, and shows to his astonished glance that what the child thought dirt, is a forest of beautiful lichens, fruited mosses, and strange lilliputian plants with shapely animalcules hiding in the leaves, and rejoicing in their tiny shadow. every blemish, justly seen, had turned to be a beauty: and nature's works are vindicated good, even as the word of grace is wise. heaven and hell. probably enough, the light which i expect to throw upon this important subject will, upon a cursory criticism, be judged fanciful, erroneous, and absurd; in parts, quite open to ridicule, and in all liable to the objection of being wise, or foolish, beyond what is written. nevertheless, and as it seems to me of no small consequence to reach something more definite on the subject than the anywhere or nowhere of common apprehensions, i judge it not amiss to put out a few thoughts, fancies, if you will, but not unreasonable fancies, on the localities and other characteristics of what we call heaven and hell: in fact, i wish to show their probable realities with somewhat approaching to distinctness. it is manifest that these places must be somewhere; for, more especially of the blest estate, whither did enoch, and elijah, and our risen lord ascend to? what became of these glorified humanities when "the chariot of fire carried up elijah by a whirlwind into heaven;" and when "he was taken up, and a cloud received him?" those happy mortals did not waste away to intangible spiritualities, as they rose above the world; their bodies were not melted as they broke the bonds of gravitation, and pierced earth's swathing atmosphere: they went up somewhither; the question is where they went to. it is a question of great interest to us; however, among those matters which are rather curious than consequential; for in our own case, as we know, we that are redeemed are to be caught up, together with other blessed creatures, "in the clouds, to meet our coming saviour in the air, and thereafter to be ever with the lord." i wish to show this to be expected as in our case, and expectable previously to it. we have, in the book of job, a peep at some place of congregation: some one, as it is likely, of the mighty globes in space, set apart as god's especial temple. why not? they all are worlds; and the likelihood being in favour of overbalancing good, rather than of preponderating evil from considerations that affect god's attributes and the happiness of his creatures, it is probable that the great majority of these worlds are unfallen mansions of the blessed. perhaps each will be a kingdom for one of earth's redeemed, and if so, there will at last be found fulfilled that prevailing superstition of our race, that each man has his star: without insisting upon this, we may reflect that there is no one universal opinion which has not its foundation in truth. tradition may well have dropped the thought from adam downwards, that the stars may some day be our thrones. we know their several vastness, and can guess their glory: verily a mighty meed for miserable services on earth, to find a just ambition gladdened with the rule of spheres, to which terra is a point; while that same ambition is sanctified and legalized by ruling as vicegerent of jehovah. is this unlikely, or unworthy of our high vocation, our immortality, and nearness unto, nay communion with god? the idea is only suggested: let a man muse at midnight, and look up at the heavens hanging over all; let him see, with rosse and herschell, that, multiply power as you will, unexhausted still and inexhaustible appear the myriads of worlds unknown. yea, there is space enow for infinite reward; yea, let every grain of sand on every shore be gathered, and more innumerable yet appear that galaxy of spheres. let us think that night looks down upon us here, with the million eyes of heaven. and for some focus of them all, some spot where god himself enthroned receives the homage of all crowns, and the worship of all creature service, what is there unreasonable in suggesting for a place some such an one as is instanced below? i have just cut the following paragraph out of a newspaper: is this the ridiculous tripping up the sublime? i think otherwise: it is honest to use plain terms. i speak as unto wise men--judge ye what i say. with respect to the fact of information, it may or it may not be true; but even if untrue, the idea is substantially the same, and i cannot help supposing that with angels and archangels and the whole company of heaven, such bodily saints as enoch is, (and similar to him all risen, holy men will be,) meet for happy sabbaths in some glorious orb akin or superior to the following: "a central sun.--dr. madier, the professor of astronomy at dorpat, has published the results of the researches pursued by him uninterruptedly during the last sixty years, upon the movements of the so-called fixed stars. these more particularly relate to the star alcyone, (discovered by him,) the brightest of the seven bright stars of the group of the pleiades. this star he states to be the central sun of all the systems of stars known to us. he gives its distance from the boundaries of our system at thirty-four million times the distance of the sun from our earth, a distance which it takes five hundred and thirty-seven years for light to traverse. our sun takes one hundred and eighty-two million years to accomplish its course round this central body, whose mass is one hundred and seventeen million times larger than the sun." one hundred and seventeen million times larger than the sun! itself, for all its vastness, not more than half one million times bigger than this earth. to some such globe we may let our fancies float, and anchor there our yearnings after heaven. it is a glorious thought, such as imagination loves; and a probable thought, that commends itself to reason. behold the great eye of all our guessed creation, the focus of its brightness, and the fountain of its peace. a topic far less pleasant, but alike of interest to us poor men, is the probable home of evil; and here i may be laughed at--laugh, but listen, and if, listening, some reason meets thine ear, laugh at least no longer. we know that, for spirit's misery as for spirit's happiness, there is no need of place: "no matter where, for i am still the same," said one most miserable being. more--in the case of mere spirits, there is no need for any apparatus of torments, or fires, or other fearful things. but, when spirit is married to matter, the case is altered; needs must a place to prison the matter, and a corporal punishment to vex it. nothing is unlikely here; excepting--will a man urge?--the dread duration of such hell. this is a parenthesis; but it shall not be avoided, for the import of that question is deep, and should be answered clearly. a man, a body and soul inmixt, body risen incorruptible, and soul rested from its deeds, must exist for ever. i touch not here the proofs--assume it. now, if he lives for ever, and deliberately chooses evil, his will consenting as well as his infirmity, and conscience seared by persisted disobedience, what course can such a wilful, rational, responsible being pursue than one perpetually erratic? how should it not be that he gets worse and worse in morals, and more and more miserable in fact? and when to this we add, that such wretched creatures are to herd together, continually flying further away from the only source of happiness and good; and to this, that they have earned by sin, remorses and regrets, and positive inflictions; how probable seems a hell, the sinner's doom eternal. the apt mathematical analogy of lines thrown out of parallel, helps this for illustration: for ever and for ever they are stretching more remote, and infinity itself cannot rëunite their travel. this, then, as a passing word; a sad one. honest thinker, do not scorn it, for thine own soul's sake. "now is the time of grace, now is the day of salvation." to return. a place of punishment exists; to what quarter shall we look for its anterior probability? i think there is a likelihood very near us. there may be one, possibly, beneath us, in the bowels of this fiery-bursting earth; whither went korah and his company? this idea is not without its arguments, just analogies, and scriptural hints. but my judgment inclines towards another. this trial-world, we know, is to be purified and restored, and made a new earth: it was even to be expected that redemption should do this, and i like not to imagine it the crust and case of hell, but rather, as thus: at the birth of this same world, there was struck off from its burning mass at a tangent, a mournful satellite, to be the home of its immortal evil; the convict shore for exiled sin and misery; a satellite of strange differences, as guessed by virgil in his musings upon tartarus, where half the orb is, from natural necessities, blistered up by constant heats, the other half frozen by perennial cold. a land of caverns, and volcanoes, miles deep, miles high; with no water, no perceptible air: imagine such a dreadful world, with neither air nor water! incapable of feeding life like ours, but competent to be a place where undying wretchedness may struggle for ever. a melancholy orb, the queen of night, chief nucleus of all the dark idolatries of earth; the moon, isis, hecate, ashtaroth, diana of the ephesians! this expression of a thought by no means improbable, gives an easy chance to shallow punsters; but ridicule is no weapon against reason. why should not the case be so? why should not earth's own satellite, void, as yet, be on the resurrection of all flesh, the raft whereon to float away earth's evil? read of it astronomically; think of it as connected with idols; regard it as the ruler of earth's night; consider that the place of a gehenna must be somewhere; and what is there in my fancy quite improbable? i do not dogmatize as that the fact is so, but only suggest a definite place at least as likely as any other hitherto suggested. think how that awful, melancholy eye looks down on deeds of darkness how many midnight crimes, murders, thefts, adulteries, and witchcrafts, that would have shrunk into nonentity from open, honest day, have paled the conscious moon! add to all this, it is the only world, besides our own, whereof astronomers can tell us, it is fallen. an offer. nothing were easier than to have made this book a long one; but that was not the writer's object: as well because of the musty greek proverb about long books; which in every time and country are sure never to be read through by one in a thousand; as because it is always wiser to suggest than to exhaust a topic; which may be as "a fruit-tree yielding fruit after its kind whose seed is in itself." the writer then intended only to touch upon a few salient points, and not to discuss every question, however they might crowd upon his mind: time and space alike with mental capabilities forbade an effort so gigantic: added to which, such a course seemed to be unnecessary, as the rule of probability, thus illustrated, might be applied by others in every similar instance. still, as the errand of this book is usefulness, and its author's hope is, under heaven, to do good, one personal hint shall here be thrown upon the highway. without arrogating to myself the wisdom or the knowledge to solve one in twenty of the doubts possible to be propounded; without also designing even to attempt such solutions, unless well assured of the genuine anxiety of the doubter; and preliminarizing the consideration, that a fitting diffidence in the advocate's own powers is no reason why he should not make wide efforts in his holy cause; that, such reasonable essays to do good have no sort of brotherhood with a fanatical spiritual quixotism; and that, to my own apprehensions, the doubts of a rationalizing mind are in the nature of honourable foes, to be treated with delicacy, reverence, and kindness, rather than with a cold distance and an ill-concealed contempt; preliminarizing, lastly, the thought--"who is sufficient for these things?"--i nevertheless thus offer, according to the grace and power given to me, my best but humble efforts so far to dissipate the doubts of some respecting any scriptural fact, as may lie within the province of showing or attempting to show its previous credibility. this is not a challenge to the curious casuist or the sneering infidel; but an invitation to the honest mind harassed by unanswered queries: no gauntlet thrown down, but a brother's hand stretched out. such questions, if put to the writer, through his publisher by letter, may find their reply in a future edition: supposing, that is to say, that they deserve an answer, whether as regards their own merits or the temper of the mind who doubts; and supposing also that the writer has the power and means to answer them discreetly. it is only a fair rule of philanthropy (and that without arrogating any unusual "strength") to "bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves:" and nothing would to me give greater happiness than to be able, as i am willing, to remove any difficulties lying in the track of faith before a generous mind. i hang out no glistening holly-bush a-flame with its ostentatious berries as promising good wine; but rather over my portal is the humbler and hospitable mistletoe, assuring every wearied pilgrim in the way, that though scanty be the fare, he shall find a hearty welcome. conclusion. i have thus endeavoured (with solicited help of heaven) to place before the world anew a few old truths: truths inestimably precious. remember, they cannot have lost by any such advocacy as is contained in the idea of their being shown antecedently probable; for this idea affects not at all the fact of their existence; the thing is; whether probable or not; there is, in esse, an ornithorhyncus; its posse is drowned in esse: there exists no doubt of it: evidence, whether of senses physical, or of considerations moral, puts the circumstance beyond the sphere of disputation. but such truths as we have spoken of do, nevertheless, gain something as to--not their merits, these are all their own substantially; nor their positive proofs, these are adjectives properly attendant on them, but as to--their acceptability among the incredulous of men; they gain, i say, even by such poor pleading as mine, from being shown anteriorly probable. take an illustration in the case of that strange and anomalous creature mentioned just above. its habitat is in a land where plums grow with the stones outside, where aboriginal dogs have never been heard to bark, where birds are found covered with hair, and where mammals jump about like frogs! if these are shown to be literal facts, the mind is thereby well prepared for any animal monstrosity: and it staggers not in unbelief (on evidence of honest travellers) even when informed of a creature with a duck's bill and a beaver's body: it really amounted in australia to an antecedent probability. carry this out to matters not a quarter so incredible, ye thinkers, ye free-thinkers; neither be abashed at being named as thinking freely: were not those bereans more noble in that they searched to see? for my humble part, i do commend you for it: treacherous is the hand that roots up the inalienable right of private judgment; the foundation-stone of protestantism, the great prerogative of reason, the key-note of conscience, the sole vindex of a man's responsibility: evil and false is the so-called reverential wisdom which lays down in place of the truth that each man's conscience is a law unto himself, the tyranny of other men's authority. cheap and easy and perilled is the faith, which clings to the skirt of others; which leans upon the broken staff of priestcraft, until those poisoned splinters pierce the hand. prove all things; holding fast that which is good: good to thine own reasonable conscience, if unwarped by casuistries, and unblinded by licentiousness. prove all things, if you can, "from the egg to the apple:" he is a poor builder of his creed, who takes one brick on credit. be able, as you can be, (if only you are willing so far to be wisely inconsistent, as to bend the stubborn knee betimes, and though with feeble glance to look to heaven, and though with stammering tongue to pray for aid,) be able, as it is thy right, o man of god--to give a reason for the faith that is in thee. the end. this etext was proofread by martin ward and compared against a separate copy scanned by mike perry. orthodoxy by gilbert k. chesterton preface this book is meant to be a companion to "heretics," and to put the positive side in addition to the negative. many critics complained of the book called "heretics" because it merely criticised current philosophies without offering any alternative philosophy. this book is an attempt to answer the challenge. it is unavoidably affirmative and therefore unavoidably autobiographical. the writer has been driven back upon somewhat the same difficulty as that which beset newman in writing his apologia; he has been forced to be egotistical only in order to be sincere. while everything else may be different the motive in both cases is the same. it is the purpose of the writer to attempt an explanation, not of whether the christian faith can be believed, but of how he personally has come to believe it. the book is therefore arranged upon the positive principle of a riddle and its answer. it deals first with all the writer's own solitary and sincere speculations and then with all the startling style in which they were all suddenly satisfied by the christian theology. the writer regards it as amounting to a convincing creed. but if it is not that it is at least a repeated and surprising coincidence. gilbert k. chesterton. contents i. introduction in defence of everything else ii. the maniac iii. the suicide of thought iv. the ethics of elfland v. the flag of the world vi. the paradoxes of christianity vii. the eternal revolution viii. the romance of orthodoxy ix. authority and the adventurer orthodoxy i introduction in defence of everything else the only possible excuse for this book is that it is an answer to a challenge. even a bad shot is dignified when he accepts a duel. when some time ago i published a series of hasty but sincere papers, under the name of "heretics," several critics for whose intellect i have a warm respect (i may mention specially mr. g.s.street) said that it was all very well for me to tell everybody to affirm his cosmic theory, but that i had carefully avoided supporting my precepts with example. "i will begin to worry about my philosophy," said mr. street, "when mr. chesterton has given us his." it was perhaps an incautious suggestion to make to a person only too ready to write books upon the feeblest provocation. but after all, though mr. street has inspired and created this book, he need not read it. if he does read it, he will find that in its pages i have attempted in a vague and personal way, in a set of mental pictures rather than in a series of deductions, to state the philosophy in which i have come to believe. i will not call it my philosophy; for i did not make it. god and humanity made it; and it made me. i have often had a fancy for writing a romance about an english yachtsman who slightly miscalculated his course and discovered england under the impression that it was a new island in the south seas. i always find, however, that i am either too busy or too lazy to write this fine work, so i may as well give it away for the purposes of philosophical illustration. there will probably be a general impression that the man who landed (armed to the teeth and talking by signs) to plant the british flag on that barbaric temple which turned out to be the pavilion at brighton, felt rather a fool. i am not here concerned to deny that he looked a fool. but if you imagine that he felt a fool, or at any rate that the sense of folly was his sole or his dominant emotion, then you have not studied with sufficient delicacy the rich romantic nature of the hero of this tale. his mistake was really a most enviable mistake; and he knew it, if he was the man i take him for. what could be more delightful than to have in the same few minutes all the fascinating terrors of going abroad combined with all the humane security of coming home again? what could be better than to have all the fun of discovering south africa without the disgusting necessity of landing there? what could be more glorious than to brace one's self up to discover new south wales and then realize, with a gush of happy tears, that it was really old south wales. this at least seems to me the main problem for philosophers, and is in a manner the main problem of this book. how can we contrive to be at once astonished at the world and yet at home in it? how can this queer cosmic town, with its many-legged citizens, with its monstrous and ancient lamps, how can this world give us at once the fascination of a strange town and the comfort and honour of being our own town? to show that a faith or a philosophy is true from every standpoint would be too big an undertaking even for a much bigger book than this; it is necessary to follow one path of argument; and this is the path that i here propose to follow. i wish to set forth my faith as particularly answering this double spiritual need, the need for that mixture of the familiar and the unfamiliar which christendom has rightly named romance. for the very word "romance" has in it the mystery and ancient meaning of rome. any one setting out to dispute anything ought always to begin by saying what he does not dispute. beyond stating what he proposes to prove he should always state what he does not propose to prove. the thing i do not propose to prove, the thing i propose to take as common ground between myself and any average reader, is this desirability of an active and imaginative life, picturesque and full of a poetical curiosity, a life such as western man at any rate always seems to have desired. if a man says that extinction is better than existence or blank existence better than variety and adventure, then he is not one of the ordinary people to whom i am talking. if a man prefers nothing i can give him nothing. but nearly all people i have ever met in this western society in which i live would agree to the general proposition that we need this life of practical romance; the combination of something that is strange with something that is secure. we need so to view the world as to combine an idea of wonder and an idea of welcome. we need to be happy in this wonderland without once being merely comfortable. it is this achievement of my creed that i shall chiefly pursue in these pages. but i have a peculiar reason for mentioning the man in a yacht, who discovered england. for i am that man in a yacht. i discovered england. i do not see how this book can avoid being egotistical; and i do not quite see (to tell the truth) how it can avoid being dull. dulness will, however, free me from the charge which i most lament; the charge of being flippant. mere light sophistry is the thing that i happen to despise most of all things, and it is perhaps a wholesome fact that this is the thing of which i am generally accused. i know nothing so contemptible as a mere paradox; a mere ingenious defence of the indefensible. if it were true (as has been said) that mr. bernard shaw lived upon paradox, then he ought to be a mere common millionaire; for a man of his mental activity could invent a sophistry every six minutes. it is as easy as lying; because it is lying. the truth is, of course, that mr. shaw is cruelly hampered by the fact that he cannot tell any lie unless he thinks it is the truth. i find myself under the same intolerable bondage. i never in my life said anything merely because i thought it funny; though of course, i have had ordinary human vainglory, and may have thought it funny because i had said it. it is one thing to describe an interview with a gorgon or a griffin, a creature who does not exist. it is another thing to discover that the rhinoceros does exist and then take pleasure in the fact that he looks as if he didn't. one searches for truth, but it may be that one pursues instinctively the more extraordinary truths. and i offer this book with the heartiest sentiments to all the jolly people who hate what i write, and regard it (very justly, for all i know), as a piece of poor clowning or a single tiresome joke. for if this book is a joke it is a joke against me. i am the man who with the utmost daring discovered what had been discovered before. if there is an element of farce in what follows, the farce is at my own expense; for this book explains how i fancied i was the first to set foot in brighton and then found i was the last. it recounts my elephantine adventures in pursuit of the obvious. no one can think my case more ludicrous than i think it myself; no reader can accuse me here of trying to make a fool of him: i am the fool of this story, and no rebel shall hurl me from my throne. i freely confess all the idiotic ambitions of the end of the nineteenth century. i did, like all other solemn little boys, try to be in advance of the age. like them i tried to be some ten minutes in advance of the truth. and i found that i was eighteen hundred years behind it. i did strain my voice with a painfully juvenile exaggeration in uttering my truths. and i was punished in the fittest and funniest way, for i have kept my truths: but i have discovered, not that they were not truths, but simply that they were not mine. when i fancied that i stood alone i was really in the ridiculous position of being backed up by all christendom. it may be, heaven forgive me, that i did try to be original; but i only succeeded in inventing all by myself an inferior copy of the existing traditions of civilized religion. the man from the yacht thought he was the first to find england; i thought i was the first to find europe. i did try to found a heresy of my own; and when i had put the last touches to it, i discovered that it was orthodoxy. it may be that somebody will be entertained by the account of this happy fiasco. it might amuse a friend or an enemy to read how i gradually learnt from the truth of some stray legend or from the falsehood of some dominant philosophy, things that i might have learnt from my catechism--if i had ever learnt it. there may or may not be some entertainment in reading how i found at last in an anarchist club or a babylonian temple what i might have found in the nearest parish church. if any one is entertained by learning how the flowers of the field or the phrases in an omnibus, the accidents of politics or the pains of youth came together in a certain order to produce a certain conviction of christian orthodoxy, he may possibly read this book. but there is in everything a reasonable division of labour. i have written the book, and nothing on earth would induce me to read it. i add one purely pedantic note which comes, as a note naturally should, at the beginning of the book. these essays are concerned only to discuss the actual fact that the central christian theology (sufficiently summarized in the apostles' creed) is the best root of energy and sound ethics. they are not intended to discuss the very fascinating but quite different question of what is the present seat of authority for the proclamation of that creed. when the word "orthodoxy" is used here it means the apostles' creed, as understood by everybody calling himself christian until a very short time ago and the general historic conduct of those who held such a creed. i have been forced by mere space to confine myself to what i have got from this creed; i do not touch the matter much disputed among modern christians, of where we ourselves got it. this is not an ecclesiastical treatise but a sort of slovenly autobiography. but if any one wants my opinions about the actual nature of the authority, mr. g.s.street has only to throw me another challenge, and i will write him another book. ii the maniac thoroughly worldly people never understand even the world; they rely altogether on a few cynical maxims which are not true. once i remember walking with a prosperous publisher, who made a remark which i had often heard before; it is, indeed, almost a motto of the modern world. yet i had heard it once too often, and i saw suddenly that there was nothing in it. the publisher said of somebody, "that man will get on; he believes in himself." and i remember that as i lifted my head to listen, my eye caught an omnibus on which was written "hanwell." i said to him, "shall i tell you where the men are who believe most in themselves? for i can tell you. i know of men who believe in themselves more colossally than napoleon or caesar. i know where flames the fixed star of certainty and success. i can guide you to the thrones of the super-men. the men who really believe in themselves are all in lunatic asylums." he said mildly that there were a good many men after all who believed in themselves and who were not in lunatic asylums. "yes, there are," i retorted, "and you of all men ought to know them. that drunken poet from whom you would not take a dreary tragedy, he believed in himself. that elderly minister with an epic from whom you were hiding in a back room, he believed in himself. if you consulted your business experience instead of your ugly individualistic philosophy, you would know that believing in himself is one of the commonest signs of a rotter. actors who can't act believe in themselves; and debtors who won't pay. it would be much truer to say that a man will certainly fail, because he believes in himself. complete self-confidence is not merely a sin; complete self-confidence is a weakness. believing utterly in one's self is a hysterical and superstitious belief like believing in joanna southcote: the man who has it has `hanwell' written on his face as plain as it is written on that omnibus." and to all this my friend the publisher made this very deep and effective reply, "well, if a man is not to believe in himself, in what is he to believe?" after a long pause i replied, "i will go home and write a book in answer to that question." this is the book that i have written in answer to it. but i think this book may well start where our argument started-- in the neighbourhood of the mad-house. modern masters of science are much impressed with the need of beginning all inquiry with a fact. the ancient masters of religion were quite equally impressed with that necessity. they began with the fact of sin--a fact as practical as potatoes. whether or no man could be washed in miraculous waters, there was no doubt at any rate that he wanted washing. but certain religious leaders in london, not mere materialists, have begun in our day not to deny the highly disputable water, but to deny the indisputable dirt. certain new theologians dispute original sin, which is the only part of christian theology which can really be proved. some followers of the reverend r.j.campbell, in their almost too fastidious spirituality, admit divine sinlessness, which they cannot see even in their dreams. but they essentially deny human sin, which they can see in the street. the strongest saints and the strongest sceptics alike took positive evil as the starting-point of their argument. if it be true (as it certainly is) that a man can feel exquisite happiness in skinning a cat, then the religious philosopher can only draw one of two deductions. he must either deny the existence of god, as all atheists do; or he must deny the present union between god and man, as all christians do. the new theologians seem to think it a highly rationalistic solution to deny the cat. in this remarkable situation it is plainly not now possible (with any hope of a universal appeal) to start, as our fathers did, with the fact of sin. this very fact which was to them (and is to me) as plain as a pikestaff, is the very fact that has been specially diluted or denied. but though moderns deny the existence of sin, i do not think that they have yet denied the existence of a lunatic asylum. we all agree still that there is a collapse of the intellect as unmistakable as a falling house. men deny hell, but not, as yet, hanwell. for the purpose of our primary argument the one may very well stand where the other stood. i mean that as all thoughts and theories were once judged by whether they tended to make a man lose his soul, so for our present purpose all modern thoughts and theories may be judged by whether they tend to make a man lose his wits. it is true that some speak lightly and loosely of insanity as in itself attractive. but a moment's thought will show that if disease is beautiful, it is generally some one else's disease. a blind man may be picturesque; but it requires two eyes to see the picture. and similarly even the wildest poetry of insanity can only be enjoyed by the sane. to the insane man his insanity is quite prosaic, because it is quite true. a man who thinks himself a chicken is to himself as ordinary as a chicken. a man who thinks he is a bit of glass is to himself as dull as a bit of glass. it is the homogeneity of his mind which makes him dull, and which makes him mad. it is only because we see the irony of his idea that we think him even amusing; it is only because he does not see the irony of his idea that he is put in hanwell at all. in short, oddities only strike ordinary people. oddities do not strike odd people. this is why ordinary people have a much more exciting time; while odd people are always complaining of the dulness of life. this is also why the new novels die so quickly, and why the old fairy tales endure for ever. the old fairy tale makes the hero a normal human boy; it is his adventures that are startling; they startle him because he is normal. but in the modern psychological novel the hero is abnormal; the centre is not central. hence the fiercest adventures fail to affect him adequately, and the book is monotonous. you can make a story out of a hero among dragons; but not out of a dragon among dragons. the fairy tale discusses what a sane man will do in a mad world. the sober realistic novel of to-day discusses what an essential lunatic will do in a dull world. let us begin, then, with the mad-house; from this evil and fantastic inn let us set forth on our intellectual journey. now, if we are to glance at the philosophy of sanity, the first thing to do in the matter is to blot out one big and common mistake. there is a notion adrift everywhere that imagination, especially mystical imagination, is dangerous to man's mental balance. poets are commonly spoken of as psychologically unreliable; and generally there is a vague association between wreathing laurels in your hair and sticking straws in it. facts and history utterly contradict this view. most of the very great poets have been not only sane, but extremely business-like; and if shakespeare ever really held horses, it was because he was much the safest man to hold them. imagination does not breed insanity. exactly what does breed insanity is reason. poets do not go mad; but chess-players do. mathematicians go mad, and cashiers; but creative artists very seldom. i am not, as will be seen, in any sense attacking logic: i only say that this danger does lie in logic, not in imagination. artistic paternity is as wholesome as physical paternity. moreover, it is worthy of remark that when a poet really was morbid it was commonly because he had some weak spot of rationality on his brain. poe, for instance, really was morbid; not because he was poetical, but because he was specially analytical. even chess was too poetical for him; he disliked chess because it was full of knights and castles, like a poem. he avowedly preferred the black discs of draughts, because they were more like the mere black dots on a diagram. perhaps the strongest case of all is this: that only one great english poet went mad, cowper. and he was definitely driven mad by logic, by the ugly and alien logic of predestination. poetry was not the disease, but the medicine; poetry partly kept him in health. he could sometimes forget the red and thirsty hell to which his hideous necessitarianism dragged him among the wide waters and the white flat lilies of the ouse. he was damned by john calvin; he was almost saved by john gilpin. everywhere we see that men do not go mad by dreaming. critics are much madder than poets. homer is complete and calm enough; it is his critics who tear him into extravagant tatters. shakespeare is quite himself; it is only some of his critics who have discovered that he was somebody else. and though st. john the evangelist saw many strange monsters in his vision, he saw no creature so wild as one of his own commentators. the general fact is simple. poetry is sane because it floats easily in an infinite sea; reason seeks to cross the infinite sea, and so make it finite. the result is mental exhaustion, like the physical exhaustion of mr. holbein. to accept everything is an exercise, to understand everything a strain. the poet only desires exaltation and expansion, a world to stretch himself in. the poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. it is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. and it is his head that splits. it is a small matter, but not irrelevant, that this striking mistake is commonly supported by a striking misquotation. we have all heard people cite the celebrated line of dryden as "great genius is to madness near allied." but dryden did not say that great genius was to madness near allied. dryden was a great genius himself, and knew better. it would have been hard to find a man more romantic than he, or more sensible. what dryden said was this, "great wits are oft to madness near allied"; and that is true. it is the pure promptitude of the intellect that is in peril of a breakdown. also people might remember of what sort of man dryden was talking. he was not talking of any unworldly visionary like vaughan or george herbert. he was talking of a cynical man of the world, a sceptic, a diplomatist, a great practical politician. such men are indeed to madness near allied. their incessant calculation of their own brains and other people's brains is a dangerous trade. it is always perilous to the mind to reckon up the mind. a flippant person has asked why we say, "as mad as a hatter." a more flippant person might answer that a hatter is mad because he has to measure the human head. and if great reasoners are often maniacal, it is equally true that maniacs are commonly great reasoners. when i was engaged in a controversy with the clarion on the matter of free will, that able writer mr. r.b.suthers said that free will was lunacy, because it meant causeless actions, and the actions of a lunatic would be causeless. i do not dwell here upon the disastrous lapse in determinist logic. obviously if any actions, even a lunatic's, can be causeless, determinism is done for. if the chain of causation can be broken for a madman, it can be broken for a man. but my purpose is to point out something more practical. it was natural, perhaps, that a modern marxian socialist should not know anything about free will. but it was certainly remarkable that a modern marxian socialist should not know anything about lunatics. mr. suthers evidently did not know anything about lunatics. the last thing that can be said of a lunatic is that his actions are causeless. if any human acts may loosely be called causeless, they are the minor acts of a healthy man; whistling as he walks; slashing the grass with a stick; kicking his heels or rubbing his hands. it is the happy man who does the useless things; the sick man is not strong enough to be idle. it is exactly such careless and causeless actions that the madman could never understand; for the madman (like the determinist) generally sees too much cause in everything. the madman would read a conspiratorial significance into those empty activities. he would think that the lopping of the grass was an attack on private property. he would think that the kicking of the heels was a signal to an accomplice. if the madman could for an instant become careless, he would become sane. every one who has had the misfortune to talk with people in the heart or on the edge of mental disorder, knows that their most sinister quality is a horrible clarity of detail; a connecting of one thing with another in a map more elaborate than a maze. if you argue with a madman, it is extremely probable that you will get the worst of it; for in many ways his mind moves all the quicker for not being delayed by the things that go with good judgment. he is not hampered by a sense of humour or by charity, or by the dumb certainties of experience. he is the more logical for losing certain sane affections. indeed, the common phrase for insanity is in this respect a misleading one. the madman is not the man who has lost his reason. the madman is the man who has lost everything except his reason. the madman's explanation of a thing is always complete, and often in a purely rational sense satisfactory. or, to speak more strictly, the insane explanation, if not conclusive, is at least unanswerable; this may be observed specially in the two or three commonest kinds of madness. if a man says (for instance) that men have a conspiracy against him, you cannot dispute it except by saying that all the men deny that they are conspirators; which is exactly what conspirators would do. his explanation covers the facts as much as yours. or if a man says that he is the rightful king of england, it is no complete answer to say that the existing authorities call him mad; for if he were king of england that might be the wisest thing for the existing authorities to do. or if a man says that he is jesus christ, it is no answer to tell him that the world denies his divinity; for the world denied christ's. nevertheless he is wrong. but if we attempt to trace his error in exact terms, we shall not find it quite so easy as we had supposed. perhaps the nearest we can get to expressing it is to say this: that his mind moves in a perfect but narrow circle. a small circle is quite as infinite as a large circle; but, though it is quite as infinite, it is not so large. in the same way the insane explanation is quite as complete as the sane one, but it is not so large. a bullet is quite as round as the world, but it is not the world. there is such a thing as a narrow universality; there is such a thing as a small and cramped eternity; you may see it in many modern religions. now, speaking quite externally and empirically, we may say that the strongest and most unmistakable mark of madness is this combination between a logical completeness and a spiritual contraction. the lunatic's theory explains a large number of things, but it does not explain them in a large way. i mean that if you or i were dealing with a mind that was growing morbid, we should be chiefly concerned not so much to give it arguments as to give it air, to convince it that there was something cleaner and cooler outside the suffocation of a single argument. suppose, for instance, it were the first case that i took as typical; suppose it were the case of a man who accused everybody of conspiring against him. if we could express our deepest feelings of protest and appeal against this obsession, i suppose we should say something like this: "oh, i admit that you have your case and have it by heart, and that many things do fit into other things as you say. i admit that your explanation explains a great deal; but what a great deal it leaves out! are there no other stories in the world except yours; and are all men busy with your business? suppose we grant the details; perhaps when the man in the street did not seem to see you it was only his cunning; perhaps when the policeman asked you your name it was only because he knew it already. but how much happier you would be if you only knew that these people cared nothing about you! how much larger your life would be if your self could become smaller in it; if you could really look at other men with common curiosity and pleasure; if you could see them walking as they are in their sunny selfishness and their virile indifference! you would begin to be interested in them, because they were not interested in you. you would break out of this tiny and tawdry theatre in which your own little plot is always being played, and you would find yourself under a freer sky, in a street full of splendid strangers." or suppose it were the second case of madness, that of a man who claims the crown, your impulse would be to answer, "all right! perhaps you know that you are the king of england; but why do you care? make one magnificent effort and you will be a human being and look down on all the kings of the earth." or it might be the third case, of the madman who called himself christ. if we said what we felt, we should say, "so you are the creator and redeemer of the world: but what a small world it must be! what a little heaven you must inhabit, with angels no bigger than butterflies! how sad it must be to be god; and an inadequate god! is there really no life fuller and no love more marvellous than yours; and is it really in your small and painful pity that all flesh must put its faith? how much happier you would be, how much more of you there would be, if the hammer of a higher god could smash your small cosmos, scattering the stars like spangles, and leave you in the open, free like other men to look up as well as down!" and it must be remembered that the most purely practical science does take this view of mental evil; it does not seek to argue with it like a heresy but simply to snap it like a spell. neither modern science nor ancient religion believes in complete free thought. theology rebukes certain thoughts by calling them blasphemous. science rebukes certain thoughts by calling them morbid. for example, some religious societies discouraged men more or less from thinking about sex. the new scientific society definitely discourages men from thinking about death; it is a fact, but it is considered a morbid fact. and in dealing with those whose morbidity has a touch of mania, modern science cares far less for pure logic than a dancing dervish. in these cases it is not enough that the unhappy man should desire truth; he must desire health. nothing can save him but a blind hunger for normality, like that of a beast. a man cannot think himself out of mental evil; for it is actually the organ of thought that has become diseased, ungovernable, and, as it were, independent. he can only be saved by will or faith. the moment his mere reason moves, it moves in the old circular rut; he will go round and round his logical circle, just as a man in a third-class carriage on the inner circle will go round and round the inner circle unless he performs the voluntary, vigorous, and mystical act of getting out at gower street. decision is the whole business here; a door must be shut for ever. every remedy is a desperate remedy. every cure is a miraculous cure. curing a madman is not arguing with a philosopher; it is casting out a devil. and however quietly doctors and psychologists may go to work in the matter, their attitude is profoundly intolerant-- as intolerant as bloody mary. their attitude is really this: that the man must stop thinking, if he is to go on living. their counsel is one of intellectual amputation. if thy head offend thee, cut it off; for it is better, not merely to enter the kingdom of heaven as a child, but to enter it as an imbecile, rather than with your whole intellect to be cast into hell-- or into hanwell. such is the madman of experience; he is commonly a reasoner, frequently a successful reasoner. doubtless he could be vanquished in mere reason, and the case against him put logically. but it can be put much more precisely in more general and even aesthetic terms. he is in the clean and well-lit prison of one idea: he is sharpened to one painful point. he is without healthy hesitation and healthy complexity. now, as i explain in the introduction, i have determined in these early chapters to give not so much a diagram of a doctrine as some pictures of a point of view. and i have described at length my vision of the maniac for this reason: that just as i am affected by the maniac, so i am affected by most modern thinkers. that unmistakable mood or note that i hear from hanwell, i hear also from half the chairs of science and seats of learning to-day; and most of the mad doctors are mad doctors in more senses than one. they all have exactly that combination we have noted: the combination of an expansive and exhaustive reason with a contracted common sense. they are universal only in the sense that they take one thin explanation and carry it very far. but a pattern can stretch for ever and still be a small pattern. they see a chess-board white on black, and if the universe is paved with it, it is still white on black. like the lunatic, they cannot alter their standpoint; they cannot make a mental effort and suddenly see it black on white. take first the more obvious case of materialism. as an explanation of the world, materialism has a sort of insane simplicity. it has just the quality of the madman's argument; we have at once the sense of it covering everything and the sense of it leaving everything out. contemplate some able and sincere materialist, as, for instance, mr. mccabe, and you will have exactly this unique sensation. he understands everything, and everything does not seem worth understanding. his cosmos may be complete in every rivet and cog-wheel, but still his cosmos is smaller than our world. somehow his scheme, like the lucid scheme of the madman, seems unconscious of the alien energies and the large indifference of the earth; it is not thinking of the real things of the earth, of fighting peoples or proud mothers, or first love or fear upon the sea. the earth is so very large, and the cosmos is so very small. the cosmos is about the smallest hole that a man can hide his head in. it must be understood that i am not now discussing the relation of these creeds to truth; but, for the present, solely their relation to health. later in the argument i hope to attack the question of objective verity; here i speak only of a phenomenon of psychology. i do not for the present attempt to prove to haeckel that materialism is untrue, any more than i attempted to prove to the man who thought he was christ that he was labouring under an error. i merely remark here on the fact that both cases have the same kind of completeness and the same kind of incompleteness. you can explain a man's detention at hanwell by an indifferent public by saying that it is the crucifixion of a god of whom the world is not worthy. the explanation does explain. similarly you may explain the order in the universe by saying that all things, even the souls of men, are leaves inevitably unfolding on an utterly unconscious tree-- the blind destiny of matter. the explanation does explain, though not, of course, so completely as the madman's. but the point here is that the normal human mind not only objects to both, but feels to both the same objection. its approximate statement is that if the man in hanwell is the real god, he is not much of a god. and, similarly, if the cosmos of the materialist is the real cosmos, it is not much of a cosmos. the thing has shrunk. the deity is less divine than many men; and (according to haeckel) the whole of life is something much more grey, narrow, and trivial than many separate aspects of it. the parts seem greater than the whole. for we must remember that the materialist philosophy (whether true or not) is certainly much more limiting than any religion. in one sense, of course, all intelligent ideas are narrow. they cannot be broader than themselves. a christian is only restricted in the same sense that an atheist is restricted. he cannot think christianity false and continue to be a christian; and the atheist cannot think atheism false and continue to be an atheist. but as it happens, there is a very special sense in which materialism has more restrictions than spiritualism. mr. mccabe thinks me a slave because i am not allowed to believe in determinism. i think mr. mccabe a slave because he is not allowed to believe in fairies. but if we examine the two vetoes we shall see that his is really much more of a pure veto than mine. the christian is quite free to believe that there is a considerable amount of settled order and inevitable development in the universe. but the materialist is not allowed to admit into his spotless machine the slightest speck of spiritualism or miracle. poor mr. mccabe is not allowed to retain even the tiniest imp, though it might be hiding in a pimpernel. the christian admits that the universe is manifold and even miscellaneous, just as a sane man knows that he is complex. the sane man knows that he has a touch of the beast, a touch of the devil, a touch of the saint, a touch of the citizen. nay, the really sane man knows that he has a touch of the madman. but the materialist's world is quite simple and solid, just as the madman is quite sure he is sane. the materialist is sure that history has been simply and solely a chain of causation, just as the interesting person before mentioned is quite sure that he is simply and solely a chicken. materialists and madmen never have doubts. spiritual doctrines do not actually limit the mind as do materialistic denials. even if i believe in immortality i need not think about it. but if i disbelieve in immortality i must not think about it. in the first case the road is open and i can go as far as i like; in the second the road is shut. but the case is even stronger, and the parallel with madness is yet more strange. for it was our case against the exhaustive and logical theory of the lunatic that, right or wrong, it gradually destroyed his humanity. now it is the charge against the main deductions of the materialist that, right or wrong, they gradually destroy his humanity; i do not mean only kindness, i mean hope, courage, poetry, initiative, all that is human. for instance, when materialism leads men to complete fatalism (as it generally does), it is quite idle to pretend that it is in any sense a liberating force. it is absurd to say that you are especially advancing freedom when you only use free thought to destroy free will. the determinists come to bind, not to loose. they may well call their law the "chain" of causation. it is the worst chain that ever fettered a human being. you may use the language of liberty, if you like, about materialistic teaching, but it is obvious that this is just as inapplicable to it as a whole as the same language when applied to a man locked up in a mad-house. you may say, if you like, that the man is free to think himself a poached egg. but it is surely a more massive and important fact that if he is a poached egg he is not free to eat, drink, sleep, walk, or smoke a cigarette. similarly you may say, if you like, that the bold determinist speculator is free to disbelieve in the reality of the will. but it is a much more massive and important fact that he is not free to raise, to curse, to thank, to justify, to urge, to punish, to resist temptations, to incite mobs, to make new year resolutions, to pardon sinners, to rebuke tyrants, or even to say "thank you" for the mustard. in passing from this subject i may note that there is a queer fallacy to the effect that materialistic fatalism is in some way favourable to mercy, to the abolition of cruel punishments or punishments of any kind. this is startlingly the reverse of the truth. it is quite tenable that the doctrine of necessity makes no difference at all; that it leaves the flogger flogging and the kind friend exhorting as before. but obviously if it stops either of them it stops the kind exhortation. that the sins are inevitable does not prevent punishment; if it prevents anything it prevents persuasion. determinism is quite as likely to lead to cruelty as it is certain to lead to cowardice. determinism is not inconsistent with the cruel treatment of criminals. what it is (perhaps) inconsistent with is the generous treatment of criminals; with any appeal to their better feelings or encouragement in their moral struggle. the determinist does not believe in appealing to the will, but he does believe in changing the environment. he must not say to the sinner, "go and sin no more," because the sinner cannot help it. but he can put him in boiling oil; for boiling oil is an environment. considered as a figure, therefore, the materialist has the fantastic outline of the figure of the madman. both take up a position at once unanswerable and intolerable. of course it is not only of the materialist that all this is true. the same would apply to the other extreme of speculative logic. there is a sceptic far more terrible than he who believes that everything began in matter. it is possible to meet the sceptic who believes that everything began in himself. he doubts not the existence of angels or devils, but the existence of men and cows. for him his own friends are a mythology made up by himself. he created his own father and his own mother. this horrible fancy has in it something decidedly attractive to the somewhat mystical egoism of our day. that publisher who thought that men would get on if they believed in themselves, those seekers after the superman who are always looking for him in the looking-glass, those writers who talk about impressing their personalities instead of creating life for the world, all these people have really only an inch between them and this awful emptiness. then when this kindly world all round the man has been blackened out like a lie; when friends fade into ghosts, and the foundations of the world fail; then when the man, believing in nothing and in no man, is alone in his own nightmare, then the great individualistic motto shall be written over him in avenging irony. the stars will be only dots in the blackness of his own brain; his mother's face will be only a sketch from his own insane pencil on the walls of his cell. but over his cell shall be written, with dreadful truth, "he believes in himself." all that concerns us here, however, is to note that this panegoistic extreme of thought exhibits the same paradox as the other extreme of materialism. it is equally complete in theory and equally crippling in practice. for the sake of simplicity, it is easier to state the notion by saying that a man can believe that he is always in a dream. now, obviously there can be no positive proof given to him that he is not in a dream, for the simple reason that no proof can be offered that might not be offered in a dream. but if the man began to burn down london and say that his housekeeper would soon call him to breakfast, we should take him and put him with other logicians in a place which has often been alluded to in the course of this chapter. the man who cannot believe his senses, and the man who cannot believe anything else, are both insane, but their insanity is proved not by any error in their argument, but by the manifest mistake of their whole lives. they have both locked themselves up in two boxes, painted inside with the sun and stars; they are both unable to get out, the one into the health and happiness of heaven, the other even into the health and happiness of the earth. their position is quite reasonable; nay, in a sense it is infinitely reasonable, just as a threepenny bit is infinitely circular. but there is such a thing as a mean infinity, a base and slavish eternity. it is amusing to notice that many of the moderns, whether sceptics or mystics, have taken as their sign a certain eastern symbol, which is the very symbol of this ultimate nullity. when they wish to represent eternity, they represent it by a serpent with his tail in his mouth. there is a startling sarcasm in the image of that very unsatisfactory meal. the eternity of the material fatalists, the eternity of the eastern pessimists, the eternity of the supercilious theosophists and higher scientists of to-day is, indeed, very well presented by a serpent eating his tail, a degraded animal who destroys even himself. this chapter is purely practical and is concerned with what actually is the chief mark and element of insanity; we may say in summary that it is reason used without root, reason in the void. the man who begins to think without the proper first principles goes mad; he begins to think at the wrong end. and for the rest of these pages we have to try and discover what is the right end. but we may ask in conclusion, if this be what drives men mad, what is it that keeps them sane? by the end of this book i hope to give a definite, some will think a far too definite, answer. but for the moment it is possible in the same solely practical manner to give a general answer touching what in actual human history keeps men sane. mysticism keeps men sane. as long as you have mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity. the ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. he has permitted the twilight. he has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland. he has always left himself free to doubt his gods; but (unlike the agnostic of to-day) free also to believe in them. he has always cared more for truth than for consistency. if he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them. his spiritual sight is stereoscopic, like his physical sight: he sees two different pictures at once and yet sees all the better for that. thus he has always believed that there was such a thing as fate, but such a thing as free will also. thus he believed that children were indeed the kingdom of heaven, but nevertheless ought to be obedient to the kingdom of earth. he admired youth because it was young and age because it was not. it is exactly this balance of apparent contradictions that has been the whole buoyancy of the healthy man. the whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand. the morbid logician seeks to make everything lucid, and succeeds in making everything mysterious. the mystic allows one thing to be mysterious, and everything else becomes lucid. the determinist makes the theory of causation quite clear, and then finds that he cannot say "if you please" to the housemaid. the christian permits free will to remain a sacred mystery; but because of this his relations with the housemaid become of a sparkling and crystal clearness. he puts the seed of dogma in a central darkness; but it branches forth in all directions with abounding natural health. as we have taken the circle as the symbol of reason and madness, we may very well take the cross as the symbol at once of mystery and of health. buddhism is centripetal, but christianity is centrifugal: it breaks out. for the circle is perfect and infinite in its nature; but it is fixed for ever in its size; it can never be larger or smaller. but the cross, though it has at its heart a collision and a contradiction, can extend its four arms for ever without altering its shape. because it has a paradox in its centre it can grow without changing. the circle returns upon itself and is bound. the cross opens its arms to the four winds; it is a signpost for free travellers. symbols alone are of even a cloudy value in speaking of this deep matter; and another symbol from physical nature will express sufficiently well the real place of mysticism before mankind. the one created thing which we cannot look at is the one thing in the light of which we look at everything. like the sun at noonday, mysticism explains everything else by the blaze of its own victorious invisibility. detached intellectualism is (in the exact sense of a popular phrase) all moonshine; for it is light without heat, and it is secondary light, reflected from a dead world. but the greeks were right when they made apollo the god both of imagination and of sanity; for he was both the patron of poetry and the patron of healing. of necessary dogmas and a special creed i shall speak later. but that transcendentalism by which all men live has primarily much the position of the sun in the sky. we are conscious of it as of a kind of splendid confusion; it is something both shining and shapeless, at once a blaze and a blur. but the circle of the moon is as clear and unmistakable, as recurrent and inevitable, as the circle of euclid on a blackboard. for the moon is utterly reasonable; and the moon is the mother of lunatics and has given to them all her name. iii the suicide of thought the phrases of the street are not only forcible but subtle: for a figure of speech can often get into a crack too small for a definition. phrases like "put out" or "off colour" might have been coined by mr. henry james in an agony of verbal precision. and there is no more subtle truth than that of the everyday phrase about a man having "his heart in the right place." it involves the idea of normal proportion; not only does a certain function exist, but it is rightly related to other functions. indeed, the negation of this phrase would describe with peculiar accuracy the somewhat morbid mercy and perverse tenderness of the most representative moderns. if, for instance, i had to describe with fairness the character of mr. bernard shaw, i could not express myself more exactly than by saying that he has a heroically large and generous heart; but not a heart in the right place. and this is so of the typical society of our time. the modern world is not evil; in some ways the modern world is far too good. it is full of wild and wasted virtues. when a religious scheme is shattered (as christianity was shattered at the reformation), it is not merely the vices that are let loose. the vices are, indeed, let loose, and they wander and do damage. but the virtues are let loose also; and the virtues wander more wildly, and the virtues do more terrible damage. the modern world is full of the old christian virtues gone mad. the virtues have gone mad because they have been isolated from each other and are wandering alone. thus some scientists care for truth; and their truth is pitiless. thus some humanitarians only care for pity; and their pity (i am sorry to say) is often untruthful. for example, mr. blatchford attacks christianity because he is mad on one christian virtue: the merely mystical and almost irrational virtue of charity. he has a strange idea that he will make it easier to forgive sins by saying that there are no sins to forgive. mr. blatchford is not only an early christian, he is the only early christian who ought really to have been eaten by lions. for in his case the pagan accusation is really true: his mercy would mean mere anarchy. he really is the enemy of the human race-- because he is so human. as the other extreme, we may take the acrid realist, who has deliberately killed in himself all human pleasure in happy tales or in the healing of the heart. torquemada tortured people physically for the sake of moral truth. zola tortured people morally for the sake of physical truth. but in torquemada's time there was at least a system that could to some extent make righteousness and peace kiss each other. now they do not even bow. but a much stronger case than these two of truth and pity can be found in the remarkable case of the dislocation of humility. it is only with one aspect of humility that we are here concerned. humility was largely meant as a restraint upon the arrogance and infinity of the appetite of man. he was always outstripping his mercies with his own newly invented needs. his very power of enjoyment destroyed half his joys. by asking for pleasure, he lost the chief pleasure; for the chief pleasure is surprise. hence it became evident that if a man would make his world large, he must be always making himself small. even the haughty visions, the tall cities, and the toppling pinnacles are the creations of humility. giants that tread down forests like grass are the creations of humility. towers that vanish upwards above the loneliest star are the creations of humility. for towers are not tall unless we look up at them; and giants are not giants unless they are larger than we. all this gigantesque imagination, which is, perhaps, the mightiest of the pleasures of man, is at bottom entirely humble. it is impossible without humility to enjoy anything-- even pride. but what we suffer from to-day is humility in the wrong place. modesty has moved from the organ of ambition. modesty has settled upon the organ of conviction; where it was never meant to be. a man was meant to be doubtful about himself, but undoubting about the truth; this has been exactly reversed. nowadays the part of a man that a man does assert is exactly the part he ought not to assert--himself. the part he doubts is exactly the part he ought not to doubt--the divine reason. huxley preached a humility content to learn from nature. but the new sceptic is so humble that he doubts if he can even learn. thus we should be wrong if we had said hastily that there is no humility typical of our time. the truth is that there is a real humility typical of our time; but it so happens that it is practically a more poisonous humility than the wildest prostrations of the ascetic. the old humility was a spur that prevented a man from stopping; not a nail in his boot that prevented him from going on. for the old humility made a man doubtful about his efforts, which might make him work harder. but the new humility makes a man doubtful about his aims, which will make him stop working altogether. at any street corner we may meet a man who utters the frantic and blasphemous statement that he may be wrong. every day one comes across somebody who says that of course his view may not be the right one. of course his view must be the right one, or it is not his view. we are on the road to producing a race of men too mentally modest to believe in the multiplication table. we are in danger of seeing philosophers who doubt the law of gravity as being a mere fancy of their own. scoffers of old time were too proud to be convinced; but these are too humble to be convinced. the meek do inherit the earth; but the modern sceptics are too meek even to claim their inheritance. it is exactly this intellectual helplessness which is our second problem. the last chapter has been concerned only with a fact of observation: that what peril of morbidity there is for man comes rather from his reason than his imagination. it was not meant to attack the authority of reason; rather it is the ultimate purpose to defend it. for it needs defence. the whole modern world is at war with reason; and the tower already reels. the sages, it is often said, can see no answer to the riddle of religion. but the trouble with our sages is not that they cannot see the answer; it is that they cannot even see the riddle. they are like children so stupid as to notice nothing paradoxical in the playful assertion that a door is not a door. the modern latitudinarians speak, for instance, about authority in religion not only as if there were no reason in it, but as if there had never been any reason for it. apart from seeing its philosophical basis, they cannot even see its historical cause. religious authority has often, doubtless, been oppressive or unreasonable; just as every legal system (and especially our present one) has been callous and full of a cruel apathy. it is rational to attack the police; nay, it is glorious. but the modern critics of religious authority are like men who should attack the police without ever having heard of burglars. for there is a great and possible peril to the human mind: a peril as practical as burglary. against it religious authority was reared, rightly or wrongly, as a barrier. and against it something certainly must be reared as a barrier, if our race is to avoid ruin. that peril is that the human intellect is free to destroy itself. just as one generation could prevent the very existence of the next generation, by all entering a monastery or jumping into the sea, so one set of thinkers can in some degree prevent further thinking by teaching the next generation that there is no validity in any human thought. it is idle to talk always of the alternative of reason and faith. reason is itself a matter of faith. it is an act of faith to assert that our thoughts have any relation to reality at all. if you are merely a sceptic, you must sooner or later ask yourself the question, "why should anything go right; even observation and deduction? why should not good logic be as misleading as bad logic? they are both movements in the brain of a bewildered ape?" the young sceptic says, "i have a right to think for myself." but the old sceptic, the complete sceptic, says, "i have no right to think for myself. i have no right to think at all." there is a thought that stops thought. that is the only thought that ought to be stopped. that is the ultimate evil against which all religious authority was aimed. it only appears at the end of decadent ages like our own: and already mr. h.g.wells has raised its ruinous banner; he has written a delicate piece of scepticism called "doubts of the instrument." in this he questions the brain itself, and endeavours to remove all reality from all his own assertions, past, present, and to come. but it was against this remote ruin that all the military systems in religion were originally ranked and ruled. the creeds and the crusades, the hierarchies and the horrible persecutions were not organized, as is ignorantly said, for the suppression of reason. they were organized for the difficult defence of reason. man, by a blind instinct, knew that if once things were wildly questioned, reason could be questioned first. the authority of priests to absolve, the authority of popes to define the authority, even of inquisitors to terrify: these were all only dark defences erected round one central authority, more undemonstrable, more supernatural than all--the authority of a man to think. we know now that this is so; we have no excuse for not knowing it. for we can hear scepticism crashing through the old ring of authorities, and at the same moment we can see reason swaying upon her throne. in so far as religion is gone, reason is going. for they are both of the same primary and authoritative kind. they are both methods of proof which cannot themselves be proved. and in the act of destroying the idea of divine authority we have largely destroyed the idea of that human authority by which we do a long-division sum. with a long and sustained tug we have attempted to pull the mitre off pontifical man; and his head has come off with it. lest this should be called loose assertion, it is perhaps desirable, though dull, to run rapidly through the chief modern fashions of thought which have this effect of stopping thought itself. materialism and the view of everything as a personal illusion have some such effect; for if the mind is mechanical, thought cannot be very exciting, and if the cosmos is unreal, there is nothing to think about. but in these cases the effect is indirect and doubtful. in some cases it is direct and clear; notably in the case of what is generally called evolution. evolution is a good example of that modern intelligence which, if it destroys anything, destroys itself. evolution is either an innocent scientific description of how certain earthly things came about; or, if it is anything more than this, it is an attack upon thought itself. if evolution destroys anything, it does not destroy religion but rationalism. if evolution simply means that a positive thing called an ape turned very slowly into a positive thing called a man, then it is stingless for the most orthodox; for a personal god might just as well do things slowly as quickly, especially if, like the christian god, he were outside time. but if it means anything more, it means that there is no such thing as an ape to change, and no such thing as a man for him to change into. it means that there is no such thing as a thing. at best, there is only one thing, and that is a flux of everything and anything. this is an attack not upon the faith, but upon the mind; you cannot think if there are no things to think about. you cannot think if you are not separate from the subject of thought. descartes said, "i think; therefore i am." the philosophic evolutionist reverses and negatives the epigram. he says, "i am not; therefore i cannot think." then there is the opposite attack on thought: that urged by mr. h.g.wells when he insists that every separate thing is "unique," and there are no categories at all. this also is merely destructive. thinking means connecting things, and stops if they cannot be connected. it need hardly be said that this scepticism forbidding thought necessarily forbids speech; a man cannot open his mouth without contradicting it. thus when mr. wells says (as he did somewhere), "all chairs are quite different," he utters not merely a misstatement, but a contradiction in terms. if all chairs were quite different, you could not call them "all chairs." akin to these is the false theory of progress, which maintains that we alter the test instead of trying to pass the test. we often hear it said, for instance, "what is right in one age is wrong in another." this is quite reasonable, if it means that there is a fixed aim, and that certain methods attain at certain times and not at other times. if women, say, desire to be elegant, it may be that they are improved at one time by growing fatter and at another time by growing thinner. but you cannot say that they are improved by ceasing to wish to be elegant and beginning to wish to be oblong. if the standard changes, how can there be improvement, which implies a standard? nietzsche started a nonsensical idea that men had once sought as good what we now call evil; if it were so, we could not talk of surpassing or even falling short of them. how can you overtake jones if you walk in the other direction? you cannot discuss whether one people has succeeded more in being miserable than another succeeded in being happy. it would be like discussing whether milton was more puritanical than a pig is fat. it is true that a man (a silly man) might make change itself his object or ideal. but as an ideal, change itself becomes unchangeable. if the change-worshipper wishes to estimate his own progress, he must be sternly loyal to the ideal of change; he must not begin to flirt gaily with the ideal of monotony. progress itself cannot progress. it is worth remark, in passing, that when tennyson, in a wild and rather weak manner, welcomed the idea of infinite alteration in society, he instinctively took a metaphor which suggests an imprisoned tedium. he wrote-- "let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change." he thought of change itself as an unchangeable groove; and so it is. change is about the narrowest and hardest groove that a man can get into. the main point here, however, is that this idea of a fundamental alteration in the standard is one of the things that make thought about the past or future simply impossible. the theory of a complete change of standards in human history does not merely deprive us of the pleasure of honouring our fathers; it deprives us even of the more modern and aristocratic pleasure of despising them. this bald summary of the thought-destroying forces of our time would not be complete without some reference to pragmatism; for though i have here used and should everywhere defend the pragmatist method as a preliminary guide to truth, there is an extreme application of it which involves the absence of all truth whatever. my meaning can be put shortly thus. i agree with the pragmatists that apparent objective truth is not the whole matter; that there is an authoritative need to believe the things that are necessary to the human mind. but i say that one of those necessities precisely is a belief in objective truth. the pragmatist tells a man to think what he must think and never mind the absolute. but precisely one of the things that he must think is the absolute. this philosophy, indeed, is a kind of verbal paradox. pragmatism is a matter of human needs; and one of the first of human needs is to be something more than a pragmatist. extreme pragmatism is just as inhuman as the determinism it so powerfully attacks. the determinist (who, to do him justice, does not pretend to be a human being) makes nonsense of the human sense of actual choice. the pragmatist, who professes to be specially human, makes nonsense of the human sense of actual fact. to sum up our contention so far, we may say that the most characteristic current philosophies have not only a touch of mania, but a touch of suicidal mania. the mere questioner has knocked his head against the limits of human thought; and cracked it. this is what makes so futile the warnings of the orthodox and the boasts of the advanced about the dangerous boyhood of free thought. what we are looking at is not the boyhood of free thought; it is the old age and ultimate dissolution of free thought. it is vain for bishops and pious bigwigs to discuss what dreadful things will happen if wild scepticism runs its course. it has run its course. it is vain for eloquent atheists to talk of the great truths that will be revealed if once we see free thought begin. we have seen it end. it has no more questions to ask; it has questioned itself. you cannot call up any wilder vision than a city in which men ask themselves if they have any selves. you cannot fancy a more sceptical world than that in which men doubt if there is a world. it might certainly have reached its bankruptcy more quickly and cleanly if it had not been feebly hampered by the application of indefensible laws of blasphemy or by the absurd pretence that modern england is christian. but it would have reached the bankruptcy anyhow. militant atheists are still unjustly persecuted; but rather because they are an old minority than because they are a new one. free thought has exhausted its own freedom. it is weary of its own success. if any eager freethinker now hails philosophic freedom as the dawn, he is only like the man in mark twain who came out wrapped in blankets to see the sun rise and was just in time to see it set. if any frightened curate still says that it will be awful if the darkness of free thought should spread, we can only answer him in the high and powerful words of mr. belloc, "do not, i beseech you, be troubled about the increase of forces already in dissolution. you have mistaken the hour of the night: it is already morning." we have no more questions left to ask. we have looked for questions in the darkest corners and on the wildest peaks. we have found all the questions that can be found. it is time we gave up looking for questions and began looking for answers. but one more word must be added. at the beginning of this preliminary negative sketch i said that our mental ruin has been wrought by wild reason, not by wild imagination. a man does not go mad because he makes a statue a mile high, but he may go mad by thinking it out in square inches. now, one school of thinkers has seen this and jumped at it as a way of renewing the pagan health of the world. they see that reason destroys; but will, they say, creates. the ultimate authority, they say, is in will, not in reason. the supreme point is not why a man demands a thing, but the fact that he does demand it. i have no space to trace or expound this philosophy of will. it came, i suppose, through nietzsche, who preached something that is called egoism. that, indeed, was simpleminded enough; for nietzsche denied egoism simply by preaching it. to preach anything is to give it away. first, the egoist calls life a war without mercy, and then he takes the greatest possible trouble to drill his enemies in war. to preach egoism is to practise altruism. but however it began, the view is common enough in current literature. the main defence of these thinkers is that they are not thinkers; they are makers. they say that choice is itself the divine thing. thus mr. bernard shaw has attacked the old idea that men's acts are to be judged by the standard of the desire of happiness. he says that a man does not act for his happiness, but from his will. he does not say, "jam will make me happy," but "i want jam." and in all this others follow him with yet greater enthusiasm. mr. john davidson, a remarkable poet, is so passionately excited about it that he is obliged to write prose. he publishes a short play with several long prefaces. this is natural enough in mr. shaw, for all his plays are prefaces: mr. shaw is (i suspect) the only man on earth who has never written any poetry. but that mr. davidson (who can write excellent poetry) should write instead laborious metaphysics in defence of this doctrine of will, does show that the doctrine of will has taken hold of men. even mr. h.g.wells has half spoken in its language; saying that one should test acts not like a thinker, but like an artist, saying, "i feel this curve is right," or "that line shall go thus." they are all excited; and well they may be. for by this doctrine of the divine authority of will, they think they can break out of the doomed fortress of rationalism. they think they can escape. but they cannot escape. this pure praise of volition ends in the same break up and blank as the mere pursuit of logic. exactly as complete free thought involves the doubting of thought itself, so the acceptation of mere "willing" really paralyzes the will. mr. bernard shaw has not perceived the real difference between the old utilitarian test of pleasure (clumsy, of course, and easily misstated) and that which he propounds. the real difference between the test of happiness and the test of will is simply that the test of happiness is a test and the other isn't. you can discuss whether a man's act in jumping over a cliff was directed towards happiness; you cannot discuss whether it was derived from will. of course it was. you can praise an action by saying that it is calculated to bring pleasure or pain to discover truth or to save the soul. but you cannot praise an action because it shows will; for to say that is merely to say that it is an action. by this praise of will you cannot really choose one course as better than another. and yet choosing one course as better than another is the very definition of the will you are praising. the worship of will is the negation of will. to admire mere choice is to refuse to choose. if mr. bernard shaw comes up to me and says, "will something," that is tantamount to saying, "i do not mind what you will," and that is tantamount to saying, "i have no will in the matter." you cannot admire will in general, because the essence of will is that it is particular. a brilliant anarchist like mr. john davidson feels an irritation against ordinary morality, and therefore he invokes will--will to anything. he only wants humanity to want something. but humanity does want something. it wants ordinary morality. he rebels against the law and tells us to will something or anything. but we have willed something. we have willed the law against which he rebels. all the will-worshippers, from nietzsche to mr. davidson, are really quite empty of volition. they cannot will, they can hardly wish. and if any one wants a proof of this, it can be found quite easily. it can be found in this fact: that they always talk of will as something that expands and breaks out. but it is quite the opposite. every act of will is an act of self-limitation. to desire action is to desire limitation. in that sense every act is an act of self-sacrifice. when you choose anything, you reject everything else. that objection, which men of this school used to make to the act of marriage, is really an objection to every act. every act is an irrevocable selection and exclusion. just as when you marry one woman you give up all the others, so when you take one course of action you give up all the other courses. if you become king of england, you give up the post of beadle in brompton. if you go to rome, you sacrifice a rich suggestive life in wimbledon. it is the existence of this negative or limiting side of will that makes most of the talk of the anarchic will-worshippers little better than nonsense. for instance, mr. john davidson tells us to have nothing to do with "thou shalt not"; but it is surely obvious that "thou shalt not" is only one of the necessary corollaries of "i will." "i will go to the lord mayor's show, and thou shalt not stop me." anarchism adjures us to be bold creative artists, and care for no laws or limits. but it is impossible to be an artist and not care for laws and limits. art is limitation; the essence of every picture is the frame. if you draw a giraffe, you must draw him with a long neck. if, in your bold creative way, you hold yourself free to draw a giraffe with a short neck, you will really find that you are not free to draw a giraffe. the moment you step into the world of facts, you step into a world of limits. you can free things from alien or accidental laws, but not from the laws of their own nature. you may, if you like, free a tiger from his bars; but do not free him from his stripes. do not free a camel of the burden of his hump: you may be freeing him from being a camel. do not go about as a demagogue, encouraging triangles to break out of the prison of their three sides. if a triangle breaks out of its three sides, its life comes to a lamentable end. somebody wrote a work called "the loves of the triangles"; i never read it, but i am sure that if triangles ever were loved, they were loved for being triangular. this is certainly the case with all artistic creation, which is in some ways the most decisive example of pure will. the artist loves his limitations: they constitute the thing he is doing. the painter is glad that the canvas is flat. the sculptor is glad that the clay is colourless. in case the point is not clear, an historic example may illustrate it. the french revolution was really an heroic and decisive thing, because the jacobins willed something definite and limited. they desired the freedoms of democracy, but also all the vetoes of democracy. they wished to have votes and not to have titles. republicanism had an ascetic side in franklin or robespierre as well as an expansive side in danton or wilkes. therefore they have created something with a solid substance and shape, the square social equality and peasant wealth of france. but since then the revolutionary or speculative mind of europe has been weakened by shrinking from any proposal because of the limits of that proposal. liberalism has been degraded into liberality. men have tried to turn "revolutionise" from a transitive to an intransitive verb. the jacobin could tell you not only the system he would rebel against, but (what was more important) the system he would not rebel against, the system he would trust. but the new rebel is a sceptic, and will not entirely trust anything. he has no loyalty; therefore he can never be really a revolutionist. and the fact that he doubts everything really gets in his way when he wants to denounce anything. for all denunciation implies a moral doctrine of some kind; and the modern revolutionist doubts not only the institution he denounces, but the doctrine by which he denounces it. thus he writes one book complaining that imperial oppression insults the purity of women, and then he writes another book (about the sex problem) in which he insults it himself. he curses the sultan because christian girls lose their virginity, and then curses mrs. grundy because they keep it. as a politician, he will cry out that war is a waste of life, and then, as a philosopher, that all life is waste of time. a russian pessimist will denounce a policeman for killing a peasant, and then prove by the highest philosophical principles that the peasant ought to have killed himself. a man denounces marriage as a lie, and then denounces aristocratic profligates for treating it as a lie. he calls a flag a bauble, and then blames the oppressors of poland or ireland because they take away that bauble. the man of this school goes first to a political meeting, where he complains that savages are treated as if they were beasts; then he takes his hat and umbrella and goes on to a scientific meeting, where he proves that they practically are beasts. in short, the modern revolutionist, being an infinite sceptic, is always engaged in undermining his own mines. in his book on politics he attacks men for trampling on morality; in his book on ethics he attacks morality for trampling on men. therefore the modern man in revolt has become practically useless for all purposes of revolt. by rebelling against everything he has lost his right to rebel against anything. it may be added that the same blank and bankruptcy can be observed in all fierce and terrible types of literature, especially in satire. satire may be mad and anarchic, but it presupposes an admitted superiority in certain things over others; it presupposes a standard. when little boys in the street laugh at the fatness of some distinguished journalist, they are unconsciously assuming a standard of greek sculpture. they are appealing to the marble apollo. and the curious disappearance of satire from our literature is an instance of the fierce things fading for want of any principle to be fierce about. nietzsche had some natural talent for sarcasm: he could sneer, though he could not laugh; but there is always something bodiless and without weight in his satire, simply because it has not any mass of common morality behind it. he is himself more preposterous than anything he denounces. but, indeed, nietzsche will stand very well as the type of the whole of this failure of abstract violence. the softening of the brain which ultimately overtook him was not a physical accident. if nietzsche had not ended in imbecility, nietzscheism would end in imbecility. thinking in isolation and with pride ends in being an idiot. every man who will not have softening of the heart must at last have softening of the brain. this last attempt to evade intellectualism ends in intellectualism, and therefore in death. the sortie has failed. the wild worship of lawlessness and the materialist worship of law end in the same void. nietzsche scales staggering mountains, but he turns up ultimately in tibet. he sits down beside tolstoy in the land of nothing and nirvana. they are both helpless--one because he must not grasp anything, and the other because he must not let go of anything. the tolstoyan's will is frozen by a buddhist instinct that all special actions are evil. but the nietzscheite's will is quite equally frozen by his view that all special actions are good; for if all special actions are good, none of them are special. they stand at the crossroads, and one hates all the roads and the other likes all the roads. the result is--well, some things are not hard to calculate. they stand at the cross-roads. here i end (thank god) the first and dullest business of this book--the rough review of recent thought. after this i begin to sketch a view of life which may not interest my reader, but which, at any rate, interests me. in front of me, as i close this page, is a pile of modern books that i have been turning over for the purpose--a pile of ingenuity, a pile of futility. by the accident of my present detachment, i can see the inevitable smash of the philosophies of schopenhauer and tolstoy, nietzsche and shaw, as clearly as an inevitable railway smash could be seen from a balloon. they are all on the road to the emptiness of the asylum. for madness may be defined as using mental activity so as to reach mental helplessness; and they have nearly reached it. he who thinks he is made of glass, thinks to the destruction of thought; for glass cannot think. so he who wills to reject nothing, wills the destruction of will; for will is not only the choice of something, but the rejection of almost everything. and as i turn and tumble over the clever, wonderful, tiresome, and useless modern books, the title of one of them rivets my eye. it is called "jeanne d'arc," by anatole france. i have only glanced at it, but a glance was enough to remind me of renan's "vie de jesus." it has the same strange method of the reverent sceptic. it discredits supernatural stories that have some foundation, simply by telling natural stories that have no foundation. because we cannot believe in what a saint did, we are to pretend that we know exactly what he felt. but i do not mention either book in order to criticise it, but because the accidental combination of the names called up two startling images of sanity which blasted all the books before me. joan of arc was not stuck at the cross-roads, either by rejecting all the paths like tolstoy, or by accepting them all like nietzsche. she chose a path, and went down it like a thunderbolt. yet joan, when i came to think of her, had in her all that was true either in tolstoy or nietzsche, all that was even tolerable in either of them. i thought of all that is noble in tolstoy, the pleasure in plain things, especially in plain pity, the actualities of the earth, the reverence for the poor, the dignity of the bowed back. joan of arc had all that and with this great addition, that she endured poverty as well as admiring it; whereas tolstoy is only a typical aristocrat trying to find out its secret. and then i thought of all that was brave and proud and pathetic in poor nietzsche, and his mutiny against the emptiness and timidity of our time. i thought of his cry for the ecstatic equilibrium of danger, his hunger for the rush of great horses, his cry to arms. well, joan of arc had all that, and again with this difference, that she did not praise fighting, but fought. we know that she was not afraid of an army, while nietzsche, for all we know, was afraid of a cow. tolstoy only praised the peasant; she was the peasant. nietzsche only praised the warrior; she was the warrior. she beat them both at their own antagonistic ideals; she was more gentle than the one, more violent than the other. yet she was a perfectly practical person who did something, while they are wild speculators who do nothing. it was impossible that the thought should not cross my mind that she and her faith had perhaps some secret of moral unity and utility that has been lost. and with that thought came a larger one, and the colossal figure of her master had also crossed the theatre of my thoughts. the same modern difficulty which darkened the subject-matter of anatole france also darkened that of ernest renan. renan also divided his hero's pity from his hero's pugnacity. renan even represented the righteous anger at jerusalem as a mere nervous breakdown after the idyllic expectations of galilee. as if there were any inconsistency between having a love for humanity and having a hatred for inhumanity! altruists, with thin, weak voices, denounce christ as an egoist. egoists (with even thinner and weaker voices) denounce him as an altruist. in our present atmosphere such cavils are comprehensible enough. the love of a hero is more terrible than the hatred of a tyrant. the hatred of a hero is more generous than the love of a philanthropist. there is a huge and heroic sanity of which moderns can only collect the fragments. there is a giant of whom we see only the lopped arms and legs walking about. they have torn the soul of christ into silly strips, labelled egoism and altruism, and they are equally puzzled by his insane magnificence and his insane meekness. they have parted his garments among them, and for his vesture they have cast lots; though the coat was without seam woven from the top throughout. iv the ethics of elfland when the business man rebukes the idealism of his office-boy, it is commonly in some such speech as this: "ah, yes, when one is young, one has these ideals in the abstract and these castles in the air; but in middle age they all break up like clouds, and one comes down to a belief in practical politics, to using the machinery one has and getting on with the world as it is." thus, at least, venerable and philanthropic old men now in their honoured graves used to talk to me when i was a boy. but since then i have grown up and have discovered that these philanthropic old men were telling lies. what has really happened is exactly the opposite of what they said would happen. they said that i should lose my ideals and begin to believe in the methods of practical politicians. now, i have not lost my ideals in the least; my faith in fundamentals is exactly what it always was. what i have lost is my old childlike faith in practical politics. i am still as much concerned as ever about the battle of armageddon; but i am not so much concerned about the general election. as a babe i leapt up on my mother's knee at the mere mention of it. no; the vision is always solid and reliable. the vision is always a fact. it is the reality that is often a fraud. as much as i ever did, more than i ever did, i believe in liberalism. but there was a rosy time of innocence when i believed in liberals. i take this instance of one of the enduring faiths because, having now to trace the roots of my personal speculation, this may be counted, i think, as the only positive bias. i was brought up a liberal, and have always believed in democracy, in the elementary liberal doctrine of a self-governing humanity. if any one finds the phrase vague or threadbare, i can only pause for a moment to explain that the principle of democracy, as i mean it, can be stated in two propositions. the first is this: that the things common to all men are more important than the things peculiar to any men. ordinary things are more valuable than extraordinary things; nay, they are more extraordinary. man is something more awful than men; something more strange. the sense of the miracle of humanity itself should be always more vivid to us than any marvels of power, intellect, art, or civilization. the mere man on two legs, as such, should be felt as something more heartbreaking than any music and more startling than any caricature. death is more tragic even than death by starvation. having a nose is more comic even than having a norman nose. this is the first principle of democracy: that the essential things in men are the things they hold in common, not the things they hold separately. and the second principle is merely this: that the political instinct or desire is one of these things which they hold in common. falling in love is more poetical than dropping into poetry. the democratic contention is that government (helping to rule the tribe) is a thing like falling in love, and not a thing like dropping into poetry. it is not something analogous to playing the church organ, painting on vellum, discovering the north pole (that insidious habit), looping the loop, being astronomer royal, and so on. for these things we do not wish a man to do at all unless he does them well. it is, on the contrary, a thing analogous to writing one's own love-letters or blowing one's own nose. these things we want a man to do for himself, even if he does them badly. i am not here arguing the truth of any of these conceptions; i know that some moderns are asking to have their wives chosen by scientists, and they may soon be asking, for all i know, to have their noses blown by nurses. i merely say that mankind does recognize these universal human functions, and that democracy classes government among them. in short, the democratic faith is this: that the most terribly important things must be left to ordinary men themselves--the mating of the sexes, the rearing of the young, the laws of the state. this is democracy; and in this i have always believed. but there is one thing that i have never from my youth up been able to understand. i have never been able to understand where people got the idea that democracy was in some way opposed to tradition. it is obvious that tradition is only democracy extended through time. it is trusting to a consensus of common human voices rather than to some isolated or arbitrary record. the man who quotes some german historian against the tradition of the catholic church, for instance, is strictly appealing to aristocracy. he is appealing to the superiority of one expert against the awful authority of a mob. it is quite easy to see why a legend is treated, and ought to be treated, more respectfully than a book of history. the legend is generally made by the majority of people in the village, who are sane. the book is generally written by the one man in the village who is mad. those who urge against tradition that men in the past were ignorant may go and urge it at the carlton club, along with the statement that voters in the slums are ignorant. it will not do for us. if we attach great importance to the opinion of ordinary men in great unanimity when we are dealing with daily matters, there is no reason why we should disregard it when we are dealing with history or fable. tradition may be defined as an extension of the franchise. tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. it is the democracy of the dead. tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about. all democrats object to men being disqualified by the accident of birth; tradition objects to their being disqualified by the accident of death. democracy tells us not to neglect a good man's opinion, even if he is our groom; tradition asks us not to neglect a good man's opinion, even if he is our father. i, at any rate, cannot separate the two ideas of democracy and tradition; it seems evident to me that they are the same idea. we will have the dead at our councils. the ancient greeks voted by stones; these shall vote by tombstones. it is all quite regular and official, for most tombstones, like most ballot papers, are marked with a cross. i have first to say, therefore, that if i have had a bias, it was always a bias in favour of democracy, and therefore of tradition. before we come to any theoretic or logical beginnings i am content to allow for that personal equation; i have always been more inclined to believe the ruck of hard-working people than to believe that special and troublesome literary class to which i belong. i prefer even the fancies and prejudices of the people who see life from the inside to the clearest demonstrations of the people who see life from the outside. i would always trust the old wives' fables against the old maids' facts. as long as wit is mother wit it can be as wild as it pleases. now, i have to put together a general position, and i pretend to no training in such things. i propose to do it, therefore, by writing down one after another the three or four fundamental ideas which i have found for myself, pretty much in the way that i found them. then i shall roughly synthesise them, summing up my personal philosophy or natural religion; then i shall describe my startling discovery that the whole thing had been discovered before. it had been discovered by christianity. but of these profound persuasions which i have to recount in order, the earliest was concerned with this element of popular tradition. and without the foregoing explanation touching tradition and democracy i could hardly make my mental experience clear. as it is, i do not know whether i can make it clear, but i now propose to try. my first and last philosophy, that which i believe in with unbroken certainty, i learnt in the nursery. i generally learnt it from a nurse; that is, from the solemn and star-appointed priestess at once of democracy and tradition. the things i believed most then, the things i believe most now, are the things called fairy tales. they seem to me to be the entirely reasonable things. they are not fantasies: compared with them other things are fantastic. compared with them religion and rationalism are both abnormal, though religion is abnormally right and rationalism abnormally wrong. fairyland is nothing but the sunny country of common sense. it is not earth that judges heaven, but heaven that judges earth; so for me at least it was not earth that criticised elfland, but elfland that criticised the earth. i knew the magic beanstalk before i had tasted beans; i was sure of the man in the moon before i was certain of the moon. this was at one with all popular tradition. modern minor poets are naturalists, and talk about the bush or the brook; but the singers of the old epics and fables were supernaturalists, and talked about the gods of brook and bush. that is what the moderns mean when they say that the ancients did not "appreciate nature," because they said that nature was divine. old nurses do not tell children about the grass, but about the fairies that dance on the grass; and the old greeks could not see the trees for the dryads. but i deal here with what ethic and philosophy come from being fed on fairy tales. if i were describing them in detail i could note many noble and healthy principles that arise from them. there is the chivalrous lesson of "jack the giant killer"; that giants should be killed because they are gigantic. it is a manly mutiny against pride as such. for the rebel is older than all the kingdoms, and the jacobin has more tradition than the jacobite. there is the lesson of "cinderella," which is the same as that of the magnificat-- exaltavit humiles. there is the great lesson of "beauty and the beast"; that a thing must be loved before it is loveable. there is the terrible allegory of the "sleeping beauty," which tells how the human creature was blessed with all birthday gifts, yet cursed with death; and how death also may perhaps be softened to a sleep. but i am not concerned with any of the separate statutes of elfland, but with the whole spirit of its law, which i learnt before i could speak, and shall retain when i cannot write. i am concerned with a certain way of looking at life, which was created in me by the fairy tales, but has since been meekly ratified by the mere facts. it might be stated this way. there are certain sequences or developments (cases of one thing following another), which are, in the true sense of the word, reasonable. they are, in the true sense of the word, necessary. such are mathematical and merely logical sequences. we in fairyland (who are the most reasonable of all creatures) admit that reason and that necessity. for instance, if the ugly sisters are older than cinderella, it is (in an iron and awful sense) necessary that cinderella is younger than the ugly sisters. there is no getting out of it. haeckel may talk as much fatalism about that fact as he pleases: it really must be. if jack is the son of a miller, a miller is the father of jack. cold reason decrees it from her awful throne: and we in fairyland submit. if the three brothers all ride horses, there are six animals and eighteen legs involved: that is true rationalism, and fairyland is full of it. but as i put my head over the hedge of the elves and began to take notice of the natural world, i observed an extraordinary thing. i observed that learned men in spectacles were talking of the actual things that happened-- dawn and death and so on--as if they were rational and inevitable. they talked as if the fact that trees bear fruit were just as necessary as the fact that two and one trees make three. but it is not. there is an enormous difference by the test of fairyland; which is the test of the imagination. you cannot imagine two and one not making three. but you can easily imagine trees not growing fruit; you can imagine them growing golden candlesticks or tigers hanging on by the tail. these men in spectacles spoke much of a man named newton, who was hit by an apple, and who discovered a law. but they could not be got to see the distinction between a true law, a law of reason, and the mere fact of apples falling. if the apple hit newton's nose, newton's nose hit the apple. that is a true necessity: because we cannot conceive the one occurring without the other. but we can quite well conceive the apple not falling on his nose; we can fancy it flying ardently through the air to hit some other nose, of which it had a more definite dislike. we have always in our fairy tales kept this sharp distinction between the science of mental relations, in which there really are laws, and the science of physical facts, in which there are no laws, but only weird repetitions. we believe in bodily miracles, but not in mental impossibilities. we believe that a bean-stalk climbed up to heaven; but that does not at all confuse our convictions on the philosophical question of how many beans make five. here is the peculiar perfection of tone and truth in the nursery tales. the man of science says, "cut the stalk, and the apple will fall"; but he says it calmly, as if the one idea really led up to the other. the witch in the fairy tale says, "blow the horn, and the ogre's castle will fall"; but she does not say it as if it were something in which the effect obviously arose out of the cause. doubtless she has given the advice to many champions, and has seen many castles fall, but she does not lose either her wonder or her reason. she does not muddle her head until it imagines a necessary mental connection between a horn and a falling tower. but the scientific men do muddle their heads, until they imagine a necessary mental connection between an apple leaving the tree and an apple reaching the ground. they do really talk as if they had found not only a set of marvellous facts, but a truth connecting those facts. they do talk as if the connection of two strange things physically connected them philosophically. they feel that because one incomprehensible thing constantly follows another incomprehensible thing the two together somehow make up a comprehensible thing. two black riddles make a white answer. in fairyland we avoid the word "law"; but in the land of science they are singularly fond of it. thus they will call some interesting conjecture about how forgotten folks pronounced the alphabet, grimm's law. but grimm's law is far less intellectual than grimm's fairy tales. the tales are, at any rate, certainly tales; while the law is not a law. a law implies that we know the nature of the generalisation and enactment; not merely that we have noticed some of the effects. if there is a law that pick-pockets shall go to prison, it implies that there is an imaginable mental connection between the idea of prison and the idea of picking pockets. and we know what the idea is. we can say why we take liberty from a man who takes liberties. but we cannot say why an egg can turn into a chicken any more than we can say why a bear could turn into a fairy prince. as ideas, the egg and the chicken are further off from each other than the bear and the prince; for no egg in itself suggests a chicken, whereas some princes do suggest bears. granted, then, that certain transformations do happen, it is essential that we should regard them in the philosophic manner of fairy tales, not in the unphilosophic manner of science and the "laws of nature." when we are asked why eggs turn to birds or fruits fall in autumn, we must answer exactly as the fairy godmother would answer if cinderella asked her why mice turned to horses or her clothes fell from her at twelve o'clock. we must answer that it is magic. it is not a "law," for we do not understand its general formula. it is not a necessity, for though we can count on it happening practically, we have no right to say that it must always happen. it is no argument for unalterable law (as huxley fancied) that we count on the ordinary course of things. we do not count on it; we bet on it. we risk the remote possibility of a miracle as we do that of a poisoned pancake or a world-destroying comet. we leave it out of account, not because it is a miracle, and therefore an impossibility, but because it is a miracle, and therefore an exception. all the terms used in the science books, "law," "necessity," "order," "tendency," and so on, are really unintellectual, because they assume an inner synthesis, which we do not possess. the only words that ever satisfied me as describing nature are the terms used in the fairy books, "charm," "spell," "enchantment." they express the arbitrariness of the fact and its mystery. a tree grows fruit because it is a magic tree. water runs downhill because it is bewitched. the sun shines because it is bewitched. i deny altogether that this is fantastic or even mystical. we may have some mysticism later on; but this fairy-tale language about things is simply rational and agnostic. it is the only way i can express in words my clear and definite perception that one thing is quite distinct from another; that there is no logical connection between flying and laying eggs. it is the man who talks about "a law" that he has never seen who is the mystic. nay, the ordinary scientific man is strictly a sentimentalist. he is a sentimentalist in this essential sense, that he is soaked and swept away by mere associations. he has so often seen birds fly and lay eggs that he feels as if there must be some dreamy, tender connection between the two ideas, whereas there is none. a forlorn lover might be unable to dissociate the moon from lost love; so the materialist is unable to dissociate the moon from the tide. in both cases there is no connection, except that one has seen them together. a sentimentalist might shed tears at the smell of apple-blossom, because, by a dark association of his own, it reminded him of his boyhood. so the materialist professor (though he conceals his tears) is yet a sentimentalist, because, by a dark association of his own, apple-blossoms remind him of apples. but the cool rationalist from fairyland does not see why, in the abstract, the apple tree should not grow crimson tulips; it sometimes does in his country. this elementary wonder, however, is not a mere fancy derived from the fairy tales; on the contrary, all the fire of the fairy tales is derived from this. just as we all like love tales because there is an instinct of sex, we all like astonishing tales because they touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment. this is proved by the fact that when we are very young children we do not need fairy tales: we only need tales. mere life is interesting enough. a child of seven is excited by being told that tommy opened a door and saw a dragon. but a child of three is excited by being told that tommy opened a door. boys like romantic tales; but babies like realistic tales--because they find them romantic. in fact, a baby is about the only person, i should think, to whom a modern realistic novel could be read without boring him. this proves that even nursery tales only echo an almost pre-natal leap of interest and amazement. these tales say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green. they make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water. i have said that this is wholly reasonable and even agnostic. and, indeed, on this point i am all for the higher agnosticism; its better name is ignorance. we have all read in scientific books, and, indeed, in all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. this man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. well, every man is that man in the story. every man has forgotten who he is. one may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star. thou shalt love the lord thy god; but thou shalt not know thyself. we are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. we have all forgotten what we really are. all that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. all that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forget. but though (like the man without memory in the novel) we walk the streets with a sort of half-witted admiration, still it is admiration. it is admiration in english and not only admiration in latin. the wonder has a positive element of praise. this is the next milestone to be definitely marked on our road through fairyland. i shall speak in the next chapter about optimists and pessimists in their intellectual aspect, so far as they have one. here i am only trying to describe the enormous emotions which cannot be described. and the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it was puzzling. it was an ecstasy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity. the goodness of the fairy tale was not affected by the fact that there might be more dragons than princesses; it was good to be in a fairy tale. the test of all happiness is gratitude; and i felt grateful, though i hardly knew to whom. children are grateful when santa claus puts in their stockings gifts of toys or sweets. could i not be grateful to santa claus when he put in my stockings the gift of two miraculous legs? we thank people for birthday presents of cigars and slippers. can i thank no one for the birthday present of birth? there were, then, these two first feelings, indefensible and indisputable. the world was a shock, but it was not merely shocking; existence was a surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise. in fact, all my first views were exactly uttered in a riddle that stuck in my brain from boyhood. the question was, "what did the first frog say?" and the answer was, "lord, how you made me jump!" that says succinctly all that i am saying. god made the frog jump; but the frog prefers jumping. but when these things are settled there enters the second great principle of the fairy philosophy. any one can see it who will simply read "grimm's fairy tales" or the fine collections of mr. andrew lang. for the pleasure of pedantry i will call it the doctrine of conditional joy. touchstone talked of much virtue in an "if"; according to elfin ethics all virtue is in an "if." the note of the fairy utterance always is, "you may live in a palace of gold and sapphire, if you do not say the word `cow'"; or "you may live happily with the king's daughter, if you do not show her an onion." the vision always hangs upon a veto. all the dizzy and colossal things conceded depend upon one small thing withheld. all the wild and whirling things that are let loose depend upon one thing that is forbidden. mr. w.b.yeats, in his exquisite and piercing elfin poetry, describes the elves as lawless; they plunge in innocent anarchy on the unbridled horses of the air-- "ride on the crest of the dishevelled tide, and dance upon the mountains like a flame." it is a dreadful thing to say that mr. w.b.yeats does not understand fairyland. but i do say it. he is an ironical irishman, full of intellectual reactions. he is not stupid enough to understand fairyland. fairies prefer people of the yokel type like myself; people who gape and grin and do as they are told. mr. yeats reads into elfland all the righteous insurrection of his own race. but the lawlessness of ireland is a christian lawlessness, founded on reason and justice. the fenian is rebelling against something he understands only too well; but the true citizen of fairyland is obeying something that he does not understand at all. in the fairy tale an incomprehensible happiness rests upon an incomprehensible condition. a box is opened, and all evils fly out. a word is forgotten, and cities perish. a lamp is lit, and love flies away. a flower is plucked, and human lives are forfeited. an apple is eaten, and the hope of god is gone. this is the tone of fairy tales, and it is certainly not lawlessness or even liberty, though men under a mean modern tyranny may think it liberty by comparison. people out of portland gaol might think fleet street free; but closer study will prove that both fairies and journalists are the slaves of duty. fairy godmothers seem at least as strict as other godmothers. cinderella received a coach out of wonderland and a coachman out of nowhere, but she received a command--which might have come out of brixton--that she should be back by twelve. also, she had a glass slipper; and it cannot be a coincidence that glass is so common a substance in folk-lore. this princess lives in a glass castle, that princess on a glass hill; this one sees all things in a mirror; they may all live in glass houses if they will not throw stones. for this thin glitter of glass everywhere is the expression of the fact that the happiness is bright but brittle, like the substance most easily smashed by a housemaid or a cat. and this fairy-tale sentiment also sank into me and became my sentiment towards the whole world. i felt and feel that life itself is as bright as the diamond, but as brittle as the window-pane; and when the heavens were compared to the terrible crystal i can remember a shudder. i was afraid that god would drop the cosmos with a crash. remember, however, that to be breakable is not the same as to be perishable. strike a glass, and it will not endure an instant; simply do not strike it, and it will endure a thousand years. such, it seemed, was the joy of man, either in elfland or on earth; the happiness depended on not doing something which you could at any moment do and which, very often, it was not obvious why you should not do. now, the point here is that to me this did not seem unjust. if the miller's third son said to the fairy, "explain why i must not stand on my head in the fairy palace," the other might fairly reply, "well, if it comes to that, explain the fairy palace." if cinderella says, "how is it that i must leave the ball at twelve?" her godmother might answer, "how is it that you are going there till twelve?" if i leave a man in my will ten talking elephants and a hundred winged horses, he cannot complain if the conditions partake of the slight eccentricity of the gift. he must not look a winged horse in the mouth. and it seemed to me that existence was itself so very eccentric a legacy that i could not complain of not understanding the limitations of the vision when i did not understand the vision they limited. the frame was no stranger than the picture. the veto might well be as wild as the vision; it might be as startling as the sun, as elusive as the waters, as fantastic and terrible as the towering trees. for this reason (we may call it the fairy godmother philosophy) i never could join the young men of my time in feeling what they called the general sentiment of revolt. i should have resisted, let us hope, any rules that were evil, and with these and their definition i shall deal in another chapter. but i did not feel disposed to resist any rule merely because it was mysterious. estates are sometimes held by foolish forms, the breaking of a stick or the payment of a peppercorn: i was willing to hold the huge estate of earth and heaven by any such feudal fantasy. it could not well be wilder than the fact that i was allowed to hold it at all. at this stage i give only one ethical instance to show my meaning. i could never mix in the common murmur of that rising generation against monogamy, because no restriction on sex seemed so odd and unexpected as sex itself. to be allowed, like endymion, to make love to the moon and then to complain that jupiter kept his own moons in a harem seemed to me (bred on fairy tales like endymion's) a vulgar anti-climax. keeping to one woman is a small price for so much as seeing one woman. to complain that i could only be married once was like complaining that i had only been born once. it was incommensurate with the terrible excitement of which one was talking. it showed, not an exaggerated sensibility to sex, but a curious insensibility to it. a man is a fool who complains that he cannot enter eden by five gates at once. polygamy is a lack of the realization of sex; it is like a man plucking five pears in mere absence of mind. the aesthetes touched the last insane limits of language in their eulogy on lovely things. the thistledown made them weep; a burnished beetle brought them to their knees. yet their emotion never impressed me for an instant, for this reason, that it never occurred to them to pay for their pleasure in any sort of symbolic sacrifice. men (i felt) might fast forty days for the sake of hearing a blackbird sing. men might go through fire to find a cowslip. yet these lovers of beauty could not even keep sober for the blackbird. they would not go through common christian marriage by way of recompense to the cowslip. surely one might pay for extraordinary joy in ordinary morals. oscar wilde said that sunsets were not valued because we could not pay for sunsets. but oscar wilde was wrong; we can pay for sunsets. we can pay for them by not being oscar wilde. well, i left the fairy tales lying on the floor of the nursery, and i have not found any books so sensible since. i left the nurse guardian of tradition and democracy, and i have not found any modern type so sanely radical or so sanely conservative. but the matter for important comment was here: that when i first went out into the mental atmosphere of the modern world, i found that the modern world was positively opposed on two points to my nurse and to the nursery tales. it has taken me a long time to find out that the modern world is wrong and my nurse was right. the really curious thing was this: that modern thought contradicted this basic creed of my boyhood on its two most essential doctrines. i have explained that the fairy tales founded in me two convictions; first, that this world is a wild and startling place, which might have been quite different, but which is quite delightful; second, that before this wildness and delight one may well be modest and submit to the queerest limitations of so queer a kindness. but i found the whole modern world running like a high tide against both my tendernesses; and the shock of that collision created two sudden and spontaneous sentiments, which i have had ever since and which, crude as they were, have since hardened into convictions. first, i found the whole modern world talking scientific fatalism; saying that everything is as it must always have been, being unfolded without fault from the beginning. the leaf on the tree is green because it could never have been anything else. now, the fairy-tale philosopher is glad that the leaf is green precisely because it might have been scarlet. he feels as if it had turned green an instant before he looked at it. he is pleased that snow is white on the strictly reasonable ground that it might have been black. every colour has in it a bold quality as of choice; the red of garden roses is not only decisive but dramatic, like suddenly spilt blood. he feels that something has been done. but the great determinists of the nineteenth century were strongly against this native feeling that something had happened an instant before. in fact, according to them, nothing ever really had happened since the beginning of the world. nothing ever had happened since existence had happened; and even about the date of that they were not very sure. the modern world as i found it was solid for modern calvinism, for the necessity of things being as they are. but when i came to ask them i found they had really no proof of this unavoidable repetition in things except the fact that the things were repeated. now, the mere repetition made the things to me rather more weird than more rational. it was as if, having seen a curiously shaped nose in the street and dismissed it as an accident, i had then seen six other noses of the same astonishing shape. i should have fancied for a moment that it must be some local secret society. so one elephant having a trunk was odd; but all elephants having trunks looked like a plot. i speak here only of an emotion, and of an emotion at once stubborn and subtle. but the repetition in nature seemed sometimes to be an excited repetition, like that of an angry schoolmaster saying the same thing over and over again. the grass seemed signalling to me with all its fingers at once; the crowded stars seemed bent upon being understood. the sun would make me see him if he rose a thousand times. the recurrences of the universe rose to the maddening rhythm of an incantation, and i began to see an idea. all the towering materialism which dominates the modern mind rests ultimately upon one assumption; a false assumption. it is supposed that if a thing goes on repeating itself it is probably dead; a piece of clockwork. people feel that if the universe was personal it would vary; if the sun were alive it would dance. this is a fallacy even in relation to known fact. for the variation in human affairs is generally brought into them, not by life, but by death; by the dying down or breaking off of their strength or desire. a man varies his movements because of some slight element of failure or fatigue. he gets into an omnibus because he is tired of walking; or he walks because he is tired of sitting still. but if his life and joy were so gigantic that he never tired of going to islington, he might go to islington as regularly as the thames goes to sheerness. the very speed and ecstasy of his life would have the stillness of death. the sun rises every morning. i do not rise every morning; but the variation is due not to my activity, but to my inaction. now, to put the matter in a popular phrase, it might be true that the sun rises regularly because he never gets tired of rising. his routine might be due, not to a lifelessness, but to a rush of life. the thing i mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game or joke that they specially enjoy. a child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. they always say, "do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. for grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. but perhaps god is strong enough to exult in monotony. it is possible that god says every morning, "do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "do it again" to the moon. it may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that god makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. it may be that he has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our father is younger than we. the repetition in nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore. heaven may encore the bird who laid an egg. if the human being conceives and brings forth a human child instead of bringing forth a fish, or a bat, or a griffin, the reason may not be that we are fixed in an animal fate without life or purpose. it may be that our little tragedy has touched the gods, that they admire it from their starry galleries, and that at the end of every human drama man is called again and again before the curtain. repetition may go on for millions of years, by mere choice, and at any instant it may stop. man may stand on the earth generation after generation, and yet each birth be his positively last appearance. this was my first conviction; made by the shock of my childish emotions meeting the modern creed in mid-career. i had always vaguely felt facts to be miracles in the sense that they are wonderful: now i began to think them miracles in the stricter sense that they were wilful. i mean that they were, or might be, repeated exercises of some will. in short, i had always believed that the world involved magic: now i thought that perhaps it involved a magician. and this pointed a profound emotion always present and sub-conscious; that this world of ours has some purpose; and if there is a purpose, there is a person. i had always felt life first as a story: and if there is a story there is a story-teller. but modern thought also hit my second human tradition. it went against the fairy feeling about strict limits and conditions. the one thing it loved to talk about was expansion and largeness. herbert spencer would have been greatly annoyed if any one had called him an imperialist, and therefore it is highly regrettable that nobody did. but he was an imperialist of the lowest type. he popularized this contemptible notion that the size of the solar system ought to over-awe the spiritual dogma of man. why should a man surrender his dignity to the solar system any more than to a whale? if mere size proves that man is not the image of god, then a whale may be the image of god; a somewhat formless image; what one might call an impressionist portrait. it is quite futile to argue that man is small compared to the cosmos; for man was always small compared to the nearest tree. but herbert spencer, in his headlong imperialism, would insist that we had in some way been conquered and annexed by the astronomical universe. he spoke about men and their ideals exactly as the most insolent unionist talks about the irish and their ideals. he turned mankind into a small nationality. and his evil influence can be seen even in the most spirited and honourable of later scientific authors; notably in the early romances of mr. h.g.wells. many moralists have in an exaggerated way represented the earth as wicked. but mr. wells and his school made the heavens wicked. we should lift up our eyes to the stars from whence would come our ruin. but the expansion of which i speak was much more evil than all this. i have remarked that the materialist, like the madman, is in prison; in the prison of one thought. these people seemed to think it singularly inspiring to keep on saying that the prison was very large. the size of this scientific universe gave one no novelty, no relief. the cosmos went on for ever, but not in its wildest constellation could there be anything really interesting; anything, for instance, such as forgiveness or free will. the grandeur or infinity of the secret of its cosmos added nothing to it. it was like telling a prisoner in reading gaol that he would be glad to hear that the gaol now covered half the county. the warder would have nothing to show the man except more and more long corridors of stone lit by ghastly lights and empty of all that is human. so these expanders of the universe had nothing to show us except more and more infinite corridors of space lit by ghastly suns and empty of all that is divine. in fairyland there had been a real law; a law that could be broken, for the definition of a law is something that can be broken. but the machinery of this cosmic prison was something that could not be broken; for we ourselves were only a part of its machinery. we were either unable to do things or we were destined to do them. the idea of the mystical condition quite disappeared; one can neither have the firmness of keeping laws nor the fun of breaking them. the largeness of this universe had nothing of that freshness and airy outbreak which we have praised in the universe of the poet. this modern universe is literally an empire; that is, it was vast, but it is not free. one went into larger and larger windowless rooms, rooms big with babylonian perspective; but one never found the smallest window or a whisper of outer air. their infernal parallels seemed to expand with distance; but for me all good things come to a point, swords for instance. so finding the boast of the big cosmos so unsatisfactory to my emotions i began to argue about it a little; and i soon found that the whole attitude was even shallower than could have been expected. according to these people the cosmos was one thing since it had one unbroken rule. only (they would say) while it is one thing, it is also the only thing there is. why, then, should one worry particularly to call it large? there is nothing to compare it with. it would be just as sensible to call it small. a man may say, "i like this vast cosmos, with its throng of stars and its crowd of varied creatures." but if it comes to that why should not a man say, "i like this cosy little cosmos, with its decent number of stars and as neat a provision of live stock as i wish to see"? one is as good as the other; they are both mere sentiments. it is mere sentiment to rejoice that the sun is larger than the earth; it is quite as sane a sentiment to rejoice that the sun is no larger than it is. a man chooses to have an emotion about the largeness of the world; why should he not choose to have an emotion about its smallness? it happened that i had that emotion. when one is fond of anything one addresses it by diminutives, even if it is an elephant or a life-guardsman. the reason is, that anything, however huge, that can be conceived of as complete, can be conceived of as small. if military moustaches did not suggest a sword or tusks a tail, then the object would be vast because it would be immeasurable. but the moment you can imagine a guardsman you can imagine a small guardsman. the moment you really see an elephant you can call it "tiny." if you can make a statue of a thing you can make a statuette of it. these people professed that the universe was one coherent thing; but they were not fond of the universe. but i was frightfully fond of the universe and wanted to address it by a diminutive. i often did so; and it never seemed to mind. actually and in truth i did feel that these dim dogmas of vitality were better expressed by calling the world small than by calling it large. for about infinity there was a sort of carelessness which was the reverse of the fierce and pious care which i felt touching the pricelessness and the peril of life. they showed only a dreary waste; but i felt a sort of sacred thrift. for economy is far more romantic than extravagance. to them stars were an unending income of halfpence; but i felt about the golden sun and the silver moon as a schoolboy feels if he has one sovereign and one shilling. these subconscious convictions are best hit off by the colour and tone of certain tales. thus i have said that stories of magic alone can express my sense that life is not only a pleasure but a kind of eccentric privilege. i may express this other feeling of cosmic cosiness by allusion to another book always read in boyhood, "robinson crusoe," which i read about this time, and which owes its eternal vivacity to the fact that it celebrates the poetry of limits, nay, even the wild romance of prudence. crusoe is a man on a small rock with a few comforts just snatched from the sea: the best thing in the book is simply the list of things saved from the wreck. the greatest of poems is an inventory. every kitchen tool becomes ideal because crusoe might have dropped it in the sea. it is a good exercise, in empty or ugly hours of the day, to look at anything, the coal-scuttle or the book-case, and think how happy one could be to have brought it out of the sinking ship on to the solitary island. but it is a better exercise still to remember how all things have had this hair-breadth escape: everything has been saved from a wreck. every man has had one horrible adventure: as a hidden untimely birth he had not been, as infants that never see the light. men spoke much in my boyhood of restricted or ruined men of genius: and it was common to say that many a man was a great might-have-been. to me it is a more solid and startling fact that any man in the street is a great might-not-have-been. but i really felt (the fancy may seem foolish) as if all the order and number of things were the romantic remnant of crusoe's ship. that there are two sexes and one sun, was like the fact that there were two guns and one axe. it was poignantly urgent that none should be lost; but somehow, it was rather fun that none could be added. the trees and the planets seemed like things saved from the wreck: and when i saw the matterhorn i was glad that it had not been overlooked in the confusion. i felt economical about the stars as if they were sapphires (they are called so in milton's eden): i hoarded the hills. for the universe is a single jewel, and while it is a natural cant to talk of a jewel as peerless and priceless, of this jewel it is literally true. this cosmos is indeed without peer and without price: for there cannot be another one. thus ends, in unavoidable inadequacy, the attempt to utter the unutterable things. these are my ultimate attitudes towards life; the soils for the seeds of doctrine. these in some dark way i thought before i could write, and felt before i could think: that we may proceed more easily afterwards, i will roughly recapitulate them now. i felt in my bones; first, that this world does not explain itself. it may be a miracle with a supernatural explanation; it may be a conjuring trick, with a natural explanation. but the explanation of the conjuring trick, if it is to satisfy me, will have to be better than the natural explanations i have heard. the thing is magic, true or false. second, i came to feel as if magic must have a meaning, and meaning must have some one to mean it. there was something personal in the world, as in a work of art; whatever it meant it meant violently. third, i thought this purpose beautiful in its old design, in spite of its defects, such as dragons. fourth, that the proper form of thanks to it is some form of humility and restraint: we should thank god for beer and burgundy by not drinking too much of them. we owed, also, an obedience to whatever made us. and last, and strangest, there had come into my mind a vague and vast impression that in some way all good was a remnant to be stored and held sacred out of some primordial ruin. man had saved his good as crusoe saved his goods: he had saved them from a wreck. all this i felt and the age gave me no encouragement to feel it. and all this time i had not even thought of christian theology. v the flag of the world when i was a boy there were two curious men running about who were called the optimist and the pessimist. i constantly used the words myself, but i cheerfully confess that i never had any very special idea of what they meant. the only thing which might be considered evident was that they could not mean what they said; for the ordinary verbal explanation was that the optimist thought this world as good as it could be, while the pessimist thought it as bad as it could be. both these statements being obviously raving nonsense, one had to cast about for other explanations. an optimist could not mean a man who thought everything right and nothing wrong. for that is meaningless; it is like calling everything right and nothing left. upon the whole, i came to the conclusion that the optimist thought everything good except the pessimist, and that the pessimist thought everything bad, except himself. it would be unfair to omit altogether from the list the mysterious but suggestive definition said to have been given by a little girl, "an optimist is a man who looks after your eyes, and a pessimist is a man who looks after your feet." i am not sure that this is not the best definition of all. there is even a sort of allegorical truth in it. for there might, perhaps, be a profitable distinction drawn between that more dreary thinker who thinks merely of our contact with the earth from moment to moment, and that happier thinker who considers rather our primary power of vision and of choice of road. but this is a deep mistake in this alternative of the optimist and the pessimist. the assumption of it is that a man criticises this world as if he were house-hunting, as if he were being shown over a new suite of apartments. if a man came to this world from some other world in full possession of his powers he might discuss whether the advantage of midsummer woods made up for the disadvantage of mad dogs, just as a man looking for lodgings might balance the presence of a telephone against the absence of a sea view. but no man is in that position. a man belongs to this world before he begins to ask if it is nice to belong to it. he has fought for the flag, and often won heroic victories for the flag long before he has ever enlisted. to put shortly what seems the essential matter, he has a loyalty long before he has any admiration. in the last chapter it has been said that the primary feeling that this world is strange and yet attractive is best expressed in fairy tales. the reader may, if he likes, put down the next stage to that bellicose and even jingo literature which commonly comes next in the history of a boy. we all owe much sound morality to the penny dreadfuls. whatever the reason, it seemed and still seems to me that our attitude towards life can be better expressed in terms of a kind of military loyalty than in terms of criticism and approval. my acceptance of the universe is not optimism, it is more like patriotism. it is a matter of primary loyalty. the world is not a lodging-house at brighton, which we are to leave because it is miserable. it is the fortress of our family, with the flag flying on the turret, and the more miserable it is the less we should leave it. the point is not that this world is too sad to love or too glad not to love; the point is that when you do love a thing, its gladness is a reason for loving it, and its sadness a reason for loving it more. all optimistic thoughts about england and all pessimistic thoughts about her are alike reasons for the english patriot. similarly, optimism and pessimism are alike arguments for the cosmic patriot. let us suppose we are confronted with a desperate thing--say pimlico. if we think what is really best for pimlico we shall find the thread of thought leads to the throne or the mystic and the arbitrary. it is not enough for a man to disapprove of pimlico: in that case he will merely cut his throat or move to chelsea. nor, certainly, is it enough for a man to approve of pimlico: for then it will remain pimlico, which would be awful. the only way out of it seems to be for somebody to love pimlico: to love it with a transcendental tie and without any earthly reason. if there arose a man who loved pimlico, then pimlico would rise into ivory towers and golden pinnacles; pimlico would attire herself as a woman does when she is loved. for decoration is not given to hide horrible things: but to decorate things already adorable. a mother does not give her child a blue bow because he is so ugly without it. a lover does not give a girl a necklace to hide her neck. if men loved pimlico as mothers love children, arbitrarily, because it is theirs, pimlico in a year or two might be fairer than florence. some readers will say that this is a mere fantasy. i answer that this is the actual history of mankind. this, as a fact, is how cities did grow great. go back to the darkest roots of civilization and you will find them knotted round some sacred stone or encircling some sacred well. people first paid honour to a spot and afterwards gained glory for it. men did not love rome because she was great. she was great because they had loved her. the eighteenth-century theories of the social contract have been exposed to much clumsy criticism in our time; in so far as they meant that there is at the back of all historic government an idea of content and co-operation, they were demonstrably right. but they really were wrong, in so far as they suggested that men had ever aimed at order or ethics directly by a conscious exchange of interests. morality did not begin by one man saying to another, "i will not hit you if you do not hit me"; there is no trace of such a transaction. there is a trace of both men having said, "we must not hit each other in the holy place." they gained their morality by guarding their religion. they did not cultivate courage. they fought for the shrine, and found they had become courageous. they did not cultivate cleanliness. they purified themselves for the altar, and found that they were clean. the history of the jews is the only early document known to most englishmen, and the facts can be judged sufficiently from that. the ten commandments which have been found substantially common to mankind were merely military commands; a code of regimental orders, issued to protect a certain ark across a certain desert. anarchy was evil because it endangered the sanctity. and only when they made a holy day for god did they find they had made a holiday for men. if it be granted that this primary devotion to a place or thing is a source of creative energy, we can pass on to a very peculiar fact. let us reiterate for an instant that the only right optimism is a sort of universal patriotism. what is the matter with the pessimist? i think it can be stated by saying that he is the cosmic anti-patriot. and what is the matter with the anti-patriot? i think it can be stated, without undue bitterness, by saying that he is the candid friend. and what is the matter with the candid friend? there we strike the rock of real life and immutable human nature. i venture to say that what is bad in the candid friend is simply that he is not candid. he is keeping something back-- his own gloomy pleasure in saying unpleasant things. he has a secret desire to hurt, not merely to help. this is certainly, i think, what makes a certain sort of anti-patriot irritating to healthy citizens. i do not speak (of course) of the anti-patriotism which only irritates feverish stockbrokers and gushing actresses; that is only patriotism speaking plainly. a man who says that no patriot should attack the boer war until it is over is not worth answering intelligently; he is saying that no good son should warn his mother off a cliff until she has fallen over it. but there is an anti-patriot who honestly angers honest men, and the explanation of him is, i think, what i have suggested: he is the uncandid candid friend; the man who says, "i am sorry to say we are ruined," and is not sorry at all. and he may be said, without rhetoric, to be a traitor; for he is using that ugly knowledge which was allowed him to strengthen the army, to discourage people from joining it. because he is allowed to be pessimistic as a military adviser he is being pessimistic as a recruiting sergeant. just in the same way the pessimist (who is the cosmic anti-patriot) uses the freedom that life allows to her counsellors to lure away the people from her flag. granted that he states only facts, it is still essential to know what are his emotions, what is his motive. it may be that twelve hundred men in tottenham are down with smallpox; but we want to know whether this is stated by some great philosopher who wants to curse the gods, or only by some common clergyman who wants to help the men. the evil of the pessimist is, then, not that he chastises gods and men, but that he does not love what he chastises--he has not this primary and supernatural loyalty to things. what is the evil of the man commonly called an optimist? obviously, it is felt that the optimist, wishing to defend the honour of this world, will defend the indefensible. he is the jingo of the universe; he will say, "my cosmos, right or wrong." he will be less inclined to the reform of things; more inclined to a sort of front-bench official answer to all attacks, soothing every one with assurances. he will not wash the world, but whitewash the world. all this (which is true of a type of optimist) leads us to the one really interesting point of psychology, which could not be explained without it. we say there must be a primal loyalty to life: the only question is, shall it be a natural or a supernatural loyalty? if you like to put it so, shall it be a reasonable or an unreasonable loyalty? now, the extraordinary thing is that the bad optimism (the whitewashing, the weak defence of everything) comes in with the reasonable optimism. rational optimism leads to stagnation: it is irrational optimism that leads to reform. let me explain by using once more the parallel of patriotism. the man who is most likely to ruin the place he loves is exactly the man who loves it with a reason. the man who will improve the place is the man who loves it without a reason. if a man loves some feature of pimlico (which seems unlikely), he may find himself defending that feature against pimlico itself. but if he simply loves pimlico itself, he may lay it waste and turn it into the new jerusalem. i do not deny that reform may be excessive; i only say that it is the mystic patriot who reforms. mere jingo self-contentment is commonest among those who have some pedantic reason for their patriotism. the worst jingoes do not love england, but a theory of england. if we love england for being an empire, we may overrate the success with which we rule the hindoos. but if we love it only for being a nation, we can face all events: for it would be a nation even if the hindoos ruled us. thus also only those will permit their patriotism to falsify history whose patriotism depends on history. a man who loves england for being english will not mind how she arose. but a man who loves england for being anglo-saxon may go against all facts for his fancy. he may end (like carlyle and freeman) by maintaining that the norman conquest was a saxon conquest. he may end in utter unreason--because he has a reason. a man who loves france for being military will palliate the army of . but a man who loves france for being france will improve the army of . this is exactly what the french have done, and france is a good instance of the working paradox. nowhere else is patriotism more purely abstract and arbitrary; and nowhere else is reform more drastic and sweeping. the more transcendental is your patriotism, the more practical are your politics. perhaps the most everyday instance of this point is in the case of women; and their strange and strong loyalty. some stupid people started the idea that because women obviously back up their own people through everything, therefore women are blind and do not see anything. they can hardly have known any women. the same women who are ready to defend their men through thick and thin are (in their personal intercourse with the man) almost morbidly lucid about the thinness of his excuses or the thickness of his head. a man's friend likes him but leaves him as he is: his wife loves him and is always trying to turn him into somebody else. women who are utter mystics in their creed are utter cynics in their criticism. thackeray expressed this well when he made pendennis' mother, who worshipped her son as a god, yet assume that he would go wrong as a man. she underrated his virtue, though she overrated his value. the devotee is entirely free to criticise; the fanatic can safely be a sceptic. love is not blind; that is the last thing that it is. love is bound; and the more it is bound the less it is blind. this at least had come to be my position about all that was called optimism, pessimism, and improvement. before any cosmic act of reform we must have a cosmic oath of allegiance. a man must be interested in life, then he could be disinterested in his views of it. "my son give me thy heart"; the heart must be fixed on the right thing: the moment we have a fixed heart we have a free hand. i must pause to anticipate an obvious criticism. it will be said that a rational person accepts the world as mixed of good and evil with a decent satisfaction and a decent endurance. but this is exactly the attitude which i maintain to be defective. it is, i know, very common in this age; it was perfectly put in those quiet lines of matthew arnold which are more piercingly blasphemous than the shrieks of schopenhauer-- "enough we live:--and if a life, with large results so little rife, though bearable, seem hardly worth this pomp of worlds, this pain of birth." i know this feeling fills our epoch, and i think it freezes our epoch. for our titanic purposes of faith and revolution, what we need is not the cold acceptance of the world as a compromise, but some way in which we can heartily hate and heartily love it. we do not want joy and anger to neutralize each other and produce a surly contentment; we want a fiercer delight and a fiercer discontent. we have to feel the universe at once as an ogre's castle, to be stormed, and yet as our own cottage, to which we can return at evening. no one doubts that an ordinary man can get on with this world: but we demand not strength enough to get on with it, but strength enough to get it on. can he hate it enough to change it, and yet love it enough to think it worth changing? can he look up at its colossal good without once feeling acquiescence? can he look up at its colossal evil without once feeling despair? can he, in short, be at once not only a pessimist and an optimist, but a fanatical pessimist and a fanatical optimist? is he enough of a pagan to die for the world, and enough of a christian to die to it? in this combination, i maintain, it is the rational optimist who fails, the irrational optimist who succeeds. he is ready to smash the whole universe for the sake of itself. i put these things not in their mature logical sequence, but as they came: and this view was cleared and sharpened by an accident of the time. under the lengthening shadow of ibsen, an argument arose whether it was not a very nice thing to murder one's self. grave moderns told us that we must not even say "poor fellow," of a man who had blown his brains out, since he was an enviable person, and had only blown them out because of their exceptional excellence. mr. william archer even suggested that in the golden age there would be penny-in-the-slot machines, by which a man could kill himself for a penny. in all this i found myself utterly hostile to many who called themselves liberal and humane. not only is suicide a sin, it is the sin. it is the ultimate and absolute evil, the refusal to take an interest in existence; the refusal to take the oath of loyalty to life. the man who kills a man, kills a man. the man who kills himself, kills all men; as far as he is concerned he wipes out the world. his act is worse (symbolically considered) than any rape or dynamite outrage. for it destroys all buildings: it insults all women. the thief is satisfied with diamonds; but the suicide is not: that is his crime. he cannot be bribed, even by the blazing stones of the celestial city. the thief compliments the things he steals, if not the owner of them. but the suicide insults everything on earth by not stealing it. he defiles every flower by refusing to live for its sake. there is not a tiny creature in the cosmos at whom his death is not a sneer. when a man hangs himself on a tree, the leaves might fall off in anger and the birds fly away in fury: for each has received a personal affront. of course there may be pathetic emotional excuses for the act. there often are for rape, and there almost always are for dynamite. but if it comes to clear ideas and the intelligent meaning of things, then there is much more rational and philosophic truth in the burial at the cross-roads and the stake driven through the body, than in mr. archer's suicidal automatic machines. there is a meaning in burying the suicide apart. the man's crime is different from other crimes--for it makes even crimes impossible. about the same time i read a solemn flippancy by some free thinker: he said that a suicide was only the same as a martyr. the open fallacy of this helped to clear the question. obviously a suicide is the opposite of a martyr. a martyr is a man who cares so much for something outside him, that he forgets his own personal life. a suicide is a man who cares so little for anything outside him, that he wants to see the last of everything. one wants something to begin: the other wants everything to end. in other words, the martyr is noble, exactly because (however he renounces the world or execrates all humanity) he confesses this ultimate link with life; he sets his heart outside himself: he dies that something may live. the suicide is ignoble because he has not this link with being: he is a mere destroyer; spiritually, he destroys the universe. and then i remembered the stake and the cross-roads, and the queer fact that christianity had shown this weird harshness to the suicide. for christianity had shown a wild encouragement of the martyr. historic christianity was accused, not entirely without reason, of carrying martyrdom and asceticism to a point, desolate and pessimistic. the early christian martyrs talked of death with a horrible happiness. they blasphemed the beautiful duties of the body: they smelt the grave afar off like a field of flowers. all this has seemed to many the very poetry of pessimism. yet there is the stake at the crossroads to show what christianity thought of the pessimist. this was the first of the long train of enigmas with which christianity entered the discussion. and there went with it a peculiarity of which i shall have to speak more markedly, as a note of all christian notions, but which distinctly began in this one. the christian attitude to the martyr and the suicide was not what is so often affirmed in modern morals. it was not a matter of degree. it was not that a line must be drawn somewhere, and that the self-slayer in exaltation fell within the line, the self-slayer in sadness just beyond it. the christian feeling evidently was not merely that the suicide was carrying martyrdom too far. the christian feeling was furiously for one and furiously against the other: these two things that looked so much alike were at opposite ends of heaven and hell. one man flung away his life; he was so good that his dry bones could heal cities in pestilence. another man flung away life; he was so bad that his bones would pollute his brethren's. i am not saying this fierceness was right; but why was it so fierce? here it was that i first found that my wandering feet were in some beaten track. christianity had also felt this opposition of the martyr to the suicide: had it perhaps felt it for the same reason? had christianity felt what i felt, but could not (and cannot) express--this need for a first loyalty to things, and then for a ruinous reform of things? then i remembered that it was actually the charge against christianity that it combined these two things which i was wildly trying to combine. christianity was accused, at one and the same time, of being too optimistic about the universe and of being too pessimistic about the world. the coincidence made me suddenly stand still. an imbecile habit has arisen in modern controversy of saying that such and such a creed can be held in one age but cannot be held in another. some dogma, we are told, was credible in the twelfth century, but is not credible in the twentieth. you might as well say that a certain philosophy can be believed on mondays, but cannot be believed on tuesdays. you might as well say of a view of the cosmos that it was suitable to half-past three, but not suitable to half-past four. what a man can believe depends upon his philosophy, not upon the clock or the century. if a man believes in unalterable natural law, he cannot believe in any miracle in any age. if a man believes in a will behind law, he can believe in any miracle in any age. suppose, for the sake of argument, we are concerned with a case of thaumaturgic healing. a materialist of the twelfth century could not believe it any more than a materialist of the twentieth century. but a christian scientist of the twentieth century can believe it as much as a christian of the twelfth century. it is simply a matter of a man's theory of things. therefore in dealing with any historical answer, the point is not whether it was given in our time, but whether it was given in answer to our question. and the more i thought about when and how christianity had come into the world, the more i felt that it had actually come to answer this question. it is commonly the loose and latitudinarian christians who pay quite indefensible compliments to christianity. they talk as if there had never been any piety or pity until christianity came, a point on which any mediaeval would have been eager to correct them. they represent that the remarkable thing about christianity was that it was the first to preach simplicity or self-restraint, or inwardness and sincerity. they will think me very narrow (whatever that means) if i say that the remarkable thing about christianity was that it was the first to preach christianity. its peculiarity was that it was peculiar, and simplicity and sincerity are not peculiar, but obvious ideals for all mankind. christianity was the answer to a riddle, not the last truism uttered after a long talk. only the other day i saw in an excellent weekly paper of puritan tone this remark, that christianity when stripped of its armour of dogma (as who should speak of a man stripped of his armour of bones), turned out to be nothing but the quaker doctrine of the inner light. now, if i were to say that christianity came into the world specially to destroy the doctrine of the inner light, that would be an exaggeration. but it would be very much nearer to the truth. the last stoics, like marcus aurelius, were exactly the people who did believe in the inner light. their dignity, their weariness, their sad external care for others, their incurable internal care for themselves, were all due to the inner light, and existed only by that dismal illumination. notice that marcus aurelius insists, as such introspective moralists always do, upon small things done or undone; it is because he has not hate or love enough to make a moral revolution. he gets up early in the morning, just as our own aristocrats living the simple life get up early in the morning; because such altruism is much easier than stopping the games of the amphitheatre or giving the english people back their land. marcus aurelius is the most intolerable of human types. he is an unselfish egoist. an unselfish egoist is a man who has pride without the excuse of passion. of all conceivable forms of enlightenment the worst is what these people call the inner light. of all horrible religions the most horrible is the worship of the god within. any one who knows any body knows how it would work; any one who knows any one from the higher thought centre knows how it does work. that jones shall worship the god within him turns out ultimately to mean that jones shall worship jones. let jones worship the sun or moon, anything rather than the inner light; let jones worship cats or crocodiles, if he can find any in his street, but not the god within. christianity came into the world firstly in order to assert with violence that a man had not only to look inwards, but to look outwards, to behold with astonishment and enthusiasm a divine company and a divine captain. the only fun of being a christian was that a man was not left alone with the inner light, but definitely recognized an outer light, fair as the sun, clear as the moon, terrible as an army with banners. all the same, it will be as well if jones does not worship the sun and moon. if he does, there is a tendency for him to imitate them; to say, that because the sun burns insects alive, he may burn insects alive. he thinks that because the sun gives people sun-stroke, he may give his neighbour measles. he thinks that because the moon is said to drive men mad, he may drive his wife mad. this ugly side of mere external optimism had also shown itself in the ancient world. about the time when the stoic idealism had begun to show the weaknesses of pessimism, the old nature worship of the ancients had begun to show the enormous weaknesses of optimism. nature worship is natural enough while the society is young, or, in other words, pantheism is all right as long as it is the worship of pan. but nature has another side which experience and sin are not slow in finding out, and it is no flippancy to say of the god pan that he soon showed the cloven hoof. the only objection to natural religion is that somehow it always becomes unnatural. a man loves nature in the morning for her innocence and amiability, and at nightfall, if he is loving her still, it is for her darkness and her cruelty. he washes at dawn in clear water as did the wise man of the stoics, yet, somehow at the dark end of the day, he is bathing in hot bull's blood, as did julian the apostate. the mere pursuit of health always leads to something unhealthy. physical nature must not be made the direct object of obedience; it must be enjoyed, not worshipped. stars and mountains must not be taken seriously. if they are, we end where the pagan nature worship ended. because the earth is kind, we can imitate all her cruelties. because sexuality is sane, we can all go mad about sexuality. mere optimism had reached its insane and appropriate termination. the theory that everything was good had become an orgy of everything that was bad. on the other side our idealist pessimists were represented by the old remnant of the stoics. marcus aurelius and his friends had really given up the idea of any god in the universe and looked only to the god within. they had no hope of any virtue in nature, and hardly any hope of any virtue in society. they had not enough interest in the outer world really to wreck or revolutionise it. they did not love the city enough to set fire to it. thus the ancient world was exactly in our own desolate dilemma. the only people who really enjoyed this world were busy breaking it up; and the virtuous people did not care enough about them to knock them down. in this dilemma (the same as ours) christianity suddenly stepped in and offered a singular answer, which the world eventually accepted as the answer. it was the answer then, and i think it is the answer now. this answer was like the slash of a sword; it sundered; it did not in any sense sentimentally unite. briefly, it divided god from the cosmos. that transcendence and distinctness of the deity which some christians now want to remove from christianity, was really the only reason why any one wanted to be a christian. it was the whole point of the christian answer to the unhappy pessimist and the still more unhappy optimist. as i am here only concerned with their particular problem, i shall indicate only briefly this great metaphysical suggestion. all descriptions of the creating or sustaining principle in things must be metaphorical, because they must be verbal. thus the pantheist is forced to speak of god in all things as if he were in a box. thus the evolutionist has, in his very name, the idea of being unrolled like a carpet. all terms, religious and irreligious, are open to this charge. the only question is whether all terms are useless, or whether one can, with such a phrase, cover a distinct idea about the origin of things. i think one can, and so evidently does the evolutionist, or he would not talk about evolution. and the root phrase for all christian theism was this, that god was a creator, as an artist is a creator. a poet is so separate from his poem that he himself speaks of it as a little thing he has "thrown off." even in giving it forth he has flung it away. this principle that all creation and procreation is a breaking off is at least as consistent through the cosmos as the evolutionary principle that all growth is a branching out. a woman loses a child even in having a child. all creation is separation. birth is as solemn a parting as death. it was the prime philosophic principle of christianity that this divorce in the divine act of making (such as severs the poet from the poem or the mother from the new-born child) was the true description of the act whereby the absolute energy made the world. according to most philosophers, god in making the world enslaved it. according to christianity, in making it, he set it free. god had written, not so much a poem, but rather a play; a play he had planned as perfect, but which had necessarily been left to human actors and stage-managers, who had since made a great mess of it. i will discuss the truth of this theorem later. here i have only to point out with what a startling smoothness it passed the dilemma we have discussed in this chapter. in this way at least one could be both happy and indignant without degrading one's self to be either a pessimist or an optimist. on this system one could fight all the forces of existence without deserting the flag of existence. one could be at peace with the universe and yet be at war with the world. st. george could still fight the dragon, however big the monster bulked in the cosmos, though he were bigger than the mighty cities or bigger than the everlasting hills. if he were as big as the world he could yet be killed in the name of the world. st. george had not to consider any obvious odds or proportions in the scale of things, but only the original secret of their design. he can shake his sword at the dragon, even if it is everything; even if the empty heavens over his head are only the huge arch of its open jaws. and then followed an experience impossible to describe. it was as if i had been blundering about since my birth with two huge and unmanageable machines, of different shapes and without apparent connection--the world and the christian tradition. i had found this hole in the world: the fact that one must somehow find a way of loving the world without trusting it; somehow one must love the world without being worldly. i found this projecting feature of christian theology, like a sort of hard spike, the dogmatic insistence that god was personal, and had made a world separate from himself. the spike of dogma fitted exactly into the hole in the world--it had evidently been meant to go there-- and then the strange thing began to happen. when once these two parts of the two machines had come together, one after another, all the other parts fitted and fell in with an eerie exactitude. i could hear bolt after bolt over all the machinery falling into its place with a kind of click of relief. having got one part right, all the other parts were repeating that rectitude, as clock after clock strikes noon. instinct after instinct was answered by doctrine after doctrine. or, to vary the metaphor, i was like one who had advanced into a hostile country to take one high fortress. and when that fort had fallen the whole country surrendered and turned solid behind me. the whole land was lit up, as it were, back to the first fields of my childhood. all those blind fancies of boyhood which in the fourth chapter i have tried in vain to trace on the darkness, became suddenly transparent and sane. i was right when i felt that roses were red by some sort of choice: it was the divine choice. i was right when i felt that i would almost rather say that grass was the wrong colour than say it must by necessity have been that colour: it might verily have been any other. my sense that happiness hung on the crazy thread of a condition did mean something when all was said: it meant the whole doctrine of the fall. even those dim and shapeless monsters of notions which i have not been able to describe, much less defend, stepped quietly into their places like colossal caryatides of the creed. the fancy that the cosmos was not vast and void, but small and cosy, had a fulfilled significance now, for anything that is a work of art must be small in the sight of the artist; to god the stars might be only small and dear, like diamonds. and my haunting instinct that somehow good was not merely a tool to be used, but a relic to be guarded, like the goods from crusoe's ship-- even that had been the wild whisper of something originally wise, for, according to christianity, we were indeed the survivors of a wreck, the crew of a golden ship that had gone down before the beginning of the world. but the important matter was this, that it entirely reversed the reason for optimism. and the instant the reversal was made it felt like the abrupt ease when a bone is put back in the socket. i had often called myself an optimist, to avoid the too evident blasphemy of pessimism. but all the optimism of the age had been false and disheartening for this reason, that it had always been trying to prove that we fit in to the world. the christian optimism is based on the fact that we do not fit in to the world. i had tried to be happy by telling myself that man is an animal, like any other which sought its meat from god. but now i really was happy, for i had learnt that man is a monstrosity. i had been right in feeling all things as odd, for i myself was at once worse and better than all things. the optimist's pleasure was prosaic, for it dwelt on the naturalness of everything; the christian pleasure was poetic, for it dwelt on the unnaturalness of everything in the light of the supernatural. the modern philosopher had told me again and again that i was in the right place, and i had still felt depressed even in acquiescence. but i had heard that i was in the wrong place, and my soul sang for joy, like a bird in spring. the knowledge found out and illuminated forgotten chambers in the dark house of infancy. i knew now why grass had always seemed to me as queer as the green beard of a giant, and why i could feel homesick at home. vi the paradoxes of christianity the real trouble with this world of ours is not that it is an unreasonable world, nor even that it is a reasonable one. the commonest kind of trouble is that it is nearly reasonable, but not quite. life is not an illogicality; yet it is a trap for logicians. it looks just a little more mathematical and regular than it is; its exactitude is obvious, but its inexactitude is hidden; its wildness lies in wait. i give one coarse instance of what i mean. suppose some mathematical creature from the moon were to reckon up the human body; he would at once see that the essential thing about it was that it was duplicate. a man is two men, he on the right exactly resembling him on the left. having noted that there was an arm on the right and one on the left, a leg on the right and one on the left, he might go further and still find on each side the same number of fingers, the same number of toes, twin eyes, twin ears, twin nostrils, and even twin lobes of the brain. at last he would take it as a law; and then, where he found a heart on one side, would deduce that there was another heart on the other. and just then, where he most felt he was right, he would be wrong. it is this silent swerving from accuracy by an inch that is the uncanny element in everything. it seems a sort of secret treason in the universe. an apple or an orange is round enough to get itself called round, and yet is not round after all. the earth itself is shaped like an orange in order to lure some simple astronomer into calling it a globe. a blade of grass is called after the blade of a sword, because it comes to a point; but it doesn't. everywhere in things there is this element of the quiet and incalculable. it escapes the rationalists, but it never escapes till the last moment. from the grand curve of our earth it could easily be inferred that every inch of it was thus curved. it would seem rational that as a man has a brain on both sides, he should have a heart on both sides. yet scientific men are still organizing expeditions to find the north pole, because they are so fond of flat country. scientific men are also still organizing expeditions to find a man's heart; and when they try to find it, they generally get on the wrong side of him. now, actual insight or inspiration is best tested by whether it guesses these hidden malformations or surprises. if our mathematician from the moon saw the two arms and the two ears, he might deduce the two shoulder-blades and the two halves of the brain. but if he guessed that the man's heart was in the right place, then i should call him something more than a mathematician. now, this is exactly the claim which i have since come to propound for christianity. not merely that it deduces logical truths, but that when it suddenly becomes illogical, it has found, so to speak, an illogical truth. it not only goes right about things, but it goes wrong (if one may say so) exactly where the things go wrong. its plan suits the secret irregularities, and expects the unexpected. it is simple about the simple truth; but it is stubborn about the subtle truth. it will admit that a man has two hands, it will not admit (though all the modernists wail to it) the obvious deduction that he has two hearts. it is my only purpose in this chapter to point this out; to show that whenever we feel there is something odd in christian theology, we shall generally find that there is something odd in the truth. i have alluded to an unmeaning phrase to the effect that such and such a creed cannot be believed in our age. of course, anything can be believed in any age. but, oddly enough, there really is a sense in which a creed, if it is believed at all, can be believed more fixedly in a complex society than in a simple one. if a man finds christianity true in birmingham, he has actually clearer reasons for faith than if he had found it true in mercia. for the more complicated seems the coincidence, the less it can be a coincidence. if snowflakes fell in the shape, say, of the heart of midlothian, it might be an accident. but if snowflakes fell in the exact shape of the maze at hampton court, i think one might call it a miracle. it is exactly as of such a miracle that i have since come to feel of the philosophy of christianity. the complication of our modern world proves the truth of the creed more perfectly than any of the plain problems of the ages of faith. it was in notting hill and battersea that i began to see that christianity was true. this is why the faith has that elaboration of doctrines and details which so much distresses those who admire christianity without believing in it. when once one believes in a creed, one is proud of its complexity, as scientists are proud of the complexity of science. it shows how rich it is in discoveries. if it is right at all, it is a compliment to say that it's elaborately right. a stick might fit a hole or a stone a hollow by accident. but a key and a lock are both complex. and if a key fits a lock, you know it is the right key. but this involved accuracy of the thing makes it very difficult to do what i now have to do, to describe this accumulation of truth. it is very hard for a man to defend anything of which he is entirely convinced. it is comparatively easy when he is only partially convinced. he is partially convinced because he has found this or that proof of the thing, and he can expound it. but a man is not really convinced of a philosophic theory when he finds that something proves it. he is only really convinced when he finds that everything proves it. and the more converging reasons he finds pointing to this conviction, the more bewildered he is if asked suddenly to sum them up. thus, if one asked an ordinary intelligent man, on the spur of the moment, "why do you prefer civilization to savagery?" he would look wildly round at object after object, and would only be able to answer vaguely, "why, there is that bookcase . . . and the coals in the coal-scuttle . . . and pianos . . . and policemen." the whole case for civilization is that the case for it is complex. it has done so many things. but that very multiplicity of proof which ought to make reply overwhelming makes reply impossible. there is, therefore, about all complete conviction a kind of huge helplessness. the belief is so big that it takes a long time to get it into action. and this hesitation chiefly arises, oddly enough, from an indifference about where one should begin. all roads lead to rome; which is one reason why many people never get there. in the case of this defence of the christian conviction i confess that i would as soon begin the argument with one thing as another; i would begin it with a turnip or a taximeter cab. but if i am to be at all careful about making my meaning clear, it will, i think, be wiser to continue the current arguments of the last chapter, which was concerned to urge the first of these mystical coincidences, or rather ratifications. all i had hitherto heard of christian theology had alienated me from it. i was a pagan at the age of twelve, and a complete agnostic by the age of sixteen; and i cannot understand any one passing the age of seventeen without having asked himself so simple a question. i did, indeed, retain a cloudy reverence for a cosmic deity and a great historical interest in the founder of christianity. but i certainly regarded him as a man; though perhaps i thought that, even in that point, he had an advantage over some of his modern critics. i read the scientific and sceptical literature of my time--all of it, at least, that i could find written in english and lying about; and i read nothing else; i mean i read nothing else on any other note of philosophy. the penny dreadfuls which i also read were indeed in a healthy and heroic tradition of christianity; but i did not know this at the time. i never read a line of christian apologetics. i read as little as i can of them now. it was huxley and herbert spencer and bradlaugh who brought me back to orthodox theology. they sowed in my mind my first wild doubts of doubt. our grandmothers were quite right when they said that tom paine and the free-thinkers unsettled the mind. they do. they unsettled mine horribly. the rationalist made me question whether reason was of any use whatever; and when i had finished herbert spencer i had got as far as doubting (for the first time) whether evolution had occurred at all. as i laid down the last of colonel ingersoll's atheistic lectures the dreadful thought broke across my mind, "almost thou persuadest me to be a christian." i was in a desperate way. this odd effect of the great agnostics in arousing doubts deeper than their own might be illustrated in many ways. i take only one. as i read and re-read all the non-christian or anti-christian accounts of the faith, from huxley to bradlaugh, a slow and awful impression grew gradually but graphically upon my mind--the impression that christianity must be a most extraordinary thing. for not only (as i understood) had christianity the most flaming vices, but it had apparently a mystical talent for combining vices which seemed inconsistent with each other. it was attacked on all sides and for all contradictory reasons. no sooner had one rationalist demonstrated that it was too far to the east than another demonstrated with equal clearness that it was much too far to the west. no sooner had my indignation died down at its angular and aggressive squareness than i was called up again to notice and condemn its enervating and sensual roundness. in case any reader has not come across the thing i mean, i will give such instances as i remember at random of this self-contradiction in the sceptical attack. i give four or five of them; there are fifty more. thus, for instance, i was much moved by the eloquent attack on christianity as a thing of inhuman gloom; for i thought (and still think) sincere pessimism the unpardonable sin. insincere pessimism is a social accomplishment, rather agreeable than otherwise; and fortunately nearly all pessimism is insincere. but if christianity was, as these people said, a thing purely pessimistic and opposed to life, then i was quite prepared to blow up st. paul's cathedral. but the extraordinary thing is this. they did prove to me in chapter i. (to my complete satisfaction) that christianity was too pessimistic; and then, in chapter ii., they began to prove to me that it was a great deal too optimistic. one accusation against christianity was that it prevented men, by morbid tears and terrors, from seeking joy and liberty in the bosom of nature. but another accusation was that it comforted men with a fictitious providence, and put them in a pink-and-white nursery. one great agnostic asked why nature was not beautiful enough, and why it was hard to be free. another great agnostic objected that christian optimism, "the garment of make-believe woven by pious hands," hid from us the fact that nature was ugly, and that it was impossible to be free. one rationalist had hardly done calling christianity a nightmare before another began to call it a fool's paradise. this puzzled me; the charges seemed inconsistent. christianity could not at once be the black mask on a white world, and also the white mask on a black world. the state of the christian could not be at once so comfortable that he was a coward to cling to it, and so uncomfortable that he was a fool to stand it. if it falsified human vision it must falsify it one way or another; it could not wear both green and rose-coloured spectacles. i rolled on my tongue with a terrible joy, as did all young men of that time, the taunts which swinburne hurled at the dreariness of the creed-- "thou hast conquered, o pale galilaean, the world has grown gray with thy breath." but when i read the same poet's accounts of paganism (as in "atalanta"), i gathered that the world was, if possible, more gray before the galilean breathed on it than afterwards. the poet maintained, indeed, in the abstract, that life itself was pitch dark. and yet, somehow, christianity had darkened it. the very man who denounced christianity for pessimism was himself a pessimist. i thought there must be something wrong. and it did for one wild moment cross my mind that, perhaps, those might not be the very best judges of the relation of religion to happiness who, by their own account, had neither one nor the other. it must be understood that i did not conclude hastily that the accusations were false or the accusers fools. i simply deduced that christianity must be something even weirder and wickeder than they made out. a thing might have these two opposite vices; but it must be a rather queer thing if it did. a man might be too fat in one place and too thin in another; but he would be an odd shape. at this point my thoughts were only of the odd shape of the christian religion; i did not allege any odd shape in the rationalistic mind. here is another case of the same kind. i felt that a strong case against christianity lay in the charge that there is something timid, monkish, and unmanly about all that is called "christian," especially in its attitude towards resistance and fighting. the great sceptics of the nineteenth century were largely virile. bradlaugh in an expansive way, huxley, in a reticent way, were decidedly men. in comparison, it did seem tenable that there was something weak and over patient about christian counsels. the gospel paradox about the other cheek, the fact that priests never fought, a hundred things made plausible the accusation that christianity was an attempt to make a man too like a sheep. i read it and believed it, and if i had read nothing different, i should have gone on believing it. but i read something very different. i turned the next page in my agnostic manual, and my brain turned up-side down. now i found that i was to hate christianity not for fighting too little, but for fighting too much. christianity, it seemed, was the mother of wars. christianity had deluged the world with blood. i had got thoroughly angry with the christian, because he never was angry. and now i was told to be angry with him because his anger had been the most huge and horrible thing in human history; because his anger had soaked the earth and smoked to the sun. the very people who reproached christianity with the meekness and non-resistance of the monasteries were the very people who reproached it also with the violence and valour of the crusades. it was the fault of poor old christianity (somehow or other) both that edward the confessor did not fight and that richard coeur de leon did. the quakers (we were told) were the only characteristic christians; and yet the massacres of cromwell and alva were characteristic christian crimes. what could it all mean? what was this christianity which always forbade war and always produced wars? what could be the nature of the thing which one could abuse first because it would not fight, and second because it was always fighting? in what world of riddles was born this monstrous murder and this monstrous meekness? the shape of christianity grew a queerer shape every instant. i take a third case; the strangest of all, because it involves the one real objection to the faith. the one real objection to the christian religion is simply that it is one religion. the world is a big place, full of very different kinds of people. christianity (it may reasonably be said) is one thing confined to one kind of people; it began in palestine, it has practically stopped with europe. i was duly impressed with this argument in my youth, and i was much drawn towards the doctrine often preached in ethical societies-- i mean the doctrine that there is one great unconscious church of all humanity founded on the omnipresence of the human conscience. creeds, it was said, divided men; but at least morals united them. the soul might seek the strangest and most remote lands and ages and still find essential ethical common sense. it might find confucius under eastern trees, and he would be writing "thou shalt not steal." it might decipher the darkest hieroglyphic on the most primeval desert, and the meaning when deciphered would be "little boys should tell the truth." i believed this doctrine of the brotherhood of all men in the possession of a moral sense, and i believe it still--with other things. and i was thoroughly annoyed with christianity for suggesting (as i supposed) that whole ages and empires of men had utterly escaped this light of justice and reason. but then i found an astonishing thing. i found that the very people who said that mankind was one church from plato to emerson were the very people who said that morality had changed altogether, and that what was right in one age was wrong in another. if i asked, say, for an altar, i was told that we needed none, for men our brothers gave us clear oracles and one creed in their universal customs and ideals. but if i mildly pointed out that one of men's universal customs was to have an altar, then my agnostic teachers turned clean round and told me that men had always been in darkness and the superstitions of savages. i found it was their daily taunt against christianity that it was the light of one people and had left all others to die in the dark. but i also found that it was their special boast for themselves that science and progress were the discovery of one people, and that all other peoples had died in the dark. their chief insult to christianity was actually their chief compliment to themselves, and there seemed to be a strange unfairness about all their relative insistence on the two things. when considering some pagan or agnostic, we were to remember that all men had one religion; when considering some mystic or spiritualist, we were only to consider what absurd religions some men had. we could trust the ethics of epictetus, because ethics had never changed. we must not trust the ethics of bossuet, because ethics had changed. they changed in two hundred years, but not in two thousand. this began to be alarming. it looked not so much as if christianity was bad enough to include any vices, but rather as if any stick was good enough to beat christianity with. what again could this astonishing thing be like which people were so anxious to contradict, that in doing so they did not mind contradicting themselves? i saw the same thing on every side. i can give no further space to this discussion of it in detail; but lest any one supposes that i have unfairly selected three accidental cases i will run briefly through a few others. thus, certain sceptics wrote that the great crime of christianity had been its attack on the family; it had dragged women to the loneliness and contemplation of the cloister, away from their homes and their children. but, then, other sceptics (slightly more advanced) said that the great crime of christianity was forcing the family and marriage upon us; that it doomed women to the drudgery of their homes and children, and forbade them loneliness and contemplation. the charge was actually reversed. or, again, certain phrases in the epistles or the marriage service, were said by the anti-christians to show contempt for woman's intellect. but i found that the anti-christians themselves had a contempt for woman's intellect; for it was their great sneer at the church on the continent that "only women" went to it. or again, christianity was reproached with its naked and hungry habits; with its sackcloth and dried peas. but the next minute christianity was being reproached with its pomp and its ritualism; its shrines of porphyry and its robes of gold. it was abused for being too plain and for being too coloured. again christianity had always been accused of restraining sexuality too much, when bradlaugh the malthusian discovered that it restrained it too little. it is often accused in the same breath of prim respectability and of religious extravagance. between the covers of the same atheistic pamphlet i have found the faith rebuked for its disunion, "one thinks one thing, and one another," and rebuked also for its union, "it is difference of opinion that prevents the world from going to the dogs." in the same conversation a free-thinker, a friend of mine, blamed christianity for despising jews, and then despised it himself for being jewish. i wished to be quite fair then, and i wish to be quite fair now; and i did not conclude that the attack on christianity was all wrong. i only concluded that if christianity was wrong, it was very wrong indeed. such hostile horrors might be combined in one thing, but that thing must be very strange and solitary. there are men who are misers, and also spendthrifts; but they are rare. there are men sensual and also ascetic; but they are rare. but if this mass of mad contradictions really existed, quakerish and bloodthirsty, too gorgeous and too thread-bare, austere, yet pandering preposterously to the lust of the eye, the enemy of women and their foolish refuge, a solemn pessimist and a silly optimist, if this evil existed, then there was in this evil something quite supreme and unique. for i found in my rationalist teachers no explanation of such exceptional corruption. christianity (theoretically speaking) was in their eyes only one of the ordinary myths and errors of mortals. they gave me no key to this twisted and unnatural badness. such a paradox of evil rose to the stature of the supernatural. it was, indeed, almost as supernatural as the infallibility of the pope. an historic institution, which never went right, is really quite as much of a miracle as an institution that cannot go wrong. the only explanation which immediately occurred to my mind was that christianity did not come from heaven, but from hell. really, if jesus of nazareth was not christ, he must have been antichrist. and then in a quiet hour a strange thought struck me like a still thunderbolt. there had suddenly come into my mind another explanation. suppose we heard an unknown man spoken of by many men. suppose we were puzzled to hear that some men said he was too tall and some too short; some objected to his fatness, some lamented his leanness; some thought him too dark, and some too fair. one explanation (as has been already admitted) would be that he might be an odd shape. but there is another explanation. he might be the right shape. outrageously tall men might feel him to be short. very short men might feel him to be tall. old bucks who are growing stout might consider him insufficiently filled out; old beaux who were growing thin might feel that he expanded beyond the narrow lines of elegance. perhaps swedes (who have pale hair like tow) called him a dark man, while negroes considered him distinctly blonde. perhaps (in short) this extraordinary thing is really the ordinary thing; at least the normal thing, the centre. perhaps, after all, it is christianity that is sane and all its critics that are mad--in various ways. i tested this idea by asking myself whether there was about any of the accusers anything morbid that might explain the accusation. i was startled to find that this key fitted a lock. for instance, it was certainly odd that the modern world charged christianity at once with bodily austerity and with artistic pomp. but then it was also odd, very odd, that the modern world itself combined extreme bodily luxury with an extreme absence of artistic pomp. the modern man thought becket's robes too rich and his meals too poor. but then the modern man was really exceptional in history; no man before ever ate such elaborate dinners in such ugly clothes. the modern man found the church too simple exactly where modern life is too complex; he found the church too gorgeous exactly where modern life is too dingy. the man who disliked the plain fasts and feasts was mad on entrees. the man who disliked vestments wore a pair of preposterous trousers. and surely if there was any insanity involved in the matter at all it was in the trousers, not in the simply falling robe. if there was any insanity at all, it was in the extravagant entrees, not in the bread and wine. i went over all the cases, and i found the key fitted so far. the fact that swinburne was irritated at the unhappiness of christians and yet more irritated at their happiness was easily explained. it was no longer a complication of diseases in christianity, but a complication of diseases in swinburne. the restraints of christians saddened him simply because he was more hedonist than a healthy man should be. the faith of christians angered him because he was more pessimist than a healthy man should be. in the same way the malthusians by instinct attacked christianity; not because there is anything especially anti-malthusian about christianity, but because there is something a little anti-human about malthusianism. nevertheless it could not, i felt, be quite true that christianity was merely sensible and stood in the middle. there was really an element in it of emphasis and even frenzy which had justified the secularists in their superficial criticism. it might be wise, i began more and more to think that it was wise, but it was not merely worldly wise; it was not merely temperate and respectable. its fierce crusaders and meek saints might balance each other; still, the crusaders were very fierce and the saints were very meek, meek beyond all decency. now, it was just at this point of the speculation that i remembered my thoughts about the martyr and the suicide. in that matter there had been this combination between two almost insane positions which yet somehow amounted to sanity. this was just such another contradiction; and this i had already found to be true. this was exactly one of the paradoxes in which sceptics found the creed wrong; and in this i had found it right. madly as christians might love the martyr or hate the suicide, they never felt these passions more madly than i had felt them long before i dreamed of christianity. then the most difficult and interesting part of the mental process opened, and i began to trace this idea darkly through all the enormous thoughts of our theology. the idea was that which i had outlined touching the optimist and the pessimist; that we want not an amalgam or compromise, but both things at the top of their energy; love and wrath both burning. here i shall only trace it in relation to ethics. but i need not remind the reader that the idea of this combination is indeed central in orthodox theology. for orthodox theology has specially insisted that christ was not a being apart from god and man, like an elf, nor yet a being half human and half not, like a centaur, but both things at once and both things thoroughly, very man and very god. now let me trace this notion as i found it. all sane men can see that sanity is some kind of equilibrium; that one may be mad and eat too much, or mad and eat too little. some moderns have indeed appeared with vague versions of progress and evolution which seeks to destroy the meson or balance of aristotle. they seem to suggest that we are meant to starve progressively, or to go on eating larger and larger breakfasts every morning for ever. but the great truism of the meson remains for all thinking men, and these people have not upset any balance except their own. but granted that we have all to keep a balance, the real interest comes in with the question of how that balance can be kept. that was the problem which paganism tried to solve: that was the problem which i think christianity solved and solved in a very strange way. paganism declared that virtue was in a balance; christianity declared it was in a conflict: the collision of two passions apparently opposite. of course they were not really inconsistent; but they were such that it was hard to hold simultaneously. let us follow for a moment the clue of the martyr and the suicide; and take the case of courage. no quality has ever so much addled the brains and tangled the definitions of merely rational sages. courage is almost a contradiction in terms. it means a strong desire to live taking the form of a readiness to die. "he that will lose his life, the same shall save it," is not a piece of mysticism for saints and heroes. it is a piece of everyday advice for sailors or mountaineers. it might be printed in an alpine guide or a drill book. this paradox is the whole principle of courage; even of quite earthly or quite brutal courage. a man cut off by the sea may save his life if he will risk it on the precipice. he can only get away from death by continually stepping within an inch of it. a soldier surrounded by enemies, if he is to cut his way out, needs to combine a strong desire for living with a strange carelessness about dying. he must not merely cling to life, for then he will be a coward, and will not escape. he must not merely wait for death, for then he will be a suicide, and will not escape. he must seek his life in a spirit of furious indifference to it; he must desire life like water and yet drink death like wine. no philosopher, i fancy, has ever expressed this romantic riddle with adequate lucidity, and i certainly have not done so. but christianity has done more: it has marked the limits of it in the awful graves of the suicide and the hero, showing the distance between him who dies for the sake of living and him who dies for the sake of dying. and it has held up ever since above the european lances the banner of the mystery of chivalry: the christian courage, which is a disdain of death; not the chinese courage, which is a disdain of life. and now i began to find that this duplex passion was the christian key to ethics everywhere. everywhere the creed made a moderation out of the still crash of two impetuous emotions. take, for instance, the matter of modesty, of the balance between mere pride and mere prostration. the average pagan, like the average agnostic, would merely say that he was content with himself, but not insolently self-satisfied, that there were many better and many worse, that his deserts were limited, but he would see that he got them. in short, he would walk with his head in the air; but not necessarily with his nose in the air. this is a manly and rational position, but it is open to the objection we noted against the compromise between optimism and pessimism--the "resignation" of matthew arnold. being a mixture of two things, it is a dilution of two things; neither is present in its full strength or contributes its full colour. this proper pride does not lift the heart like the tongue of trumpets; you cannot go clad in crimson and gold for this. on the other hand, this mild rationalist modesty does not cleanse the soul with fire and make it clear like crystal; it does not (like a strict and searching humility) make a man as a little child, who can sit at the feet of the grass. it does not make him look up and see marvels; for alice must grow small if she is to be alice in wonderland. thus it loses both the poetry of being proud and the poetry of being humble. christianity sought by this same strange expedient to save both of them. it separated the two ideas and then exaggerated them both. in one way man was to be haughtier than he had ever been before; in another way he was to be humbler than he had ever been before. in so far as i am man i am the chief of creatures. in so far as i am a man i am the chief of sinners. all humility that had meant pessimism, that had meant man taking a vague or mean view of his whole destiny--all that was to go. we were to hear no more the wail of ecclesiastes that humanity had no pre-eminence over the brute, or the awful cry of homer that man was only the saddest of all the beasts of the field. man was a statue of god walking about the garden. man had pre-eminence over all the brutes; man was only sad because he was not a beast, but a broken god. the greek had spoken of men creeping on the earth, as if clinging to it. now man was to tread on the earth as if to subdue it. christianity thus held a thought of the dignity of man that could only be expressed in crowns rayed like the sun and fans of peacock plumage. yet at the same time it could hold a thought about the abject smallness of man that could only be expressed in fasting and fantastic submission, in the gray ashes of st. dominic and the white snows of st. bernard. when one came to think of one's self, there was vista and void enough for any amount of bleak abnegation and bitter truth. there the realistic gentleman could let himself go--as long as he let himself go at himself. there was an open playground for the happy pessimist. let him say anything against himself short of blaspheming the original aim of his being; let him call himself a fool and even a damned fool (though that is calvinistic); but he must not say that fools are not worth saving. he must not say that a man, qua man, can be valueless. here, again in short, christianity got over the difficulty of combining furious opposites, by keeping them both, and keeping them both furious. the church was positive on both points. one can hardly think too little of one's self. one can hardly think too much of one's soul. take another case: the complicated question of charity, which some highly uncharitable idealists seem to think quite easy. charity is a paradox, like modesty and courage. stated baldly, charity certainly means one of two things--pardoning unpardonable acts, or loving unlovable people. but if we ask ourselves (as we did in the case of pride) what a sensible pagan would feel about such a subject, we shall probably be beginning at the bottom of it. a sensible pagan would say that there were some people one could forgive, and some one couldn't: a slave who stole wine could be laughed at; a slave who betrayed his benefactor could be killed, and cursed even after he was killed. in so far as the act was pardonable, the man was pardonable. that again is rational, and even refreshing; but it is a dilution. it leaves no place for a pure horror of injustice, such as that which is a great beauty in the innocent. and it leaves no place for a mere tenderness for men as men, such as is the whole fascination of the charitable. christianity came in here as before. it came in startlingly with a sword, and clove one thing from another. it divided the crime from the criminal. the criminal we must forgive unto seventy times seven. the crime we must not forgive at all. it was not enough that slaves who stole wine inspired partly anger and partly kindness. we must be much more angry with theft than before, and yet much kinder to thieves than before. there was room for wrath and love to run wild. and the more i considered christianity, the more i found that while it had established a rule and order, the chief aim of that order was to give room for good things to run wild. mental and emotional liberty are not so simple as they look. really they require almost as careful a balance of laws and conditions as do social and political liberty. the ordinary aesthetic anarchist who sets out to feel everything freely gets knotted at last in a paradox that prevents him feeling at all. he breaks away from home limits to follow poetry. but in ceasing to feel home limits he has ceased to feel the "odyssey." he is free from national prejudices and outside patriotism. but being outside patriotism he is outside "henry v." such a literary man is simply outside all literature: he is more of a prisoner than any bigot. for if there is a wall between you and the world, it makes little difference whether you describe yourself as locked in or as locked out. what we want is not the universality that is outside all normal sentiments; we want the universality that is inside all normal sentiments. it is all the difference between being free from them, as a man is free from a prison, and being free of them as a man is free of a city. i am free from windsor castle (that is, i am not forcibly detained there), but i am by no means free of that building. how can man be approximately free of fine emotions, able to swing them in a clear space without breakage or wrong? this was the achievement of this christian paradox of the parallel passions. granted the primary dogma of the war between divine and diabolic, the revolt and ruin of the world, their optimism and pessimism, as pure poetry, could be loosened like cataracts. st. francis, in praising all good, could be a more shouting optimist than walt whitman. st. jerome, in denouncing all evil, could paint the world blacker than schopenhauer. both passions were free because both were kept in their place. the optimist could pour out all the praise he liked on the gay music of the march, the golden trumpets, and the purple banners going into battle. but he must not call the fight needless. the pessimist might draw as darkly as he chose the sickening marches or the sanguine wounds. but he must not call the fight hopeless. so it was with all the other moral problems, with pride, with protest, and with compassion. by defining its main doctrine, the church not only kept seemingly inconsistent things side by side, but, what was more, allowed them to break out in a sort of artistic violence otherwise possible only to anarchists. meekness grew more dramatic than madness. historic christianity rose into a high and strange coup de theatre of morality--things that are to virtue what the crimes of nero are to vice. the spirits of indignation and of charity took terrible and attractive forms, ranging from that monkish fierceness that scourged like a dog the first and greatest of the plantagenets, to the sublime pity of st. catherine, who, in the official shambles, kissed the bloody head of the criminal. poetry could be acted as well as composed. this heroic and monumental manner in ethics has entirely vanished with supernatural religion. they, being humble, could parade themselves: but we are too proud to be prominent. our ethical teachers write reasonably for prison reform; but we are not likely to see mr. cadbury, or any eminent philanthropist, go into reading gaol and embrace the strangled corpse before it is cast into the quicklime. our ethical teachers write mildly against the power of millionaires; but we are not likely to see mr. rockefeller, or any modern tyrant, publicly whipped in westminster abbey. thus, the double charges of the secularists, though throwing nothing but darkness and confusion on themselves, throw a real light on the faith. it is true that the historic church has at once emphasised celibacy and emphasised the family; has at once (if one may put it so) been fiercely for having children and fiercely for not having children. it has kept them side by side like two strong colours, red and white, like the red and white upon the shield of st. george. it has always had a healthy hatred of pink. it hates that combination of two colours which is the feeble expedient of the philosophers. it hates that evolution of black into white which is tantamount to a dirty gray. in fact, the whole theory of the church on virginity might be symbolized in the statement that white is a colour: not merely the absence of a colour. all that i am urging here can be expressed by saying that christianity sought in most of these cases to keep two colours coexistent but pure. it is not a mixture like russet or purple; it is rather like a shot silk, for a shot silk is always at right angles, and is in the pattern of the cross. so it is also, of course, with the contradictory charges of the anti-christians about submission and slaughter. it is true that the church told some men to fight and others not to fight; and it is true that those who fought were like thunderbolts and those who did not fight were like statues. all this simply means that the church preferred to use its supermen and to use its tolstoyans. there must be some good in the life of battle, for so many good men have enjoyed being soldiers. there must be some good in the idea of non-resistance, for so many good men seem to enjoy being quakers. all that the church did (so far as that goes) was to prevent either of these good things from ousting the other. they existed side by side. the tolstoyans, having all the scruples of monks, simply became monks. the quakers became a club instead of becoming a sect. monks said all that tolstoy says; they poured out lucid lamentations about the cruelty of battles and the vanity of revenge. but the tolstoyans are not quite right enough to run the whole world; and in the ages of faith they were not allowed to run it. the world did not lose the last charge of sir james douglas or the banner of joan the maid. and sometimes this pure gentleness and this pure fierceness met and justified their juncture; the paradox of all the prophets was fulfilled, and, in the soul of st. louis, the lion lay down with the lamb. but remember that this text is too lightly interpreted. it is constantly assured, especially in our tolstoyan tendencies, that when the lion lies down with the lamb the lion becomes lamb-like. but that is brutal annexation and imperialism on the part of the lamb. that is simply the lamb absorbing the lion instead of the lion eating the lamb. the real problem is--can the lion lie down with the lamb and still retain his royal ferocity? that is the problem the church attempted; that is the miracle she achieved. this is what i have called guessing the hidden eccentricities of life. this is knowing that a man's heart is to the left and not in the middle. this is knowing not only that the earth is round, but knowing exactly where it is flat. christian doctrine detected the oddities of life. it not only discovered the law, but it foresaw the exceptions. those underrate christianity who say that it discovered mercy; any one might discover mercy. in fact every one did. but to discover a plan for being merciful and also severe-- that was to anticipate a strange need of human nature. for no one wants to be forgiven for a big sin as if it were a little one. any one might say that we should be neither quite miserable nor quite happy. but to find out how far one may be quite miserable without making it impossible to be quite happy--that was a discovery in psychology. any one might say, "neither swagger nor grovel"; and it would have been a limit. but to say, "here you can swagger and there you can grovel"--that was an emancipation. this was the big fact about christian ethics; the discovery of the new balance. paganism had been like a pillar of marble, upright because proportioned with symmetry. christianity was like a huge and ragged and romantic rock, which, though it sways on its pedestal at a touch, yet, because its exaggerated excrescences exactly balance each other, is enthroned there for a thousand years. in a gothic cathedral the columns were all different, but they were all necessary. every support seemed an accidental and fantastic support; every buttress was a flying buttress. so in christendom apparent accidents balanced. becket wore a hair shirt under his gold and crimson, and there is much to be said for the combination; for becket got the benefit of the hair shirt while the people in the street got the benefit of the crimson and gold. it is at least better than the manner of the modern millionaire, who has the black and the drab outwardly for others, and the gold next his heart. but the balance was not always in one man's body as in becket's; the balance was often distributed over the whole body of christendom. because a man prayed and fasted on the northern snows, flowers could be flung at his festival in the southern cities; and because fanatics drank water on the sands of syria, men could still drink cider in the orchards of england. this is what makes christendom at once so much more perplexing and so much more interesting than the pagan empire; just as amiens cathedral is not better but more interesting than the parthenon. if any one wants a modern proof of all this, let him consider the curious fact that, under christianity, europe (while remaining a unity) has broken up into individual nations. patriotism is a perfect example of this deliberate balancing of one emphasis against another emphasis. the instinct of the pagan empire would have said, "you shall all be roman citizens, and grow alike; let the german grow less slow and reverent; the frenchmen less experimental and swift." but the instinct of christian europe says, "let the german remain slow and reverent, that the frenchman may the more safely be swift and experimental. we will make an equipoise out of these excesses. the absurdity called germany shall correct the insanity called france." last and most important, it is exactly this which explains what is so inexplicable to all the modern critics of the history of christianity. i mean the monstrous wars about small points of theology, the earthquakes of emotion about a gesture or a word. it was only a matter of an inch; but an inch is everything when you are balancing. the church could not afford to swerve a hair's breadth on some things if she was to continue her great and daring experiment of the irregular equilibrium. once let one idea become less powerful and some other idea would become too powerful. it was no flock of sheep the christian shepherd was leading, but a herd of bulls and tigers, of terrible ideals and devouring doctrines, each one of them strong enough to turn to a false religion and lay waste the world. remember that the church went in specifically for dangerous ideas; she was a lion tamer. the idea of birth through a holy spirit, of the death of a divine being, of the forgiveness of sins, or the fulfilment of prophecies, are ideas which, any one can see, need but a touch to turn them into something blasphemous or ferocious. the smallest link was let drop by the artificers of the mediterranean, and the lion of ancestral pessimism burst his chain in the forgotten forests of the north. of these theological equalisations i have to speak afterwards. here it is enough to notice that if some small mistake were made in doctrine, huge blunders might be made in human happiness. a sentence phrased wrong about the nature of symbolism would have broken all the best statues in europe. a slip in the definitions might stop all the dances; might wither all the christmas trees or break all the easter eggs. doctrines had to be defined within strict limits, even in order that man might enjoy general human liberties. the church had to be careful, if only that the world might be careless. this is the thrilling romance of orthodoxy. people have fallen into a foolish habit of speaking of orthodoxy as something heavy, humdrum, and safe. there never was anything so perilous or so exciting as orthodoxy. it was sanity: and to be sane is more dramatic than to be mad. it was the equilibrium of a man behind madly rushing horses, seeming to stoop this way and to sway that, yet in every attitude having the grace of statuary and the accuracy of arithmetic. the church in its early days went fierce and fast with any warhorse; yet it is utterly unhistoric to say that she merely went mad along one idea, like a vulgar fanaticism. she swerved to left and right, so exactly as to avoid enormous obstacles. she left on one hand the huge bulk of arianism, buttressed by all the worldly powers to make christianity too worldly. the next instant she was swerving to avoid an orientalism, which would have made it too unworldly. the orthodox church never took the tame course or accepted the conventions; the orthodox church was never respectable. it would have been easier to have accepted the earthly power of the arians. it would have been easy, in the calvinistic seventeenth century, to fall into the bottomless pit of predestination. it is easy to be a madman: it is easy to be a heretic. it is always easy to let the age have its head; the difficult thing is to keep one's own. it is always easy to be a modernist; as it is easy to be a snob. to have fallen into any of those open traps of error and exaggeration which fashion after fashion and sect after sect set along the historic path of christendom--that would indeed have been simple. it is always simple to fall; there are an infinity of angles at which one falls, only one at which one stands. to have fallen into any one of the fads from gnosticism to christian science would indeed have been obvious and tame. but to have avoided them all has been one whirling adventure; and in my vision the heavenly chariot flies thundering through the ages, the dull heresies sprawling and prostrate, the wild truth reeling but erect. vii the eternal revolution the following propositions have been urged: first, that some faith in our life is required even to improve it; second, that some dissatisfaction with things as they are is necessary even in order to be satisfied; third, that to have this necessary content and necessary discontent it is not sufficient to have the obvious equilibrium of the stoic. for mere resignation has neither the gigantic levity of pleasure nor the superb intolerance of pain. there is a vital objection to the advice merely to grin and bear it. the objection is that if you merely bear it, you do not grin. greek heroes do not grin: but gargoyles do--because they are christian. and when a christian is pleased, he is (in the most exact sense) frightfully pleased; his pleasure is frightful. christ prophesied the whole of gothic architecture in that hour when nervous and respectable people (such people as now object to barrel organs) objected to the shouting of the gutter-snipes of jerusalem. he said, "if these were silent, the very stones would cry out." under the impulse of his spirit arose like a clamorous chorus the facades of the mediaeval cathedrals, thronged with shouting faces and open mouths. the prophecy has fulfilled itself: the very stones cry out. if these things be conceded, though only for argument, we may take up where we left it the thread of the thought of the natural man, called by the scotch (with regrettable familiarity), "the old man." we can ask the next question so obviously in front of us. some satisfaction is needed even to make things better. but what do we mean by making things better? most modern talk on this matter is a mere argument in a circle--that circle which we have already made the symbol of madness and of mere rationalism. evolution is only good if it produces good; good is only good if it helps evolution. the elephant stands on the tortoise, and the tortoise on the elephant. obviously, it will not do to take our ideal from the principle in nature; for the simple reason that (except for some human or divine theory), there is no principle in nature. for instance, the cheap anti-democrat of to-day will tell you solemnly that there is no equality in nature. he is right, but he does not see the logical addendum. there is no equality in nature; also there is no inequality in nature. inequality, as much as equality, implies a standard of value. to read aristocracy into the anarchy of animals is just as sentimental as to read democracy into it. both aristocracy and democracy are human ideals: the one saying that all men are valuable, the other that some men are more valuable. but nature does not say that cats are more valuable than mice; nature makes no remark on the subject. she does not even say that the cat is enviable or the mouse pitiable. we think the cat superior because we have (or most of us have) a particular philosophy to the effect that life is better than death. but if the mouse were a german pessimist mouse, he might not think that the cat had beaten him at all. he might think he had beaten the cat by getting to the grave first. or he might feel that he had actually inflicted frightful punishment on the cat by keeping him alive. just as a microbe might feel proud of spreading a pestilence, so the pessimistic mouse might exult to think that he was renewing in the cat the torture of conscious existence. it all depends on the philosophy of the mouse. you cannot even say that there is victory or superiority in nature unless you have some doctrine about what things are superior. you cannot even say that the cat scores unless there is a system of scoring. you cannot even say that the cat gets the best of it unless there is some best to be got. we cannot, then, get the ideal itself from nature, and as we follow here the first and natural speculation, we will leave out (for the present) the idea of getting it from god. we must have our own vision. but the attempts of most moderns to express it are highly vague. some fall back simply on the clock: they talk as if mere passage through time brought some superiority; so that even a man of the first mental calibre carelessly uses the phrase that human morality is never up to date. how can anything be up to date?-- a date has no character. how can one say that christmas celebrations are not suitable to the twenty-fifth of a month? what the writer meant, of course, was that the majority is behind his favourite minority--or in front of it. other vague modern people take refuge in material metaphors; in fact, this is the chief mark of vague modern people. not daring to define their doctrine of what is good, they use physical figures of speech without stint or shame, and, what is worst of all, seem to think these cheap analogies are exquisitely spiritual and superior to the old morality. thus they think it intellectual to talk about things being "high." it is at least the reverse of intellectual; it is a mere phrase from a steeple or a weathercock. "tommy was a good boy" is a pure philosophical statement, worthy of plato or aquinas. "tommy lived the higher life" is a gross metaphor from a ten-foot rule. this, incidentally, is almost the whole weakness of nietzsche, whom some are representing as a bold and strong thinker. no one will deny that he was a poetical and suggestive thinker; but he was quite the reverse of strong. he was not at all bold. he never put his own meaning before himself in bald abstract words: as did aristotle and calvin, and even karl marx, the hard, fearless men of thought. nietzsche always escaped a question by a physical metaphor, like a cheery minor poet. he said, "beyond good and evil," because he had not the courage to say, "more good than good and evil," or, "more evil than good and evil." had he faced his thought without metaphors, he would have seen that it was nonsense. so, when he describes his hero, he does not dare to say, "the purer man," or "the happier man," or "the sadder man," for all these are ideas; and ideas are alarming. he says "the upper man," or "over man," a physical metaphor from acrobats or alpine climbers. nietzsche is truly a very timid thinker. he does not really know in the least what sort of man he wants evolution to produce. and if he does not know, certainly the ordinary evolutionists, who talk about things being "higher," do not know either. then again, some people fall back on sheer submission and sitting still. nature is going to do something some day; nobody knows what, and nobody knows when. we have no reason for acting, and no reason for not acting. if anything happens it is right: if anything is prevented it was wrong. again, some people try to anticipate nature by doing something, by doing anything. because we may possibly grow wings they cut off their legs. yet nature may be trying to make them centipedes for all they know. lastly, there is a fourth class of people who take whatever it is that they happen to want, and say that that is the ultimate aim of evolution. and these are the only sensible people. this is the only really healthy way with the word evolution, to work for what you want, and to call that evolution. the only intelligible sense that progress or advance can have among men, is that we have a definite vision, and that we wish to make the whole world like that vision. if you like to put it so, the essence of the doctrine is that what we have around us is the mere method and preparation for something that we have to create. this is not a world, but rather the material for a world. god has given us not so much the colours of a picture as the colours of a palette. but he has also given us a subject, a model, a fixed vision. we must be clear about what we want to paint. this adds a further principle to our previous list of principles. we have said we must be fond of this world, even in order to change it. we now add that we must be fond of another world (real or imaginary) in order to have something to change it to. we need not debate about the mere words evolution or progress: personally i prefer to call it reform. for reform implies form. it implies that we are trying to shape the world in a particular image; to make it something that we see already in our minds. evolution is a metaphor from mere automatic unrolling. progress is a metaphor from merely walking along a road--very likely the wrong road. but reform is a metaphor for reasonable and determined men: it means that we see a certain thing out of shape and we mean to put it into shape. and we know what shape. now here comes in the whole collapse and huge blunder of our age. we have mixed up two different things, two opposite things. progress should mean that we are always changing the world to suit the vision. progress does mean (just now) that we are always changing the vision. it should mean that we are slow but sure in bringing justice and mercy among men: it does mean that we are very swift in doubting the desirability of justice and mercy: a wild page from any prussian sophist makes men doubt it. progress should mean that we are always walking towards the new jerusalem. it does mean that the new jerusalem is always walking away from us. we are not altering the real to suit the ideal. we are altering the ideal: it is easier. silly examples are always simpler; let us suppose a man wanted a particular kind of world; say, a blue world. he would have no cause to complain of the slightness or swiftness of his task; he might toil for a long time at the transformation; he could work away (in every sense) until all was blue. he could have heroic adventures; the putting of the last touches to a blue tiger. he could have fairy dreams; the dawn of a blue moon. but if he worked hard, that high-minded reformer would certainly (from his own point of view) leave the world better and bluer than he found it. if he altered a blade of grass to his favourite colour every day, he would get on slowly. but if he altered his favourite colour every day, he would not get on at all. if, after reading a fresh philosopher, he started to paint everything red or yellow, his work would be thrown away: there would be nothing to show except a few blue tigers walking about, specimens of his early bad manner. this is exactly the position of the average modern thinker. it will be said that this is avowedly a preposterous example. but it is literally the fact of recent history. the great and grave changes in our political civilization all belonged to the early nineteenth century, not to the later. they belonged to the black and white epoch when men believed fixedly in toryism, in protestantism, in calvinism, in reform, and not unfrequently in revolution. and whatever each man believed in he hammered at steadily, without scepticism: and there was a time when the established church might have fallen, and the house of lords nearly fell. it was because radicals were wise enough to be constant and consistent; it was because radicals were wise enough to be conservative. but in the existing atmosphere there is not enough time and tradition in radicalism to pull anything down. there is a great deal of truth in lord hugh cecil's suggestion (made in a fine speech) that the era of change is over, and that ours is an era of conservation and repose. but probably it would pain lord hugh cecil if he realized (what is certainly the case) that ours is only an age of conservation because it is an age of complete unbelief. let beliefs fade fast and frequently, if you wish institutions to remain the same. the more the life of the mind is unhinged, the more the machinery of matter will be left to itself. the net result of all our political suggestions, collectivism, tolstoyanism, neo-feudalism, communism, anarchy, scientific bureaucracy--the plain fruit of all of them is that the monarchy and the house of lords will remain. the net result of all the new religions will be that the church of england will not (for heaven knows how long) be disestablished. it was karl marx, nietzsche, tolstoy, cunninghame grahame, bernard shaw and auberon herbert, who between them, with bowed gigantic backs, bore up the throne of the archbishop of canterbury. we may say broadly that free thought is the best of all the safeguards against freedom. managed in a modern style the emancipation of the slave's mind is the best way of preventing the emancipation of the slave. teach him to worry about whether he wants to be free, and he will not free himself. again, it may be said that this instance is remote or extreme. but, again, it is exactly true of the men in the streets around us. it is true that the negro slave, being a debased barbarian, will probably have either a human affection of loyalty, or a human affection for liberty. but the man we see every day--the worker in mr. gradgrind's factory, the little clerk in mr. gradgrind's office--he is too mentally worried to believe in freedom. he is kept quiet with revolutionary literature. he is calmed and kept in his place by a constant succession of wild philosophies. he is a marxian one day, a nietzscheite the next day, a superman (probably) the next day; and a slave every day. the only thing that remains after all the philosophies is the factory. the only man who gains by all the philosophies is gradgrind. it would be worth his while to keep his commercial helotry supplied with sceptical literature. and now i come to think of it, of course, gradgrind is famous for giving libraries. he shows his sense. all modern books are on his side. as long as the vision of heaven is always changing, the vision of earth will be exactly the same. no ideal will remain long enough to be realized, or even partly realized. the modern young man will never change his environment; for he will always change his mind. this, therefore, is our first requirement about the ideal towards which progress is directed; it must be fixed. whistler used to make many rapid studies of a sitter; it did not matter if he tore up twenty portraits. but it would matter if he looked up twenty times, and each time saw a new person sitting placidly for his portrait. so it does not matter (comparatively speaking) how often humanity fails to imitate its ideal; for then all its old failures are fruitful. but it does frightfully matter how often humanity changes its ideal; for then all its old failures are fruitless. the question therefore becomes this: how can we keep the artist discontented with his pictures while preventing him from being vitally discontented with his art? how can we make a man always dissatisfied with his work, yet always satisfied with working? how can we make sure that the portrait painter will throw the portrait out of window instead of taking the natural and more human course of throwing the sitter out of window? a strict rule is not only necessary for ruling; it is also necessary for rebelling. this fixed and familiar ideal is necessary to any sort of revolution. man will sometimes act slowly upon new ideas; but he will only act swiftly upon old ideas. if i am merely to float or fade or evolve, it may be towards something anarchic; but if i am to riot, it must be for something respectable. this is the whole weakness of certain schools of progress and moral evolution. they suggest that there has been a slow movement towards morality, with an imperceptible ethical change in every year or at every instant. there is only one great disadvantage in this theory. it talks of a slow movement towards justice; but it does not permit a swift movement. a man is not allowed to leap up and declare a certain state of things to be intrinsically intolerable. to make the matter clear, it is better to take a specific example. certain of the idealistic vegetarians, such as mr. salt, say that the time has now come for eating no meat; by implication they assume that at one time it was right to eat meat, and they suggest (in words that could be quoted) that some day it may be wrong to eat milk and eggs. i do not discuss here the question of what is justice to animals. i only say that whatever is justice ought, under given conditions, to be prompt justice. if an animal is wronged, we ought to be able to rush to his rescue. but how can we rush if we are, perhaps, in advance of our time? how can we rush to catch a train which may not arrive for a few centuries? how can i denounce a man for skinning cats, if he is only now what i may possibly become in drinking a glass of milk? a splendid and insane russian sect ran about taking all the cattle out of all the carts. how can i pluck up courage to take the horse out of my hansom-cab, when i do not know whether my evolutionary watch is only a little fast or the cabman's a little slow? suppose i say to a sweater, "slavery suited one stage of evolution." and suppose he answers, "and sweating suits this stage of evolution." how can i answer if there is no eternal test? if sweaters can be behind the current morality, why should not philanthropists be in front of it? what on earth is the current morality, except in its literal sense--the morality that is always running away? thus we may say that a permanent ideal is as necessary to the innovator as to the conservative; it is necessary whether we wish the king's orders to be promptly executed or whether we only wish the king to be promptly executed. the guillotine has many sins, but to do it justice there is nothing evolutionary about it. the favourite evolutionary argument finds its best answer in the axe. the evolutionist says, "where do you draw the line?" the revolutionist answers, "i draw it here: exactly between your head and body." there must at any given moment be an abstract right and wrong if any blow is to be struck; there must be something eternal if there is to be anything sudden. therefore for all intelligible human purposes, for altering things or for keeping things as they are, for founding a system for ever, as in china, or for altering it every month as in the early french revolution, it is equally necessary that the vision should be a fixed vision. this is our first requirement. when i had written this down, i felt once again the presence of something else in the discussion: as a man hears a church bell above the sound of the street. something seemed to be saying, "my ideal at least is fixed; for it was fixed before the foundations of the world. my vision of perfection assuredly cannot be altered; for it is called eden. you may alter the place to which you are going; but you cannot alter the place from which you have come. to the orthodox there must always be a case for revolution; for in the hearts of men god has been put under the feet of satan. in the upper world hell once rebelled against heaven. but in this world heaven is rebelling against hell. for the orthodox there can always be a revolution; for a revolution is a restoration. at any instant you may strike a blow for the perfection which no man has seen since adam. no unchanging custom, no changing evolution can make the original good any thing but good. man may have had concubines as long as cows have had horns: still they are not a part of him if they are sinful. men may have been under oppression ever since fish were under water; still they ought not to be, if oppression is sinful. the chain may seem as natural to the slave, or the paint to the harlot, as does the plume to the bird or the burrow to the fox; still they are not, if they are sinful. i lift my prehistoric legend to defy all your history. your vision is not merely a fixture: it is a fact." i paused to note the new coincidence of christianity: but i passed on. i passed on to the next necessity of any ideal of progress. some people (as we have said) seem to believe in an automatic and impersonal progress in the nature of things. but it is clear that no political activity can be encouraged by saying that progress is natural and inevitable; that is not a reason for being active, but rather a reason for being lazy. if we are bound to improve, we need not trouble to improve. the pure doctrine of progress is the best of all reasons for not being a progressive. but it is to none of these obvious comments that i wish primarily to call attention. the only arresting point is this: that if we suppose improvement to be natural, it must be fairly simple. the world might conceivably be working towards one consummation, but hardly towards any particular arrangement of many qualities. to take our original simile: nature by herself may be growing more blue; that is, a process so simple that it might be impersonal. but nature cannot be making a careful picture made of many picked colours, unless nature is personal. if the end of the world were mere darkness or mere light it might come as slowly and inevitably as dusk or dawn. but if the end of the world is to be a piece of elaborate and artistic chiaroscuro, then there must be design in it, either human or divine. the world, through mere time, might grow black like an old picture, or white like an old coat; but if it is turned into a particular piece of black and white art-- then there is an artist. if the distinction be not evident, i give an ordinary instance. we constantly hear a particularly cosmic creed from the modern humanitarians; i use the word humanitarian in the ordinary sense, as meaning one who upholds the claims of all creatures against those of humanity. they suggest that through the ages we have been growing more and more humane, that is to say, that one after another, groups or sections of beings, slaves, children, women, cows, or what not, have been gradually admitted to mercy or to justice. they say that we once thought it right to eat men (we didn't); but i am not here concerned with their history, which is highly unhistorical. as a fact, anthropophagy is certainly a decadent thing, not a primitive one. it is much more likely that modern men will eat human flesh out of affectation than that primitive man ever ate it out of ignorance. i am here only following the outlines of their argument, which consists in maintaining that man has been progressively more lenient, first to citizens, then to slaves, then to animals, and then (presumably) to plants. i think it wrong to sit on a man. soon, i shall think it wrong to sit on a horse. eventually (i suppose) i shall think it wrong to sit on a chair. that is the drive of the argument. and for this argument it can be said that it is possible to talk of it in terms of evolution or inevitable progress. a perpetual tendency to touch fewer and fewer things might--one feels, be a mere brute unconscious tendency, like that of a species to produce fewer and fewer children. this drift may be really evolutionary, because it is stupid. darwinism can be used to back up two mad moralities, but it cannot be used to back up a single sane one. the kinship and competition of all living creatures can be used as a reason for being insanely cruel or insanely sentimental; but not for a healthy love of animals. on the evolutionary basis you may be inhumane, or you may be absurdly humane; but you cannot be human. that you and a tiger are one may be a reason for being tender to a tiger. or it may be a reason for being as cruel as the tiger. it is one way to train the tiger to imitate you, it is a shorter way to imitate the tiger. but in neither case does evolution tell you how to treat a tiger reasonably, that is, to admire his stripes while avoiding his claws. if you want to treat a tiger reasonably, you must go back to the garden of eden. for the obstinate reminder continued to recur: only the supernatural has taken a sane view of nature. the essence of all pantheism, evolutionism, and modern cosmic religion is really in this proposition: that nature is our mother. unfortunately, if you regard nature as a mother, you discover that she is a step-mother. the main point of christianity was this: that nature is not our mother: nature is our sister. we can be proud of her beauty, since we have the same father; but she has no authority over us; we have to admire, but not to imitate. this gives to the typically christian pleasure in this earth a strange touch of lightness that is almost frivolity. nature was a solemn mother to the worshippers of isis and cybele. nature was a solemn mother to wordsworth or to emerson. but nature is not solemn to francis of assisi or to george herbert. to st. francis, nature is a sister, and even a younger sister: a little, dancing sister, to be laughed at as well as loved. this, however, is hardly our main point at present; i have admitted it only in order to show how constantly, and as it were accidentally, the key would fit the smallest doors. our main point is here, that if there be a mere trend of impersonal improvement in nature, it must presumably be a simple trend towards some simple triumph. one can imagine that some automatic tendency in biology might work for giving us longer and longer noses. but the question is, do we want to have longer and longer noses? i fancy not; i believe that we most of us want to say to our noses, "thus far, and no farther; and here shall thy proud point be stayed:" we require a nose of such length as may ensure an interesting face. but we cannot imagine a mere biological trend towards producing interesting faces; because an interesting face is one particular arrangement of eyes, nose, and mouth, in a most complex relation to each other. proportion cannot be a drift: it is either an accident or a design. so with the ideal of human morality and its relation to the humanitarians and the anti-humanitarians. it is conceivable that we are going more and more to keep our hands off things: not to drive horses; not to pick flowers. we may eventually be bound not to disturb a man's mind even by argument; not to disturb the sleep of birds even by coughing. the ultimate apotheosis would appear to be that of a man sitting quite still, nor daring to stir for fear of disturbing a fly, nor to eat for fear of incommoding a microbe. to so crude a consummation as that we might perhaps unconsciously drift. but do we want so crude a consummation? similarly, we might unconsciously evolve along the opposite or nietzschian line of development--superman crushing superman in one tower of tyrants until the universe is smashed up for fun. but do we want the universe smashed up for fun? is it not quite clear that what we really hope for is one particular management and proposition of these two things; a certain amount of restraint and respect, a certain amount of energy and mastery? if our life is ever really as beautiful as a fairy-tale, we shall have to remember that all the beauty of a fairy-tale lies in this: that the prince has a wonder which just stops short of being fear. if he is afraid of the giant, there is an end of him; but also if he is not astonished at the giant, there is an end of the fairy-tale. the whole point depends upon his being at once humble enough to wonder, and haughty enough to defy. so our attitude to the giant of the world must not merely be increasing delicacy or increasing contempt: it must be one particular proportion of the two--which is exactly right. we must have in us enough reverence for all things outside us to make us tread fearfully on the grass. we must also have enough disdain for all things outside us, to make us, on due occasion, spit at the stars. yet these two things (if we are to be good or happy) must be combined, not in any combination, but in one particular combination. the perfect happiness of men on the earth (if it ever comes) will not be a flat and solid thing, like the satisfaction of animals. it will be an exact and perilous balance; like that of a desperate romance. man must have just enough faith in himself to have adventures, and just enough doubt of himself to enjoy them. this, then, is our second requirement for the ideal of progress. first, it must be fixed; second, it must be composite. it must not (if it is to satisfy our souls) be the mere victory of some one thing swallowing up everything else, love or pride or peace or adventure; it must be a definite picture composed of these elements in their best proportion and relation. i am not concerned at this moment to deny that some such good culmination may be, by the constitution of things, reserved for the human race. i only point out that if this composite happiness is fixed for us it must be fixed by some mind; for only a mind can place the exact proportions of a composite happiness. if the beatification of the world is a mere work of nature, then it must be as simple as the freezing of the world, or the burning up of the world. but if the beatification of the world is not a work of nature but a work of art, then it involves an artist. and here again my contemplation was cloven by the ancient voice which said, "i could have told you all this a long time ago. if there is any certain progress it can only be my kind of progress, the progress towards a complete city of virtues and dominations where righteousness and peace contrive to kiss each other. an impersonal force might be leading you to a wilderness of perfect flatness or a peak of perfect height. but only a personal god can possibly be leading you (if, indeed, you are being led) to a city with just streets and architectural proportions, a city in which each of you can contribute exactly the right amount of your own colour to the many coloured coat of joseph." twice again, therefore, christianity had come in with the exact answer that i required. i had said, "the ideal must be fixed," and the church had answered, "mine is literally fixed, for it existed before anything else." i said secondly, "it must be artistically combined, like a picture"; and the church answered, "mine is quite literally a picture, for i know who painted it." then i went on to the third thing, which, as it seemed to me, was needed for an utopia or goal of progress. and of all the three it is infinitely the hardest to express. perhaps it might be put thus: that we need watchfulness even in utopia, lest we fall from utopia as we fell from eden. we have remarked that one reason offered for being a progressive is that things naturally tend to grow better. but the only real reason for being a progressive is that things naturally tend to grow worse. the corruption in things is not only the best argument for being progressive; it is also the only argument against being conservative. the conservative theory would really be quite sweeping and unanswerable if it were not for this one fact. but all conservatism is based upon the idea that if you leave things alone you leave them as they are. but you do not. if you leave a thing alone you leave it to a torrent of change. if you leave a white post alone it will soon be a black post. if you particularly want it to be white you must be always painting it again; that is, you must be always having a revolution. briefly, if you want the old white post you must have a new white post. but this which is true even of inanimate things is in a quite special and terrible sense true of all human things. an almost unnatural vigilance is really required of the citizen because of the horrible rapidity with which human institutions grow old. it is the custom in passing romance and journalism to talk of men suffering under old tyrannies. but, as a fact, men have almost always suffered under new tyrannies; under tyrannies that had been public liberties hardly twenty years before. thus england went mad with joy over the patriotic monarchy of elizabeth; and then (almost immediately afterwards) went mad with rage in the trap of the tyranny of charles the first. so, again, in france the monarchy became intolerable, not just after it had been tolerated, but just after it had been adored. the son of louis the well-beloved was louis the guillotined. so in the same way in england in the nineteenth century the radical manufacturer was entirely trusted as a mere tribune of the people, until suddenly we heard the cry of the socialist that he was a tyrant eating the people like bread. so again, we have almost up to the last instant trusted the newspapers as organs of public opinion. just recently some of us have seen (not slowly, but with a start) that they are obviously nothing of the kind. they are, by the nature of the case, the hobbies of a few rich men. we have not any need to rebel against antiquity; we have to rebel against novelty. it is the new rulers, the capitalist or the editor, who really hold up the modern world. there is no fear that a modern king will attempt to override the constitution; it is more likely that he will ignore the constitution and work behind its back; he will take no advantage of his kingly power; it is more likely that he will take advantage of his kingly powerlessness, of the fact that he is free from criticism and publicity. for the king is the most private person of our time. it will not be necessary for any one to fight again against the proposal of a censorship of the press. we do not need a censorship of the press. we have a censorship by the press. this startling swiftness with which popular systems turn oppressive is the third fact for which we shall ask our perfect theory of progress to allow. it must always be on the look out for every privilege being abused, for every working right becoming a wrong. in this matter i am entirely on the side of the revolutionists. they are really right to be always suspecting human institutions; they are right not to put their trust in princes nor in any child of man. the chieftain chosen to be the friend of the people becomes the enemy of the people; the newspaper started to tell the truth now exists to prevent the truth being told. here, i say, i felt that i was really at last on the side of the revolutionary. and then i caught my breath again: for i remembered that i was once again on the side of the orthodox. christianity spoke again and said: "i have always maintained that men were naturally backsliders; that human virtue tended of its own nature to rust or to rot; i have always said that human beings as such go wrong, especially happy human beings, especially proud and prosperous human beings. this eternal revolution, this suspicion sustained through centuries, you (being a vague modern) call the doctrine of progress. if you were a philosopher you would call it, as i do, the doctrine of original sin. you may call it the cosmic advance as much as you like; i call it what it is--the fall." i have spoken of orthodoxy coming in like a sword; here i confess it came in like a battle-axe. for really (when i came to think of it) christianity is the only thing left that has any real right to question the power of the well-nurtured or the well-bred. i have listened often enough to socialists, or even to democrats, saying that the physical conditions of the poor must of necessity make them mentally and morally degraded. i have listened to scientific men (and there are still scientific men not opposed to democracy) saying that if we give the poor healthier conditions vice and wrong will disappear. i have listened to them with a horrible attention, with a hideous fascination. for it was like watching a man energetically sawing from the tree the branch he is sitting on. if these happy democrats could prove their case, they would strike democracy dead. if the poor are thus utterly demoralized, it may or may not be practical to raise them. but it is certainly quite practical to disfranchise them. if the man with a bad bedroom cannot give a good vote, then the first and swiftest deduction is that he shall give no vote. the governing class may not unreasonably say: "it may take us some time to reform his bedroom. but if he is the brute you say, it will take him very little time to ruin our country. therefore we will take your hint and not give him the chance." it fills me with horrible amusement to observe the way in which the earnest socialist industriously lays the foundation of all aristocracy, expatiating blandly upon the evident unfitness of the poor to rule. it is like listening to somebody at an evening party apologising for entering without evening dress, and explaining that he had recently been intoxicated, had a personal habit of taking off his clothes in the street, and had, moreover, only just changed from prison uniform. at any moment, one feels, the host might say that really, if it was as bad as that, he need not come in at all. so it is when the ordinary socialist, with a beaming face, proves that the poor, after their smashing experiences, cannot be really trustworthy. at any moment the rich may say, "very well, then, we won't trust them," and bang the door in his face. on the basis of mr. blatchford's view of heredity and environment, the case for the aristocracy is quite overwhelming. if clean homes and clean air make clean souls, why not give the power (for the present at any rate) to those who undoubtedly have the clean air? if better conditions will make the poor more fit to govern themselves, why should not better conditions already make the rich more fit to govern them? on the ordinary environment argument the matter is fairly manifest. the comfortable class must be merely our vanguard in utopia. is there any answer to the proposition that those who have had the best opportunities will probably be our best guides? is there any answer to the argument that those who have breathed clean air had better decide for those who have breathed foul? as far as i know, there is only one answer, and that answer is christianity. only the christian church can offer any rational objection to a complete confidence in the rich. for she has maintained from the beginning that the danger was not in man's environment, but in man. further, she has maintained that if we come to talk of a dangerous environment, the most dangerous environment of all is the commodious environment. i know that the most modern manufacture has been really occupied in trying to produce an abnormally large needle. i know that the most recent biologists have been chiefly anxious to discover a very small camel. but if we diminish the camel to his smallest, or open the eye of the needle to its largest--if, in short, we assume the words of christ to have meant the very least that they could mean, his words must at the very least mean this-- that rich men are not very likely to be morally trustworthy. christianity even when watered down is hot enough to boil all modern society to rags. the mere minimum of the church would be a deadly ultimatum to the world. for the whole modern world is absolutely based on the assumption, not that the rich are necessary (which is tenable), but that the rich are trustworthy, which (for a christian) is not tenable. you will hear everlastingly, in all discussions about newspapers, companies, aristocracies, or party politics, this argument that the rich man cannot be bribed. the fact is, of course, that the rich man is bribed; he has been bribed already. that is why he is a rich man. the whole case for christianity is that a man who is dependent upon the luxuries of this life is a corrupt man, spiritually corrupt, politically corrupt, financially corrupt. there is one thing that christ and all the christian saints have said with a sort of savage monotony. they have said simply that to be rich is to be in peculiar danger of moral wreck. it is not demonstrably un-christian to kill the rich as violators of definable justice. it is not demonstrably un-christian to crown the rich as convenient rulers of society. it is not certainly un-christian to rebel against the rich or to submit to the rich. but it is quite certainly un-christian to trust the rich, to regard the rich as more morally safe than the poor. a christian may consistently say, "i respect that man's rank, although he takes bribes." but a christian cannot say, as all modern men are saying at lunch and breakfast, "a man of that rank would not take bribes." for it is a part of christian dogma that any man in any rank may take bribes. it is a part of christian dogma; it also happens by a curious coincidence that it is a part of obvious human history. when people say that a man "in that position" would be incorruptible, there is no need to bring christianity into the discussion. was lord bacon a bootblack? was the duke of marlborough a crossing sweeper? in the best utopia, i must be prepared for the moral fall of any man in any position at any moment; especially for my fall from my position at this moment. much vague and sentimental journalism has been poured out to the effect that christianity is akin to democracy, and most of it is scarcely strong or clear enough to refute the fact that the two things have often quarrelled. the real ground upon which christianity and democracy are one is very much deeper. the one specially and peculiarly un-christian idea is the idea of carlyle-- the idea that the man should rule who feels that he can rule. whatever else is christian, this is heathen. if our faith comments on government at all, its comment must be this--that the man should rule who does not think that he can rule. carlyle's hero may say, "i will be king"; but the christian saint must say "nolo episcopari." if the great paradox of christianity means anything, it means this-- that we must take the crown in our hands, and go hunting in dry places and dark corners of the earth until we find the one man who feels himself unfit to wear it. carlyle was quite wrong; we have not got to crown the exceptional man who knows he can rule. rather we must crown the much more exceptional man who knows he can't. now, this is one of the two or three vital defences of working democracy. the mere machinery of voting is not democracy, though at present it is not easy to effect any simpler democratic method. but even the machinery of voting is profoundly christian in this practical sense--that it is an attempt to get at the opinion of those who would be too modest to offer it. it is a mystical adventure; it is specially trusting those who do not trust themselves. that enigma is strictly peculiar to christendom. there is nothing really humble about the abnegation of the buddhist; the mild hindoo is mild, but he is not meek. but there is something psychologically christian about the idea of seeking for the opinion of the obscure rather than taking the obvious course of accepting the opinion of the prominent. to say that voting is particularly christian may seem somewhat curious. to say that canvassing is christian may seem quite crazy. but canvassing is very christian in its primary idea. it is encouraging the humble; it is saying to the modest man, "friend, go up higher." or if there is some slight defect in canvassing, that is in its perfect and rounded piety, it is only because it may possibly neglect to encourage the modesty of the canvasser. aristocracy is not an institution: aristocracy is a sin; generally a very venial one. it is merely the drift or slide of men into a sort of natural pomposity and praise of the powerful, which is the most easy and obvious affair in the world. it is one of the hundred answers to the fugitive perversion of modern "force" that the promptest and boldest agencies are also the most fragile or full of sensibility. the swiftest things are the softest things. a bird is active, because a bird is soft. a stone is helpless, because a stone is hard. the stone must by its own nature go downwards, because hardness is weakness. the bird can of its nature go upwards, because fragility is force. in perfect force there is a kind of frivolity, an airiness that can maintain itself in the air. modern investigators of miraculous history have solemnly admitted that a characteristic of the great saints is their power of "levitation." they might go further; a characteristic of the great saints is their power of levity. angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly. this has been always the instinct of christendom, and especially the instinct of christian art. remember how fra angelico represented all his angels, not only as birds, but almost as butterflies. remember how the most earnest mediaeval art was full of light and fluttering draperies, of quick and capering feet. it was the one thing that the modern pre-raphaelites could not imitate in the real pre-raphaelites. burne-jones could never recover the deep levity of the middle ages. in the old christian pictures the sky over every figure is like a blue or gold parachute. every figure seems ready to fly up and float about in the heavens. the tattered cloak of the beggar will bear him up like the rayed plumes of the angels. but the kings in their heavy gold and the proud in their robes of purple will all of their nature sink downwards, for pride cannot rise to levity or levitation. pride is the downward drag of all things into an easy solemnity. one "settles down" into a sort of selfish seriousness; but one has to rise to a gay self-forgetfulness. a man "falls" into a brown study; he reaches up at a blue sky. seriousness is not a virtue. it would be a heresy, but a much more sensible heresy, to say that seriousness is a vice. it is really a natural trend or lapse into taking one's self gravely, because it is the easiest thing to do. it is much easier to write a good times leading article than a good joke in punch. for solemnity flows out of men naturally; but laughter is a leap. it is easy to be heavy: hard to be light. satan fell by the force of gravity. now, it is the peculiar honour of europe since it has been christian that while it has had aristocracy it has always at the back of its heart treated aristocracy as a weakness--generally as a weakness that must be allowed for. if any one wishes to appreciate this point, let him go outside christianity into some other philosophical atmosphere. let him, for instance, compare the classes of europe with the castes of india. there aristocracy is far more awful, because it is far more intellectual. it is seriously felt that the scale of classes is a scale of spiritual values; that the baker is better than the butcher in an invisible and sacred sense. but no christianity, not even the most ignorant or perverse, ever suggested that a baronet was better than a butcher in that sacred sense. no christianity, however ignorant or extravagant, ever suggested that a duke would not be damned. in pagan society there may have been (i do not know) some such serious division between the free man and the slave. but in christian society we have always thought the gentleman a sort of joke, though i admit that in some great crusades and councils he earned the right to be called a practical joke. but we in europe never really and at the root of our souls took aristocracy seriously. it is only an occasional non-european alien (such as dr. oscar levy, the only intelligent nietzscheite) who can even manage for a moment to take aristocracy seriously. it may be a mere patriotic bias, though i do not think so, but it seems to me that the english aristocracy is not only the type, but is the crown and flower of all actual aristocracies; it has all the oligarchical virtues as well as all the defects. it is casual, it is kind, it is courageous in obvious matters; but it has one great merit that overlaps even these. the great and very obvious merit of the english aristocracy is that nobody could possibly take it seriously. in short, i had spelled out slowly, as usual, the need for an equal law in utopia; and, as usual, i found that christianity had been there before me. the whole history of my utopia has the same amusing sadness. i was always rushing out of my architectural study with plans for a new turret only to find it sitting up there in the sunlight, shining, and a thousand years old. for me, in the ancient and partly in the modern sense, god answered the prayer, "prevent us, o lord, in all our doings." without vanity, i really think there was a moment when i could have invented the marriage vow (as an institution) out of my own head; but i discovered, with a sigh, that it had been invented already. but, since it would be too long a business to show how, fact by fact and inch by inch, my own conception of utopia was only answered in the new jerusalem, i will take this one case of the matter of marriage as indicating the converging drift, i may say the converging crash of all the rest. when the ordinary opponents of socialism talk about impossibilities and alterations in human nature they always miss an important distinction. in modern ideal conceptions of society there are some desires that are possibly not attainable: but there are some desires that are not desirable. that all men should live in equally beautiful houses is a dream that may or may not be attained. but that all men should live in the same beautiful house is not a dream at all; it is a nightmare. that a man should love all old women is an ideal that may not be attainable. but that a man should regard all old women exactly as he regards his mother is not only an unattainable ideal, but an ideal which ought not to be attained. i do not know if the reader agrees with me in these examples; but i will add the example which has always affected me most. i could never conceive or tolerate any utopia which did not leave to me the liberty for which i chiefly care, the liberty to bind myself. complete anarchy would not merely make it impossible to have any discipline or fidelity; it would also make it impossible to have any fun. to take an obvious instance, it would not be worth while to bet if a bet were not binding. the dissolution of all contracts would not only ruin morality but spoil sport. now betting and such sports are only the stunted and twisted shapes of the original instinct of man for adventure and romance, of which much has been said in these pages. and the perils, rewards, punishments, and fulfilments of an adventure must be real, or the adventure is only a shifting and heartless nightmare. if i bet i must be made to pay, or there is no poetry in betting. if i challenge i must be made to fight, or there is no poetry in challenging. if i vow to be faithful i must be cursed when i am unfaithful, or there is no fun in vowing. you could not even make a fairy tale from the experiences of a man who, when he was swallowed by a whale, might find himself at the top of the eiffel tower, or when he was turned into a frog might begin to behave like a flamingo. for the purpose even of the wildest romance results must be real; results must be irrevocable. christian marriage is the great example of a real and irrevocable result; and that is why it is the chief subject and centre of all our romantic writing. and this is my last instance of the things that i should ask, and ask imperatively, of any social paradise; i should ask to be kept to my bargain, to have my oaths and engagements taken seriously; i should ask utopia to avenge my honour on myself. all my modern utopian friends look at each other rather doubtfully, for their ultimate hope is the dissolution of all special ties. but again i seem to hear, like a kind of echo, an answer from beyond the world. "you will have real obligations, and therefore real adventures when you get to my utopia. but the hardest obligation and the steepest adventure is to get there." viii the romance of orthodoxy it is customary to complain of the bustle and strenuousness of our epoch. but in truth the chief mark of our epoch is a profound laziness and fatigue; and the fact is that the real laziness is the cause of the apparent bustle. take one quite external case; the streets are noisy with taxicabs and motorcars; but this is not due to human activity but to human repose. there would be less bustle if there were more activity, if people were simply walking about. our world would be more silent if it were more strenuous. and this which is true of the apparent physical bustle is true also of the apparent bustle of the intellect. most of the machinery of modern language is labour-saving machinery; and it saves mental labour very much more than it ought. scientific phrases are used like scientific wheels and piston-rods to make swifter and smoother yet the path of the comfortable. long words go rattling by us like long railway trains. we know they are carrying thousands who are too tired or too indolent to walk and think for themselves. it is a good exercise to try for once in a way to express any opinion one holds in words of one syllable. if you say "the social utility of the indeterminate sentence is recognized by all criminologists as a part of our sociological evolution towards a more humane and scientific view of punishment," you can go on talking like that for hours with hardly a movement of the gray matter inside your skull. but if you begin "i wish jones to go to gaol and brown to say when jones shall come out," you will discover, with a thrill of horror, that you are obliged to think. the long words are not the hard words, it is the short words that are hard. there is much more metaphysical subtlety in the word "damn" than in the word "degeneration." but these long comfortable words that save modern people the toil of reasoning have one particular aspect in which they are especially ruinous and confusing. this difficulty occurs when the same long word is used in different connections to mean quite different things. thus, to take a well-known instance, the word "idealist" has one meaning as a piece of philosophy and quite another as a piece of moral rhetoric. in the same way the scientific materialists have had just reason to complain of people mixing up "materialist" as a term of cosmology with "materialist" as a moral taunt. so, to take a cheaper instance, the man who hates "progressives" in london always calls himself a "progressive" in south africa. a confusion quite as unmeaning as this has arisen in connection with the word "liberal" as applied to religion and as applied to politics and society. it is often suggested that all liberals ought to be freethinkers, because they ought to love everything that is free. you might just as well say that all idealists ought to be high churchmen, because they ought to love everything that is high. you might as well say that low churchmen ought to like low mass, or that broad churchmen ought to like broad jokes. the thing is a mere accident of words. in actual modern europe a freethinker does not mean a man who thinks for himself. it means a man who, having thought for himself, has come to one particular class of conclusions, the material origin of phenomena, the impossibility of miracles, the improbability of personal immortality and so on. and none of these ideas are particularly liberal. nay, indeed almost all these ideas are definitely illiberal, as it is the purpose of this chapter to show. in the few following pages i propose to point out as rapidly as possible that on every single one of the matters most strongly insisted on by liberalisers of theology their effect upon social practice would be definitely illiberal. almost every contemporary proposal to bring freedom into the church is simply a proposal to bring tyranny into the world. for freeing the church now does not even mean freeing it in all directions. it means freeing that peculiar set of dogmas loosely called scientific, dogmas of monism, of pantheism, or of arianism, or of necessity. and every one of these (and we will take them one by one) can be shown to be the natural ally of oppression. in fact, it is a remarkable circumstance (indeed not so very remarkable when one comes to think of it) that most things are the allies of oppression. there is only one thing that can never go past a certain point in its alliance with oppression--and that is orthodoxy. i may, it is true, twist orthodoxy so as partly to justify a tyrant. but i can easily make up a german philosophy to justify him entirely. now let us take in order the innovations that are the notes of the new theology or the modernist church. we concluded the last chapter with the discovery of one of them. the very doctrine which is called the most old-fashioned was found to be the only safeguard of the new democracies of the earth. the doctrine seemingly most unpopular was found to be the only strength of the people. in short, we found that the only logical negation of oligarchy was in the affirmation of original sin. so it is, i maintain, in all the other cases. i take the most obvious instance first, the case of miracles. for some extraordinary reason, there is a fixed notion that it is more liberal to disbelieve in miracles than to believe in them. why, i cannot imagine, nor can anybody tell me. for some inconceivable cause a "broad" or "liberal" clergyman always means a man who wishes at least to diminish the number of miracles; it never means a man who wishes to increase that number. it always means a man who is free to disbelieve that christ came out of his grave; it never means a man who is free to believe that his own aunt came out of her grave. it is common to find trouble in a parish because the parish priest cannot admit that st. peter walked on water; yet how rarely do we find trouble in a parish because the clergyman says that his father walked on the serpentine? and this is not because (as the swift secularist debater would immediately retort) miracles cannot be believed in our experience. it is not because "miracles do not happen," as in the dogma which matthew arnold recited with simple faith. more supernatural things are alleged to have happened in our time than would have been possible eighty years ago. men of science believe in such marvels much more than they did: the most perplexing, and even horrible, prodigies of mind and spirit are always being unveiled in modern psychology. things that the old science at least would frankly have rejected as miracles are hourly being asserted by the new science. the only thing which is still old-fashioned enough to reject miracles is the new theology. but in truth this notion that it is "free" to deny miracles has nothing to do with the evidence for or against them. it is a lifeless verbal prejudice of which the original life and beginning was not in the freedom of thought, but simply in the dogma of materialism. the man of the nineteenth century did not disbelieve in the resurrection because his liberal christianity allowed him to doubt it. he disbelieved in it because his very strict materialism did not allow him to believe it. tennyson, a very typical nineteenth century man, uttered one of the instinctive truisms of his contemporaries when he said that there was faith in their honest doubt. there was indeed. those words have a profound and even a horrible truth. in their doubt of miracles there was a faith in a fixed and godless fate; a deep and sincere faith in the incurable routine of the cosmos. the doubts of the agnostic were only the dogmas of the monist. of the fact and evidence of the supernatural i will speak afterwards. here we are only concerned with this clear point; that in so far as the liberal idea of freedom can be said to be on either side in the discussion about miracles, it is obviously on the side of miracles. reform or (in the only tolerable sense) progress means simply the gradual control of matter by mind. a miracle simply means the swift control of matter by mind. if you wish to feed the people, you may think that feeding them miraculously in the wilderness is impossible--but you cannot think it illiberal. if you really want poor children to go to the seaside, you cannot think it illiberal that they should go there on flying dragons; you can only think it unlikely. a holiday, like liberalism, only means the liberty of man. a miracle only means the liberty of god. you may conscientiously deny either of them, but you cannot call your denial a triumph of the liberal idea. the catholic church believed that man and god both had a sort of spiritual freedom. calvinism took away the freedom from man, but left it to god. scientific materialism binds the creator himself; it chains up god as the apocalypse chained the devil. it leaves nothing free in the universe. and those who assist this process are called the "liberal theologians." this, as i say, is the lightest and most evident case. the assumption that there is something in the doubt of miracles akin to liberality or reform is literally the opposite of the truth. if a man cannot believe in miracles there is an end of the matter; he is not particularly liberal, but he is perfectly honourable and logical, which are much better things. but if he can believe in miracles, he is certainly the more liberal for doing so; because they mean first, the freedom of the soul, and secondly, its control over the tyranny of circumstance. sometimes this truth is ignored in a singularly naive way, even by the ablest men. for instance, mr. bernard shaw speaks with hearty old-fashioned contempt for the idea of miracles, as if they were a sort of breach of faith on the part of nature: he seems strangely unconscious that miracles are only the final flowers of his own favourite tree, the doctrine of the omnipotence of will. just in the same way he calls the desire for immortality a paltry selfishness, forgetting that he has just called the desire for life a healthy and heroic selfishness. how can it be noble to wish to make one's life infinite and yet mean to wish to make it immortal? no, if it is desirable that man should triumph over the cruelty of nature or custom, then miracles are certainly desirable; we will discuss afterwards whether they are possible. but i must pass on to the larger cases of this curious error; the notion that the "liberalising" of religion in some way helps the liberation of the world. the second example of it can be found in the question of pantheism--or rather of a certain modern attitude which is often called immanentism, and which often is buddhism. but this is so much more difficult a matter that i must approach it with rather more preparation. the things said most confidently by advanced persons to crowded audiences are generally those quite opposite to the fact; it is actually our truisms that are untrue. here is a case. there is a phrase of facile liberality uttered again and again at ethical societies and parliaments of religion: "the religions of the earth differ in rites and forms, but they are the same in what they teach." it is false; it is the opposite of the fact. the religions of the earth do not greatly differ in rites and forms; they do greatly differ in what they teach. it is as if a man were to say, "do not be misled by the fact that the church times and the freethinker look utterly different, that one is painted on vellum and the other carved on marble, that one is triangular and the other hectagonal; read them and you will see that they say the same thing." the truth is, of course, that they are alike in everything except in the fact that they don't say the same thing. an atheist stockbroker in surbiton looks exactly like a swedenborgian stockbroker in wimbledon. you may walk round and round them and subject them to the most personal and offensive study without seeing anything swedenborgian in the hat or anything particularly godless in the umbrella. it is exactly in their souls that they are divided. so the truth is that the difficulty of all the creeds of the earth is not as alleged in this cheap maxim: that they agree in meaning, but differ in machinery. it is exactly the opposite. they agree in machinery; almost every great religion on earth works with the same external methods, with priests, scriptures, altars, sworn brotherhoods, special feasts. they agree in the mode of teaching; what they differ about is the thing to be taught. pagan optimists and eastern pessimists would both have temples, just as liberals and tories would both have newspapers. creeds that exist to destroy each other both have scriptures, just as armies that exist to destroy each other both have guns. the great example of this alleged identity of all human religions is the alleged spiritual identity of buddhism and christianity. those who adopt this theory generally avoid the ethics of most other creeds, except, indeed, confucianism, which they like because it is not a creed. but they are cautious in their praises of mahommedanism, generally confining themselves to imposing its morality only upon the refreshment of the lower classes. they seldom suggest the mahommedan view of marriage (for which there is a great deal to be said), and towards thugs and fetish worshippers their attitude may even be called cold. but in the case of the great religion of gautama they feel sincerely a similarity. students of popular science, like mr. blatchford, are always insisting that christianity and buddhism are very much alike, especially buddhism. this is generally believed, and i believed it myself until i read a book giving the reasons for it. the reasons were of two kinds: resemblances that meant nothing because they were common to all humanity, and resemblances which were not resemblances at all. the author solemnly explained that the two creeds were alike in things in which all creeds are alike, or else he described them as alike in some point in which they are quite obviously different. thus, as a case of the first class, he said that both christ and buddha were called by the divine voice coming out of the sky, as if you would expect the divine voice to come out of the coal-cellar. or, again, it was gravely urged that these two eastern teachers, by a singular coincidence, both had to do with the washing of feet. you might as well say that it was a remarkable coincidence that they both had feet to wash. and the other class of similarities were those which simply were not similar. thus this reconciler of the two religions draws earnest attention to the fact that at certain religious feasts the robe of the lama is rent in pieces out of respect, and the remnants highly valued. but this is the reverse of a resemblance, for the garments of christ were not rent in pieces out of respect, but out of derision; and the remnants were not highly valued except for what they would fetch in the rag shops. it is rather like alluding to the obvious connection between the two ceremonies of the sword: when it taps a man's shoulder, and when it cuts off his head. it is not at all similar for the man. these scraps of puerile pedantry would indeed matter little if it were not also true that the alleged philosophical resemblances are also of these two kinds, either proving too much or not proving anything. that buddhism approves of mercy or of self-restraint is not to say that it is specially like christianity; it is only to say that it is not utterly unlike all human existence. buddhists disapprove in theory of cruelty or excess because all sane human beings disapprove in theory of cruelty or excess. but to say that buddhism and christianity give the same philosophy of these things is simply false. all humanity does agree that we are in a net of sin. most of humanity agrees that there is some way out. but as to what is the way out, i do not think that there are two institutions in the universe which contradict each other so flatly as buddhism and christianity. even when i thought, with most other well-informed, though unscholarly, people, that buddhism and christianity were alike, there was one thing about them that always perplexed me; i mean the startling difference in their type of religious art. i do not mean in its technical style of representation, but in the things that it was manifestly meant to represent. no two ideals could be more opposite than a christian saint in a gothic cathedral and a buddhist saint in a chinese temple. the opposition exists at every point; but perhaps the shortest statement of it is that the buddhist saint always has his eyes shut, while the christian saint always has them very wide open. the buddhist saint has a sleek and harmonious body, but his eyes are heavy and sealed with sleep. the mediaeval saint's body is wasted to its crazy bones, but his eyes are frightfully alive. there cannot be any real community of spirit between forces that produced symbols so different as that. granted that both images are extravagances, are perversions of the pure creed, it must be a real divergence which could produce such opposite extravagances. the buddhist is looking with a peculiar intentness inwards. the christian is staring with a frantic intentness outwards. if we follow that clue steadily we shall find some interesting things. a short time ago mrs. besant, in an interesting essay, announced that there was only one religion in the world, that all faiths were only versions or perversions of it, and that she was quite prepared to say what it was. according to mrs. besant this universal church is simply the universal self. it is the doctrine that we are really all one person; that there are no real walls of individuality between man and man. if i may put it so, she does not tell us to love our neighbours; she tells us to be our neighbours. that is mrs. besant's thoughtful and suggestive description of the religion in which all men must find themselves in agreement. and i never heard of any suggestion in my life with which i more violently disagree. i want to love my neighbour not because he is i, but precisely because he is not i. i want to adore the world, not as one likes a looking-glass, because it is one's self, but as one loves a woman, because she is entirely different. if souls are separate love is possible. if souls are united love is obviously impossible. a man may be said loosely to love himself, but he can hardly fall in love with himself, or, if he does, it must be a monotonous courtship. if the world is full of real selves, they can be really unselfish selves. but upon mrs. besant's principle the whole cosmos is only one enormously selfish person. it is just here that buddhism is on the side of modern pantheism and immanence. and it is just here that christianity is on the side of humanity and liberty and love. love desires personality; therefore love desires division. it is the instinct of christianity to be glad that god has broken the universe into little pieces, because they are living pieces. it is her instinct to say "little children love one another" rather than to tell one large person to love himself. this is the intellectual abyss between buddhism and christianity; that for the buddhist or theosophist personality is the fall of man, for the christian it is the purpose of god, the whole point of his cosmic idea. the world-soul of the theosophists asks man to love it only in order that man may throw himself into it. but the divine centre of christianity actually threw man out of it in order that he might love it. the oriental deity is like a giant who should have lost his leg or hand and be always seeking to find it; but the christian power is like some giant who in a strange generosity should cut off his right hand, so that it might of its own accord shake hands with him. we come back to the same tireless note touching the nature of christianity; all modern philosophies are chains which connect and fetter; christianity is a sword which separates and sets free. no other philosophy makes god actually rejoice in the separation of the universe into living souls. but according to orthodox christianity this separation between god and man is sacred, because this is eternal. that a man may love god it is necessary that there should be not only a god to be loved, but a man to love him. all those vague theosophical minds for whom the universe is an immense melting-pot are exactly the minds which shrink instinctively from that earthquake saying of our gospels, which declare that the son of god came not with peace but with a sundering sword. the saying rings entirely true even considered as what it obviously is; the statement that any man who preaches real love is bound to beget hate. it is as true of democratic fraternity as a divine love; sham love ends in compromise and common philosophy; but real love has always ended in bloodshed. yet there is another and yet more awful truth behind the obvious meaning of this utterance of our lord. according to himself the son was a sword separating brother and brother that they should for an aeon hate each other. but the father also was a sword, which in the black beginning separated brother and brother, so that they should love each other at last. this is the meaning of that almost insane happiness in the eyes of the mediaeval saint in the picture. this is the meaning of the sealed eyes of the superb buddhist image. the christian saint is happy because he has verily been cut off from the world; he is separate from things and is staring at them in astonishment. but why should the buddhist saint be astonished at things?-- since there is really only one thing, and that being impersonal can hardly be astonished at itself. there have been many pantheist poems suggesting wonder, but no really successful ones. the pantheist cannot wonder, for he cannot praise god or praise anything as really distinct from himself. our immediate business here, however, is with the effect of this christian admiration (which strikes outwards, towards a deity distinct from the worshipper) upon the general need for ethical activity and social reform. and surely its effect is sufficiently obvious. there is no real possibility of getting out of pantheism, any special impulse to moral action. for pantheism implies in its nature that one thing is as good as another; whereas action implies in its nature that one thing is greatly preferable to another. swinburne in the high summer of his scepticism tried in vain to wrestle with this difficulty. in "songs before sunrise," written under the inspiration of garibaldi and the revolt of italy he proclaimed the newer religion and the purer god which should wither up all the priests of the world: "what doest thou now looking godward to cry i am i, thou art thou, i am low, thou art high, i am thou that thou seekest to find him, find thou but thyself, thou art i." of which the immediate and evident deduction is that tyrants are as much the sons of god as garibaldis; and that king bomba of naples having, with the utmost success, "found himself" is identical with the ultimate good in all things. the truth is that the western energy that dethrones tyrants has been directly due to the western theology that says "i am i, thou art thou." the same spiritual separation which looked up and saw a good king in the universe looked up and saw a bad king in naples. the worshippers of bomba's god dethroned bomba. the worshippers of swinburne's god have covered asia for centuries and have never dethroned a tyrant. the indian saint may reasonably shut his eyes because he is looking at that which is i and thou and we and they and it. it is a rational occupation: but it is not true in theory and not true in fact that it helps the indian to keep an eye on lord curzon. that external vigilance which has always been the mark of christianity (the command that we should watch and pray) has expressed itself both in typical western orthodoxy and in typical western politics: but both depend on the idea of a divinity transcendent, different from ourselves, a deity that disappears. certainly the most sagacious creeds may suggest that we should pursue god into deeper and deeper rings of the labyrinth of our own ego. but only we of christendom have said that we should hunt god like an eagle upon the mountains: and we have killed all monsters in the chase. here again, therefore, we find that in so far as we value democracy and the self-renewing energies of the west, we are much more likely to find them in the old theology than the new. if we want reform, we must adhere to orthodoxy: especially in this matter (so much disputed in the counsels of mr. r.j.campbell), the matter of insisting on the immanent or the transcendent deity. by insisting specially on the immanence of god we get introspection, self-isolation, quietism, social indifference--tibet. by insisting specially on the transcendence of god we get wonder, curiosity, moral and political adventure, righteous indignation--christendom. insisting that god is inside man, man is always inside himself. by insisting that god transcends man, man has transcended himself. if we take any other doctrine that has been called old-fashioned we shall find the case the same. it is the same, for instance, in the deep matter of the trinity. unitarians (a sect never to be mentioned without a special respect for their distinguished intellectual dignity and high intellectual honour) are often reformers by the accident that throws so many small sects into such an attitude. but there is nothing in the least liberal or akin to reform in the substitution of pure monotheism for the trinity. the complex god of the athanasian creed may be an enigma for the intellect; but he is far less likely to gather the mystery and cruelty of a sultan than the lonely god of omar or mahomet. the god who is a mere awful unity is not only a king but an eastern king. the heart of humanity, especially of european humanity, is certainly much more satisfied by the strange hints and symbols that gather round the trinitarian idea, the image of a council at which mercy pleads as well as justice, the conception of a sort of liberty and variety existing even in the inmost chamber of the world. for western religion has always felt keenly the idea "it is not well for man to be alone." the social instinct asserted itself everywhere as when the eastern idea of hermits was practically expelled by the western idea of monks. so even asceticism became brotherly; and the trappists were sociable even when they were silent. if this love of a living complexity be our test, it is certainly healthier to have the trinitarian religion than the unitarian. for to us trinitarians (if i may say it with reverence)--to us god himself is a society. it is indeed a fathomless mystery of theology, and even if i were theologian enough to deal with it directly, it would not be relevant to do so here. suffice it to say here that this triple enigma is as comforting as wine and open as an english fireside; that this thing that bewilders the intellect utterly quiets the heart: but out of the desert, from the dry places and the dreadful suns, come the cruel children of the lonely god; the real unitarians who with scimitar in hand have laid waste the world. for it is not well for god to be alone. again, the same is true of that difficult matter of the danger of the soul, which has unsettled so many just minds. to hope for all souls is imperative; and it is quite tenable that their salvation is inevitable. it is tenable, but it is not specially favourable to activity or progress. our fighting and creative society ought rather to insist on the danger of everybody, on the fact that every man is hanging by a thread or clinging to a precipice. to say that all will be well anyhow is a comprehensible remark: but it cannot be called the blast of a trumpet. europe ought rather to emphasize possible perdition; and europe always has emphasized it. here its highest religion is at one with all its cheapest romances. to the buddhist or the eastern fatalist existence is a science or a plan, which must end up in a certain way. but to a christian existence is a story, which may end up in any way. in a thrilling novel (that purely christian product) the hero is not eaten by cannibals; but it is essential to the existence of the thrill that he might be eaten by cannibals. the hero must (so to speak) be an eatable hero. so christian morals have always said to the man, not that he would lose his soul, but that he must take care that he didn't. in christian morals, in short, it is wicked to call a man "damned": but it is strictly religious and philosophic to call him damnable. all christianity concentrates on the man at the cross-roads. the vast and shallow philosophies, the huge syntheses of humbug, all talk about ages and evolution and ultimate developments. the true philosophy is concerned with the instant. will a man take this road or that?--that is the only thing to think about, if you enjoy thinking. the aeons are easy enough to think about, any one can think about them. the instant is really awful: and it is because our religion has intensely felt the instant, that it has in literature dealt much with battle and in theology dealt much with hell. it is full of danger, like a boy's book: it is at an immortal crisis. there is a great deal of real similarity between popular fiction and the religion of the western people. if you say that popular fiction is vulgar and tawdry, you only say what the dreary and well-informed say also about the images in the catholic churches. life (according to the faith) is very like a serial story in a magazine: life ends with the promise (or menace) "to be continued in our next." also, with a noble vulgarity, life imitates the serial and leaves off at the exciting moment. for death is distinctly an exciting moment. but the point is that a story is exciting because it has in it so strong an element of will, of what theology calls free-will. you cannot finish a sum how you like. but you can finish a story how you like. when somebody discovered the differential calculus there was only one differential calculus he could discover. but when shakespeare killed romeo he might have married him to juliet's old nurse if he had felt inclined. and christendom has excelled in the narrative romance exactly because it has insisted on the theological free-will. it is a large matter and too much to one side of the road to be discussed adequately here; but this is the real objection to that torrent of modern talk about treating crime as disease, about making a prison merely a hygienic environment like a hospital, of healing sin by slow scientific methods. the fallacy of the whole thing is that evil is a matter of active choice whereas disease is not. if you say that you are going to cure a profligate as you cure an asthmatic, my cheap and obvious answer is, "produce the people who want to be asthmatics as many people want to be profligates." a man may lie still and be cured of a malady. but he must not lie still if he wants to be cured of a sin; on the contrary, he must get up and jump about violently. the whole point indeed is perfectly expressed in the very word which we use for a man in hospital; "patient" is in the passive mood; "sinner" is in the active. if a man is to be saved from influenza, he may be a patient. but if he is to be saved from forging, he must be not a patient but an impatient. he must be personally impatient with forgery. all moral reform must start in the active not the passive will. here again we reach the same substantial conclusion. in so far as we desire the definite reconstructions and the dangerous revolutions which have distinguished european civilization, we shall not discourage the thought of possible ruin; we shall rather encourage it. if we want, like the eastern saints, merely to contemplate how right things are, of course we shall only say that they must go right. but if we particularly want to make them go right, we must insist that they may go wrong. lastly, this truth is yet again true in the case of the common modern attempts to diminish or to explain away the divinity of christ. the thing may be true or not; that i shall deal with before i end. but if the divinity is true it is certainly terribly revolutionary. that a good man may have his back to the wall is no more than we knew already; but that god could have his back to the wall is a boast for all insurgents for ever. christianity is the only religion on earth that has felt that omnipotence made god incomplete. christianity alone has felt that god, to be wholly god, must have been a rebel as well as a king. alone of all creeds, christianity has added courage to the virtues of the creator. for the only courage worth calling courage must necessarily mean that the soul passes a breaking point--and does not break. in this indeed i approach a matter more dark and awful than it is easy to discuss; and i apologise in advance if any of my phrases fall wrong or seem irreverent touching a matter which the greatest saints and thinkers have justly feared to approach. but in that terrific tale of the passion there is a distinct emotional suggestion that the author of all things (in some unthinkable way) went not only through agony, but through doubt. it is written, "thou shalt not tempt the lord thy god." no; but the lord thy god may tempt himself; and it seems as if this was what happened in gethsemane. in a garden satan tempted man: and in a garden god tempted god. he passed in some superhuman manner through our human horror of pessimism. when the world shook and the sun was wiped out of heaven, it was not at the crucifixion, but at the cry from the cross: the cry which confessed that god was forsaken of god. and now let the revolutionists choose a creed from all the creeds and a god from all the gods of the world, carefully weighing all the gods of inevitable recurrence and of unalterable power. they will not find another god who has himself been in revolt. nay, (the matter grows too difficult for human speech,) but let the atheists themselves choose a god. they will find only one divinity who ever uttered their isolation; only one religion in which god seemed for an instant to be an atheist. these can be called the essentials of the old orthodoxy, of which the chief merit is that it is the natural fountain of revolution and reform; and of which the chief defect is that it is obviously only an abstract assertion. its main advantage is that it is the most adventurous and manly of all theologies. its chief disadvantage is simply that it is a theology. it can always be urged against it that it is in its nature arbitrary and in the air. but it is not so high in the air but that great archers spend their whole lives in shooting arrows at it--yes, and their last arrows; there are men who will ruin themselves and ruin their civilization if they may ruin also this old fantastic tale. this is the last and most astounding fact about this faith; that its enemies will use any weapon against it, the swords that cut their own fingers, and the firebrands that burn their own homes. men who begin to fight the church for the sake of freedom and humanity end by flinging away freedom and humanity if only they may fight the church. this is no exaggeration; i could fill a book with the instances of it. mr. blatchford set out, as an ordinary bible-smasher, to prove that adam was guiltless of sin against god; in manoeuvring so as to maintain this he admitted, as a mere side issue, that all the tyrants, from nero to king leopold, were guiltless of any sin against humanity. i know a man who has such a passion for proving that he will have no personal existence after death that he falls back on the position that he has no personal existence now. he invokes buddhism and says that all souls fade into each other; in order to prove that he cannot go to heaven he proves that he cannot go to hartlepool. i have known people who protested against religious education with arguments against any education, saying that the child's mind must grow freely or that the old must not teach the young. i have known people who showed that there could be no divine judgment by showing that there can be no human judgment, even for practical purposes. they burned their own corn to set fire to the church; they smashed their own tools to smash it; any stick was good enough to beat it with, though it were the last stick of their own dismembered furniture. we do not admire, we hardly excuse, the fanatic who wrecks this world for love of the other. but what are we to say of the fanatic who wrecks this world out of hatred of the other? he sacrifices the very existence of humanity to the non-existence of god. he offers his victims not to the altar, but merely to assert the idleness of the altar and the emptiness of the throne. he is ready to ruin even that primary ethic by which all things live, for his strange and eternal vengeance upon some one who never lived at all. and yet the thing hangs in the heavens unhurt. its opponents only succeed in destroying all that they themselves justly hold dear. they do not destroy orthodoxy; they only destroy political and common courage sense. they do not prove that adam was not responsible to god; how could they prove it? they only prove (from their premises) that the czar is not responsible to russia. they do not prove that adam should not have been punished by god; they only prove that the nearest sweater should not be punished by men. with their oriental doubts about personality they do not make certain that we shall have no personal life hereafter; they only make certain that we shall not have a very jolly or complete one here. with their paralysing hints of all conclusions coming out wrong they do not tear the book of the recording angel; they only make it a little harder to keep the books of marshall & snelgrove. not only is the faith the mother of all worldly energies, but its foes are the fathers of all worldly confusion. the secularists have not wrecked divine things; but the secularists have wrecked secular things, if that is any comfort to them. the titans did not scale heaven; but they laid waste the world. ix authority and the adventurer the last chapter has been concerned with the contention that orthodoxy is not only (as is often urged) the only safe guardian of morality or order, but is also the only logical guardian of liberty, innovation and advance. if we wish to pull down the prosperous oppressor we cannot do it with the new doctrine of human perfectibility; we can do it with the old doctrine of original sin. if we want to uproot inherent cruelties or lift up lost populations we cannot do it with the scientific theory that matter precedes mind; we can do it with the supernatural theory that mind precedes matter. if we wish specially to awaken people to social vigilance and tireless pursuit of practise, we cannot help it much by insisting on the immanent god and the inner light: for these are at best reasons for contentment; we can help it much by insisting on the transcendent god and the flying and escaping gleam; for that means divine discontent. if we wish particularly to assert the idea of a generous balance against that of a dreadful autocracy we shall instinctively be trinitarian rather than unitarian. if we desire european civilization to be a raid and a rescue, we shall insist rather that souls are in real peril than that their peril is ultimately unreal. and if we wish to exalt the outcast and the crucified, we shall rather wish to think that a veritable god was crucified, rather than a mere sage or hero. above all, if we wish to protect the poor we shall be in favour of fixed rules and clear dogmas. the rules of a club are occasionally in favour of the poor member. the drift of a club is always in favour of the rich one. and now we come to the crucial question which truly concludes the whole matter. a reasonable agnostic, if he has happened to agree with me so far, may justly turn round and say, "you have found a practical philosophy in the doctrine of the fall; very well. you have found a side of democracy now dangerously neglected wisely asserted in original sin; all right. you have found a truth in the doctrine of hell; i congratulate you. you are convinced that worshippers of a personal god look outwards and are progressive; i congratulate them. but even supposing that those doctrines do include those truths, why cannot you take the truths and leave the doctrines? granted that all modern society is trusting the rich too much because it does not allow for human weakness; granted that orthodox ages have had a great advantage because (believing in the fall) they did allow for human weakness, why cannot you simply allow for human weakness without believing in the fall? if you have discovered that the idea of damnation represents a healthy idea of danger, why can you not simply take the idea of danger and leave the idea of damnation? if you see clearly the kernel of common-sense in the nut of christian orthodoxy, why cannot you simply take the kernel and leave the nut? why cannot you (to use that cant phrase of the newspapers which i, as a highly scholarly agnostic, am a little ashamed of using) why cannot you simply take what is good in christianity, what you can define as valuable, what you can comprehend, and leave all the rest, all the absolute dogmas that are in their nature incomprehensible?" this is the real question; this is the last question; and it is a pleasure to try to answer it. the first answer is simply to say that i am a rationalist. i like to have some intellectual justification for my intuitions. if i am treating man as a fallen being it is an intellectual convenience to me to believe that he fell; and i find, for some odd psychological reason, that i can deal better with a man's exercise of freewill if i believe that he has got it. but i am in this matter yet more definitely a rationalist. i do not propose to turn this book into one of ordinary christian apologetics; i should be glad to meet at any other time the enemies of christianity in that more obvious arena. here i am only giving an account of my own growth in spiritual certainty. but i may pause to remark that the more i saw of the merely abstract arguments against the christian cosmology the less i thought of them. i mean that having found the moral atmosphere of the incarnation to be common sense, i then looked at the established intellectual arguments against the incarnation and found them to be common nonsense. in case the argument should be thought to suffer from the absence of the ordinary apologetic i will here very briefly summarise my own arguments and conclusions on the purely objective or scientific truth of the matter. if i am asked, as a purely intellectual question, why i believe in christianity, i can only answer, "for the same reason that an intelligent agnostic disbelieves in christianity." i believe in it quite rationally upon the evidence. but the evidence in my case, as in that of the intelligent agnostic, is not really in this or that alleged demonstration; it is in an enormous accumulation of small but unanimous facts. the secularist is not to be blamed because his objections to christianity are miscellaneous and even scrappy; it is precisely such scrappy evidence that does convince the mind. i mean that a man may well be less convinced of a philosophy from four books, than from one book, one battle, one landscape, and one old friend. the very fact that the things are of different kinds increases the importance of the fact that they all point to one conclusion. now, the non-christianity of the average educated man to-day is almost always, to do him justice, made up of these loose but living experiences. i can only say that my evidences for christianity are of the same vivid but varied kind as his evidences against it. for when i look at these various anti-christian truths, i simply discover that none of them are true. i discover that the true tide and force of all the facts flows the other way. let us take cases. many a sensible modern man must have abandoned christianity under the pressure of three such converging convictions as these: first, that men, with their shape, structure, and sexuality, are, after all, very much like beasts, a mere variety of the animal kingdom; second, that primeval religion arose in ignorance and fear; third, that priests have blighted societies with bitterness and gloom. those three anti-christian arguments are very different; but they are all quite logical and legitimate; and they all converge. the only objection to them (i discover) is that they are all untrue. if you leave off looking at books about beasts and men, if you begin to look at beasts and men then (if you have any humour or imagination, any sense of the frantic or the farcical) you will observe that the startling thing is not how like man is to the brutes, but how unlike he is. it is the monstrous scale of his divergence that requires an explanation. that man and brute are like is, in a sense, a truism; but that being so like they should then be so insanely unlike, that is the shock and the enigma. that an ape has hands is far less interesting to the philosopher than the fact that having hands he does next to nothing with them; does not play knuckle-bones or the violin; does not carve marble or carve mutton. people talk of barbaric architecture and debased art. but elephants do not build colossal temples of ivory even in a roccoco style; camels do not paint even bad pictures, though equipped with the material of many camel's-hair brushes. certain modern dreamers say that ants and bees have a society superior to ours. they have, indeed, a civilization; but that very truth only reminds us that it is an inferior civilization. who ever found an ant-hill decorated with the statues of celebrated ants? who has seen a bee-hive carved with the images of gorgeous queens of old? no; the chasm between man and other creatures may have a natural explanation, but it is a chasm. we talk of wild animals; but man is the only wild animal. it is man that has broken out. all other animals are tame animals; following the rugged respectability of the tribe or type. all other animals are domestic animals; man alone is ever undomestic, either as a profligate or a monk. so that this first superficial reason for materialism is, if anything, a reason for its opposite; it is exactly where biology leaves off that all religion begins. it would be the same if i examined the second of the three chance rationalist arguments; the argument that all that we call divine began in some darkness and terror. when i did attempt to examine the foundations of this modern idea i simply found that there were none. science knows nothing whatever about pre-historic man; for the excellent reason that he is pre-historic. a few professors choose to conjecture that such things as human sacrifice were once innocent and general and that they gradually dwindled; but there is no direct evidence of it, and the small amount of indirect evidence is very much the other way. in the earliest legends we have, such as the tales of isaac and of iphigenia, human sacrifice is not introduced as something old, but rather as something new; as a strange and frightful exception darkly demanded by the gods. history says nothing; and legends all say that the earth was kinder in its earliest time. there is no tradition of progress; but the whole human race has a tradition of the fall. amusingly enough, indeed, the very dissemination of this idea is used against its authenticity. learned men literally say that this pre-historic calamity cannot be true because every race of mankind remembers it. i cannot keep pace with these paradoxes. and if we took the third chance instance, it would be the same; the view that priests darken and embitter the world. i look at the world and simply discover that they don't. those countries in europe which are still influenced by priests, are exactly the countries where there is still singing and dancing and coloured dresses and art in the open-air. catholic doctrine and discipline may be walls; but they are the walls of a playground. christianity is the only frame which has preserved the pleasure of paganism. we might fancy some children playing on the flat grassy top of some tall island in the sea. so long as there was a wall round the cliff's edge they could fling themselves into every frantic game and make the place the noisiest of nurseries. but the walls were knocked down, leaving the naked peril of the precipice. they did not fall over; but when their friends returned to them they were all huddled in terror in the centre of the island; and their song had ceased. thus these three facts of experience, such facts as go to make an agnostic, are, in this view, turned totally round. i am left saying, "give me an explanation, first, of the towering eccentricity of man among the brutes; second, of the vast human tradition of some ancient happiness; third, of the partial perpetuation of such pagan joy in the countries of the catholic church." one explanation, at any rate, covers all three: the theory that twice was the natural order interrupted by some explosion or revelation such as people now call "psychic." once heaven came upon the earth with a power or seal called the image of god, whereby man took command of nature; and once again (when in empire after empire men had been found wanting) heaven came to save mankind in the awful shape of a man. this would explain why the mass of men always look backwards; and why the only corner where they in any sense look forwards is the little continent where christ has his church. i know it will be said that japan has become progressive. but how can this be an answer when even in saying "japan has become progressive," we really only mean, "japan has become european"? but i wish here not so much to insist on my own explanation as to insist on my original remark. i agree with the ordinary unbelieving man in the street in being guided by three or four odd facts all pointing to something; only when i came to look at the facts i always found they pointed to something else. i have given an imaginary triad of such ordinary anti-christian arguments; if that be too narrow a basis i will give on the spur of the moment another. these are the kind of thoughts which in combination create the impression that christianity is something weak and diseased. first, for instance, that jesus was a gentle creature, sheepish and unworldly, a mere ineffectual appeal to the world; second, that christianity arose and flourished in the dark ages of ignorance, and that to these the church would drag us back; third, that the people still strongly religious or (if you will) superstitious--such people as the irish--are weak, unpractical, and behind the times. i only mention these ideas to affirm the same thing: that when i looked into them independently i found, not that the conclusions were unphilosophical, but simply that the facts were not facts. instead of looking at books and pictures about the new testament i looked at the new testament. there i found an account, not in the least of a person with his hair parted in the middle or his hands clasped in appeal, but of an extraordinary being with lips of thunder and acts of lurid decision, flinging down tables, casting out devils, passing with the wild secrecy of the wind from mountain isolation to a sort of dreadful demagogy; a being who often acted like an angry god-- and always like a god. christ had even a literary style of his own, not to be found, i think, elsewhere; it consists of an almost furious use of the a fortiori. his "how much more" is piled one upon another like castle upon castle in the clouds. the diction used about christ has been, and perhaps wisely, sweet and submissive. but the diction used by christ is quite curiously gigantesque; it is full of camels leaping through needles and mountains hurled into the sea. morally it is equally terrific; he called himself a sword of slaughter, and told men to buy swords if they sold their coats for them. that he used other even wilder words on the side of non-resistance greatly increases the mystery; but it also, if anything, rather increases the violence. we cannot even explain it by calling such a being insane; for insanity is usually along one consistent channel. the maniac is generally a monomaniac. here we must remember the difficult definition of christianity already given; christianity is a superhuman paradox whereby two opposite passions may blaze beside each other. the one explanation of the gospel language that does explain it, is that it is the survey of one who from some supernatural height beholds some more startling synthesis. i take in order the next instance offered: the idea that christianity belongs to the dark ages. here i did not satisfy myself with reading modern generalisations; i read a little history. and in history i found that christianity, so far from belonging to the dark ages, was the one path across the dark ages that was not dark. it was a shining bridge connecting two shining civilizations. if any one says that the faith arose in ignorance and savagery the answer is simple: it didn't. it arose in the mediterranean civilization in the full summer of the roman empire. the world was swarming with sceptics, and pantheism was as plain as the sun, when constantine nailed the cross to the mast. it is perfectly true that afterwards the ship sank; but it is far more extraordinary that the ship came up again: repainted and glittering, with the cross still at the top. this is the amazing thing the religion did: it turned a sunken ship into a submarine. the ark lived under the load of waters; after being buried under the debris of dynasties and clans, we arose and remembered rome. if our faith had been a mere fad of the fading empire, fad would have followed fad in the twilight, and if the civilization ever re-emerged (and many such have never re-emerged) it would have been under some new barbaric flag. but the christian church was the last life of the old society and was also the first life of the new. she took the people who were forgetting how to make an arch and she taught them to invent the gothic arch. in a word, the most absurd thing that could be said of the church is the thing we have all heard said of it. how can we say that the church wishes to bring us back into the dark ages? the church was the only thing that ever brought us out of them. i added in this second trinity of objections an idle instance taken from those who feel such people as the irish to be weakened or made stagnant by superstition. i only added it because this is a peculiar case of a statement of fact that turns out to be a statement of falsehood. it is constantly said of the irish that they are impractical. but if we refrain for a moment from looking at what is said about them and look at what is done about them, we shall see that the irish are not only practical, but quite painfully successful. the poverty of their country, the minority of their members are simply the conditions under which they were asked to work; but no other group in the british empire has done so much with such conditions. the nationalists were the only minority that ever succeeded in twisting the whole british parliament sharply out of its path. the irish peasants are the only poor men in these islands who have forced their masters to disgorge. these people, whom we call priest-ridden, are the only britons who will not be squire-ridden. and when i came to look at the actual irish character, the case was the same. irishmen are best at the specially hard professions--the trades of iron, the lawyer, and the soldier. in all these cases, therefore, i came back to the same conclusion: the sceptic was quite right to go by the facts, only he had not looked at the facts. the sceptic is too credulous; he believes in newspapers or even in encyclopedias. again the three questions left me with three very antagonistic questions. the average sceptic wanted to know how i explained the namby-pamby note in the gospel, the connection of the creed with mediaeval darkness and the political impracticability of the celtic christians. but i wanted to ask, and to ask with an earnestness amounting to urgency, "what is this incomparable energy which appears first in one walking the earth like a living judgment and this energy which can die with a dying civilization and yet force it to a resurrection from the dead; this energy which last of all can inflame a bankrupt peasantry with so fixed a faith in justice that they get what they ask, while others go empty away; so that the most helpless island of the empire can actually help itself?" there is an answer: it is an answer to say that the energy is truly from outside the world; that it is psychic, or at least one of the results of a real psychical disturbance. the highest gratitude and respect are due to the great human civilizations such as the old egyptian or the existing chinese. nevertheless it is no injustice for them to say that only modern europe has exhibited incessantly a power of self-renewal recurring often at the shortest intervals and descending to the smallest facts of building or costume. all other societies die finally and with dignity. we die daily. we are always being born again with almost indecent obstetrics. it is hardly an exaggeration to say that there is in historic christendom a sort of unnatural life: it could be explained as a supernatural life. it could be explained as an awful galvanic life working in what would have been a corpse. for our civilization ought to have died, by all parallels, by all sociological probability, in the ragnorak of the end of rome. that is the weird inspiration of our estate: you and i have no business to be here at all. we are all revenants; all living christians are dead pagans walking about. just as europe was about to be gathered in silence to assyria and babylon, something entered into its body. and europe has had a strange life--it is not too much to say that it has had the jumps-- ever since. i have dealt at length with such typical triads of doubt in order to convey the main contention--that my own case for christianity is rational; but it is not simple. it is an accumulation of varied facts, like the attitude of the ordinary agnostic. but the ordinary agnostic has got his facts all wrong. he is a non-believer for a multitude of reasons; but they are untrue reasons. he doubts because the middle ages were barbaric, but they weren't; because darwinism is demonstrated, but it isn't; because miracles do not happen, but they do; because monks were lazy, but they were very industrious; because nuns are unhappy, but they are particularly cheerful; because christian art was sad and pale, but it was picked out in peculiarly bright colours and gay with gold; because modern science is moving away from the supernatural, but it isn't, it is moving towards the supernatural with the rapidity of a railway train. but among these million facts all flowing one way there is, of course, one question sufficiently solid and separate to be treated briefly, but by itself; i mean the objective occurrence of the supernatural. in another chapter i have indicated the fallacy of the ordinary supposition that the world must be impersonal because it is orderly. a person is just as likely to desire an orderly thing as a disorderly thing. but my own positive conviction that personal creation is more conceivable than material fate, is, i admit, in a sense, undiscussable. i will not call it a faith or an intuition, for those words are mixed up with mere emotion, it is strictly an intellectual conviction; but it is a primary intellectual conviction like the certainty of self of the good of living. any one who likes, therefore, may call my belief in god merely mystical; the phrase is not worth fighting about. but my belief that miracles have happened in human history is not a mystical belief at all; i believe in them upon human evidences as i do in the discovery of america. upon this point there is a simple logical fact that only requires to be stated and cleared up. somehow or other an extraordinary idea has arisen that the disbelievers in miracles consider them coldly and fairly, while believers in miracles accept them only in connection with some dogma. the fact is quite the other way. the believers in miracles accept them (rightly or wrongly) because they have evidence for them. the disbelievers in miracles deny them (rightly or wrongly) because they have a doctrine against them. the open, obvious, democratic thing is to believe an old apple-woman when she bears testimony to a miracle, just as you believe an old apple-woman when she bears testimony to a murder. the plain, popular course is to trust the peasant's word about the ghost exactly as far as you trust the peasant's word about the landlord. being a peasant he will probably have a great deal of healthy agnosticism about both. still you could fill the british museum with evidence uttered by the peasant, and given in favour of the ghost. if it comes to human testimony there is a choking cataract of human testimony in favour of the supernatural. if you reject it, you can only mean one of two things. you reject the peasant's story about the ghost either because the man is a peasant or because the story is a ghost story. that is, you either deny the main principle of democracy, or you affirm the main principle of materialism-- the abstract impossibility of miracle. you have a perfect right to do so; but in that case you are the dogmatist. it is we christians who accept all actual evidence--it is you rationalists who refuse actual evidence being constrained to do so by your creed. but i am not constrained by any creed in the matter, and looking impartially into certain miracles of mediaeval and modern times, i have come to the conclusion that they occurred. all argument against these plain facts is always argument in a circle. if i say, "mediaeval documents attest certain miracles as much as they attest certain battles," they answer, "but mediaevals were superstitious"; if i want to know in what they were superstitious, the only ultimate answer is that they believed in the miracles. if i say "a peasant saw a ghost," i am told, "but peasants are so credulous." if i ask, "why credulous?" the only answer is--that they see ghosts. iceland is impossible because only stupid sailors have seen it; and the sailors are only stupid because they say they have seen iceland. it is only fair to add that there is another argument that the unbeliever may rationally use against miracles, though he himself generally forgets to use it. he may say that there has been in many miraculous stories a notion of spiritual preparation and acceptance: in short, that the miracle could only come to him who believed in it. it may be so, and if it is so how are we to test it? if we are inquiring whether certain results follow faith, it is useless to repeat wearily that (if they happen) they do follow faith. if faith is one of the conditions, those without faith have a most healthy right to laugh. but they have no right to judge. being a believer may be, if you like, as bad as being drunk; still if we were extracting psychological facts from drunkards, it would be absurd to be always taunting them with having been drunk. suppose we were investigating whether angry men really saw a red mist before their eyes. suppose sixty excellent householders swore that when angry they had seen this crimson cloud: surely it would be absurd to answer "oh, but you admit you were angry at the time." they might reasonably rejoin (in a stentorian chorus), "how the blazes could we discover, without being angry, whether angry people see red?" so the saints and ascetics might rationally reply, "suppose that the question is whether believers can see visions--even then, if you are interested in visions it is no point to object to believers." you are still arguing in a circle--in that old mad circle with which this book began. the question of whether miracles ever occur is a question of common sense and of ordinary historical imagination: not of any final physical experiment. one may here surely dismiss that quite brainless piece of pedantry which talks about the need for "scientific conditions" in connection with alleged spiritual phenomena. if we are asking whether a dead soul can communicate with a living it is ludicrous to insist that it shall be under conditions in which no two living souls in their senses would seriously communicate with each other. the fact that ghosts prefer darkness no more disproves the existence of ghosts than the fact that lovers prefer darkness disproves the existence of love. if you choose to say, "i will believe that miss brown called her fiance a periwinkle or, any other endearing term, if she will repeat the word before seventeen psychologists," then i shall reply, "very well, if those are your conditions, you will never get the truth, for she certainly will not say it." it is just as unscientific as it is unphilosophical to be surprised that in an unsympathetic atmosphere certain extraordinary sympathies do not arise. it is as if i said that i could not tell if there was a fog because the air was not clear enough; or as if i insisted on perfect sunlight in order to see a solar eclipse. as a common-sense conclusion, such as those to which we come about sex or about midnight (well knowing that many details must in their own nature be concealed) i conclude that miracles do happen. i am forced to it by a conspiracy of facts: the fact that the men who encounter elves or angels are not the mystics and the morbid dreamers, but fishermen, farmers, and all men at once coarse and cautious; the fact that we all know men who testify to spiritualistic incidents but are not spiritualists, the fact that science itself admits such things more and more every day. science will even admit the ascension if you call it levitation, and will very likely admit the resurrection when it has thought of another word for it. i suggest the regalvanisation. but the strongest of all is the dilemma above mentioned, that these supernatural things are never denied except on the basis either of anti-democracy or of materialist dogmatism--i may say materialist mysticism. the sceptic always takes one of the two positions; either an ordinary man need not be believed, or an extraordinary event must not be believed. for i hope we may dismiss the argument against wonders attempted in the mere recapitulation of frauds, of swindling mediums or trick miracles. that is not an argument at all, good or bad. a false ghost disproves the reality of ghosts exactly as much as a forged banknote disproves the existence of the bank of england-- if anything, it proves its existence. given this conviction that the spiritual phenomena do occur (my evidence for which is complex but rational), we then collide with one of the worst mental evils of the age. the greatest disaster of the nineteenth century was this: that men began to use the word "spiritual" as the same as the word "good." they thought that to grow in refinement and uncorporeality was to grow in virtue. when scientific evolution was announced, some feared that it would encourage mere animality. it did worse: it encouraged mere spirituality. it taught men to think that so long as they were passing from the ape they were going to the angel. but you can pass from the ape and go to the devil. a man of genius, very typical of that time of bewilderment, expressed it perfectly. benjamin disraeli was right when he said he was on the side of the angels. he was indeed; he was on the side of the fallen angels. he was not on the side of any mere appetite or animal brutality; but he was on the side of all the imperialism of the princes of the abyss; he was on the side of arrogance and mystery, and contempt of all obvious good. between this sunken pride and the towering humilities of heaven there are, one must suppose, spirits of shapes and sizes. man, in encountering them, must make much the same mistakes that he makes in encountering any other varied types in any other distant continent. it must be hard at first to know who is supreme and who is subordinate. if a shade arose from the under world, and stared at piccadilly, that shade would not quite understand the idea of an ordinary closed carriage. he would suppose that the coachman on the box was a triumphant conqueror, dragging behind him a kicking and imprisoned captive. so, if we see spiritual facts for the first time, we may mistake who is uppermost. it is not enough to find the gods; they are obvious; we must find god, the real chief of the gods. we must have a long historic experience in supernatural phenomena-- in order to discover which are really natural. in this light i find the history of christianity, and even of its hebrew origins, quite practical and clear. it does not trouble me to be told that the hebrew god was one among many. i know he was, without any research to tell me so. jehovah and baal looked equally important, just as the sun and the moon looked the same size. it is only slowly that we learn that the sun is immeasurably our master, and the small moon only our satellite. believing that there is a world of spirits, i shall walk in it as i do in the world of men, looking for the thing that i like and think good. just as i should seek in a desert for clean water, or toil at the north pole to make a comfortable fire, so i shall search the land of void and vision until i find something fresh like water, and comforting like fire; until i find some place in eternity, where i am literally at home. and there is only one such place to be found. i have now said enough to show (to any one to whom such an explanation is essential) that i have in the ordinary arena of apologetics, a ground of belief. in pure records of experiment (if these be taken democratically without contempt or favour) there is evidence first, that miracles happen, and second that the nobler miracles belong to our tradition. but i will not pretend that this curt discussion is my real reason for accepting christianity instead of taking the moral good of christianity as i should take it out of confucianism. i have another far more solid and central ground for submitting to it as a faith, instead of merely picking up hints from it as a scheme. and that is this: that the christian church in its practical relation to my soul is a living teacher, not a dead one. it not only certainly taught me yesterday, but will almost certainly teach me to-morrow. once i saw suddenly the meaning of the shape of the cross; some day i may see suddenly the meaning of the shape of the mitre. one fine morning i saw why windows were pointed; some fine morning i may see why priests were shaven. plato has told you a truth; but plato is dead. shakespeare has startled you with an image; but shakespeare will not startle you with any more. but imagine what it would be to live with such men still living, to know that plato might break out with an original lecture to-morrow, or that at any moment shakespeare might shatter everything with a single song. the man who lives in contact with what he believes to be a living church is a man always expecting to meet plato and shakespeare to-morrow at breakfast. he is always expecting to see some truth that he has never seen before. there is one only other parallel to this position; and that is the parallel of the life in which we all began. when your father told you, walking about the garden, that bees stung or that roses smelt sweet, you did not talk of taking the best out of his philosophy. when the bees stung you, you did not call it an entertaining coincidence. when the rose smelt sweet you did not say "my father is a rude, barbaric symbol, enshrining (perhaps unconsciously) the deep delicate truths that flowers smell." no: you believed your father, because you had found him to be a living fountain of facts, a thing that really knew more than you; a thing that would tell you truth to-morrow, as well as to-day. and if this was true of your father, it was even truer of your mother; at least it was true of mine, to whom this book is dedicated. now, when society is in a rather futile fuss about the subjection of women, will no one say how much every man owes to the tyranny and privilege of women, to the fact that they alone rule education until education becomes futile: for a boy is only sent to be taught at school when it is too late to teach him anything. the real thing has been done already, and thank god it is nearly always done by women. every man is womanised, merely by being born. they talk of the masculine woman; but every man is a feminised man. and if ever men walk to westminster to protest against this female privilege, i shall not join their procession. for i remember with certainty this fixed psychological fact; that the very time when i was most under a woman's authority, i was most full of flame and adventure. exactly because when my mother said that ants bit they did bite, and because snow did come in winter (as she said); therefore the whole world was to me a fairyland of wonderful fulfilments, and it was like living in some hebraic age, when prophecy after prophecy came true. i went out as a child into the garden, and it was a terrible place to me, precisely because i had a clue to it: if i had held no clue it would not have been terrible, but tame. a mere unmeaning wilderness is not even impressive. but the garden of childhood was fascinating, exactly because everything had a fixed meaning which could be found out in its turn. inch by inch i might discover what was the object of the ugly shape called a rake; or form some shadowy conjecture as to why my parents kept a cat. so, since i have accepted christendom as a mother and not merely as a chance example, i have found europe and the world once more like the little garden where i stared at the symbolic shapes of cat and rake; i look at everything with the old elvish ignorance and expectancy. this or that rite or doctrine may look as ugly and extraordinary as a rake; but i have found by experience that such things end somehow in grass and flowers. a clergyman may be apparently as useless as a cat, but he is also as fascinating, for there must be some strange reason for his existence. i give one instance out of a hundred; i have not myself any instinctive kinship with that enthusiasm for physical virginity, which has certainly been a note of historic christianity. but when i look not at myself but at the world, i perceive that this enthusiasm is not only a note of christianity, but a note of paganism, a note of high human nature in many spheres. the greeks felt virginity when they carved artemis, the romans when they robed the vestals, the worst and wildest of the great elizabethan playwrights clung to the literal purity of a woman as to the central pillar of the world. above all, the modern world (even while mocking sexual innocence) has flung itself into a generous idolatry of sexual innocence-- the great modern worship of children. for any man who loves children will agree that their peculiar beauty is hurt by a hint of physical sex. with all this human experience, allied with the christian authority, i simply conclude that i am wrong, and the church right; or rather that i am defective, while the church is universal. it takes all sorts to make a church; she does not ask me to be celibate. but the fact that i have no appreciation of the celibates, i accept like the fact that i have no ear for music. the best human experience is against me, as it is on the subject of bach. celibacy is one flower in my father's garden, of which i have not been told the sweet or terrible name. but i may be told it any day. this, therefore, is, in conclusion, my reason for accepting the religion and not merely the scattered and secular truths out of the religion. i do it because the thing has not merely told this truth or that truth, but has revealed itself as a truth-telling thing. all other philosophies say the things that plainly seem to be true; only this philosophy has again and again said the thing that does not seem to be true, but is true. alone of all creeds it is convincing where it is not attractive; it turns out to be right, like my father in the garden. theosophists for instance will preach an obviously attractive idea like re-incarnation; but if we wait for its logical results, they are spiritual superciliousness and the cruelty of caste. for if a man is a beggar by his own pre-natal sins, people will tend to despise the beggar. but christianity preaches an obviously unattractive idea, such as original sin; but when we wait for its results, they are pathos and brotherhood, and a thunder of laughter and pity; for only with original sin we can at once pity the beggar and distrust the king. men of science offer us health, an obvious benefit; it is only afterwards that we discover that by health, they mean bodily slavery and spiritual tedium. orthodoxy makes us jump by the sudden brink of hell; it is only afterwards that we realise that jumping was an athletic exercise highly beneficial to our health. it is only afterwards that we realise that this danger is the root of all drama and romance. the strongest argument for the divine grace is simply its ungraciousness. the unpopular parts of christianity turn out when examined to be the very props of the people. the outer ring of christianity is a rigid guard of ethical abnegations and professional priests; but inside that inhuman guard you will find the old human life dancing like children, and drinking wine like men; for christianity is the only frame for pagan freedom. but in the modern philosophy the case is opposite; it is its outer ring that is obviously artistic and emancipated; its despair is within. and its despair is this, that it does not really believe that there is any meaning in the universe; therefore it cannot hope to find any romance; its romances will have no plots. a man cannot expect any adventures in the land of anarchy. but a man can expect any number of adventures if he goes travelling in the land of authority. one can find no meanings in a jungle of scepticism; but the man will find more and more meanings who walks through a forest of doctrine and design. here everything has a story tied to its tail, like the tools or pictures in my father's house; for it is my father's house. i end where i began--at the right end. i have entered at last the gate of all good philosophy. i have come into my second childhood. but this larger and more adventurous christian universe has one final mark difficult to express; yet as a conclusion of the whole matter i will attempt to express it. all the real argument about religion turns on the question of whether a man who was born upside down can tell when he comes right way up. the primary paradox of christianity is that the ordinary condition of man is not his sane or sensible condition; that the normal itself is an abnormality. that is the inmost philosophy of the fall. in sir oliver lodge's interesting new catechism, the first two questions were: "what are you?" and "what, then, is the meaning of the fall of man?" i remember amusing myself by writing my own answers to the questions; but i soon found that they were very broken and agnostic answers. to the question, "what are you?" i could only answer, "god knows." and to the question, "what is meant by the fall?" i could answer with complete sincerity, "that whatever i am, i am not myself." this is the prime paradox of our religion; something that we have never in any full sense known, is not only better than ourselves, but even more natural to us than ourselves. and there is really no test of this except the merely experimental one with which these pages began, the test of the padded cell and the open door. it is only since i have known orthodoxy that i have known mental emancipation. but, in conclusion, it has one special application to the ultimate idea of joy. it is said that paganism is a religion of joy and christianity of sorrow; it would be just as easy to prove that paganism is pure sorrow and christianity pure joy. such conflicts mean nothing and lead nowhere. everything human must have in it both joy and sorrow; the only matter of interest is the manner in which the two things are balanced or divided. and the really interesting thing is this, that the pagan was (in the main) happier and happier as he approached the earth, but sadder and sadder as he approached the heavens. the gaiety of the best paganism, as in the playfulness of catullus or theocritus, is, indeed, an eternal gaiety never to be forgotten by a grateful humanity. but it is all a gaiety about the facts of life, not about its origin. to the pagan the small things are as sweet as the small brooks breaking out of the mountain; but the broad things are as bitter as the sea. when the pagan looks at the very core of the cosmos he is struck cold. behind the gods, who are merely despotic, sit the fates, who are deadly. nay, the fates are worse than deadly; they are dead. and when rationalists say that the ancient world was more enlightened than the christian, from their point of view they are right. for when they say "enlightened" they mean darkened with incurable despair. it is profoundly true that the ancient world was more modern than the christian. the common bond is in the fact that ancients and moderns have both been miserable about existence, about everything, while mediaevals were happy about that at least. i freely grant that the pagans, like the moderns, were only miserable about everything--they were quite jolly about everything else. i concede that the christians of the middle ages were only at peace about everything--they were at war about everything else. but if the question turn on the primary pivot of the cosmos, then there was more cosmic contentment in the narrow and bloody streets of florence than in the theatre of athens or the open garden of epicurus. giotto lived in a gloomier town than euripides, but he lived in a gayer universe. the mass of men have been forced to be gay about the little things, but sad about the big ones. nevertheless (i offer my last dogma defiantly) it is not native to man to be so. man is more himself, man is more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial. melancholy should be an innocent interlude, a tender and fugitive frame of mind; praise should be the permanent pulsation of the soul. pessimism is at best an emotional half-holiday; joy is the uproarious labour by which all things live. yet, according to the apparent estate of man as seen by the pagan or the agnostic, this primary need of human nature can never be fulfilled. joy ought to be expansive; but for the agnostic it must be contracted, it must cling to one corner of the world. grief ought to be a concentration; but for the agnostic its desolation is spread through an unthinkable eternity. this is what i call being born upside down. the sceptic may truly be said to be topsy-turvy; for his feet are dancing upwards in idle ecstasies, while his brain is in the abyss. to the modern man the heavens are actually below the earth. the explanation is simple; he is standing on his head; which is a very weak pedestal to stand on. but when he has found his feet again he knows it. christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small. the vault above us is not deaf because the universe is an idiot; the silence is not the heartless silence of an endless and aimless world. rather the silence around us is a small and pitiful stillness like the prompt stillness in a sick-room. we are perhaps permitted tragedy as a sort of merciful comedy: because the frantic energy of divine things would knock us down like a drunken farce. we can take our own tears more lightly than we could take the tremendous levities of the angels. so we sit perhaps in a starry chamber of silence, while the laughter of the heavens is too loud for us to hear. joy, which was the small publicity of the pagan, is the gigantic secret of the christian. and as i close this chaotic volume i open again the strange small book from which all christianity came; and i am again haunted by a kind of confirmation. the tremendous figure which fills the gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. his pathos was natural, almost casual. the stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. he never concealed his tears; he showed them plainly on his open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of his native city. yet he concealed something. solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. he never restrained his anger. he flung furniture down the front steps of the temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of hell. yet he restrained something. i say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. there was something that he hid from all men when he went up a mountain to pray. there was something that he covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. there was some one thing that was too great for god to show us when he walked upon our earth; and i have sometimes fancied that it was his mirth. some essentials _of_ religion vol. i layman's library of practical religion editorial council: the rt. rev. j. c. roper, ll.d., d.d. bishop of ottawa, (chairman) the rt. rev. e. j. bidwell, d.d., d.c.l. bishop of ontario the rt. rev. j. a. richardson, d.d., d.c.l. bishop of fredericton the rt. rev. a. j. doull, d.d. bishop of kootenay toronto the musson book company limited copyright, canada, by the editorial council foreword these chapters have not been written for hurried reading; they are studies of central and vital truths, for those who wish to think them out again under the guidance of the church. john charles, ottawa. note:--in placing these books before church people through the churches no financial gain is contemplated for anyone concerned. those who are initiating the library, and all the writers, are content if the church they serve is benefited thereby. contents i. god, our father. by the rt. rev. j. c. roper, ll.d., d.d., bishop of ottawa ii. fundamental thoughts about jesus christ. by the rt. rev. e. j. bidwell, d.d., d.c.l., bishop of ontario iii. the bible. by the ven. archdeacon paterson-smyth, d.d., d.litt., montreal iv. what is faith. by rev. h. m. little, l.s.t., montreal v. prayer. by the very rev. d. t. owen, dean of niagara vi. holy communion. by the rt. rev. a. j. doull, d.d., bishop of kootenay vii. immortality. by rev. canon cody, d.d., ll.d., toronto god our father by the rt. rev. j. c. roper, ll.d., d.d. bishop of ottawa. vital importance of the topic the first word of the layman's library may properly be a message from laymen. these are the terms of it. "the hope of a brotherhood of a humanity reposes on the deeper spiritual truth of the fatherhood of god. in the recognition of the fact of that fatherhood and of the divine purpose of the world, which are central to the message of christianity, we shall discover the ultimate foundation for the reconstruction of an ordered and harmonious life for all men." these words have a theological ring about them. they are however the words not of theologians, but of representative and responsible statesmen in conference on urgent questions of public welfare. the message was issued by the premiers of great britain and of all british dominions to all citizens of the british empire. it forms a remarkable confession of faith in the spiritual basis of human life. the peace of the world depends on goodwill among men, and goodwill among men rests on spiritual forces, and of these forces the source of all and the greatest of all is the fact of god our father and of his gracious purpose for the world. where can we learn of god? all who wish to know god truly must put themselves to school under christ the master. a wonderful school it is. little children are at home in it and the greatest minds among men find in it always something new to learn. the wonder of the school and the power of it lie not only in the personality of the teacher but in the fact also that he himself is what he teaches. what jesus christ was god is. the revelation of god we possess in christ is a revelation that is personal and complete. "this is life eternal to know thee the only true god and jesus christ whom thou hast sent." this does not mean that the knowledge of god--or even of god as father--is the exclusive possession of christians. a long line of hebrew prophets, called and inspired by the spirit of god, revealed god's name and will and attributes in different ways and in different portions to generation after generation of his chosen people. it was the special privilege of israel to receive the oracles of god. christ jesus, whose coming the prophets foretold, took over the revelation of god that each had given, corrected it where it had been misapprehended, endorsed it, set it in order, and completed it. in the fulness of the knowledge of god that had been given them israel stood unique among the nations. nevertheless other races had some knowledge of him also. god has not anywhere or at any time left himself without witnesses. in our classical studies we heard of jupiter or zeus "father of men and of gods". greeks of old in their philosophic search for unity, hindoos in their longing for absorption into the divine, chinese in the moral precepts of confucius, mohammedans in the constant call to prayer which they obey, all bring before us religions that are sincere in their adhesion to one or other of the great truths about god which they have discovered. i stood one night on the deck of a ship on the ocean. the moon was at the full and was shining in a cloudless sky. the light penetrated everywhere. no part of the wide expanse of water was beyond its reach, and yet straight before me was a broad pathway of light reaching as far as i could see. so bright was this pathway, that compared with it on this side and on that all else seemed to be in darkness. some rays of the knowledge of god are recognized in all the great world religions. along the line of the prophets of israel the light of god's self-revelation shone with special brightness, sometimes waxing it is true and sometimes waning, until the day dawned and christ the sun of righteousness arose. this is what st. paul means when he tells the christians at corinth that god who commanded the light to shine out of darkness has shined in their hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of god in the face of jesus christ. what do we know of god? but what is the knowledge of god that has been revealed? we find it in the old testament gradually unfolded, in the new testament perfected. what truths does it contain? we must approach this question with humility and reverence. he of whom we are thinking is the living god. we are in his presence while we think and speak of him. the whole splendour of god's being is beyond us. he is the creator and lord of all. nevertheless, if we are guided by the revelation he has given us in holy scripture, we can wholly trust our thoughts of him as far as they carry us, just because they are not our own but have been given us by him. god is personal "the lord god is the true god, the living god and an everlasting king." he is also our father. god then is personal. he is one on whom we can lean, to whom we can pray, whose works we can study in the universe he has made and in the history of men and of nations which he controls. this is the first truth of god our father that comes home to us when we learn the lord's prayer. it is also the last and most profound that we shall rejoice in when we meet him face to face, and know him as we are known. it is a truth of vital and practical importance, affecting our whole outlook on life. because god is personal with mind and heart and will we believe that this great world has a plan on which it is being fashioned and a purpose towards which it is tending. within this plan and purpose we too have a place, and no mean place. we too are persons with minds and hearts and wills. we are not then mere straws on the stream of destiny, or victims of blind fate. we are children of our father who is working in and through all mightily in wisdom and in love. this is not a theory only; it is true to the experience of religious men. in it is found the secret of confidence, strength and joy. it is the infinite and varied record of this experience which the psalms contain that gives to them their special value for our use today. "thy hands have made me and fashioned me, o give me understanding that i may live. be thou my stronghold whereunto i may always resort, for thou art my house of defence and my castle. the lord is my shepherd therefore can i lack nothing. the lord is my light and my salvation. the lord is the strength of my life. who so dwelleth under the defence of the most high shall abide under the shadow of the almighty." in a faith like this we can face our duty manfully. in life's responsibilities and perplexities we can trust our father. it is a truth of permanent value. personality in god and in man are closely related one to another. that men are persons and must be so regarded is a matter of intense practical concern to us all and to the social life of this and every age. we cannot ignore personality in man. to do so is to awaken resentment, unrest and strife. the statesmen already quoted are clearly right. peace and progress in the world depend on the recognition of this truth growing more and more adequate until we realize fully the brotherhood of men which is implied in god's fatherhood. we cannot ignore personality in god, or pass it by as a truth that belongs to childhood only. it is a vigorous intelligent faith which commands the allegiance of men. ultimately the dignity of our own manhood will be found to depend upon it. to lose sight of it is to lose our way in religious life and thinking. to hold it fast is not an attempt to make god in our image, but to acknowledge that we are made in his. god is holy in the old testament god is the holy one in israel. in the new testament also we remember christ's own words in prayer, "holy father keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one as we are one". god's holiness is closely connected with his glory; we must associate with it all passages in holy scripture which attribute to him majesty and radiance, beauty and light. the religious value of this truth is very great. in the vision of the holiness of god men have found their chief impulse to worship him, and have felt the claim on their own lives exercised by the moral splendour of god's own character. "the righteous lord loveth righteousness." further, in proportion as they have realised god's holiness and moral claim, men have felt the need in his presence of acknowledging their own infirmity and sin. this was the experience of isaiah and of st. john. it has been the experience of an innumerable company since. we all have our share in it in the services of the church. it finds expression in one of the greatest of our hymns, "holy, holy, holy, though the darkness hide thee, though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see, only thou art holy, there is none beside thee, perfect in power, in love and purity." this is undoubtedly the first great impression that the holiness of god should make upon us. there is, however, another truth within it which must not be forgotten. there are in both the bible languages hebrew and greek two words which in english are represented by the one word "holy". one of them stands for moral righteousness, the other has the meaning of set apart or consecrated. this latter word when used of god means that god is set apart from the world he has made. not in the sense that he is separated from it, for he is very near; but in the sense that he is not himself a part of it or identified with it or confused with it. this truth was needed in old testament times to save god's chosen people from falling back into dark immoral forms of nature worship which possessed the kindred people from whom they had been called out. it is needed no less to-day to save us from falling back into non-christian ways of thinking. god is distinct from his world; he is never separated from it. is this difficult? an illustration may help if it is not pressed too far. an eagle is perched on the topmost bough of a tall dead tree. a motor boat hurries by at some distance across the water. the great bird takes flight. it is in the air. it breathes the air and is upheld by it. the air is in the bird, in every quill, i believe, of every feather. yet the bird is not the air, and the air is not the bird. they are distinct; separated they cannot be. without the air the bird could not exist. "in god we live and move and have our being." we cannot for a moment imagine him away. without him we could not exist. yet man is not god. we are close akin, he is very near. but god is not man, nor man a part of god. we hear sometimes that god is all and all is god. christian truth cannot be expressed in this way. our faith in the holiness of god declares that he is within the world but distinct from it, above it, around it, controlling it, making it the servant of his will, that he is the source of all, the upholder of all, the master of all. god is almighty god our father, maker of heaven and earth, is almighty. "the lord god omnipotent reigneth." here also are two words and two thoughts, not one alone. god is almighty in the sense that his power is supreme and irresistible. this is wholly true but it is not the thought that stands in the forefront either in holy scripture or in the creed. it is there in the background, where sheer force must be and ought to be. the prominent thought, however, when we profess our faith in god the father almighty is the thought of his wise, holy sovereignty. he is the ruler of all, the master of all, of himself and of all persons and things. not by might but by persuasion he is content to exercise his dominion over men. so god governs the world and in his government we find the model for the true government of men. force has its use only where freedom has failed. it is not god's power but his patience that excites our wonder and at times our perplexity. we are puzzled because he does not intervene more directly with his outstretched arm, but waits on man's agency and allows such latitude to man's self-will and blindness and cruelty. it is the price of our freedom. this we know and more we do not know as yet. but we can trust our father for what jesus christ was god is. we know therefore in the story of the cross and of the resurrection that while sorrow and suffering and disaster are not removed from human life, god does not stand apart from them and unconcerned. all who pass along the way of sorrows and into the valley of death may find in christ, that is in god himself, the sympathy of one who has passed that way before, and the strength of one who has conquered death and all its powers. god is everywhere present and knows all things. the attributes of god pass inevitably and naturally one into another. it cannot be otherwise because they are all ways in which the living eternal being reveals himself. in thinking of his holiness and of his power we are led to think of his presence and in thinking of his presence we are led to think of his knowledge. "the eyes of the lord are in every place beholding the evil and the good." it will not be possible to speak here in any fulness of the knowledge of god. two facts, however, should always be kept in mind. nothing can be hid from him whose eyes are in every place. nothing is obscure to him who is everywhere. yet it is not god's knowledge of them that causes men to be what they are or to act as they do. there is a big problem here. in theory it is too big for solution, but in practice the problem is not so great. god's knowledge does not compel us more than does his will. within the limits that we are well aware of, that come to us from inheritance and from environment, we are free and because we are free we are responsible. a second consideration is this. the holy one who is ever present, who makes his moral claim upon us and expects the best of us, is no other than our father. he knows us through and through. yet as a father he has compassion on his children. he knoweth whereof we are made; he remembereth that we are but dust. the presence of god may best be studied in close connection with his personality. it is as a person that he is present. the th psalm will help us best to realize how universal his presence is. we can then follow out the teaching given there and elsewhere in holy scripture, in the witness of the church, and in the experience of men. he who is everywhere present, just because he is our father, can be present with us by his own appointment in special ways and places and for special purposes. he is present in nature in its vastness and in its minuteness, and in both we can read his thoughts after him. he is present in the affairs of men and of nations in all ages. he speaks to men in the voice of conscience and we hear him in its strange authority to command and to forbid. in christ he is present revealing himself in human experiences and in human deeds and words and service. where two or three are gathered together in christ's name he is in their midst. in the sacraments he is present to give his sacred gifts. god is our father. we have considered now some of the great truths of god which have been revealed to us, but the fatherhood of god in itself, what is it that we know of this? in the teaching of christ our master,--the fatherhood of god is the central truth of all. it gathers into itself all other attributes and gives to all a special quality. it is our special christian heritage. the heart that believes god to be "our father" has room for the conviction that "god is love". we shall perhaps gain fullest insight into the greatness of this truth if we concentrate our thoughts on certain facts which stand out with special clearness in holy scripture. first of all it is his presentation of the fatherhood of god which gives to our saviour's teaching its wonderful tenderness and power. not power alone, nor tenderness alone, but both. he tells us that our heavenly father knows our every need; that he who feeds the birds of the air and clothes the lilies of the field will not be unmindful of the children of men; that our father's heart is full of that eager, forgiving, redeeming love which wins our heart in the parable of the prodigal son. on the other hand, he would have us ever mindful that our father, when we approach in faith and penitence, is one whose name is to be hallowed, who is the lord of heaven and earth to whom all things are possible, who governs all things and knows all things, even the inmost thoughts of men. again, the fatherhood of god is unchanging and universal. it must be so for he is the eternal father, and "he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the unjust." nevertheless, man's power to respond to god's fatherhood is not everywhere the same. we shall understand this best if we study the bible teaching on sonship and brotherhood in the light of the revelation which god has given of his fatherhood. there are in the bible different kinds of sonship, or sonships on different levels. the fact that we are created and created in the image of our maker constitutes sonship. he is our father who gives us life. "have we not all one father, hath not god created us?" there is, therefore, a sonship which is natural and universal, but it is not in itself complete. its value consists in the fact that it is the ground of a higher relationship. it is the capacity for sonship, which, however hidden or dormant, we believe to be in every man. nevertheless so long as men are ignorant of god and indifferent to him, they are not in any full sense his sons. we find, therefore, in the bible another kind of sonship. god is our father because he gives us more abundant life, a life of redemption from ignorance and sin. this is illustrated in the old testament by the choice of israel and the great covenant promises involved in it, "i will be their god and they shall be my people," "i will be his father and he shall be my son." in the new testament we find the same principle in the choice by christ of his apostles and disciples for special privilege of knowledge and grace. this choice is perpetuated by christ in his church. our christian sonship is a special sonship. it is ours by baptism wherein we are made members of christ, children of god, and heirs of the kingdom of heaven. two practical considerations follow. first, if there are different levels of sonship there are different degrees of brotherhood. the message of the premiers is right. the hope of a brotherhood of humanity _does_ repose on the deeper spiritual truth of the fatherhood of god. this brotherhood, however, is not a relationship which comes to us simply by nature; it is a relationship which in social, individual, national and international life must be morally won. again, those who have christian knowledge and grace have not received this privilege for themselves alone. they are god's sons who have special gifts in trust on behalf of all mankind who have them not. the call to missionary work is based on this responsibility, and will remain so until "the earth is filled with the knowledge of god as the waters cover the sea." finally, there is the unique sonship of christ himself. his sonship is perfect and complete. it is also the channel through which our sonship, whether of creation or redemption, comes to us. "all things are delivered unto me of my father, and no man knoweth the son but the father, neither knoweth any man the father, save the son and he to whomsoever the son will reveal him." it is this eternal sonship which constitutes the special significance to our confession of faith in god the father in the apostles' creed. christ is one who comes to us from the eternal life of god. that life which though inseparable from man and from the world is yet forever holy and distinct. the christian doctrine of the holy trinity helps us here. it arose out of simple loyalty to new testament teaching. from the first it has been a living practical faith. christians learnt to recite their belief in god the father, god the son and god the holy ghost; they were baptised in the threefold name and sang the doxology before they thought out the doctrine of the trinity in unity and before they were called upon to defend it. we find in this great truth the most profound realization of personality in god. we see in it a vision of eternal fellowship in life and in love, towards which we strive on earth. in the light of it we begin to understand that man, not only as an individual, but also as a social being, is made in the image of god. ii. fundamental thoughts about christ by the rt. rev. e. j. bidwell, d.d., d.c.l., bishop of ontario. twelve fundamental thoughts about christ briefly summarized. (i) christ's religion is a "revealed" religion. (ii) jesus christ the son of god eternally existing in the godhead became man for our salvation. this is called the incarnation. (iii) he was born of a virgin. (iv) the gospels ascribe to christ not divinity only, but deity. (v) he is also true man, and sinless. (vi) when he spoke god spoke. (vii) he is the saviour of the world. (viii) he rose from the dead. (ix) he founded a church. (x) he is the mediator between man and god. (xi) he is with his church and her members to the end of the world. (xii) he is the light of the world and the lord of life. christianity a revealed religion christianity, of which jesus christ is the founder and divine head, is essentially a "revealed" religion. it is not, that is to say, the result and culmination of the progress of evolution in man's beliefs about god. nor was it the outcome of an impact made upon judaism by hellenistic thought. it is, and has always from the first claimed to be, a direct revelation by god of himself to man through jesus christ. to say this does not mean however that the world was not in any way prepared for the coming of christ. on the contrary, the traces of that preparation are clear throughout the old testament, from beginning to end. if the old testament is read in the light of a progressive revelation of god's nature and being, and his relations with mankind, its difficulties disappear, and it is seen to point clearly to the full revelation of god in jesus christ. but the method is that of god pointing out the way to man, not of man's discovery of it for himself. when almost the whole of the then known world had been brought under the sway of the great roman empire, the time was ripe for a world religion. so "when the fulness of time was come, god sent forth his son" to bring the message of salvation to the whole of mankind. the pre-existence and incarnation of christ. the christian creeds make it clear that the coming of christ was the fulfilment of god's plan when they state, as does the nicene creed, that our belief is in "one lord jesus christ, the only-begotten son of god, begotten of his father before all worlds, ... who for us men and for our salvation came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the holy ghost of the virgin mary, and was made man". the church plainly teaches the belief in the pre-existence of the divine person from the beginning, as alone meeting all the facts, and has steadily rejected every other belief, in spite of all difficulties. that jesus was man was perfectly clear: his godhead was much more open to attack. so the belief that in jesus christ god became man is put in the very forefront of our confession of faith. the virgin birth. the belief that jesus christ was born of a pure virgin is entirely in keeping with the belief in his pre-existence as god. there is no space to set forth here the weighty reasons for the importance of this belief. it is sufficient to say that it is inseparably interwoven with the whole christian conception of his incarnation, namely, that in jesus christ we have perfect god and perfect man. the virgin-birth keeps the balance even between his deity and his humanity. this article of the creed, which is based on the direct statement of two of the four gospels, is therefore most helpful in enabling us to understand that in jesus christ we behold divine and human nature joined in perfect unison, he being "god of the substance (essential nature) of the father, begotten before the worlds, and man of the substance (essential nature) of his mother, born in the world". gospel proofs of the godhead of christ. the credal statement that "our lord jesus christ, the son of god, is both god and man; yet he is not two but one christ" is not an arbitrary dogma, but is based upon the facts as set forth in the gospels. there are our lord's own direct statements as reported in st. john's gospel; ("i and my father are one". st john x. . "he that hath seen me hath seen the father" st. john xiv. .) there is also his reply to the question of the high priest at his trial, reported by st. matthew (xxvi. , .), st. mark (xiv. , .), st. luke (xxii. .), in which our lord distinctly claimed divine sonship, and that in the sense stated in the creeds, as is shown by the fact that he was at once adjudged to be guilty of death for blasphemy, which would not have been the case had not his claim amounted in the mind of his judges to that of equality with god. passing for the moment peter's confession of faith at caesarea philippi (st. matt. xvi. ) there are certain inevitable inferences establishing the belief that in christ god became man which are drawn from his life and teaching while on earth. some of the most salient of these are;-- . he invariably speaks to men about god not as one whose thoughts are the outcome of even the deepest and most perfect spiritual insight a man could possess, but as one who had absolute knowledge. we feel instinctively that it is god who is speaking to us about god. . next, he makes a claim upon men that no man, however perfect, ought to, or would dare, to make; a claim which men would strongly resent another man making on them. for he claims men body, soul, and spirit, and not only for time, but for eternity, and tells them that the acceptance or rejection of that claim will make all the difference to their eternal destiny (e.g. st. matt. x. ). and he could only make this claim as one who speaks as god. . his teaching is delivered with an absolute authority that no man could possibly arrogate to himself. what he says is final; "i say unto you". nor does he offer salvation through acceptance of a system or philosophy of life, but through himself; "come unto me"; "follow me"; "i am the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the father, but by me"; and many similar statements abundantly illustrate this fact. christ's manhood. his sinlessness. we need no proof of the manhood of christ, as we can read about it for ourselves in the gospels. we can see from the records therein contained that christ was man like as we are. but there was one most important difference between us and him. he is the only man who was ever free from the taint of sin. he alone could fearlessly ask the question:--"which of you convicteth me of sin"? but the fact that he was sinless does not imply that he was never tempted. had he been entirely free from temptation, his manhood would have been so utterly different from ours that it would mean little or nothing to us. but he was not so free. this we have on his own authority, as the account of his temptation in the wilderness can only have come from himself. and there can be no doubt that he was tempted not only on that occasion but constantly throughout his earthly life. as the writer of the epistle to the hebrews says, "he was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin." but the sinlessness of christ does not if rightly understood repel us, or prove any barrier between us and him. it is not an abstract belief about him, but is exhibited in his life as a man, thereby showing of what manhood is capable if the human will be brought into perfect harmony with the divine will. we know ourselves that the closer we bring our will into agreement with the divine will, the less liable we are to fall before temptation, and we also know that the nearer we draw to christ, the easier it becomes to will for ourselves what god wills for us. the sinlessness of the son, whose will was always in perfect agreement with that of his father, has always been the inspiration of the saint, and at the same time the great attraction of his personality to the sinner. the mission and the teaching of christ. jesus did not begin his public mission till he was about thirty years of age. it opened with his baptism by john the baptist, when by the descent of the spirit of god upon him and the voice from heaven he was marked out as the "beloved son", or as the fourth gospel represents john the baptist saying, "the son of god". then followed a retirement of forty days into the wilderness, at the close of which he faced and overcame the severe temptations, which were all intended to debase and destroy the ideal embodied in his mission as the saviour not of his nation only but of the whole world, and the founder of a spiritual kingdom in the hearts of men. he soon gathered together disciples, of whom he selected twelve, whom he named apostles, to be his constant and intimate companions. they did not fully realise either the mystery of his person, or the object of his mission, till after he rose from the dead. the conviction that a flash of spiritual insight brought to peter at caesarea philippi (st. matt. xvi. ) was not sufficiently strong to prevent him from publicly denying his master at his trial. it is difficult to summarise our lord's teaching, for it cannot be reduced to any system. his ministry was one of reconciliation of man to god. as he said, he came to "seek and to save that which was lost". his gospel is the "gospel of the kingdom of god", or "the kingdom of heaven". this kingdom was not relegated to the dim and distant future but was to be inaugurated here and now. in all those who should become members, a change of heart, a turning towards god instead of away from him, and a complete readjustment of values were required.[ ] he was himself as it were the door to this kingdom, which could only be entered through him. he asked men to make him the centre of life, instead of self. 'if any man will come after me, let him _deny himself_.' it should always be remembered, in studying the teaching of christ, that it is based upon the fact that men have a spiritual as well as an intellectual and physical life; in other words, that they have a soul as well as a mind and body, and of these the life of the soul is the most important. he does not set forth an elaborate system of conduct, but rather enunciates certain great general principles on which the christian life is to be based. these principles are to be applied to every human relationship. the teaching of christ does not deal with particular circumstances, which vary from age to age, and differ in different countries in different races of men, but with human nature which is the same everywhere in its fundamental characteristics. consequently his teaching is never out of date, but each generation can obtain the light it needs therefrom. it is not any flaw in the teaching of christ, but the very imperfect application of it by men to the circumstances of life, which has from time to time caused the charge of failure to be brought against christianity. christ our saviour--the atonement. the purpose of the incarnation was not only to reveal to men through the person and teaching of jesus christ the true nature and being of god. it was also to effect the reconciliation of men to god. to accomplish this purpose the great obstructing barrier of sin had to be broken down. the means chosen, in the infinite wisdom of god, was the death of jesus christ upon the cross. by this supreme act of self-sacrifice he opened to men the way of reconciliation to god, and became their saviour from the dreadful power of sin, which by themselves they could not and cannot overcome. it should also be remembered that in speaking of this sublime subject we are dealing with a mystery, which it is beyond human power fully to explain, and that for that reason no really adequate theory of the atonement can be set forth. but of the fact there is no doubt. the experience of countless men and women has proven conclusively the saving power of the cross. when they have accepted that sacrifice made for the sins of men, and have taken christ into their lives, the predominant feeling is that their sins have been forgiven. and the fact that it is through christ's sacrifice, and not by anything they themselves have done or could do, that they have won pardon, so far from lowering their moral sense as might be expected, in that they are simply benefiting by the action of another, invariably on the contrary makes a profound impression on both life and character, enabling them through the resulting loyalty and devotion to christ to reach a standard of life and conduct much beyond that which had previously satisfied them. the resurrection of christ that christ rose from the dead on the third day has been from the very beginning the unquestioned belief of the christian church. it is the main theme of the first christian sermon ever produced, that by peter on the day of pentecost. the gospel records are perfectly plain as to the nature of christ's resurrection. he rose from the grave in his complete personality, spiritual and bodily, though his risen body was free from certain limitations of pre-resurrection life. it was the same body as his disciples had known before his death. of this he bade them assure themselves by actual contact. that he rose from the dead in his human as well as in his divine nature is the guarantee that we men can share in his resurrection. "even so in christ shall all be made alive". as to the exact nature of our own resurrection body, naturally it is not possible to speak with exact certainty. yet it is certain that the christian doctrine of the resurrection of the dead means much more than the survival of the spirit. it teaches plainly and clearly a bodily resurrection. in the inspired statement of st. paul, found in the familiar lesson of our burial service, ( cor. xv. -end), we have four great facts set forth regarding the body which is laid in the grave, and what it will become at the resurrection: first: it is sown in corruption; it is raised in incorruption. secondly: it is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. thirdly: it is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. fourthly: it is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. from this it is clear that our resurrection body will be such, as under the different conditions prevailing in the future life, will have every element of personality which we possess now, but in a glorified and spiritual form. "i" shall be "i" in the resurrection body, and recognisable as such to those who know and love me now. beyond this we need not go. for it is god who will raise us from the dead, and to him nothing is impossible. christ and his church. though the actual word "church" is only found twice in the gospels, on both occasions in st. matthew (xvi. and xviii. )--that christ meant his followers to form a visible body with proper equipment for the task of evangelising the world after he had left it in the flesh is shown clearly by the following facts. in the first place he selected twelve men, whom he kept together, trained together by close and constant association with himself, and to whom he gave the distinct commission not merely to preach the gospel but to admit men into the fellowship by the sacrament of baptism. he also instituted the sacrament of the holy communion which, though it had other purposes, was certainly intended to be, and was in fact, from the first, a bond of visible corporate union of all christians. also the early records of christianity, as found in the acts of the apostles and the epistles, point conclusively to the conviction that in the foundation of the "churches" in different places, and in the beginnings of very definite organization that are there seen, general instructions given by our lord were being followed by the apostles. it has been argued that, as the first christians were convinced that our lord's return would be quite soon, they would not have concerned themselves with the foundation of a society intended to last for an indefinite future. it is quite true that they did believe that the second advent of christ would not be long deferred. this belief arose partly from a mistaken interpretation of certain sayings of our lord, in which they confused his prediction of the fall of jerusalem with the end of the present age, and partly from a very natural idea that his manifestation in glory could not be separated by any length of time from his resurrection and ascension into heaven. the fact remains, however, that the foundations of the christian church were planned with the care and forethought that an age-long existence called for, with the result that, when the expectation of an almost immediate return was seen to be unfounded, the disappointment did not in the slightest degree weaken the faith or check the growth of the church. the certainty that christ would return remained, as it still remains, one of the component parts of the christian's belief about christ. when the time comes, he will most certainly return "to be our judge", but as he himself said "of that day and hour knoweth no one ... neither the son, but the father only". it is not for us to speculate therefore about the exact date of christ's return, but to endeavour to live in such a state of preparation that we should be ready to meet him at whatever time his second advent may occur. "blessed are those servants whom their lord, when he cometh, shall find watching." christ is the head of his church, which is therefore a divine institution, though it works in the world by human instruments. into this body we are admitted at baptism, and by virtue of christ's headship become by our admission "members of christ, children of god, and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven". christ as mediator as christ is god and also shares our humanity, and in virtue of his great act of reconciliation shown on the cross, we rightly approach god the father through him. that is why we end our prayers with the words--"through jesus christ our lord", and plead the sacrifice of the cross before the throne of god in the blessed sacrament. st. paul (romans viii. .) speaks of christ as making intercession for us at the right hand of god. his church and her members christ told his disciples that he would be with them always, even to the end of the age. this promise he, as head of his church, fulfills, both to that body at large, and to the individual members thereof by the presence and power of the holy spirit through which he works both in the heart of the individual and in the whole body, to which he has given the charge of the means of grace. we also rightly believe that he is specially present in the sacrament of his body and blood, which he himself instituted and ordained for his followers. christ the light of the world and the lord of life in closing this brief and therefore necessarily very imperfect summary of a vast subject, our final thought may well be that in union with christ lies our supreme hope both in this world and in the world to come. for he is the "true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world"; the only guide who will never lead us astray. and the closer we draw to him in prayer and sacrament, worship and service, the more abundantly shall we recognize the truth of his own inspiring word; "he that believeth on the son hath ever-lasting life", for christ is the lord of all life, now and for ever. [ ] note.--in infant baptism this requisition is made of the sureties, or god-parents; "which promise, they (i.e. the infants) when they come to age themselves are bound to perform." (catechism). iii. the bible by the ven. archdeacon paterson-smyth, d.d., litt.d., d.c.l. this is a vast subject. what is one to do with it in an essay limited to twenty pages? keeping in mind the purpose of the editors i have decided to confine myself to one main thought: reassurance as to the unshakeable position of the bible amid present-day doubts and disquiet. with all his reverence for the bible there sometimes come to a thoughtful layman perplexities and tacit questionings. this is partly because we are thinking a little more than our grandfathers did, but still more because god has given in our day fuller knowledge of the truths of history and science, and also of the making of the bible itself through the keen investigations of what is called higher criticism. there is no space to discuss such questions here. but if it be not presumptions after many years of study of these questions i should like to assure the reader that not only is there no peril to the bible in any of this new knowledge, but that when he has got over any disquiet caused by some shifting of his point of view it should make the bible for him a more living, appealing presentation of god. at present i can only help him to examine his foundations. i.--foundations .--if the fear should ever come upon you, my reader, of the possibility of the scriptures being discredited by present-day controversies after having been accepted as god-given for three thousand years, first pause for a moment, and let the full weight of these thoughts press upon you of all that is implied in the fact ( ) that any set of old documents, always open to scrutiny and question, should for thousands of years have been accepted as of divine origin; ( ) that they should have been yielded to by men as an authority to guide their conduct by commands often disagreeable to themselves; ( ) that this acceptance and obedience has been chiefly amongst the most thoughtful and highly-cultured nations of the world; ( ) that it has gone on age after age, steadily increasing, and never in any age has made more progress than in this cultured, enlightened, all-questioning century in which we live. .--what has given these scriptures such authority? remember they were only separate documents, often with hundreds of years intervening between them, written by different writers of different characters to different people, and under different circumstances. remember that in many cases we do not know their origin, or how they assumed their present form. and yet somehow we never can reach back in their history to a time when they were not treasured and reverenced among men as in some way at least above human productions. there they stand, a long chain of records with one end reaching away into the far back past, and the other gathering around the feet of christ. and remember especially this, that they were selected out by no miracle, that they rest on no formal decision or sentence of church or council, or pope or saint, nay, not even of the blessed lord himself; for long before he came, for centuries and centuries there they stood, testifying of him, cherished and reverenced as a message that had come from above "at sundry times and in divers manners". all study of their history shows that their acceptance rested on no decision of any external authority. they were accepted as of divine origin for many generations before they were gathered into any fixed collection. "the church", said luther, "cannot give more force or authority to a book than it has in itself. a council cannot make that to be scripture which in its own nature is not scripture". it is true that the great synagogue, or their official descendants, collected the old testament canon of scripture. yes, but when? somewhere about the time of our lord, when the books had been for ages recognised as of god. it is true that the christian church collected the new testament writings into a bible, and arrived at a decision concerning certain books the authority of which had been in debate. yes, but when? after they had been for years accepted as the god-given guide of the church. _evidently it was not their being collected into a bible that made them of authority, but rather the fact of their possessing authority made them be collected into a bible_. .--again, i repeat the question, what gave them that authority? and there seems no possible answer but this, that they possessed it of themselves. they commanded the position they held by their own power. men's moral sense and reason combined to establish them. they appealed by their own instrinsic worth to the god-given moral faculty, and the response to that appeal through all the ages since is in reality the main foundation of the bible's position. look at the old testament. if we at the present day are asked why we receive it as inspired, we usually reply that we receive it on the authority of our lord and his apostles. they accepted it as the word of god, and handed it on to us with their official approval of it. well, but why was it accepted before their day without any such formal sanction? how did men come to believe and obey as divinely inspired the words of moses, isaiah, jeremiah, hosea, and the rest? except in the case of moses, there were no miracles or portents; no external voice from heaven to command men's allegiance. they were not established on their divine supremacy by any single authority. why then were their utterances accepted? it seems evident there can be but one answer. they asserted that supremacy by their own intrinsic power. men were compelled to acknowledge that their declaration that "the word of the lord had come to them" was true. there was that in the messages of the prophets and in the evidence by which they were accompanied, which compelled this belief. the books of the new testament became recognised among christians just as the books of the old testament had been recognised among the jews, by virtue of their own inherent evidence. certain witnesses came forward and recorded in writing the teaching of our lord, or announced certain messages for which they had his authority, or the guidance of his spirit in communicating them to their fellows. men had to decide for themselves whether they believed those claims. the apostles were supported, indeed, in many cases by miracles, but not always; and though those miracles afforded momentous evidence, they were not recognisable in themselves, when standing alone, as decisive of the whole question. no apparent miracle, it was felt, could of itself authenticate a message from god which did not bear internal evidence also of having proceeded from him. the appeal in the early church was directed, as in the time of our lord himself, to the hearts and consciences of men. he himself could but appeal to those hearts and consciences, and men accepted and rejected him, not by reference to any external authority, but in proportion to their capacity for recognising his divine character. "_thus from the first to the last, the authority of the scriptures has been equivalent to the authority with which they themselves convinced men that they had come from god_." i have been anxious to show you that the position of the bible rests not on any miracle, or any external authority of the church or council, but on its appeal to the minds and consciences of men. you may doubt a miracle, you may doubt your individual instincts, you may doubt the competency of any one body of men; you cannot doubt so easily the conviction of a hundred generations. they found in it a power to make them good and they were convinced that it had come from god.[ ] now consider that this bible has held its authoritative position in the face of the most violent attacks all through the centuries; that infidels have dreamed that they had overthrown it and exploded it times without number, with the result only that its power has steadily increased, so that to-day it would be almost as easy to root the sun out of the heavens as to root this bible out of human life. take this single fact as an illustration. a hundred years ago voltaire refuted it quite satisfactorily, as it seemed to himself. "in a century," he said, "the bible and christianity will be things of the past." well, how has his prophecy been fulfilled? before his day the whole world from the beginning of it had not produced six millions of bibles. in a single century since, and that too, the enlightened, critical nineteenth century, _two hundred millions_ of bibles and portions of scripture have issued from the press, in five hundred and forty-three languages. and i have read somewhere that the house in which voltaire lived is now one of the depots of the bible society. ii.--the witness in ourselves. .--i have pointed out that the authority of the scriptures has been equivalent to the authority with which they themselves convinced men that they came from god. now let us try to bring this conviction home to ourselves--_to test on ourselves_ the power of these scripture utterances which persuaded men of old that they came from above. for it is as they compel in us the same convictions that we can readily understand the making of the bible. get outside all thoughts of an authoritative bible. forget the fuller light of christ in which you stand, which reveals comparative imperfection in those ancient writers. put yourself in their place. picture the nations of the earth in their ignorance and depravity, with their blind gropings after god, reaching no higher than fetishes and idols, and the tales of classical mythology. then listen wonderingly to those prophetic voices in israel amid the surroundings of that dark old world before romulus and remus were suckled by the wolf: "jehovah, jehovah. a god full of compassion and gracious, slow to anger and plenteous in mercy and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, and transgression, and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty. "rend your hearts and not your garments, and turn unto the lord your god, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness, and repenteth him of the evil. "thus saith the high and holy one that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is holy: i dwell in the high and holy place with him that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the contrite one. "what doth the lord require of thee but to do justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy god?" and mingled with these noble thoughts, like a golden thread woven through the web of prophecy, see that strangely persistent groping after some great being, some great purpose of god in the future--from the genesis prediction of "the seed of the woman" to the vision of the coming one by the great prophet of the exile "surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows ... the lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." try to realise the impressiveness of it. all down the jewish history in the midst of a dark world came these mysterious voices telling of a holy god,--teaching, threatening, pleading, encouraging, pointing to a gradually brightening ideal and to the hope of some great one who yet was to come. and to deepen its impressiveness notice that these prophets asserted passionately their conviction: "these are not our words. these are not our thoughts, god has put them into us." "the word of the lord came unto me. hear ye therefore the word of the lord." how could the people doubt it? they were not good people. they were stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, "who did always resist the holy ghost". they hated the high teaching. they killed the prophets and stoned those who were sent unto them. but conscience insisted that these prophets were right and, by and by, in deep remorse they built them sepulchres and treasured up what fragments they could find of their sacred words. how could they help it? put yourself in their place. do you not feel that you must have done the same if you had been there? .--the same is evidently true of the psalms, the hymns of the jewish church. they, too, owe their position to the appeal which they made to the highest in men. they were the utterances of noble souls who with all their imperfections knew and loved god, and all kindred souls then and since have felt their power in inspiring the spiritual life. the author's name did not matter. in most cases it was not known. the position of the psalter, then, is not due to any author's name, to any council's sanction, but to its compelling appeal to the highest side of men in that old jewish community. that was how the holy spirit wrought in making the bible. judged by the higher standard of jesus christ we can see imperfections and faults due to the poor imperfect men who wrote the psalter. strange if it were otherwise in that dark age in which it grew. but when all allowance has been made for these, who can doubt that that psalter, which has been so powerful in inspiring human life through the ages since, caught on to men's souls in those early days and convinced them that it came from god. again let us test its compelling power on ourselves. keep back still in that dim old world with its self-seeking, and idolatries, and human sacrifices, and lustful abominations, with no real sense of sin, no longings after holiness, and listen to the jewish shepherd reciting in the field, and the jewish choir boy singing in the church: "praise the lord, o my soul, and all that is within me, praise his holy name, who forgiveth all thine iniquities, who healeth all thy diseases. who redeemeth thy life from destruction, who crowneth thee with loving kindness and tender mercies.... like as a father pitieth his own children, so is the lord merciful to them that fear him, for he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are but dust. "lord, who shall sojourn in thy tabernacle, who shall dwell in thy holy hill? he that walketh uprightly and worketh righteousness and speaketh the truth in his heart. "the lord is my shepherd. i shall not want. he maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters. he restoreth my soul. he leadeth me in the path of righteousness for his name's sake. yea, though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death, i will fear no evil, for thou art with me." "have mercy on me, o god, according to thy loving kindness, according to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions. wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.... the sacrifices of god are a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart, o god, thou wilt not despise." are not such songs in such an age one of the miracles of history? how could men help loving and reverencing and preserving such songs? how could they help feeling that a divine spirit was behind them? .--the rest of the old testament is the history of god's dealing with the nation, a story gathered under the guidance of god's providence in many generations, from many sources since the far back childhood of the race. the historians were evidently men with the prophetic instinct. but i make no appeal on the score of their being prophets. the appeal is made by the history itself. was ever national history so extraordinarily written? it is the history of an evil and rebellious people, yet everything is looked at in relation to the god of righteousness. records of other ancient nations tell what this or that great king accomplished, how the people conquered or were conquered by their enemies. in these jewish records everything is of god--a righteous, holy god. it is god who conquered, god who delivered, god who punished, god who fought. there is no boasting of the national glory, no flattering of the national vanity; their greatest sins and disgraces and punishments are recorded just as fully as their triumphs and their joys. in the records of other nations the chief stress is laid on power and prosperity and comfort and wealth. in these strange records goodness seems to be the only thing of importance. to do the right, to please the holy god is of infinitely more value than to be powerful or rich or successful in life. "he did that which was right in the sight of the lord." "he did that which was evil in the sight of the lord," are the epitaphs of their most famous kings. therefore the national history of israel also holds its position by its appeal to the religious instinct. no author's name, no theory of its composition affects its position. whatever its imperfection, it has impressed itself upon us as the simple story of god's dealing with men. iii.--the witness of christ. i now point you to the chief ground for every christian man of his belief in the divine origin of the bible. it is this. _that it all centres in jesus christ himself_. it cannot be dissociated from him. it is closely, inseparately bound up with his life. the old testament tells of the preparation for christ. the new testament tells that when that preparation was complete "in the fulness of time god sent forth his son." jesus christ, as it were, stands between the old testament and the new and lays his hand upon them both. the old testament contains the scriptures which he told men were of god and which bare witness of him. the new testament is the story of his words and works, and the teaching of apostles and early disciples sent forth by him as teachers with the power of the holy ghost. it is this fact that christ is its centre which accounts for the striking unity of this collection of separate documents. the parts belong all to each other. and surely for us christians our conviction as to the authority of the bible is increased a thousandfold by the attitude of christ himself towards the only bible that he had, the old testament. it was the bible of his education. it was the bible of his ministry. he took for granted its fundamental doctrines about creation, man, righteousness, god's providence and purpose. he accepted it as the preparation for himself and taught his disciples to find him in it. he used it to justify his mission and to illuminate the mystery of the cross. above all he fed his own soul with its contents and in the great crisis of his life sustained himself upon it as the solemn word of god. and i cannot help feeling that the bible which was good enough for christ on earth should be good enough for me. iv.--the witness of its power. .--need i remind you of that practical conviction of every earnest bible student, the conviction which coleridge expresses when he speaks of the way in which it "finds me". men feel by their own spiritual experience that the book witnesses to itself. "the spirit itself beareth witness with their spirit" that the book is the book of god. it "finds them" as no other book ever does. its words have moved them deeply; it has helped them to be good; it has mastered their wills and gladdened their hearts till the overpowering conviction has forced itself upon them, "never book spake like this book." need i point you to the world around, to the miraculous power which is exercised by that bible, to the evil lives reformed by it, to the noble, beautiful lives daily nourished by it? did you ever hear of any other book of history, and poetry, and memoirs, and letters that had this power to turn men towards nobleness and righteousness of life? did you ever hear a man say, "i was an outcast, and a reprobate, and a disgrace to all that loved me till i began to read scott's poems and macaulay's history of england?" did you ever hear a man tell of the peace and hope and power to conquer evil which he had won by an earnest study of the latin classics? you can get a great many to say it of the study of the bible, ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands. you can see the amount of happiness and good that has come to the world even from the miserably imperfect following of it. you can see that the world would be a very paradise of god if it were thoroughly followed. misery and vice would vanish forever, purity and love and unselfish work for others would hold their universal sway on earth. the millenium would have begun. need we be disquieted about a book that comes to us thus accredited in so many powerful ways? can we not see with restful hearts that all for which we value it is safe from assault; that we never can doubt that it has come to us from god. with this confidence in our foundations we shall study peacefully and with interest all new knowledge on the bible. instead of fearing a conflict of science and scripture we shall learn to read our bible more wisely. for example, we shall read the creation story not as a scientific treatise but as a simple religious primer for an ancient child race three or four thousand years ago to teach them first lessons about god. and if higher criticism teaches us that some of the old books have been edited and re-edited before reaching their present form, that david did not write all the psalms, that moses did not write the whole of the pentateuch as it stands to-day, we shall learn to regard it as a matter of mere literary interest. such questions may be discussed with a quiet mind. for if the authority of the bible rests not on any external miracle, nor on any author's name, nor on any theory of its composition, nor on any pronouncement of any one body of men, but on its own compelling power to convince men that it came from god, then its foundations are safe enough, and the question how the books grew or by whom they were written or edited or brought together into a bible is a matter of literary interest in no way vital to the authority of scripture. we shall therefore need in our bible reading more thoughtfulness, more study, more prayer. but the outlay of these will be repaid a hundredfold. the bible will shine forth for us more real, more natural, more divine. our beliefs will rest on a firm foundation. and, though there may be still things that puzzle and perplex us, we shall learn that our christian life does not depend on the understanding of all mysteries and all knowledge, but on the humble obedience to the will of god, which for all practical purposes is clearly revealed. blessed lord, who has caused all holy scriptures to be written for our learning; grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that by patience, and comfort of thy holy word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our saviour jesus christ. amen. [ ] i am quite conscious that i may be pointed to the acceptance of the koran and the sacred books of india as a fact that weakens this argument. i have no hesitation in admitting that, in part, the reason of their acceptance, too, lies in their appeal to the consciences of men through their containing broken rays of "the light that lighteth every man coming into the world." i should be sorry to think that christianity required my belief that the god and father of all men left the whole non-christian world without any light from himself. but surely there is a vast difference between the position of these books and that of the bible. all that is good in the koran existed already in christianity and judaism, and is mainly derived from them. the sacred books of india, with their pearls of spiritual truth gleaming here and there amongst a mass of rubbish, can surely not be compared with the bible in reference to the above argument. iv. what is faith? by the rev. h. m. little, l.s.t., rector of the church of the advent, montreal. a careful reader of the gospels must be struck with the insistence which jesus christ places upon faith. "verily i say unto you i have not found so great faith, no, not in israel." "why are ye fearful, o ye of little faith?" "jesus seeing their faith said unto the sick of the palsy, son be of good cheer." "according to your faith be it done unto you." "he did not many mighty works there because of their unbelief." "o woman, great is thy faith, be it unto thee even as thou wilt." "dost thou believe on the son of god?" "ye believe in god, believe also in me." what then is this faith which jesus christ asks of people? is it nothing more than a "looking upward" by one in need to one able to supply the need? jesus was never satisfied with this attitude. the true nature of faith. in the case of the twelve apostles we see what the nature of true faith is. jesus christ chose them that they might be with him in order that they might learn his "secret"--the knowledge of his personality. he wished for such confidence in him that they would commit themselves wholly to his keeping. for the lack of this faith he rebuked them in the storm on the lake. their faith failed them again at the crucifixion; and it was the first task of the master after the resurrection to build again this confidence which was shattered by the tragedy of his death. he was successful. the early chapters of the acts record the degree of calm confidence with which these same men committed their lives to his keeping (though absent from their sight) as to one possessing all authority in heaven and on earth. such is the true nature of faith. the everlasting whisper. perhaps it will be better to clear away a misconception existing in some minds arising from a confusion of thought between the exercise of personal faith and the facts themselves of which the christian revelation consists. the two are quite distinct. "the faith" means the facts of revealed religion made known to us through the church and interwoven into the very texture of the creeds and the book of common prayer,--originally the content of the oral gospels. we speak of the articles of the christian faith, meaning the apostles' creed. the doctrine of the holy communion or of the ministry of the church, etc., are parts also of "the faith"; of this "faith" the church is the guardian and the teacher. this is essentially different from that inward personal movement of the soul towards god which we are now considering. the former may be thought of collectively as an objective thing--something quite apart from the individual,--which he may disregard or fail to understand; whereas personal faith is a movement of the soul of man which as we shall see vitalizes his being and calls into operation all his capacities. it is possible to be thoroughly instructed in the verities of "the faith", and at the same time to be devoid of personal faith; while on the other hand persons are to be met with who possess an intense personal faith in the three persons of the blessed trinity who have through no fault of their own but a very slight intellectual grasp of the contents of "the faith" as it has been committed to the church of god. yet "the faith", "the christian faith" must be cherished by faith (that movement in the soul of man towards god) if the believer is to grow up unto the knowledge of god. faith not antagonistic to reason. we find ourselves in a world of material things and physical phenomena. we watch and study nature; we witness its orderly movements. we ask questions. is matter the real thing and the true explanation of it all? does nature reveal an intelligence behind the universe and working in it? are the movements in nature the product of law,--and how did the laws begin to operate and when? we listen to the answer of the materialist, but it does not satisfy, because somehow or other it does not account for everything. surely, we say, if the operation of law accounts for everything, there must be a lawgiver. besides this we observe in nature both design and beauty. this suggests to us a mind behind nature. man looks also within himself as part of creation and finds he has a moral sense. he makes distinctions between right and wrong; there are present to his mind ideas of justice and mercy and love,--whence came these, he enquires, for these are not material forces at all, they are intellectual and spiritual? he sees men die and infants born, and he asks whence do they come and whither are they going. he refuses to believe that this life sees the end of man for he has within himself the witness that he is spirit and not matter. it is in this refusal of the innermost being of a man to consent to any materialistic explanation of the phenomena of nature or of human life that faith declares itself. the judgment which insists that the only adequate explanation of the universe (as science has made it known) must be sought on the basis of the existence of a spiritual world permeating all that is seen in human life, and that behind it all as its source and origin, as its upholder and controlling power, is god--this is faith. further. faith--living faith--is the elemental act within man going forth from him as a son in search for the knowledge of god as father. it is the greatest energising force within man, for it includes within itself the other capacities within man's personality, such as his emotions and his will; and in the case of the intellect,--it embraces all that the intellect can accomplish, and then goes beyond the limit which intellect can reach. for faith takes all the conclusions arrived at by man's intellect, and then, supported by these conclusions, makes its venture as it were by the very power which is its own. faith goes further than reason. think for the moment of the subordinate part played by reason in relation to both heroism and love. heroism is universally admired. it springs spontaneously from within. it makes few calculations. it seldom weighs the pros, and cons. it may act rationally or in defiance of reason. it cannot stop to argue. it may court certain destruction. the challenge is accepted. the heroic action is done. and is it not the same with the affections? whoever met the lover who became so through his intellect? who can know what love is except by loving? the lover does not sit down and reason the matter out, and after weighing all considerations say, "yes, i will now love." tell him to act thus and he will laugh outright. love it is which draws him and causes him to act. he finds himself acting as he does just because he is in love, that is all. 'tis true that reason exercises her part. reason may show him that his love is harmful, or on the contrary that it has the sanction of his best judgment. but it can do no more. evidence can be found everywhere to the fact of love recklessly pursuing its career in spite of reason. reason has its limitations and love goes beyond it; outstrips it like heroism. it is exactly the same with faith. if you want to know what faith is, give yourself up to its influence, let yourself go out in response to it, let it carry you along, until by experience you will come to know the power of faith and the illumination of faith and the reality of faith. other faculties will come to your aid to assist and to guide, but they can never be a substitute for faith. the personal knowledge of god can only be reached through faith. (heb. ii. .). faith goes further than reason in human affairs. there are people who feel that they can only tread where the ground is solid; where they see quite clearly what is ahead; who take no risks; who venture nothing. yet it is utterly impossible to live so in real life. most of the business transacted in the world is based on a system of credits; and credit is but another name for faith in personal honesty. the financial investments that are made are ventures of faith as to profits and returns. business foresight which is a great asset to success in life relies upon the invariableness and calculated changes likely to occur. the invalid carries out the doctor's instructions to the extent of his faith in his physician. the reader of the daily newspaper has faith in the reliability of the news served up to him. the history that men read, or the school textbooks used by children, postulate the veracity of the authors of these works. friendships are an impossibility without the repose of faith. in short everywhere and in every department of life there can be no knowledge nor growth nor progress without faith. as i write the international conference is taking place at genoa where the chief obstacle to the task of putting europe upon a peaceful economic basis is the suspicions, the lack of faith in one another that prevails, not without cause, among the nations. so when god, who is spirit, tells us he can only be apprehended by faith it is childish to quarrel with this necessary condition, because he is only asking of his children the same attitude towards him which is everywhere adopted by humanity in its social relationships, consciously or unconsciously, as an essential condition of human happiness and progress. faith a bond of friendship with god faith is required of men, not because god grudges information, but because he desires for man the unspeakable blessing of a willing, longing, intimate friendship with himself. among the heathen nations "he left not himself without witness, if haply they might seek after him and find him." he selected abram and called him forth from ur to be a father of a nation. to that nation, tried and disciplined, he disclosed himself "in fragmentary portions and in divers manners," by a long line of inspired writers and prophets, until at last "in the fulness of time god sent forth his son." the incarnation discloses the distance the father will travel to meet his lost children, if by faith they will return to him, and live the life of restored fellowship. thus we understand why jesus pleads and entreats and warns; it is because the loss of faith has such terrible consequences--consequences which in their harm to oneself and to others are incalculable. through jesus god has revealed the passion of his heart, his yearning love for the souls of men. god demands our entire personality. the faith which god requires will include within it the exercise of all man's capacities and powers; there will be in the end no part of his personality and no department of his life which is not contributary to, or influenced by, his faith; for faith will be the means for the rounding out and the perfecting of the character. it will include the directing of the will, it will find scope for the emotions, it will receive the sanction of the intellect--it will be the movement of the entire man godwards. how very necessary it is for people to do some thinking regarding their religion, and how very little is done. many people think that what is good enough for their parents, is good enough for them in religion. but this is the only department of life to which this idea is attached. these people make no enquiries, they conform to certain formularies and rules of conduct, they have prejudices and great limitations. the fruit of this is an extraordinary haziness existing in men's minds regarding religion. here a purely moral life is deemed the same thing as a life built upon faith in christ. or compare the emphasis put upon ethical duties directed towards one's neighbour (e.g. he is a good husband and pays his debts); when little or no account is taken of the obligations due to god (such as christian worship or the sinfulness of profanity). or again, people put their trust in the reception of the sacraments without clear ideas as to the "necessary dispositions" for the proper receiving of the sacraments, a tendency to treat them as charms. there are difficulties connected with our faith, such as the problems of pain and suffering, or inequality of opportunity, the prosperity of the ungodly, which require much thought. besides all this the trust which men repose in god, not only in their everyday affairs, but also in those crises that happen from time to time, is strengthened immensely when the intellect contributes its support, when man knows he is passing through a desolating experience, but knows also that many others have passed through the like upheld in the darkness by faith. every churchman should make an effort to bring his intellect by reading and study to the support of his faith. and the emotions, too, have their right place in the development of faith. have we not been somewhat suspicious of the emotional element in religion, due perhaps to a disproportionate and exaggerated use of it by some religious bodies? has there not been a tendency to suppress the emotions because there are emotional religious cults almost divorced from morality and the intellect? perhaps, too, it has something to do with temperament? british people used to be little moved by feelings; lately they have changed somewhat. we need the vision of jesus christ, who is the revelation of god the father, as one to be supremely loved above all others--as mary magdalene, as st. peter and st. john, loved him. it would help us in worship if we used fewer subjective hymns and more hymns of the type of s. bernard's, "jesu the very thought of thee," or "o love, how deep! how broad, how high!" if we could have some simple litanies of devotion bringing to the mind of the worshipper the purity, gentleness, tenderness, patience, sympathy and meekness of jesus christ; our faith in him would become more tender, warmer, more personal, and without this our faith cannot be complete. faith must issue in christ's system of morals. a further feature in this venture after the knowledge of god is the moral one. it is only to the pure in heart that the vision of god will become a reality. to believe in jesus is to accept his teaching in the sphere of morals quite as much as to appropriate his promises of present pardon and future rewards. in fact the promise of pardon is interwoven with the condition of doing his will, and the heavenly life is held out as a reward to those who follow his example. jesus claims the sovereignty over man's whole personality. those who call him "lord, lord," must do the things he says. it is just at this point that the world tests the christian faith. the world is practical; it demands not profession, but works. it knows that jesus bequeathed a system of morals to his followers, especially in the sermon on the mount; and, while it is ignorant of the grace jesus bestows to enable human nature to rise above itself, yet in its rough and ready way it holds faith of no value which is not shown in "fruits". when society talks about the "failure" of christianity what it usually has in mind is the failure of christian people to conform to the christian standard of truthfulness and justice, of honesty and straight dealing, of continence and self-respect; being like other people, lovers of money and applause rather than examples of that love for their neighbour commanded in the gospels. the human will needs supernatural strength to live christ's system of morals. god demands that the entire personality, intellect, emotion, will, should be committed to him in an all-embracing, loving faith. a final personal word. a few words must be said as to the outcome of vital christian faith. how will it be recognized or known? we answer by its interest in, and its works on, behalf of others' good. christian faith must justify itself in service. the sphere and the nature of that service must be sought from him who has drawn the disciple to himself. sometimes it means the taking up of the old task in an unselfish way; sometimes it will lead to a new departure or an additional undertaking; sometimes it sends one far off among the gentiles. it is not so much the kind of work that needs the emphasis, but rather the fact that if faith is being perfected it falls short of completion unless the disciple views all his activities, even the most humble ones, as occasions for service for others' good. there is need of caution, however. we live in a busy age, and activity is nearly idolised. it is not that we must always be busy, but rather that what we do is not a mere fad or notion taken up enthusiastically and, when difficulties present themselves, then just as quickly dropped. the outcome of faith is a task done for god on behalf of others, when toil will cheerfully be borne, drudgery endured, trials met with patience, and--through evil report and good report--the work continued. v. prayer by the very rev. d. t. owen, d.d., dean of niagara. i would ask you to think with me as simply and directly as possible about one of the greatest things in the world. it is something that we can all do, for it requires no special learning; it is something which we can all do at once, for it requires, from one point of view, no special training; and it is something, which if we will do, will bring guidance, peace and power, into our own lives and into the lives of others. what is this thing which is so great, and yet so close to hand, which is so worth while doing, and which we can all do, and do at once? it is prayer. it is just saying our prayers. "oh! how humdrum and commonplace!" we say, or "how difficult and discouraging i have found it; i know i should pray, and i make resolutions sometimes to that end, but somehow it gets either formal, or crowded out, or forgotten". yes, while we all know about these difficulties and appreciate their strength, let us think this subject out again. what is prayer. in the first place let us set before us quite clearly this great fact. god, as he has been revealed to us by his son, wishes us to pray to him. prayer--the privilege, the duty and the value of prayer--is part of the revelation of god. it goes with his nature, as that nature has been revealed to us. he is the god who wishes us to speak to him, and to take him into our confidence,--in a word he is the god who wishes us to treat him as father. what is prayer? there is god ready to hear us, ready to heal and guide, to give rest and peace, to give light and strength, to help carry our cares, to direct our feet into straight paths. and here are we with our great needs, our cares and perplexities. prayer is the point of contact between ourselves and that great god. indeed, we can say more than that, for when we pray we become our true selves. we are spirits of eternity. for a time we live upon this earth having many duties to perform, and many important offices to fulfil,--but when we pray, when we praise god, we are performing our essential work as spirits. we have dropped for the moment the outer covering of our lives, and stand forth as being what we really are,--spirits who came from god, who are doing a certain work for god here, and are to return to god. the moment of prayer is a great moment, for then it is that "deep calleth to deep", and spirit calleth to the father and source of all spirits. and so it comes to pass that in the moment of prayer it is not merely that this man or woman, called by this name or that here on earth,--a workman, a business man, a housekeeper,--but an eternal spirit of god is calling upon the author of all spirits. such is prayer. "prayer is that act by which man, conscious alike of his weakness and his immortality, puts himself into real and effective communication with the eternal, the self-existent and the uplifted god."[ ] why should we pray. in trying to answer the question, "what is prayer?" we have, in part, answered this question also, but it is so important that it must have a section to itself. in the first place, we should pray in order to make acknowledgment of the glory and the power of god. it is because of what god is himself that we have need to fall down before him in adoration and praise. we are inclined to think too much of our own needs in relation to prayer. indeed when we mention the word prayer, we begin at once to think of our needs, of what we want, and of what other people want. these are important, but these are not first; and until we understand that they take the second place in prayer, and do not constitute its chief argument, we cannot realize the real reason for christian prayer. the real, the first reason for prayer from the christian point of view is to glorify god,--to praise him for what he is, and to fall down before the greatness of his power. we have a model prayer which teaches us about this. among many other things it teaches us the chief reasons for prayer. it comes to us full of answers to our question, why should we pray? "when ye pray, say, our father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, in earth as it is in heaven." this surely means that god must be first in our prayers.[ ] we are half way through the lord's prayer, we are more than half way through, before we begin to talk about our needs. our lord jesus christ has taught us that in prayer we are to think first of such things as the father, heaven, his name, his kingdom and his will, before we say anything of the bread and our other needs. yes, surely the great reason for praying is to honour god, to unite ourselves with his great purposes in heaven and earth. again, i would ask you to think of this from another point of view. one of the great objects of life is to know god. to know god! this sometimes seems a very mystical, far away subject, does it not? it belongs, surely, to those who have been specially endowed, or to those who have the mystical temperament! i do not think this is true. i think we grow to know god as we grow to know our friends. and how do we grow to know our friends? we speak to them, we take them into our confidence, we tell them of the things that make up our lives, and by so doing we grow into friendship. if we neglect this for long our friendship begins to wane. now i think it is very much the same with our relations to our great friend. we grow in our knowledge of him and his ways, and in our understanding of his mind, just in proportion as it is our habit to go into his presence and to take him into our confidence about our lives. and this is what prayer is. by prayer we grow to know god. the highest prayer is "thy will be done", and we can only come to those heights of prayer by praying,--for it is by talking to god, looking at him, taking him into our confidence that we come to understand some of his ways and purposes, enter into the secret places of his dwelling, and thus learn to say, "thy will be done!" only they who have learnt in the school of prayer to say, "father ... hallowed be thy name" can go on to truly say, "thy will be done". the object of prayer is not to bend his will to ours but to so learn of him, and to so enter into his friendship day by day that we can say, "thy will be done". but, of course, in prayer we are meant to ask for things for ourselves and for others. what has been said above by no means indicates the complete reason for praying. no, the christian prays for things for himself and others. it cannot be too strongly stated "that prayer gets things done". "ye have not," says st. james, "because ye ask not". it is the will of the father to give us things in response to prayer. our lord in the model prayer taught us to pray definitely for certain things in human life. his father, so he teaches us, is interested in the whole of human life, all its needs, its cares, its joys, its perplexities, its strain,--all these can be made the subject of intercourse between the father and the child. the father cares about them so much that they must find their place in our prayers. indeed, they are so important that they must have _their own place_. and their own place is second. so in all our praying let us remember it is god first, ourselves second. but we go further than that. it would seem as if we were not in a position to know our real needs sufficiently well to pray about them with intelligence, unless first of all we have allowed the light that comes from thinking about god, adoring his name, and falling down before the majesty of his purpose and his will, to shine upon our life's needs. yes, we are indeed to pray for our varied needs and those of others, but we cannot know our real needs unless god is first in our prayer, and we have prayed, "our father, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done".[ ] how should we pray? it would seem to be perfectly clear from the teaching of the bible and the church, and from the experience of those who really pray, that men and women can live lives of power, peace, and usefulness, whatever their lot may be, if they would but pray. there it is before us. it is the challenge of prayer. if you pray, you can do great things for god and man. there the challenge stands. "but", someone says, "i personally have found it very difficult to pray, possibly my gifts lie in other directions." this is often said as if the speaker thought he were unique. he is quite right about one thing,--it is difficult to pray,--but he is wrong in thinking he is unique. prayer is one of the hardest things to do. this is one of the reasons we shirk it. do not be surprised if you find it hard. "it is hard," someone has said, "because it is high". most things that are very well worth doing are things we find hard, especially at first, to learn to do. now let these facts stand very clear before us. god asks us to pray to him. of all the things we do, there is nothing that can be more worth while doing. if we will do it, we most certainly will grow into better and nobler and more useful men and women. but we shall find it hard to do. now let us be quite clear about the problem of the hardness of prayer; there is only one thing to do about this subject of prayer, and that is to pray. the only way to solve the problem of praying is by praying. nothing will do instead. in spite of the difficulties, in spite of distractions, of weariness, of failure, of moods, of coldness,--we pray. nothing will do instead. nothing else will solve the problem. reading books and listening to sermons on prayer will not do instead. the only way to learn to pray is to pray. the people who get things done are the people who, not having the time or the inclination often, in spite of these things,--pray. in a word, we have to treat prayer as work, as part of our definite work as christians. we know how it is with our work. we do it every day. we do it whether we feel like doing it or not. we keep on doing it day after day, month after month, year after year. prayer is work. we must treat it with the respect we give to our work. again, what a mistake it is to wait on the mood. what a mistake to say, "i do not feel like praying to-day--perhaps to-morrow!" our moods come and go. they are very fragile things, rooted sometimes in trifling causes. one of the greatest mistakes in this connection is to think that the effectiveness of our prayers depends upon the particular state of our feelings at the time. it often happens to people who pray that they have found the greatest blessings they have won for themselves or for others have been in times when "the heavens were brass", and they had little or no sense of reality or warmth in prayer. it is said that the difference between the professional and the amateur is that the amateur depends on the mood, but the professional goes on with his work day after day, paying no attention to a mood here and there. we must be, in this sense, professionals. prayer is part of our work as christians. let moods come or go, the work must go on,--the great work of praise, petition, intercession, thanksgiving. again, if there is one thing more than another that our lord was clear about in his teaching concerning prayer, it is that we must be persistent in our prayers. we must pray for an answer. this is not to say that we are to pray until we receive the answer we wish, but until we receive some light and leading in relation to the subject of our prayers. it will not be necessary to do more than remind you of the two parables on this subject in st. luke's gospel. there was once a man upon whom there came an unexpected traveller one night, and he had "nothing to set before him". he went to a friend at midnight and said, "friend, lend me three loaves," and would not go away until he had received the loaves, but kept on asking and seeking and knocking. "i say unto you", said our lord, "that though he will not rise because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will arise and give him as many as he needeth. and i say unto you, ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." and again, there was in a certain city a judge, "which feared not god, and regarded not man", and to him came a widow with the persistent plea, "avenge me of mine adversary." and he would not for a while, but afterward he said within himself, "though i fear not god, nor regard man; yet because this widow troubleth me, i will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me". these two parables, taken with christ's own example in gethsemane when he prayed three times concerning "the cup", make it very clear that his followers, when they decide this or that is a matter for definite prayer, must not leave that petition or intercession out of their prayers until they have received some answer, some light or leading from the god who always hears, and always answers earnest prayer. and last of all, in answer to our question, how should we pray? we should pray in that name which is above every name--the name of "the one mediator between god and man, the man christ jesus." we have this great name to plead. though in our weakness we feel unworthy to pray, though in our ignorance we know not how to pray, and though with the best of our prayers there is so much that is imperfect, we have in that one who ever lives to make intercession for us, one who takes our poor and imperfect acts of devotion and makes them to be heard in the presence of the divine majesty. it is "through jesus christ our lord" we pray. here is our confidence. in this realization we find fresh strength and hope for the whole work of prayer. his perfect knowledge of our lives and of our temptations, coupled with his place of honour at the right hand of the father, gives us great re-assurance that our prayers come before that throne with power. "having then a great high priest, who hath passed into the heavens, jesus the son of god, let us hold fast our profession. for we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but one that hath been in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. let us, therefore, draw near with boldness unto the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy, and may find grace to help us in time of need." finding time for prayer. we are anxious that these articles should be very practical, and that our readers may be helped to practise their religion more definitely from reading them. most of us are very busy people, and often it will seem as if there was no time for prayer. but we always make time to do things we consider absolutely essential. prayer is one of the absolute essentials of the christian life. you will notice that it was during times of unusual pressure of duties that we are told that our lord found time to pray. it was when the people thronged him to listen to his words, and to receive healing and comfort for body and soul, that we read, "and it came to pass in those days, that he went out into the mountain to pray; and he continued all night in prayer to god". and again it was while "all the city was gathered at the door" that "in the morning, a great while before day, he rose up and went out, and departed into a desert place, and there prayed". he always found time in the midst of his thronged ministry, when "many were coming and going", and he had "no leisure so much as to eat", to go apart to enter into communion with his father. we, too, must find time to pray. the important thing is not how long our prayers are or how short, but that our spirits have come, if only for a moment, into contact with him, who is himself spirit. this is the vital thing. this is that which brings rest and refreshment to the soul and strengthens it in its life on earth. let me repeat, the great essential is to get into touch with god, and to get into touch every day. now it would seem as if the morning, first thing in the morning, is the time especially to do this? before the distractions of the day have dulled the delicate perceptions of the spirit, before the noonday sun has absorbed the early dew of morning, is the time to open the door of the heart to god, and to lift up the hands to him. it was in the morning, "rising up a great while before day", that the son of man prayed. so it should be the first thing in the day with us. it need not be anything complicated or involved. indeed, it can be quite simple. perhaps this simple suggestion may be found helpful. when we get up in the morning, we remember that it is god first. we must let the thought of the glory, the power and the goodness of god take possession of our hearts. we bow before him, from whom we came and to whom we go, and say, "glory be to the father, and to the son; and to the holy ghost; as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: world without end. amen." then a word of thanksgiving for sleep and rest, one or both of the collects for morning prayer, a little prayer for others, and special needs of the day, and the lord's prayer to end with, and to sum up the whole act. such is the barest outline, but it is something that everyone could do, and could do every day. why not? and why not forthwith? if we are to know god, we must pray. if we are to become our true selves, we must pray. if we are to walk bravely and honestly through this life, we must pray. if we are to be useful to others, we must pray. and what is prayer? it is getting into touch with god, and getting into touch every day. [ ] in further token that it is so we find, apart from christian revelation and experience, an instinct to prayer practically universal among men. this natural capacity to pray is one of the greatest attributes of human nature. man has ever felt the desire to confer with the unseen. [ ] prayer, therefore, if it is to follow the teaching and example of christ must rise above the thought of making a bargain with god. (e.g. "if this petition is granted then i will do this or that"). christian petitions are offered in absolute trust, "nevertheless not as i will but as thou wilt." [ ] god knows what is best for us and wills the best for us. we do not pray "thy will be changed," but "thy will be done." our lord christ, who had perfect knowledge of god, used prayer as one of the greatest forces to accomplish god's purpose. if we withhold prayer we leave unused a force god himself calls for in carrying out his purposes among men. vi. the holy communion the rt. rev. a. j. doull, d.d., bishop of kootenay. this volume of theology is written for laymen of the anglican church, and it is to them that i address myself primarily in this chapter. there can be no question in our minds regarding the importance of this subject which we are now about to consider; nor yet of the necessity of arriving at a clear understanding concerning the truth. we are about to tread holy ground, therefore a reverent spirit is needful above all things else. we are about to investigate, albeit in the briefest manner, the nature and character of that sacrament which our dying saviour left as the bond of comradeship between his followers and himself, and between his followers with one another, but which historically has been the occasion of more strife and discord betwixt christian people than any other institution or fact of our holy faith; therefore we must cast aside all prejudice and preconceived opinions, and placing ourselves at the feet of jesus seek to learn from him the real truth which he alone can impart. i believe that christ is especially anxious to teach us the truth to-day after all these centuries of strife, and i am convinced that so far as the anglican church is concerned that there is a wonderful measure of agreement between all her members concerning the doctrine of the holy communion when they heed the advice of our great theologian, the judicious hooker, and "the more give themselves to meditate with silence what we have by the sacrament and less to dispute of the manner how." let us try and consider in simple faith and simple language what is revealed to us in holy scripture concerning this sacrament, what truths about it are therefore enshrined in the book of common prayer, and what it is accordingly that all anglicans really believe though their mode of expressing their common faith, and though their phraseology, may somewhat differ. instituted by christ. firstly, we believe that this sacrament is of supreme importance because it was instituted by our blessed lord and saviour jesus christ and by him commanded to be observed and celebrated by his church until his coming again. the writers of the first three gospels give us substantially identical accounts of what our lord said and did in the same night that he was betrayed. st. mark, whose narrative is probably the oldest, tells us that on the first day of unleavened bread when they sacrificed the passover, in the evening jesus and the twelve kept this distinctive feast of the old testament dispensation according to the accustomed manner. "and as they were eating, he took bread, and when he had blessed, he brake it, and gave to them and said, take ye; this is my body. and he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave to them and they all drank of it. and he said unto them: this is my blood of the covenant which is shed for many." (st. mark xiv. - r.v.) st. matthew's account and that of st. luke are practically identical. st. john, whose gospel was written at a much later date than those of the synoptists, does not record the institution of the holy communion, but does preserve for us our blessed lord's wonderful teaching regarding himself as the bread of life, which has such an important bearing upon a clear understanding of the true and proper place of this sacrament in the spiritual life of christians. (v. st. john vi.). st. paul, in the eleventh chapter of the first epistle to the corinthians, writes: "for i received of the lord that which also i delivered unto you how that the lord jesus in the night in which he was betrayed took bread; and when he had given thanks, he brake it and said, this is my body which is for you; this do in remembrance of me. in like manner also the cup after supper, saying, this cup is the new covenant in my blood; this do as oft as ye drink it in remembrance of me." the only other occasions upon which st. paul uses similar language to "for i received of the lord that which also i delivered unto you," is with reference to the resurrection of our blessed lord ( cor. xv. ) and to the essence of the gospel message taught him by the revelation of jesus christ, (galatians . ). we may believe therefore that st. paul in emphasizing the sacred importance of the holy communion knew himself to be under the special guidance of christ himself. the central rite of discipleship. secondly, we believe that from the days of the apostles down to the present time the holy communion has ever been regarded as the distinctive act of christian worship and the highest means of christian grace. it is impossible to go into the proof of this statement here but it can easily be verified by those ready and desirous to investigate. from the very earliest times of the apostles, when on the first day of the week the disciples met together for the breaking of the bread, down to the present time christians have ever regarded the holy communion as the central rite of discipleship, the sacrament or bond of comradeship between jesus and his people, between christ the lord and those who are members of the church which is his body. the real spiritual presence. thirdly, we believe in the fact of christ's presence with us in the holy communion. regarding the fact there is unity of belief amongst all anglicans, i might go further and say amongst all christian people. it is only when men proceed to define the mode that differences arise. some would regard his presence as due to a sacramental change in the elements, or to a new relationship established between the elements and the body and blood of christ. others prefer to connect it with his promise, "where two or three are gathered together in my name there am i in the midst of them," and to lay stress upon the fact that if ever there be an occasion when two or three are gathered together in christ's name it is when in obedience to his command they assemble to break the bread and bless the cup. this fact of the real spiritual presence of christ in the holy communion has ever been the belief of the church catholic and of the anglican church as a part thereof. bishop andrewes in the seventeenth century, writing in reply to roman controversalists, at a time when the church in england had at length settled down after the upheaval and conflict of the reformation period, asserted the belief of the anglican church as to the fact but also her refusal to dogmatize as to the mode of the saviour's presence. "the presence we believe no less truly than you to be real. concerning the mode of the presence, we define nothing rashly, nor, i add, do we curiously enquire." true to the teaching and to the spirit of the early church the church of england devoutly accepts her lord's words, neither attempting to explain them or to explain them away, but leaving them where he has left them a holy mystery not requiring and therefore not receiving definition. not as attempting to define, but as a safeguard against errors which have at various times been prominent in the church, representative writers of the anglican communion have been accustomed to speak of our lord's presence as being at once real and spiritual. to understand the full significance of this language it is necessary that we dismiss forever from our minds the idea that there is any opposition between that which is real and that which is spiritual. on the contrary, we must grasp the fact, which all are coming to recognize more and more, that the spiritual is the real, and the real is the spiritual. i do not think that it would be possible to have this truth concerning the sacramental presence of our lord expressed more clearly, more beautifully, or more truly than it has been by dr. hall, the present bishop of vermont, who says that "christ's presence in the baptized is as real as his presence in the eucharist, his presence in the eucharist as spiritual as his presence in the baptized". moreover, the presence of christ in the eucharist cannot be said to differ in kind or in degree from his presence in and with his people at other times and in other sacramental ordinances, but it does differ in purpose. our lord is present with us in the eucharist for certain very definite and specific purposes and we must now proceed to enquire what those purposes are. we shall be on safe ground if we say that our lord as the great head is present with the members of the church which is his body to do those things which he did or commanded to be done at the last supper. why then did our lord at the last supper institute and ordain the sacrament of the holy communion and command it to be celebrated and observed by his church until his coming again? the continual remembrance. it was ordained for the continual remembrance of the sacrifice of the death of christ, a commemoration of our saviour's meritorious cross and passion. this commemoration is made before god, before ourselves, before the world. (_a_) it is a commemoration of the saviour's death before god. the whole service of holy communion as celebrated in the church of england, with the exception of certain exhortations and invitations, consists of prayers addressed, as all prayer must be, to god. the most important of these prayers is the one which we call the prayer of consecration. in this prayer the celebrant, as the commissioned leader and mouthpiece of the congregation, commemorates before god that which our lord did in the upper room as the passover feast on the same night in which he was betrayed. before god in this prayer commemoration is made of his gift of his only begotten son to suffer death for our redemption, before god commemoration is made of that which christ did for us upon the cross, before god the institution of this sacrament of perpetual memory is recalled, before god the very acts and words of our saviour christ in instituting and ordaining this holy sacrament are solemnly rehearsed and enacted. it is impossible for any priest of the church of england to celebrate the holy communion, or for any member of the church of england to take part in the celebration of this holy sacrament, without making before god the most solemn commemoration of the death of christ and his all sufficient sacrifice which it is possible for the mind of man to conceive. and in so doing we are at one with the historic churches in all ages. if it be objected that god needs no such reminding of what christ did, then the objection is equally valid against all mention of christ's holy name in prayer as the ground and basis whereby we trust such prayer will be accepted and answered by god. the commemoration before god in the eucharist is but the doing in act by the whole body of the faithful of that which each individual christian does when he says, at the close of his prayers, "grant this for jesus christ's sake," or, "through the merits of christ jesus thy son our lord." it is the doing in act, and by use of those very elements and words and actions which jesus has himself commanded, of that which we do when in the litany we supplicate, "by the mystery of thy holy incarnation; by thy holy nativity and circumcision, by thy baptism, fasting, and temptation, by thine agony and bloody sweat; by thy cross and passion; by thy precious death and burial; by thy glorious resurrection and ascension and by the coming of the holy ghost, good lord deliver us." this aspect of the eucharist is perfectly expressed in canon bright's well known hymn, a hymn which by many not of dr. bright's school is regarded as their favourite hymn, and which has commended to them the truth of the commemoration before god, in a way that might not have been possible had the same form of words been cast in a prose setting. and now, o father, mindful of the love that bought us, once for all, on calvary's tree, and having with us him that pleads above we here present, we here spread forth to thee that only offering perfect in thine eyes the one true pure, immortal sacrifice. look, father, look on his anointed face and only look on us as found in him look not on our misusings of thy grace, our prayer so languid, and our faith so dim for lo! between our sins and their reward we set the passion of thy son our lord. our blessed lord is therefore present as the head of the church which is his body, as the great high priest to enable us in union with him to plead his sacrifice, which is the sole ground of our approach to and acceptance with god. in that which has been called the companion hymn to dr. bright's, part of which i have quoted just above, the saintly bishop bickersteth expressed the same great truth from his standpoint as an evangelical churchman. o holy father, who in tender love didst give thine only son for us to die, the while he pleads at thy right hand above we in one spirit now with faith draw nigh, and, as we eat this bread and drink this wine, plead his once offered sacrifice divine. (_b_) but not only is the commemoration of the lord's death made before god, it is also made before and amongst ourselves. the breaking of the bread, the blessing of the cup with the use of our saviour's words do remind us in the most solemn manner of the cost of our redemption and the great love wherewith he loved us and gave himself for us. the more we ponder god's amazing love in redemption, the more wonderful does it appear and the deeper and more ardent becomes our love whereby we love him who first loved us. perhaps the chiefest essential in the christian life is that we should have a living faith in god's mercy through christ, with a thankful remembrance of his death, and nothing helps us to secure this essential so much as the due and devout observance of the lord's supper ordained by our blessed master himself in the same night in which he was betrayed and on the very eve of his tremendous death and sacrifice. (_c_) there is a third aspect of the commemoration which must not be overlooked. the eucharist is a means of proclaiming or preaching the lord's death before the world until his coming again. "for as often as ye eat this bread and drink the cup, ye proclaim the lord's death till he come" ( corinthians, xi. ). there is not space at my disposal to do more than merely call attention to the evidential value of the holy eucharist to the truth of christianity and to the gospel history. but its constant celebration week by week is a fact, a fact which even the world must take note of, a fact which proclaims as no other institution of religion does that jesus died and rose again. and he, who has promised to be present where two or three are gathered together in his name, he, who has pledged his presence to his church in the proclamation of the gospel, is ever mindful of his promise when his followers meet together at his table, and amongst themselves and before the world proclaim and herald the death of him who died to be the saviour of all mankind. the spiritual food of his body and blood. the holy communion was ordained, and our blessed lord is present in that holy sacrament, in order that he, the true bread from heaven, may feed us with the spiritual food of his body and blood. in the language of the prayer book itself "it is our duty to render most humble and hearty thanks to almighty god our heavenly father, for that he hath given his son our saviour jesus christ, not only to die for us, but also to be our spiritual food and sustenance in (this) holy sacrament." whilst our catechism asserts that "the inward part or thing signified in the lord's supper is the body and blood of christ which are verily and indeed taken and received by the faithful in the lord's supper." the seeker after the truth must read and compare very carefully the following passages of holy scripture. st. john vi., the whole chapter; st. matthew, xxvi. - ; st. mark xiv. - ; st. luke xxii, - ; corinthians x. - ; corinthians, xi. -end. if this be done there will remain no doubt but that our blessed lord proclaims himself to be the bread of life, the food of man's spiritual nature and being, which needs food quite as much as his physical and mental nature and being; that he ordained the holy communion to be the means and channel whereby we receive his flesh and blood, that is his very perfect life and nature, according to his promise as recorded in st. john vi. verses - ; and that st. paul so understood its purpose and meaning. realizing that we are moving in the realm of the spiritual and meditating upon the words of the incarnate god, the very truth who can neither deceive or be deceived, we will not ask with the unbelieving jews how can this man give us his flesh to eat, we will leave all questions as to the manner how where christ himself has left them, and with a most thankful heart will make the words of hooker, the great elizabethan divine, our own, "what these elements are in themselves it skilleth not, it is enough that to me which take them they are the body and blood of christ, his promise in witness hereof sufficeth, his word he knoweth which way to accomplish; why should any cogitation possess the mind of a faithful communicant but this, o my god thou art true, o my soul, thou art happy." the reasonable, holy and living sacrifice of discipleship. there is another purpose why our blessed lord is present with us in holy communion. he is present as the great head of the church, in order that we his members with him and in him may offer ourselves a living sacrifice holy, acceptable unto god, which is our reasonable service (romans xii. ). we have sadly forgotten the real essential meaning of worship. what is worship? surely self oblation. it is the offering of ourselves, our bodies, souls and spirits, our talents, our gifts, all we have and all we are to god for service. but this is just what we poor sinners cannot do of ourselves, it if only _in christ_ that we can give ourselves to serve god and humanity. and so our blessed lord comes to us as the head of the church which is his body, the living organism in which he lives and through which he carries on his work. he comes and pleads on our behalf the merits of his atoning death and sacrifice once offered, he comes and applies to us the saving efficacy of his atonement, he feeds us with his body and blood, making us one with himself so that he dwells in us and we dwell in him, so that we are one with him and he one with us; and then, in him, in union with his eternal oblation of himself, he offers and presents us, his body, as living sacrifices to the eternal father, and sends us forth to do service for him and our brethren, not in our own strength and power but in his to whom all power in heaven and earth has been given. the present era in the history of the church and the world is one which calls for great power if christ is to be brought to a distracted disorganized sin-laden, sin-weary world,--and if the world is to be brought to christ its one and only possible helper and saviour, its saviour from present and future evils in the age that now is as well as in the ages to come. that power is in christ and is made over to his followers when in simple faith they come to him in a receptive attitude and with the determination to use it. the fundamental importance of the holy communion is, that it stands forth preeminently as the principal channel through which this power is bestowed. may all those who bear his name and desire to do him service realize what an inexhaustible treasury of divine strength and power the master has provided for us in this sacrament of his love. just a few words in conclusion as to our use of it. it is food, therefore, it must be received frequently and with regularity. it is food, therefore it presupposes life and at least a degree of health in those who take it. a corpse cannot receive food, the sick have no desire for it. the holy communion is for those who are baptized and have received the life of the risen lord. it is for those who have been forgiven and who long to show their gratitude by becoming strong through the assimilation of christ the bread of life to do him service and perform his will. it is food, therefore not a spiritual luxury for good people, but the ordinary necessary food for us all, poor weak pardoned sinners, god's children reconciled in christ, who are trying to become good and to love him who first loved us. the realization of our own nothingness and the all sufficiency of christ is the condition of heart and soul requisite for a good communion. repentance for the fact that it should be so with us, faith that he will supply all our needs, because he alone can and because he so wills, is the attitude of those who would really know what this sacrament was meant to be and can be to those who come to him "as sick to the physician of life, as unclean to the fountain of mercy, as blind to the light of eternal splendour, as needy to the lord of heaven and earth, as naked to the king of glory, as lost sheep to the good shepherd, as fallen creatures to their creator, as desolate to the kind comforter, as miserable to the pitier, as guilty to the bestower of pardon, as sinful to the justifier, as hardened to the infuser of grace." vii. immortality by the rev. canon cody, d.d., ll.d., toronto. if a man die shall he live again? this question is as old as the race. men cannot let it alone. it exercises a strange fascination. one generation, immersed in pleasure or in business, may think that _this_ world is quite enough and may push the question aside: but the next generation will ask with increased intensity: "if a man die, shall he live again?" at one period of his life a man may care little for a question that carries him beyond the horizon of the present; but by and by no question comes to him with more poignant urgency. the question will not rest, because death will not let us alone. as long as death breaks into our family circles, the problem will recur. death came with his legions during the war and compelled a fresh answer to his challenge. no one who can think or feel is able to look unmoved on the face of death: he must ask "shall he live again?" it is passing strange that this should remain to any degree an open question. why have not men reached a decisive answer? as a matter of fact, the history of nations and religions shows that man's tendency is to answer "yes, he will live again." the natural inclination of man everywhere is to believe, not in his extinction, but in his survival. the christian doctrine of immortality implies vastly more than the mere survival of personality after death. it involves a _quality_ rather than a _quantity_ of life. let us first, however, gather the manifold rays of light from various quarters that illuminate a future life of any kind. some of them may be only candle lights; but their combination will reveal a trend towards immortality. it will appear that it is less difficult to believe that a man will live again than to believe he will be extinguished by death. what history says. i. a survey of human history discovers some candle lights on the problem of survival. these lights are certain well-established facts. .--all peoples and tribes, in all ages and of all grades of intelligence have conceived a life beyond death. isolated exceptions are so rare that they may be accounted for by the loss, through degeneration, of an instinctive idea. this belief built the pyramids of egypt, reared the great etruscan tombs, led men to embalm their dead, placed food and utensils within the tomb for use beyond, slaughtered the horses of the dead warrior and burned the widow on the husband's pyre. there is a deep-rooted and universal feeling that the spirit of man is distinct from, and superior to, the body, and survives the body. the universal fact of mortality has suggested the universal belief in immortality. this is all the more remarkable in face of the lack of immortality in nature. nature presents the aspect of an indefinite series of things succeeding one another. it would seem that the human mind is so constructed that it tends in the direction of belief in the survival of personality. this may be but a _candle_ light; yet it is a _light_. .--this belief in immortality persists. various fancies and superstitions have been outgrown and cast aside in the progress of the ages. many conceptions of the past have proved unworthy to survive. but this belief has a stronger grip on the modern world than it ever had in the past. while advance in knowledge reveals an interdependence of soul and body, it accentuates their distinction. to-day progress is interpreted to mean the triumph of the spirit and is marked by an increasing consciousness of the reality of the self which knows and wills and feels. a belief which thus survives must surely have in it something of the vitality of truth. .--this belief develops and waxes strong as life itself develops and climbs higher. the higher a man is in the scale of being, the wider his thoughts, the deeper his affections, the nobler his life; the more likely is he to believe that the soul lives on. the more fleshly, selfish and materialistic is the life, the harder it is to be sure of immortality. thousands may live in the slime, with the beasts, and may not have a steadfast hope in a life beyond; but the great-minded and great-hearted men of the race are surest of life everlasting. tennyson once said to bishop lightfoot: "the cardinal point of christianity is the life after death." tennyson is supremely the poet of immortality. it is his master thought; and herein he is typical of the greatest minds in human history. this belief, universal and persistent, is most vigorous in the hearts of the supreme men of our civilization. .--this belief, however vague may be the ideas in its context, exercises a real influence on life. it energises men. it nerves them to struggle and achieve. it enlarges their view. it inspires them for vaster enterprises. it enables them to do hard things and to persevere to the end. what philosophy says. ii. philosophy lights more candles on the problem. philosophy goes deeper than the statement of facts; it gives a theory of the facts; it seeks to find causes, relations and purposes. . the _thoughts_ of the normal man are long thoughts. he has an instinctive yearning for immortality. if this instinct is absent, the man is not normal. if this instinct is suppressed, the man's soul is injured. if he does not believe in immortality, he will believe in something far less credible. it may be continued existence in the complex-life of humanity; it may be absorption of individual personality in some oversoul. the issue is sorrow of heart, bitterness of soul, pessimism of creed, "pessimism is the column of black smoke proceeding from the heart in which the hope of immortality has been burned to ashes." if a man remains normal, he believes in immortality. what is the inference? tennyson has drawn it. "thou wilt not leave us in the dust, thou madest man, he knows not why; he thinks he was not made to die; and thou hast made him, thou are just." a just creator will not place instinctive longings in his creature's soul, only to betray them. .--the _affections_ of the soul are as true witnesses as the mind. "the heart has reasons which the reason cannot understand." it is impossible for love at its purest and strongest to believe that death ends all. love shrinks in pain from such a possibility. it protests against such a violation of the fellowship of heart with heart. the longing for reunion is no vain desire, awakened only to be mocked. not so can things be ordained in a world of order. the poets are the prophets of the heart; and all the great poets teach immortality. the heart, which god made, will not perpetually deceive us. "if it were _not_ so, i would have told you." the instinct is true. the verdict of the spiritual seers of the race is favorable. .--man is constituted for an ampler and more glorious life than can possibly fall to his lot in this world. human powers are vast in comparison with human opportunities. man is too great to be crowded within the narrow limits of seventy years. "so much to do, so little done" were among the last words of cecil rhodes. to develop the latent powers we possess, we have no adequate opportunity here. deep in our souls is the quenchless desire for a fuller expression of our powers. could god build the human soul with all its capacities for the few years of this fleeting life on earth? not if there is rationality at the heart of the universe. .--this world is an insoluble moral enigma, if there is no other world to explain it. inequalities, injustices, abominations abound. circumstances and character are frequently at variance. right has often been on the scaffold; wrong on the throne. the whole creation is groaning and travailling in pain. this world is intolerable, if there is no other. there must be a world in which wrong will be righted and justice done. man's conscience whispers that the judge of all the earth will do right; but how can he do right with all his creatures, unless he has more time? r. l. stevenson well puts the argument: "we had needs invent heaven, if it had not been revealed; there are some things that fall so bitterly ill on this side time." unless this world has been created from sheer extravagance in the infliction of purposeless pain, there must be another to justify the present process of discipline, to heal the wounds of struggle, to comfort sorrow, to develop holiness. somewhere, sometime, character and condition must correspond. what science says. iii. does science throw any light on our problem? there may not be any absolute scientific proof of a life beyond; but science has no demonstrative evidence against it. at least it leaves the question open. some go so far as to say that the results of modern scientific research, when fairly viewed, are favourable to the reception of the belief in immortality. a great modern physicist says: "the death of the body does not convey any assurance of the soul's death. every physical analogy is against such a superficial notion in nature. we never see things beginning or coming to an end. change is what we see, not origin or termination. death is a change, indeed; a sort of emigration, a wrenching away from the old familiar scenes, a solemn, portentous fact. but it is not annihilation." dangers have seemed to threaten the doctrine of personal immortality from the standpoint of the physiologist and the evolutionist; but these dangers have not proved fatal. the physiologist has demonstrated the close connection between the brain and the soul. it was an easy, though improper, conclusion to assert that "the brain secretes thought as the liver secretes bile." but the psychologist speedily pointed out that the physiologist had gone beyond his province. he had proved only that thought is a function of the brain. functions may be productive or transmissive. light as a function of the electric circuit represents a _productive_ function; music as a function of the organ illustrates a _transmissive_ function. the music is not _in_ the organ but in the organist. the organ transmits it. so, the brain is but the organ of the soul. the evolutionist has made men think in immensities and has given prime importance to the idea of development. but a creature like man who is alleged to be the product of ages of development is surely not going to be extinguished at the tomb. darwin himself wrote: "it is an intolerable thought that men and all other sentient beings are doomed to complete annihilation after such long-continued slow progress." what candles, then, does science light up for us? .--the conservation of energy and the indestructibility of matter imply that the natural forces of the world are not annihilated, however much they may be transformed. may we not hope that the peculiar form of force known as personality, the highest force in the world, will not be destroyed by the experience of death? .--unfit organisms perish; fit survive. many beliefs which once formed part of the spiritual life of man have perished in the lapse of time, but no belief has shown greater vitality and power to resist the disintegrating influences of changing environment than belief in the soul's immortality. if this belief has survived when quickened by the most awful imaginable strain of the great war may we not conclude that it is one of those beliefs fit to live, one of those beliefs which the creator desires to live and grow? .--whenever we find a faculty, we discover in environment something to which this faculty corresponds. progress is possible only by the constant adaptation of faculty to environment. this is true of the animal world. is it not also true of man? in man are found faculties peculiar to himself. there is a longing for immortality, an expanding conviction of it. does this internal condition correspond to reality? yes, else delusion falls on man alone. for, as a distinguished scientist (sir j. burdon sanderson) has said, "there is no known instance of the development of a capacity without the existence of a corresponding satisfaction." .--if there is one increasing purpose through the ages, if there is development from lower to higher, from simple to complex, it is impossible to bound our vision with the grave. if personality has been attained, it is incredible that the gain of painful ages will be thrown away. "_now_ are we the sons of god, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be." the "forward-looking" habit has not been acquired for naught. so far is science from giving demonstrative evidence against immortality that it actually presents some considerations in its favour. the reasonableness and the beneficence of creation protest against the extinction of men by death. what christ says. the candle-lights of history, philosophy and science cast a cumulative radiance upon the problem of life after death. they show that it is harder not to believe than to believe in immortality. but we need the light of the sun. we need the demonstration of the power of an endless life. this we have in the risen christ. christ brought into perfect light those truths about god and man, of which mankind had dim intuitions. by his resurrection christ abolished death (i.e., deprived it of force and power) and brought life and immortality to light (i.e., gives certainty, richness and power to the hope of immortal life). .--christ has given _certainty_ to the instinctive longing for immortality. for the shadow, he has given substance; for dimness, light; for hope, assurance. although this hope has been virtually universal and inextinguishable, yet apart from christ it has never become a certainty. though historian, philosopher, poet, lover and saint have their own special arguments for the hereafter, it is christ himself who is the sure light both of this world and of that which is to come. he has turned this hope into a full and glorious assurance. how has he done this? (_a_) _by his teaching_.--two things about mankind christ took for granted--sinfulness and immortality. he did not argue about this life beyond; he took it for granted. no part of his teaching is explicable on the supposition that all ends at the tomb. his basis for our immortality is not our instinct but the character of god. on the bosom of god's fatherhood rests man's immortality. if god is our father and loves us as his children, then we are his and he is ours _forever_. death cannot break this tie of life and love which binds us to him; it cannot rob him of his child. that god cannot be the god of the dead, but of the living, is axiomatic. his personal relations are real and are eternal. the christian faith is sufficient to give us certainty and comfort concerning our departed. we are assured that the blessed dead are in his safe keeping and through him we are one with them in a union which will one day be consummated in everlasting reunion and communion. our christian watchwords are enough--"love in absence, trust in silence, faith in reunion." (_b_) _by his life_.--to the eye that can see, his life is the supreme argument for immortality. he lived such a life of fellowship with god and so near to the frontier of eternity that the glory of it shone upon and from his face. the longing for a life higher than the life of time is answered in his life. such a life could not be holden by death. it is eternal. it has the quality now and always of everlastingness. (_c_) _by his resurrection_.--he confirmed the truth of what he taught, and lived, by what he did. he rose again, transformed, not merely resuscitated. he irradiated the spiritual land. it is no longer "an undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns." the empty tomb, the cumulative evidence of independent witnesses, the transformation in the lives of believers, the institutions of the christian church, its continued existence, the personal experience of the power of a rising life in individual christians throughout the ages to the present time--are the attestations of the truth of the resurrection. the christian church is built and still rests on the fact, luminous and sovereign, that christ rose from the grave in fulness and newness of power. to the life beyond, christ's resurrection gives reality and humanity and assurance. it confirmed men's subjective aspirations, it changed them into "things most surely believed." it makes every christian certain of a higher life beyond the grave. . christ has _enriched_ the whole conception of immortality. in the ancient, as in the savage world to-day, immortality or the continued duration of life, was a dreary prospect, a sense of desolation rather than a source of joy, an impoverishment of life, not an enrichment of it; its scene was a shadowy realm of silence, where there is no voice of praise nor human warmth and cheer. in some passages in the old testament we find a loftier and clearer utterance. through his faith in god, job reached the idea that death may not be the final word. the righteous god would not abandon a righteous man. in revealed religion this faith in a life beyond the grave rested not on any conceptions of man's nature, but on the character of god, the eternal righteousness. if he has called men into fellowship with him, his faith is pledged to them. the psalmists won their sense of eternal security through their present fellowship with god. along this line of religious experience of a living, holy and gracious god, the true hope of immortality entered the world. just as union with god guaranteed to the psalmist a life that would never end, so union with the risen saviour guarantees to the christian triumph over death. christ has filled this elementary thought of continued existence with moral content, because he has based it on a true conception of god. the christian hope is not merely "immortality of the soul" but eternal life; and eternal life is not merely an infinite prolongation of existence in a future state of being; but is life at its highest and best, the life of fellowship, of vision, of growing likeness to god, of ample service. it is life in christ. it is being with christ, which is very far better than earthly life at its worthiest. it is not the mere translation, but the transformation of earthly values. this faith in immortality is moral and spiritual; it implies enriched and elevated being, as worthy and glorious as it is endless. .--christ has so increased the _power_ of immortality, of the christian hope, as almost to make it for the first time effective as a source of courage, hope and consolation. he has turned the hope of immortality into the power of his resurrection. all hopes exercise some influence on those who hold them; yet apart from christ the hope of immortality has been less effective than we might expect. by his resurrection christ has raised this yearning hope into a mighty present power brought to bear on humanity. the christian hope of immortality, certain and rich in the possession of abundant life, gives breadth and outlook to all human efforts. it inspires duty. brought to bear on our work, it makes effort worth while. if all we have striven to do and yet failed to do is to be perfected in the eternal morning, we can face our tasks with fresh courage. all social reconstructions that deny or neglect the christian thought of an endless life fail here. their scope is too limited; their outlook too narrow. the christian hope brings the power of endurance and victory to sorrowing hearts. death is not a leap in the dark, but the passing into a larger, brighter room in the house of the one father. in short, when this hope of immortality is tested by life, it is verified by the loftiness of the character it builds. the rising life is the present demonstration of the risen life. all low, worldly, unspiritual living tends to doubt in it. if we would escape from doubt about the future, let us through the living christ make life larger now. if we would overcome weakening uncertainty, let us daily practice immortality. if we set our affections on things above, our rising life will assure us that we shall live forever. one of gladstone's great exhortations was: "be inspired with the belief that life is a great and noble calling; not a mean and grovelling thing, that we are to shuffle through as we can, but an elevated and lofty destiny." this belief is created and can be maintained only by viewing life in relation to god and immortality. every man should therefore put the question to himself: "if _i_ die, shall i live again?" "what kind of life am i living now? is it life eternal, or life merely temporal? is it a friendship with god which death can never extinguish?" only one life has ever won open victory over death. only one kind of life ever can win it--that kind of life which was in christ, which _is_ in christ, which he shares with all whom faith makes one with him. "in the midst of life we are in death" such is the cry of bereaved and dying humanity. but in christ we are able to say: "in the midst of death, we are in life." "god has given us eternal life, and that life is in his son." can death touch that life? never. t. h. best printing co. limited, toronto the layman's library of practical religion _future volumes_ volume ii. lent . god. i. the god shown us by jesus christ. by the rt. rev. j. c. farthing, d.d., d.c.l., bishop of montreal. ii. god and you. by the rt. rev. j. a. richardson, d.d., d. c. l., bishop of fredericton. iii. god and evolution. by the very rev. j. p. d. llwyd, d.d., d.c.l., dean of nova scotia. iv. god in the old testament. by prof. f. h. cosgrave, b.d., trinity college, toronto, v. the holy trinity. by the rev. dr. w. w. craig, vancouver. vi. the holy spirit. by rev. prof. e. a. mcintyre, wycliffe college, toronto. vii. god in regard to pain and affliction. by rev. e. f. salmon, ottawa. volume iii. advent . jesus christ. i. the messiah. by rev. h. r. stevenson, m.a., montreal. ii. jesus christ as the world's moral miracle. by the rt. rev. david williams, d.d., ll.d., bishop of huron. iii. jesus christ compared with other masters, buddha, etc. by rev. dr. r. c. johnstone, winnipeg. iv. jesus christ the son of god. by rev. dr. dyson hague, toronto. v. jesus christ the saviour of the world. by rev. f. h. brewin, m.a., toronto. vi. jesus christ and you--his practical methods for you to live by. by the ven. archdeacon mcelheran, m.a., winnipeg. vii. the virgin birth. by the rt. rev. j. c. roper, ll.d., d.d., ottawa. volume iv. lent . the bible. i. how the old testament was written. by the ven. archdeacon paterson-smyth, d.d., d.litt., montreal. ii. how the new testament was written. by the ven. archdeacon paterson-smyth, d.d., d.litt., montreal. iii. how the bible came down to us. by the ven. archdeacon paterson-smyth, d.d., d.litt., montreal. iv. the miracles of the new testament. by the rt. rev. e. j. bidwell, d.d., d.c.l., bishop of ontario. v. the messages of the four gospels. by rev. h. h. bedford-jones, m.a. vi. the messages of the acts, epistles, and apocalypse. vii. two methods of reading the bible, the daily and the weekly. by the rt. rev. j. f. sweeney, d.d., d.c.l., bishop of toronto. other volumes will follow on such subjects as prayer, holy communion, the prayer book, baptism and confirmation, missions, etc. heretics by gilbert k. chesterton "to my father" source heretics was copyrighted in by the john lane company. this electronic text is derived from the twelfth ( ) edition published by the john lane company of new york city and printed by the plimpton press of norwood, massachusetts. the text carefully follows that of the published edition (including british spelling). the author gilbert keith chesterton was born in london, england on the th of may, . though he considered himself a mere "rollicking journalist," he was actually a prolific and gifted writer in virtually every area of literature. a man of strong opinions and enormously talented at defending them, his exuberant personality nevertheless allowed him to maintain warm friendships with people--such as george bernard shaw and h. g. wells--with whom he vehemently disagreed. chesterton had no difficulty standing up for what he believed. he was one of the few journalists to oppose the boer war. his "eugenics and other evils" attacked what was at that time the most progressive of all ideas, the idea that the human race could and should breed a superior version of itself. in the nazi experience, history demonstrated the wisdom of his once "reactionary" views. his poetry runs the gamut from the comic "on running after one's hat" to dark and serious ballads. during the dark days of , when britain stood virtually alone against the armed might of nazi germany, these lines from his ballad of the white horse were often quoted: i tell you naught for your comfort, yea, naught for your desire, save that the sky grows darker yet and the sea rises higher. though not written for a scholarly audience, his biographies of authors and historical figures like charles dickens and st. francis of assisi often contain brilliant insights into their subjects. his father brown mystery stories, written between and , are still being read and adapted for television. his politics fitted with his deep distrust of concentrated wealth and power of any sort. along with his friend hilaire belloc and in books like the "what's wrong with the world" he advocated a view called "distributionism" that was best summed up by his expression that every man ought to be allowed to own "three acres and a cow." though not known as a political thinker, his political influence has circled the world. some see in him the father of the "small is beautiful" movement and a newspaper article by him is credited with provoking gandhi to seek a "genuine" nationalism for india rather than one that imitated the british. heretics belongs to yet another area of literature at which chesterton excelled. a fun-loving and gregarious man, he was nevertheless troubled in his adolescence by thoughts of suicide. in christianity he found the answers to the dilemmas and paradoxes he saw in life. other books in that same series include his orthodoxy (written in response to attacks on this book) and his the everlasting man. orthodoxy is also available as electronic text. chesterton died on the th of june, in beaconsfield, buckinghamshire, england. during his life he published books and at least another ten based on his writings have been published after his death. many of those books are still in print. ignatius press is systematically publishing his collected writings. table of contents . introductory remarks on the importance of othodoxy . on the negative spirit . on mr. rudyard kipling and making the world small . mr. bernard shaw . mr. h. g. wells and the giants . christmas and the esthetes . omar and the sacred vine . the mildness of the yellow press . the moods of mr. george moore . on sandals and simplicity . science and the savages . paganism and mr. lowes dickinson . celts and celtophiles . on certain modern writers and the institution of the family . on smart novelists and the smart set . on mr. mccabe and a divine frivolity . on the wit of whistler . the fallacy of the young nation . slum novelists and the slums . concluding remarks on the importance of orthodoxy i. introductory remarks on the importance of orthodoxy nothing more strangely indicates an enormous and silent evil of modern society than the extraordinary use which is made nowadays of the word "orthodox." in former days the heretic was proud of not being a heretic. it was the kingdoms of the world and the police and the judges who were heretics. he was orthodox. he had no pride in having rebelled against them; they had rebelled against him. the armies with their cruel security, the kings with their cold faces, the decorous processes of state, the reasonable processes of law--all these like sheep had gone astray. the man was proud of being orthodox, was proud of being right. if he stood alone in a howling wilderness he was more than a man; he was a church. he was the centre of the universe; it was round him that the stars swung. all the tortures torn out of forgotten hells could not make him admit that he was heretical. but a few modern phrases have made him boast of it. he says, with a conscious laugh, "i suppose i am very heretical," and looks round for applause. the word "heresy" not only means no longer being wrong; it practically means being clear-headed and courageous. the word "orthodoxy" not only no longer means being right; it practically means being wrong. all this can mean one thing, and one thing only. it means that people care less for whether they are philosophically right. for obviously a man ought to confess himself crazy before he confesses himself heretical. the bohemian, with a red tie, ought to pique himself on his orthodoxy. the dynamiter, laying a bomb, ought to feel that, whatever else he is, at least he is orthodox. it is foolish, generally speaking, for a philosopher to set fire to another philosopher in smithfield market because they do not agree in their theory of the universe. that was done very frequently in the last decadence of the middle ages, and it failed altogether in its object. but there is one thing that is infinitely more absurd and unpractical than burning a man for his philosophy. this is the habit of saying that his philosophy does not matter, and this is done universally in the twentieth century, in the decadence of the great revolutionary period. general theories are everywhere contemned; the doctrine of the rights of man is dismissed with the doctrine of the fall of man. atheism itself is too theological for us to-day. revolution itself is too much of a system; liberty itself is too much of a restraint. we will have no generalizations. mr. bernard shaw has put the view in a perfect epigram: "the golden rule is that there is no golden rule." we are more and more to discuss details in art, politics, literature. a man's opinion on tramcars matters; his opinion on botticelli matters; his opinion on all things does not matter. he may turn over and explore a million objects, but he must not find that strange object, the universe; for if he does he will have a religion, and be lost. everything matters--except everything. examples are scarcely needed of this total levity on the subject of cosmic philosophy. examples are scarcely needed to show that, whatever else we think of as affecting practical affairs, we do not think it matters whether a man is a pessimist or an optimist, a cartesian or a hegelian, a materialist or a spiritualist. let me, however, take a random instance. at any innocent tea-table we may easily hear a man say, "life is not worth living." we regard it as we regard the statement that it is a fine day; nobody thinks that it can possibly have any serious effect on the man or on the world. and yet if that utterance were really believed, the world would stand on its head. murderers would be given medals for saving men from life; firemen would be denounced for keeping men from death; poisons would be used as medicines; doctors would be called in when people were well; the royal humane society would be rooted out like a horde of assassins. yet we never speculate as to whether the conversational pessimist will strengthen or disorganize society; for we are convinced that theories do not matter. this was certainly not the idea of those who introduced our freedom. when the old liberals removed the gags from all the heresies, their idea was that religious and philosophical discoveries might thus be made. their view was that cosmic truth was so important that every one ought to bear independent testimony. the modern idea is that cosmic truth is so unimportant that it cannot matter what any one says. the former freed inquiry as men loose a noble hound; the latter frees inquiry as men fling back into the sea a fish unfit for eating. never has there been so little discussion about the nature of men as now, when, for the first time, any one can discuss it. the old restriction meant that only the orthodox were allowed to discuss religion. modern liberty means that nobody is allowed to discuss it. good taste, the last and vilest of human superstitions, has succeeded in silencing us where all the rest have failed. sixty years ago it was bad taste to be an avowed atheist. then came the bradlaughites, the last religious men, the last men who cared about god; but they could not alter it. it is still bad taste to be an avowed atheist. but their agony has achieved just this--that now it is equally bad taste to be an avowed christian. emancipation has only locked the saint in the same tower of silence as the heresiarch. then we talk about lord anglesey and the weather, and call it the complete liberty of all the creeds. but there are some people, nevertheless--and i am one of them--who think that the most practical and important thing about a man is still his view of the universe. we think that for a landlady considering a lodger, it is important to know his income, but still more important to know his philosophy. we think that for a general about to fight an enemy, it is important to know the enemy's numbers, but still more important to know the enemy's philosophy. we think the question is not whether the theory of the cosmos affects matters, but whether in the long run, anything else affects them. in the fifteenth century men cross-examined and tormented a man because he preached some immoral attitude; in the nineteenth century we feted and flattered oscar wilde because he preached such an attitude, and then broke his heart in penal servitude because he carried it out. it may be a question which of the two methods was the more cruel; there can be no kind of question which was the more ludicrous. the age of the inquisition has not at least the disgrace of having produced a society which made an idol of the very same man for preaching the very same things which it made him a convict for practising. now, in our time, philosophy or religion, our theory, that is, about ultimate things, has been driven out, more or less simultaneously, from two fields which it used to occupy. general ideals used to dominate literature. they have been driven out by the cry of "art for art's sake." general ideals used to dominate politics. they have been driven out by the cry of "efficiency," which may roughly be translated as "politics for politics' sake." persistently for the last twenty years the ideals of order or liberty have dwindled in our books; the ambitions of wit and eloquence have dwindled in our parliaments. literature has purposely become less political; politics have purposely become less literary. general theories of the relation of things have thus been extruded from both; and we are in a position to ask, "what have we gained or lost by this extrusion? is literature better, is politics better, for having discarded the moralist and the philosopher?" when everything about a people is for the time growing weak and ineffective, it begins to talk about efficiency. so it is that when a man's body is a wreck he begins, for the first time, to talk about health. vigorous organisms talk not about their processes, but about their aims. there cannot be any better proof of the physical efficiency of a man than that he talks cheerfully of a journey to the end of the world. and there cannot be any better proof of the practical efficiency of a nation than that it talks constantly of a journey to the end of the world, a journey to the judgment day and the new jerusalem. there can be no stronger sign of a coarse material health than the tendency to run after high and wild ideals; it is in the first exuberance of infancy that we cry for the moon. none of the strong men in the strong ages would have understood what you meant by working for efficiency. hildebrand would have said that he was working not for efficiency, but for the catholic church. danton would have said that he was working not for efficiency, but for liberty, equality, and fraternity. even if the ideal of such men were simply the ideal of kicking a man downstairs, they thought of the end like men, not of the process like paralytics. they did not say, "efficiently elevating my right leg, using, you will notice, the muscles of the thigh and calf, which are in excellent order, i--" their feeling was quite different. they were so filled with the beautiful vision of the man lying flat at the foot of the staircase that in that ecstasy the rest followed in a flash. in practice, the habit of generalizing and idealizing did not by any means mean worldly weakness. the time of big theories was the time of big results. in the era of sentiment and fine words, at the end of the eighteenth century, men were really robust and effective. the sentimentalists conquered napoleon. the cynics could not catch de wet. a hundred years ago our affairs for good or evil were wielded triumphantly by rhetoricians. now our affairs are hopelessly muddled by strong, silent men. and just as this repudiation of big words and big visions has brought forth a race of small men in politics, so it has brought forth a race of small men in the arts. our modern politicians claim the colossal license of caesar and the superman, claim that they are too practical to be pure and too patriotic to be moral; but the upshot of it all is that a mediocrity is chancellor of the exchequer. our new artistic philosophers call for the same moral license, for a freedom to wreck heaven and earth with their energy; but the upshot of it all is that a mediocrity is poet laureate. i do not say that there are no stronger men than these; but will any one say that there are any men stronger than those men of old who were dominated by their philosophy and steeped in their religion? whether bondage be better than freedom may be discussed. but that their bondage came to more than our freedom it will be difficult for any one to deny. the theory of the unmorality of art has established itself firmly in the strictly artistic classes. they are free to produce anything they like. they are free to write a "paradise lost" in which satan shall conquer god. they are free to write a "divine comedy" in which heaven shall be under the floor of hell. and what have they done? have they produced in their universality anything grander or more beautiful than the things uttered by the fierce ghibbeline catholic, by the rigid puritan schoolmaster? we know that they have produced only a few roundels. milton does not merely beat them at his piety, he beats them at their own irreverence. in all their little books of verse you will not find a finer defiance of god than satan's. nor will you find the grandeur of paganism felt as that fiery christian felt it who described faranata lifting his head as in disdain of hell. and the reason is very obvious. blasphemy is an artistic effect, because blasphemy depends upon a philosophical conviction. blasphemy depends upon belief and is fading with it. if any one doubts this, let him sit down seriously and try to think blasphemous thoughts about thor. i think his family will find him at the end of the day in a state of some exhaustion. neither in the world of politics nor that of literature, then, has the rejection of general theories proved a success. it may be that there have been many moonstruck and misleading ideals that have from time to time perplexed mankind. but assuredly there has been no ideal in practice so moonstruck and misleading as the ideal of practicality. nothing has lost so many opportunities as the opportunism of lord rosebery. he is, indeed, a standing symbol of this epoch--the man who is theoretically a practical man, and practically more unpractical than any theorist. nothing in this universe is so unwise as that kind of worship of worldly wisdom. a man who is perpetually thinking of whether this race or that race is strong, of whether this cause or that cause is promising, is the man who will never believe in anything long enough to make it succeed. the opportunist politician is like a man who should abandon billiards because he was beaten at billiards, and abandon golf because he was beaten at golf. there is nothing which is so weak for working purposes as this enormous importance attached to immediate victory. there is nothing that fails like success. and having discovered that opportunism does fail, i have been induced to look at it more largely, and in consequence to see that it must fail. i perceive that it is far more practical to begin at the beginning and discuss theories. i see that the men who killed each other about the orthodoxy of the homoousion were far more sensible than the people who are quarrelling about the education act. for the christian dogmatists were trying to establish a reign of holiness, and trying to get defined, first of all, what was really holy. but our modern educationists are trying to bring about a religious liberty without attempting to settle what is religion or what is liberty. if the old priests forced a statement on mankind, at least they previously took some trouble to make it lucid. it has been left for the modern mobs of anglicans and nonconformists to persecute for a doctrine without even stating it. for these reasons, and for many more, i for one have come to believe in going back to fundamentals. such is the general idea of this book. i wish to deal with my most distinguished contemporaries, not personally or in a merely literary manner, but in relation to the real body of doctrine which they teach. i am not concerned with mr. rudyard kipling as a vivid artist or a vigorous personality; i am concerned with him as a heretic--that is to say, a man whose view of things has the hardihood to differ from mine. i am not concerned with mr. bernard shaw as one of the most brilliant and one of the most honest men alive; i am concerned with him as a heretic--that is to say, a man whose philosophy is quite solid, quite coherent, and quite wrong. i revert to the doctrinal methods of the thirteenth century, inspired by the general hope of getting something done. suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down. a grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the middle ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the schoolmen, "let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of light. if light be in itself good--" at this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down. all the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. but as things go on they do not work out so easily. some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something. and there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. so, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of light. only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark. ii. on the negative spirit much has been said, and said truly, of the monkish morbidity, of the hysteria which as often gone with the visions of hermits or nuns. but let us never forget that this visionary religion is, in one sense, necessarily more wholesome than our modern and reasonable morality. it is more wholesome for this reason, that it can contemplate the idea of success or triumph in the hopeless fight towards the ethical ideal, in what stevenson called, with his usual startling felicity, "the lost fight of virtue." a modern morality, on the other hand, can only point with absolute conviction to the horrors that follow breaches of law; its only certainty is a certainty of ill. it can only point to imperfection. it has no perfection to point to. but the monk meditating upon christ or buddha has in his mind an image of perfect health, a thing of clear colours and clean air. he may contemplate this ideal wholeness and happiness far more than he ought; he may contemplate it to the neglect of exclusion of essential things; he may contemplate it until he has become a dreamer or a driveller; but still it is wholeness and happiness that he is contemplating. he may even go mad; but he is going mad for the love of sanity. but the modern student of ethics, even if he remains sane, remains sane from an insane dread of insanity. the anchorite rolling on the stones in a frenzy of submission is a healthier person fundamentally than many a sober man in a silk hat who is walking down cheapside. for many such are good only through a withering knowledge of evil. i am not at this moment claiming for the devotee anything more than this primary advantage, that though he may be making himself personally weak and miserable, he is still fixing his thoughts largely on gigantic strength and happiness, on a strength that has no limits, and a happiness that has no end. doubtless there are other objections which can be urged without unreason against the influence of gods and visions in morality, whether in the cell or street. but this advantage the mystic morality must always have--it is always jollier. a young man may keep himself from vice by continually thinking of disease. he may keep himself from it also by continually thinking of the virgin mary. there may be question about which method is the more reasonable, or even about which is the more efficient. but surely there can be no question about which is the more wholesome. i remember a pamphlet by that able and sincere secularist, mr. g. w. foote, which contained a phrase sharply symbolizing and dividing these two methods. the pamphlet was called beer and bible, those two very noble things, all the nobler for a conjunction which mr. foote, in his stern old puritan way, seemed to think sardonic, but which i confess to thinking appropriate and charming. i have not the work by me, but i remember that mr. foote dismissed very contemptuously any attempts to deal with the problem of strong drink by religious offices or intercessions, and said that a picture of a drunkard's liver would be more efficacious in the matter of temperance than any prayer or praise. in that picturesque expression, it seems to me, is perfectly embodied the incurable morbidity of modern ethics. in that temple the lights are low, the crowds kneel, the solemn anthems are uplifted. but that upon the altar to which all men kneel is no longer the perfect flesh, the body and substance of the perfect man; it is still flesh, but it is diseased. it is the drunkard's liver of the new testament that is marred for us, which we take in remembrance of him. now, it is this great gap in modern ethics, the absence of vivid pictures of purity and spiritual triumph, which lies at the back of the real objection felt by so many sane men to the realistic literature of the nineteenth century. if any ordinary man ever said that he was horrified by the subjects discussed in ibsen or maupassant, or by the plain language in which they are spoken of, that ordinary man was lying. the average conversation of average men throughout the whole of modern civilization in every class or trade is such as zola would never dream of printing. nor is the habit of writing thus of these things a new habit. on the contrary, it is the victorian prudery and silence which is new still, though it is already dying. the tradition of calling a spade a spade starts very early in our literature and comes down very late. but the truth is that the ordinary honest man, whatever vague account he may have given of his feelings, was not either disgusted or even annoyed at the candour of the moderns. what disgusted him, and very justly, was not the presence of a clear realism, but the absence of a clear idealism. strong and genuine religious sentiment has never had any objection to realism; on the contrary, religion was the realistic thing, the brutal thing, the thing that called names. this is the great difference between some recent developments of nonconformity and the great puritanism of the seventeenth century. it was the whole point of the puritans that they cared nothing for decency. modern nonconformist newspapers distinguish themselves by suppressing precisely those nouns and adjectives which the founders of nonconformity distinguished themselves by flinging at kings and queens. but if it was a chief claim of religion that it spoke plainly about evil, it was the chief claim of all that it spoke plainly about good. the thing which is resented, and, as i think, rightly resented, in that great modern literature of which ibsen is typical, is that while the eye that can perceive what are the wrong things increases in an uncanny and devouring clarity, the eye which sees what things are right is growing mistier and mistier every moment, till it goes almost blind with doubt. if we compare, let us say, the morality of the divine comedy with the morality of ibsen's ghosts, we shall see all that modern ethics have really done. no one, i imagine, will accuse the author of the inferno of an early victorian prudishness or a podsnapian optimism. but dante describes three moral instruments--heaven, purgatory, and hell, the vision of perfection, the vision of improvement, and the vision of failure. ibsen has only one--hell. it is often said, and with perfect truth, that no one could read a play like ghosts and remain indifferent to the necessity of an ethical self-command. that is quite true, and the same is to be said of the most monstrous and material descriptions of the eternal fire. it is quite certain the realists like zola do in one sense promote morality--they promote it in the sense in which the hangman promotes it, in the sense in which the devil promotes it. but they only affect that small minority which will accept any virtue of courage. most healthy people dismiss these moral dangers as they dismiss the possibility of bombs or microbes. modern realists are indeed terrorists, like the dynamiters; and they fail just as much in their effort to create a thrill. both realists and dynamiters are well-meaning people engaged in the task, so obviously ultimately hopeless, of using science to promote morality. i do not wish the reader to confuse me for a moment with those vague persons who imagine that ibsen is what they call a pessimist. there are plenty of wholesome people in ibsen, plenty of good people, plenty of happy people, plenty of examples of men acting wisely and things ending well. that is not my meaning. my meaning is that ibsen has throughout, and does not disguise, a certain vagueness and a changing attitude as well as a doubting attitude towards what is really wisdom and virtue in this life--a vagueness which contrasts very remarkably with the decisiveness with which he pounces on something which he perceives to be a root of evil, some convention, some deception, some ignorance. we know that the hero of ghosts is mad, and we know why he is mad. we do also know that dr. stockman is sane; but we do not know why he is sane. ibsen does not profess to know how virtue and happiness are brought about, in the sense that he professes to know how our modern sexual tragedies are brought about. falsehood works ruin in the pillars of society, but truth works equal ruin in the wild duck. there are no cardinal virtues of ibsenism. there is no ideal man of ibsen. all this is not only admitted, but vaunted in the most valuable and thoughtful of all the eulogies upon ibsen, mr. bernard shaw's quintessence of ibsenism. mr. shaw sums up ibsen's teaching in the phrase, "the golden rule is that there is no golden rule." in his eyes this absence of an enduring and positive ideal, this absence of a permanent key to virtue, is the one great ibsen merit. i am not discussing now with any fullness whether this is so or not. all i venture to point out, with an increased firmness, is that this omission, good or bad, does leave us face to face with the problem of a human consciousness filled with very definite images of evil, and with no definite image of good. to us light must be henceforward the dark thing--the thing of which we cannot speak. to us, as to milton's devils in pandemonium, it is darkness that is visible. the human race, according to religion, fell once, and in falling gained knowledge of good and of evil. now we have fallen a second time, and only the knowledge of evil remains to us. a great silent collapse, an enormous unspoken disappointment, has in our time fallen on our northern civilization. all previous ages have sweated and been crucified in an attempt to realize what is really the right life, what was really the good man. a definite part of the modern world has come beyond question to the conclusion that there is no answer to these questions, that the most that we can do is to set up a few notice-boards at places of obvious danger, to warn men, for instance, against drinking themselves to death, or ignoring the mere existence of their neighbours. ibsen is the first to return from the baffled hunt to bring us the tidings of great failure. every one of the popular modern phrases and ideals is a dodge in order to shirk the problem of what is good. we are fond of talking about "liberty"; that, as we talk of it, is a dodge to avoid discussing what is good. we are fond of talking about "progress"; that is a dodge to avoid discussing what is good. we are fond of talking about "education"; that is a dodge to avoid discussing what is good. the modern man says, "let us leave all these arbitrary standards and embrace liberty." this is, logically rendered, "let us not decide what is good, but let it be considered good not to decide it." he says, "away with your old moral formulae; i am for progress." this, logically stated, means, "let us not settle what is good; but let us settle whether we are getting more of it." he says, "neither in religion nor morality, my friend, lie the hopes of the race, but in education." this, clearly expressed, means, "we cannot decide what is good, but let us give it to our children." mr. h.g. wells, that exceedingly clear-sighted man, has pointed out in a recent work that this has happened in connection with economic questions. the old economists, he says, made generalizations, and they were (in mr. wells's view) mostly wrong. but the new economists, he says, seem to have lost the power of making any generalizations at all. and they cover this incapacity with a general claim to be, in specific cases, regarded as "experts", a claim "proper enough in a hairdresser or a fashionable physician, but indecent in a philosopher or a man of science." but in spite of the refreshing rationality with which mr. wells has indicated this, it must also be said that he himself has fallen into the same enormous modern error. in the opening pages of that excellent book mankind in the making, he dismisses the ideals of art, religion, abstract morality, and the rest, and says that he is going to consider men in their chief function, the function of parenthood. he is going to discuss life as a "tissue of births." he is not going to ask what will produce satisfactory saints or satisfactory heroes, but what will produce satisfactory fathers and mothers. the whole is set forward so sensibly that it is a few moments at least before the reader realises that it is another example of unconscious shirking. what is the good of begetting a man until we have settled what is the good of being a man? you are merely handing on to him a problem you dare not settle yourself. it is as if a man were asked, "what is the use of a hammer?" and answered, "to make hammers"; and when asked, "and of those hammers, what is the use?" answered, "to make hammers again". just as such a man would be perpetually putting off the question of the ultimate use of carpentry, so mr. wells and all the rest of us are by these phrases successfully putting off the question of the ultimate value of the human life. the case of the general talk of "progress" is, indeed, an extreme one. as enunciated today, "progress" is simply a comparative of which we have not settled the superlative. we meet every ideal of religion, patriotism, beauty, or brute pleasure with the alternative ideal of progress--that is to say, we meet every proposal of getting something that we know about, with an alternative proposal of getting a great deal more of nobody knows what. progress, properly understood, has, indeed, a most dignified and legitimate meaning. but as used in opposition to precise moral ideals, it is ludicrous. so far from it being the truth that the ideal of progress is to be set against that of ethical or religious finality, the reverse is the truth. nobody has any business to use the word "progress" unless he has a definite creed and a cast-iron code of morals. nobody can be progressive without being doctrinal; i might almost say that nobody can be progressive without being infallible--at any rate, without believing in some infallibility. for progress by its very name indicates a direction; and the moment we are in the least doubtful about the direction, we become in the same degree doubtful about the progress. never perhaps since the beginning of the world has there been an age that had less right to use the word "progress" than we. in the catholic twelfth century, in the philosophic eighteenth century, the direction may have been a good or a bad one, men may have differed more or less about how far they went, and in what direction, but about the direction they did in the main agree, and consequently they had the genuine sensation of progress. but it is precisely about the direction that we disagree. whether the future excellence lies in more law or less law, in more liberty or less liberty; whether property will be finally concentrated or finally cut up; whether sexual passion will reach its sanest in an almost virgin intellectualism or in a full animal freedom; whether we should love everybody with tolstoy, or spare nobody with nietzsche;--these are the things about which we are actually fighting most. it is not merely true that the age which has settled least what is progress is this "progressive" age. it is, moreover, true that the people who have settled least what is progress are the most "progressive" people in it. the ordinary mass, the men who have never troubled about progress, might be trusted perhaps to progress. the particular individuals who talk about progress would certainly fly to the four winds of heaven when the pistol-shot started the race. i do not, therefore, say that the word "progress" is unmeaning; i say it is unmeaning without the previous definition of a moral doctrine, and that it can only be applied to groups of persons who hold that doctrine in common. progress is not an illegitimate word, but it is logically evident that it is illegitimate for us. it is a sacred word, a word which could only rightly be used by rigid believers and in the ages of faith. iii. on mr. rudyard kipling and making the world small there is no such thing on earth as an uninteresting subject; the only thing that can exist is an uninterested person. nothing is more keenly required than a defence of bores. when byron divided humanity into the bores and bored, he omitted to notice that the higher qualities exist entirely in the bores, the lower qualities in the bored, among whom he counted himself. the bore, by his starry enthusiasm, his solemn happiness, may, in some sense, have proved himself poetical. the bored has certainly proved himself prosaic. we might, no doubt, find it a nuisance to count all the blades of grass or all the leaves of the trees; but this would not be because of our boldness or gaiety, but because of our lack of boldness and gaiety. the bore would go onward, bold and gay, and find the blades of grass as splendid as the swords of an army. the bore is stronger and more joyous than we are; he is a demigod--nay, he is a god. for it is the gods who do not tire of the iteration of things; to them the nightfall is always new, and the last rose as red as the first. the sense that everything is poetical is a thing solid and absolute; it is not a mere matter of phraseology or persuasion. it is not merely true, it is ascertainable. men may be challenged to deny it; men may be challenged to mention anything that is not a matter of poetry. i remember a long time ago a sensible sub-editor coming up to me with a book in his hand, called "mr. smith," or "the smith family," or some such thing. he said, "well, you won't get any of your damned mysticism out of this," or words to that effect. i am happy to say that i undeceived him; but the victory was too obvious and easy. in most cases the name is unpoetical, although the fact is poetical. in the case of smith, the name is so poetical that it must be an arduous and heroic matter for the man to live up to it. the name of smith is the name of the one trade that even kings respected, it could claim half the glory of that arma virumque which all epics acclaimed. the spirit of the smithy is so close to the spirit of song that it has mixed in a million poems, and every blacksmith is a harmonious blacksmith. even the village children feel that in some dim way the smith is poetic, as the grocer and the cobbler are not poetic, when they feast on the dancing sparks and deafening blows in the cavern of that creative violence. the brute repose of nature, the passionate cunning of man, the strongest of earthly metals, the wierdest of earthly elements, the unconquerable iron subdued by its only conqueror, the wheel and the ploughshare, the sword and the steam-hammer, the arraying of armies and the whole legend of arms, all these things are written, briefly indeed, but quite legibly, on the visiting-card of mr. smith. yet our novelists call their hero "aylmer valence," which means nothing, or "vernon raymond," which means nothing, when it is in their power to give him this sacred name of smith--this name made of iron and flame. it would be very natural if a certain hauteur, a certain carriage of the head, a certain curl of the lip, distinguished every one whose name is smith. perhaps it does; i trust so. whoever else are parvenus, the smiths are not parvenus. from the darkest dawn of history this clan has gone forth to battle; its trophies are on every hand; its name is everywhere; it is older than the nations, and its sign is the hammer of thor. but as i also remarked, it is not quite the usual case. it is common enough that common things should be poetical; it is not so common that common names should be poetical. in most cases it is the name that is the obstacle. a great many people talk as if this claim of ours, that all things are poetical, were a mere literary ingenuity, a play on words. precisely the contrary is true. it is the idea that some things are not poetical which is literary, which is a mere product of words. the word "signal-box" is unpoetical. but the thing signal-box is not unpoetical; it is a place where men, in an agony of vigilance, light blood-red and sea-green fires to keep other men from death. that is the plain, genuine description of what it is; the prose only comes in with what it is called. the word "pillar-box" is unpoetical. but the thing pillar-box is not unpoetical; it is the place to which friends and lovers commit their messages, conscious that when they have done so they are sacred, and not to be touched, not only by others, but even (religious touch!) by themselves. that red turret is one of the last of the temples. posting a letter and getting married are among the few things left that are entirely romantic; for to be entirely romantic a thing must be irrevocable. we think a pillar-box prosaic, because there is no rhyme to it. we think a pillar-box unpoetical, because we have never seen it in a poem. but the bold fact is entirely on the side of poetry. a signal-box is only called a signal-box; it is a house of life and death. a pillar-box is only called a pillar-box; it is a sanctuary of human words. if you think the name of "smith" prosaic, it is not because you are practical and sensible; it is because you are too much affected with literary refinements. the name shouts poetry at you. if you think of it otherwise, it is because you are steeped and sodden with verbal reminiscences, because you remember everything in punch or comic cuts about mr. smith being drunk or mr. smith being henpecked. all these things were given to you poetical. it is only by a long and elaborate process of literary effort that you have made them prosaic. now, the first and fairest thing to say about rudyard kipling is that he has borne a brilliant part in thus recovering the lost provinces of poetry. he has not been frightened by that brutal materialistic air which clings only to words; he has pierced through to the romantic, imaginative matter of the things themselves. he has perceived the significance and philosophy of steam and of slang. steam may be, if you like, a dirty by-product of science. slang may be, if you like, a dirty by-product of language. but at least he has been among the few who saw the divine parentage of these things, and knew that where there is smoke there is fire--that is, that wherever there is the foulest of things, there also is the purest. above all, he has had something to say, a definite view of things to utter, and that always means that a man is fearless and faces everything. for the moment we have a view of the universe, we possess it. now, the message of rudyard kipling, that upon which he has really concentrated, is the only thing worth worrying about in him or in any other man. he has often written bad poetry, like wordsworth. he has often said silly things, like plato. he has often given way to mere political hysteria, like gladstone. but no one can reasonably doubt that he means steadily and sincerely to say something, and the only serious question is, what is that which he has tried to say? perhaps the best way of stating this fairly will be to begin with that element which has been most insisted by himself and by his opponents--i mean his interest in militarism. but when we are seeking for the real merits of a man it is unwise to go to his enemies, and much more foolish to go to himself. now, mr. kipling is certainly wrong in his worship of militarism, but his opponents are, generally speaking, quite as wrong as he. the evil of militarism is not that it shows certain men to be fierce and haughty and excessively warlike. the evil of militarism is that it shows most men to be tame and timid and excessively peaceable. the professional soldier gains more and more power as the general courage of a community declines. thus the pretorian guard became more and more important in rome as rome became more and more luxurious and feeble. the military man gains the civil power in proportion as the civilian loses the military virtues. and as it was in ancient rome so it is in contemporary europe. there never was a time when nations were more militarist. there never was a time when men were less brave. all ages and all epics have sung of arms and the man; but we have effected simultaneously the deterioration of the man and the fantastic perfection of the arms. militarism demonstrated the decadence of rome, and it demonstrates the decadence of prussia. and unconsciously mr. kipling has proved this, and proved it admirably. for in so far as his work is earnestly understood the military trade does not by any means emerge as the most important or attractive. he has not written so well about soldiers as he has about railway men or bridge builders, or even journalists. the fact is that what attracts mr. kipling to militarism is not the idea of courage, but the idea of discipline. there was far more courage to the square mile in the middle ages, when no king had a standing army, but every man had a bow or sword. but the fascination of the standing army upon mr. kipling is not courage, which scarcely interests him, but discipline, which is, when all is said and done, his primary theme. the modern army is not a miracle of courage; it has not enough opportunities, owing to the cowardice of everybody else. but it is really a miracle of organization, and that is the truly kiplingite ideal. kipling's subject is not that valour which properly belongs to war, but that interdependence and efficiency which belongs quite as much to engineers, or sailors, or mules, or railway engines. and thus it is that when he writes of engineers, or sailors, or mules, or steam-engines, he writes at his best. the real poetry, the "true romance" which mr. kipling has taught, is the romance of the division of labour and the discipline of all the trades. he sings the arts of peace much more accurately than the arts of war. and his main contention is vital and valuable. every thing is military in the sense that everything depends upon obedience. there is no perfectly epicurean corner; there is no perfectly irresponsible place. everywhere men have made the way for us with sweat and submission. we may fling ourselves into a hammock in a fit of divine carelessness. but we are glad that the net-maker did not make the hammock in a fit of divine carelessness. we may jump upon a child's rocking-horse for a joke. but we are glad that the carpenter did not leave the legs of it unglued for a joke. so far from having merely preached that a soldier cleaning his side-arm is to be adored because he is military, kipling at his best and clearest has preached that the baker baking loaves and the tailor cutting coats is as military as anybody. being devoted to this multitudinous vision of duty, mr. kipling is naturally a cosmopolitan. he happens to find his examples in the british empire, but almost any other empire would do as well, or, indeed, any other highly civilized country. that which he admires in the british army he would find even more apparent in the german army; that which he desires in the british police he would find flourishing, in the french police. the ideal of discipline is not the whole of life, but it is spread over the whole of the world. and the worship of it tends to confirm in mr. kipling a certain note of worldly wisdom, of the experience of the wanderer, which is one of the genuine charms of his best work. the great gap in his mind is what may be roughly called the lack of patriotism--that is to say, he lacks altogether the faculty of attaching himself to any cause or community finally and tragically; for all finality must be tragic. he admires england, but he does not love her; for we admire things with reasons, but love them without reasons. he admires england because she is strong, not because she is english. there is no harshness in saying this, for, to do him justice, he avows it with his usual picturesque candour. in a very interesting poem, he says that-- "if england was what england seems" --that is, weak and inefficient; if england were not what (as he believes) she is--that is, powerful and practical-- "how quick we'd chuck 'er! but she ain't!" he admits, that is, that his devotion is the result of a criticism, and this is quite enough to put it in another category altogether from the patriotism of the boers, whom he hounded down in south africa. in speaking of the really patriotic peoples, such as the irish, he has some difficulty in keeping a shrill irritation out of his language. the frame of mind which he really describes with beauty and nobility is the frame of mind of the cosmopolitan man who has seen men and cities. "for to admire and for to see, for to be'old this world so wide." he is a perfect master of that light melancholy with which a man looks back on having been the citizen of many communities, of that light melancholy with which a man looks back on having been the lover of many women. he is the philanderer of the nations. but a man may have learnt much about women in flirtations, and still be ignorant of first love; a man may have known as many lands as ulysses, and still be ignorant of patriotism. mr. rudyard kipling has asked in a celebrated epigram what they can know of england who know england only. it is a far deeper and sharper question to ask, "what can they know of england who know only the world?" for the world does not include england any more than it includes the church. the moment we care for anything deeply, the world--that is, all the other miscellaneous interests--becomes our enemy. christians showed it when they talked of keeping one's self "unspotted from the world;" but lovers talk of it just as much when they talk of the "world well lost." astronomically speaking, i understand that england is situated on the world; similarly, i suppose that the church was a part of the world, and even the lovers inhabitants of that orb. but they all felt a certain truth--the truth that the moment you love anything the world becomes your foe. thus mr. kipling does certainly know the world; he is a man of the world, with all the narrowness that belongs to those imprisoned in that planet. he knows england as an intelligent english gentleman knows venice. he has been to england a great many times; he has stopped there for long visits. but he does not belong to it, or to any place; and the proof of it is this, that he thinks of england as a place. the moment we are rooted in a place, the place vanishes. we live like a tree with the whole strength of the universe. the globe-trotter lives in a smaller world than the peasant. he is always breathing, an air of locality. london is a place, to be compared to chicago; chicago is a place, to be compared to timbuctoo. but timbuctoo is not a place, since there, at least, live men who regard it as the universe, and breathe, not an air of locality, but the winds of the world. the man in the saloon steamer has seen all the races of men, and he is thinking of the things that divide men--diet, dress, decorum, rings in the nose as in africa, or in the ears as in europe, blue paint among the ancients, or red paint among the modern britons. the man in the cabbage field has seen nothing at all; but he is thinking of the things that unite men--hunger and babies, and the beauty of women, and the promise or menace of the sky. mr. kipling, with all his merits, is the globe-trotter; he has not the patience to become part of anything. so great and genuine a man is not to be accused of a merely cynical cosmopolitanism; still, his cosmopolitanism is his weakness. that weakness is splendidly expressed in one of his finest poems, "the sestina of the tramp royal," in which a man declares that he can endure anything in the way of hunger or horror, but not permanent presence in one place. in this there is certainly danger. the more dead and dry and dusty a thing is the more it travels about; dust is like this and the thistle-down and the high commissioner in south africa. fertile things are somewhat heavier, like the heavy fruit trees on the pregnant mud of the nile. in the heated idleness of youth we were all rather inclined to quarrel with the implication of that proverb which says that a rolling stone gathers no moss. we were inclined to ask, "who wants to gather moss, except silly old ladies?" but for all that we begin to perceive that the proverb is right. the rolling stone rolls echoing from rock to rock; but the rolling stone is dead. the moss is silent because the moss is alive. the truth is that exploration and enlargement make the world smaller. the telegraph and the steamboat make the world smaller. the telescope makes the world smaller; it is only the microscope that makes it larger. before long the world will be cloven with a war between the telescopists and the microscopists. the first study large things and live in a small world; the second study small things and live in a large world. it is inspiriting without doubt to whizz in a motor-car round the earth, to feel arabia as a whirl of sand or china as a flash of rice-fields. but arabia is not a whirl of sand and china is not a flash of rice-fields. they are ancient civilizations with strange virtues buried like treasures. if we wish to understand them it must not be as tourists or inquirers, it must be with the loyalty of children and the great patience of poets. to conquer these places is to lose them. the man standing in his own kitchen-garden, with fairyland opening at the gate, is the man with large ideas. his mind creates distance; the motor-car stupidly destroys it. moderns think of the earth as a globe, as something one can easily get round, the spirit of a schoolmistress. this is shown in the odd mistake perpetually made about cecil rhodes. his enemies say that he may have had large ideas, but he was a bad man. his friends say that he may have been a bad man, but he certainly had large ideas. the truth is that he was not a man essentially bad, he was a man of much geniality and many good intentions, but a man with singularly small views. there is nothing large about painting the map red; it is an innocent game for children. it is just as easy to think in continents as to think in cobble-stones. the difficulty comes in when we seek to know the substance of either of them. rhodes' prophecies about the boer resistance are an admirable comment on how the "large ideas" prosper when it is not a question of thinking in continents but of understanding a few two-legged men. and under all this vast illusion of the cosmopolitan planet, with its empires and its reuter's agency, the real life of man goes on concerned with this tree or that temple, with this harvest or that drinking-song, totally uncomprehended, totally untouched. and it watches from its splendid parochialism, possibly with a smile of amusement, motor-car civilization going its triumphant way, outstripping time, consuming space, seeing all and seeing nothing, roaring on at last to the capture of the solar system, only to find the sun cockney and the stars suburban. iv. mr. bernard shaw in the glad old days, before the rise of modern morbidities, when genial old ibsen filled the world with wholesome joy, and the kindly tales of the forgotten emile zola kept our firesides merry and pure, it used to be thought a disadvantage to be misunderstood. it may be doubted whether it is always or even generally a disadvantage. the man who is misunderstood has always this advantage over his enemies, that they do not know his weak point or his plan of campaign. they go out against a bird with nets and against a fish with arrows. there are several modern examples of this situation. mr. chamberlain, for instance, is a very good one. he constantly eludes or vanquishes his opponents because his real powers and deficiencies are quite different to those with which he is credited, both by friends and foes. his friends depict him as a strenuous man of action; his opponents depict him as a coarse man of business; when, as a fact, he is neither one nor the other, but an admirable romantic orator and romantic actor. he has one power which is the soul of melodrama--the power of pretending, even when backed by a huge majority, that he has his back to the wall. for all mobs are so far chivalrous that their heroes must make some show of misfortune--that sort of hypocrisy is the homage that strength pays to weakness. he talks foolishly and yet very finely about his own city that has never deserted him. he wears a flaming and fantastic flower, like a decadent minor poet. as for his bluffness and toughness and appeals to common sense, all that is, of course, simply the first trick of rhetoric. he fronts his audiences with the venerable affectation of mark antony-- "i am no orator, as brutus is; but as you know me all, a plain blunt man." it is the whole difference between the aim of the orator and the aim of any other artist, such as the poet or the sculptor. the aim of the sculptor is to convince us that he is a sculptor; the aim of the orator, is to convince us that he is not an orator. once let mr. chamberlain be mistaken for a practical man, and his game is won. he has only to compose a theme on empire, and people will say that these plain men say great things on great occasions. he has only to drift in the large loose notions common to all artists of the second rank, and people will say that business men have the biggest ideals after all. all his schemes have ended in smoke; he has touched nothing that he did not confuse. about his figure there is a celtic pathos; like the gaels in matthew arnold's quotation, "he went forth to battle, but he always fell." he is a mountain of proposals, a mountain of failures; but still a mountain. and a mountain is always romantic. there is another man in the modern world who might be called the antithesis of mr. chamberlain in every point, who is also a standing monument of the advantage of being misunderstood. mr. bernard shaw is always represented by those who disagree with him, and, i fear, also (if such exist) by those who agree with him, as a capering humorist, a dazzling acrobat, a quick-change artist. it is said that he cannot be taken seriously, that he will defend anything or attack anything, that he will do anything to startle and amuse. all this is not only untrue, but it is, glaringly, the opposite of the truth; it is as wild as to say that dickens had not the boisterous masculinity of jane austen. the whole force and triumph of mr. bernard shaw lie in the fact that he is a thoroughly consistent man. so far from his power consisting in jumping through hoops or standing on his head, his power consists in holding his own fortress night and day. he puts the shaw test rapidly and rigorously to everything that happens in heaven or earth. his standard never varies. the thing which weak-minded revolutionists and weak-minded conservatives really hate (and fear) in him, is exactly this, that his scales, such as they are, are held even, and that his law, such as it is, is justly enforced. you may attack his principles, as i do; but i do not know of any instance in which you can attack their application. if he dislikes lawlessness, he dislikes the lawlessness of socialists as much as that of individualists. if he dislikes the fever of patriotism, he dislikes it in boers and irishmen as well as in englishmen. if he dislikes the vows and bonds of marriage, he dislikes still more the fiercer bonds and wilder vows that are made by lawless love. if he laughs at the authority of priests, he laughs louder at the pomposity of men of science. if he condemns the irresponsibility of faith, he condemns with a sane consistency the equal irresponsibility of art. he has pleased all the bohemians by saying that women are equal to men; but he has infuriated them by suggesting that men are equal to women. he is almost mechanically just; he has something of the terrible quality of a machine. the man who is really wild and whirling, the man who is really fantastic and incalculable, is not mr. shaw, but the average cabinet minister. it is sir michael hicks-beach who jumps through hoops. it is sir henry fowler who stands on his head. the solid and respectable statesman of that type does really leap from position to position; he is really ready to defend anything or nothing; he is really not to be taken seriously. i know perfectly well what mr. bernard shaw will be saying thirty years hence; he will be saying what he has always said. if thirty years hence i meet mr. shaw, a reverent being with a silver beard sweeping the earth, and say to him, "one can never, of course, make a verbal attack upon a lady," the patriarch will lift his aged hand and fell me to the earth. we know, i say, what mr. shaw will be, saying thirty years hence. but is there any one so darkly read in stars and oracles that he will dare to predict what mr. asquith will be saying thirty years hence? the truth is, that it is quite an error to suppose that absence of definite convictions gives the mind freedom and agility. a man who believes something is ready and witty, because he has all his weapons about him. he can apply his test in an instant. the man engaged in conflict with a man like mr. bernard shaw may fancy he has ten faces; similarly a man engaged against a brilliant duellist may fancy that the sword of his foe has turned to ten swords in his hand. but this is not really because the man is playing with ten swords, it is because he is aiming very straight with one. moreover, a man with a definite belief always appears bizarre, because he does not change with the world; he has climbed into a fixed star, and the earth whizzes below him like a zoetrope. millions of mild black-coated men call themselves sane and sensible merely because they always catch the fashionable insanity, because they are hurried into madness after madness by the maelstrom of the world. people accuse mr. shaw and many much sillier persons of "proving that black is white." but they never ask whether the current colour-language is always correct. ordinary sensible phraseology sometimes calls black white, it certainly calls yellow white and green white and reddish-brown white. we call wine "white wine" which is as yellow as a blue-coat boy's legs. we call grapes "white grapes" which are manifestly pale green. we give to the european, whose complexion is a sort of pink drab, the horrible title of a "white man"--a picture more blood-curdling than any spectre in poe. now, it is undoubtedly true that if a man asked a waiter in a restaurant for a bottle of yellow wine and some greenish-yellow grapes, the waiter would think him mad. it is undoubtedly true that if a government official, reporting on the europeans in burmah, said, "there are only two thousand pinkish men here" he would be accused of cracking jokes, and kicked out of his post. but it is equally obvious that both men would have come to grief through telling the strict truth. that too truthful man in the restaurant; that too truthful man in burmah, is mr. bernard shaw. he appears eccentric and grotesque because he will not accept the general belief that white is yellow. he has based all his brilliancy and solidity upon the hackneyed, but yet forgotten, fact that truth is stranger than fiction. truth, of course, must of necessity be stranger than fiction, for we have made fiction to suit ourselves. so much then a reasonable appreciation will find in mr. shaw to be bracing and excellent. he claims to see things as they are; and some things, at any rate, he does see as they are, which the whole of our civilization does not see at all. but in mr. shaw's realism there is something lacking, and that thing which is lacking is serious. mr. shaw's old and recognized philosophy was that powerfully presented in "the quintessence of ibsenism." it was, in brief, that conservative ideals were bad, not because they were conservative, but because they were ideals. every ideal prevented men from judging justly the particular case; every moral generalization oppressed the individual; the golden rule was there was no golden rule. and the objection to this is simply that it pretends to free men, but really restrains them from doing the only thing that men want to do. what is the good of telling a community that it has every liberty except the liberty to make laws? the liberty to make laws is what constitutes a free people. and what is the good of telling a man (or a philosopher) that he has every liberty except the liberty to make generalizations. making generalizations is what makes him a man. in short, when mr. shaw forbids men to have strict moral ideals, he is acting like one who should forbid them to have children. the saying that "the golden rule is that there is no golden rule," can, indeed, be simply answered by being turned round. that there is no golden rule is itself a golden rule, or rather it is much worse than a golden rule. it is an iron rule; a fetter on the first movement of a man. but the sensation connected with mr. shaw in recent years has been his sudden development of the religion of the superman. he who had to all appearance mocked at the faiths in the forgotten past discovered a new god in the unimaginable future. he who had laid all the blame on ideals set up the most impossible of all ideals, the ideal of a new creature. but the truth, nevertheless, is that any one who knows mr. shaw's mind adequately, and admires it properly, must have guessed all this long ago. for the truth is that mr. shaw has never seen things as they really are. if he had he would have fallen on his knees before them. he has always had a secret ideal that has withered all the things of this world. he has all the time been silently comparing humanity with something that was not human, with a monster from mars, with the wise man of the stoics, with the economic man of the fabians, with julius caesar, with siegfried, with the superman. now, to have this inner and merciless standard may be a very good thing, or a very bad one, it may be excellent or unfortunate, but it is not seeing things as they are. it is not seeing things as they are to think first of a briareus with a hundred hands, and then call every man a cripple for only having two. it is not seeing things as they are to start with a vision of argus with his hundred eyes, and then jeer at every man with two eyes as if he had only one. and it is not seeing things as they are to imagine a demigod of infinite mental clarity, who may or may not appear in the latter days of the earth, and then to see all men as idiots. and this is what mr. shaw has always in some degree done. when we really see men as they are, we do not criticise, but worship; and very rightly. for a monster with mysterious eyes and miraculous thumbs, with strange dreams in his skull, and a queer tenderness for this place or that baby, is truly a wonderful and unnerving matter. it is only the quite arbitrary and priggish habit of comparison with something else which makes it possible to be at our ease in front of him. a sentiment of superiority keeps us cool and practical; the mere facts would make our knees knock under as with religious fear. it is the fact that every instant of conscious life is an unimaginable prodigy. it is the fact that every face in the street has the incredible unexpectedness of a fairy-tale. the thing which prevents a man from realizing this is not any clear-sightedness or experience, it is simply a habit of pedantic and fastidious comparisons between one thing and another. mr. shaw, on the practical side perhaps the most humane man alive, is in this sense inhumane. he has even been infected to some extent with the primary intellectual weakness of his new master, nietzsche, the strange notion that the greater and stronger a man was the more he would despise other things. the greater and stronger a man is the more he would be inclined to prostrate himself before a periwinkle. that mr. shaw keeps a lifted head and a contemptuous face before the colossal panorama of empires and civilizations, this does not in itself convince one that he sees things as they are. i should be most effectively convinced that he did if i found him staring with religious astonishment at his own feet. "what are those two beautiful and industrious beings," i can imagine him murmuring to himself, "whom i see everywhere, serving me i know not why? what fairy godmother bade them come trotting out of elfland when i was born? what god of the borderland, what barbaric god of legs, must i propitiate with fire and wine, lest they run away with me?" the truth is, that all genuine appreciation rests on a certain mystery of humility and almost of darkness. the man who said, "blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed," put the eulogy quite inadequately and even falsely. the truth "blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall be gloriously surprised." the man who expects nothing sees redder roses than common men can see, and greener grass, and a more startling sun. blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall possess the cities and the mountains; blessed is the meek, for he shall inherit the earth. until we realize that things might not be we cannot realize that things are. until we see the background of darkness we cannot admire the light as a single and created thing. as soon as we have seen that darkness, all light is lightening, sudden, blinding, and divine. until we picture nonentity we underrate the victory of god, and can realize none of the trophies of his ancient war. it is one of the million wild jests of truth that we know nothing until we know nothing. now this is, i say deliberately, the only defect in the greatness of mr. shaw, the only answer to his claim to be a great man, that he is not easily pleased. he is an almost solitary exception to the general and essential maxim, that little things please great minds. and from this absence of that most uproarious of all things, humility, comes incidentally the peculiar insistence on the superman. after belabouring a great many people for a great many years for being unprogressive, mr. shaw has discovered, with characteristic sense, that it is very doubtful whether any existing human being with two legs can be progressive at all. having come to doubt whether humanity can be combined with progress, most people, easily pleased, would have elected to abandon progress and remain with humanity. mr. shaw, not being easily pleased, decides to throw over humanity with all its limitations and go in for progress for its own sake. if man, as we know him, is incapable of the philosophy of progress, mr. shaw asks, not for a new kind of philosophy, but for a new kind of man. it is rather as if a nurse had tried a rather bitter food for some years on a baby, and on discovering that it was not suitable, should not throw away the food and ask for a new food, but throw the baby out of window, and ask for a new baby. mr. shaw cannot understand that the thing which is valuable and lovable in our eyes is man--the old beer-drinking, creed-making, fighting, failing, sensual, respectable man. and the things that have been founded on this creature immortally remain; the things that have been founded on the fancy of the superman have died with the dying civilizations which alone have given them birth. when christ at a symbolic moment was establishing his great society, he chose for its corner-stone neither the brilliant paul nor the mystic john, but a shuffler, a snob a coward--in a word, a man. and upon this rock he has built his church, and the gates of hell have not prevailed against it. all the empires and the kingdoms have failed, because of this inherent and continual weakness, that they were founded by strong men and upon strong men. but this one thing, the historic christian church, was founded on a weak man, and for that reason it is indestructible. for no chain is stronger than its weakest link. v. mr. h. g. wells and the giants we ought to see far enough into a hypocrite to see even his sincerity. we ought to be interested in that darkest and most real part of a man in which dwell not the vices that he does not display, but the virtues that he cannot. and the more we approach the problems of human history with this keen and piercing charity, the smaller and smaller space we shall allow to pure hypocrisy of any kind. the hypocrites shall not deceive us into thinking them saints; but neither shall they deceive us into thinking them hypocrites. and an increasing number of cases will crowd into our field of inquiry, cases in which there is really no question of hypocrisy at all, cases in which people were so ingenuous that they seemed absurd, and so absurd that they seemed disingenuous. there is one striking instance of an unfair charge of hypocrisy. it is always urged against the religious in the past, as a point of inconsistency and duplicity, that they combined a profession of almost crawling humility with a keen struggle for earthly success and considerable triumph in attaining it. it is felt as a piece of humbug, that a man should be very punctilious in calling himself a miserable sinner, and also very punctilious in calling himself king of france. but the truth is that there is no more conscious inconsistency between the humility of a christian and the rapacity of a christian than there is between the humility of a lover and the rapacity of a lover. the truth is that there are no things for which men will make such herculean efforts as the things of which they know they are unworthy. there never was a man in love who did not declare that, if he strained every nerve to breaking, he was going to have his desire. and there never was a man in love who did not declare also that he ought not to have it. the whole secret of the practical success of christendom lies in the christian humility, however imperfectly fulfilled. for with the removal of all question of merit or payment, the soul is suddenly released for incredible voyages. if we ask a sane man how much he merits, his mind shrinks instinctively and instantaneously. it is doubtful whether he merits six feet of earth. but if you ask him what he can conquer--he can conquer the stars. thus comes the thing called romance, a purely christian product. a man cannot deserve adventures; he cannot earn dragons and hippogriffs. the mediaeval europe which asserted humility gained romance; the civilization which gained romance has gained the habitable globe. how different the pagan and stoical feeling was from this has been admirably expressed in a famous quotation. addison makes the great stoic say-- "'tis not in mortals to command success; but we'll do more, sempronius, we'll deserve it." but the spirit of romance and christendom, the spirit which is in every lover, the spirit which has bestridden the earth with european adventure, is quite opposite. 'tis not in mortals to deserve success. but we'll do more, sempronius; we'll obtain it. and this gay humility, this holding of ourselves lightly and yet ready for an infinity of unmerited triumphs, this secret is so simple that every one has supposed that it must be something quite sinister and mysterious. humility is so practical a virtue that men think it must be a vice. humility is so successful that it is mistaken for pride. it is mistaken for it all the more easily because it generally goes with a certain simple love of splendour which amounts to vanity. humility will always, by preference, go clad in scarlet and gold; pride is that which refuses to let gold and scarlet impress it or please it too much. in a word, the failure of this virtue actually lies in its success; it is too successful as an investment to be believed in as a virtue. humility is not merely too good for this world; it is too practical for this world; i had almost said it is too worldly for this world. the instance most quoted in our day is the thing called the humility of the man of science; and certainly it is a good instance as well as a modern one. men find it extremely difficult to believe that a man who is obviously uprooting mountains and dividing seas, tearing down temples and stretching out hands to the stars, is really a quiet old gentleman who only asks to be allowed to indulge his harmless old hobby and follow his harmless old nose. when a man splits a grain of sand and the universe is turned upside down in consequence, it is difficult to realize that to the man who did it, the splitting of the grain is the great affair, and the capsizing of the cosmos quite a small one. it is hard to enter into the feelings of a man who regards a new heaven and a new earth in the light of a by-product. but undoubtedly it was to this almost eerie innocence of the intellect that the great men of the great scientific period, which now appears to be closing, owed their enormous power and triumph. if they had brought the heavens down like a house of cards their plea was not even that they had done it on principle; their quite unanswerable plea was that they had done it by accident. whenever there was in them the least touch of pride in what they had done, there was a good ground for attacking them; but so long as they were wholly humble, they were wholly victorious. there were possible answers to huxley; there was no answer possible to darwin. he was convincing because of his unconsciousness; one might almost say because of his dulness. this childlike and prosaic mind is beginning to wane in the world of science. men of science are beginning to see themselves, as the fine phrase is, in the part; they are beginning to be proud of their humility. they are beginning to be aesthetic, like the rest of the world, beginning to spell truth with a capital t, beginning to talk of the creeds they imagine themselves to have destroyed, of the discoveries that their forbears made. like the modern english, they are beginning to be soft about their own hardness. they are becoming conscious of their own strength--that is, they are growing weaker. but one purely modern man has emerged in the strictly modern decades who does carry into our world the clear personal simplicity of the old world of science. one man of genius we have who is an artist, but who was a man of science, and who seems to be marked above all things with this great scientific humility. i mean mr. h. g. wells. and in his case, as in the others above spoken of, there must be a great preliminary difficulty in convincing the ordinary person that such a virtue is predicable of such a man. mr. wells began his literary work with violent visions--visions of the last pangs of this planet; can it be that a man who begins with violent visions is humble? he went on to wilder and wilder stories about carving beasts into men and shooting angels like birds. is the man who shoots angels and carves beasts into men humble? since then he has done something bolder than either of these blasphemies; he has prophesied the political future of all men; prophesied it with aggressive authority and a ringing decision of detail. is the prophet of the future of all men humble? it will indeed be difficult, in the present condition of current thought about such things as pride and humility, to answer the query of how a man can be humble who does such big things and such bold things. for the only answer is the answer which i gave at the beginning of this essay. it is the humble man who does the big things. it is the humble man who does the bold things. it is the humble man who has the sensational sights vouchsafed to him, and this for three obvious reasons: first, that he strains his eyes more than any other men to see them; second, that he is more overwhelmed and uplifted with them when they come; third, that he records them more exactly and sincerely and with less adulteration from his more commonplace and more conceited everyday self. adventures are to those to whom they are most unexpected--that is, most romantic. adventures are to the shy: in this sense adventures are to the unadventurous. now, this arresting, mental humility in mr. h. g. wells may be, like a great many other things that are vital and vivid, difficult to illustrate by examples, but if i were asked for an example of it, i should have no difficulty about which example to begin with. the most interesting thing about mr. h. g. wells is that he is the only one of his many brilliant contemporaries who has not stopped growing. one can lie awake at night and hear him grow. of this growth the most evident manifestation is indeed a gradual change of opinions; but it is no mere change of opinions. it is not a perpetual leaping from one position to another like that of mr. george moore. it is a quite continuous advance along a quite solid road in a quite definable direction. but the chief proof that it is not a piece of fickleness and vanity is the fact that it has been upon the whole an advance from more startling opinions to more humdrum opinions. it has been even in some sense an advance from unconventional opinions to conventional opinions. this fact fixes mr. wells's honesty and proves him to be no poseur. mr. wells once held that the upper classes and the lower classes would be so much differentiated in the future that one class would eat the other. certainly no paradoxical charlatan who had once found arguments for so startling a view would ever have deserted it except for something yet more startling. mr. wells has deserted it in favour of the blameless belief that both classes will be ultimately subordinated or assimilated to a sort of scientific middle class, a class of engineers. he has abandoned the sensational theory with the same honourable gravity and simplicity with which he adopted it. then he thought it was true; now he thinks it is not true. he has come to the most dreadful conclusion a literary man can come to, the conclusion that the ordinary view is the right one. it is only the last and wildest kind of courage that can stand on a tower before ten thousand people and tell them that twice two is four. mr. h. g. wells exists at present in a gay and exhilarating progress of conservativism. he is finding out more and more that conventions, though silent, are alive. as good an example as any of this humility and sanity of his may be found in his change of view on the subject of science and marriage. he once held, i believe, the opinion which some singular sociologists still hold, that human creatures could successfully be paired and bred after the manner of dogs or horses. he no longer holds that view. not only does he no longer hold that view, but he has written about it in "mankind in the making" with such smashing sense and humour, that i find it difficult to believe that anybody else can hold it either. it is true that his chief objection to the proposal is that it is physically impossible, which seems to me a very slight objection, and almost negligible compared with the others. the one objection to scientific marriage which is worthy of final attention is simply that such a thing could only be imposed on unthinkable slaves and cowards. i do not know whether the scientific marriage-mongers are right (as they say) or wrong (as mr. wells says) in saying that medical supervision would produce strong and healthy men. i am only certain that if it did, the first act of the strong and healthy men would be to smash the medical supervision. the mistake of all that medical talk lies in the very fact that it connects the idea of health with the idea of care. what has health to do with care? health has to do with carelessness. in special and abnormal cases it is necessary to have care. when we are peculiarly unhealthy it may be necessary to be careful in order to be healthy. but even then we are only trying to be healthy in order to be careless. if we are doctors we are speaking to exceptionally sick men, and they ought to be told to be careful. but when we are sociologists we are addressing the normal man, we are addressing humanity. and humanity ought to be told to be recklessness itself. for all the fundamental functions of a healthy man ought emphatically to be performed with pleasure and for pleasure; they emphatically ought not to be performed with precaution or for precaution. a man ought to eat because he has a good appetite to satisfy, and emphatically not because he has a body to sustain. a man ought to take exercise not because he is too fat, but because he loves foils or horses or high mountains, and loves them for their own sake. and a man ought to marry because he has fallen in love, and emphatically not because the world requires to be populated. the food will really renovate his tissues as long as he is not thinking about his tissues. the exercise will really get him into training so long as he is thinking about something else. and the marriage will really stand some chance of producing a generous-blooded generation if it had its origin in its own natural and generous excitement. it is the first law of health that our necessities should not be accepted as necessities; they should be accepted as luxuries. let us, then, be careful about the small things, such as a scratch or a slight illness, or anything that can be managed with care. but in the name of all sanity, let us be careless about the important things, such as marriage, or the fountain of our very life will fail. mr. wells, however, is not quite clear enough of the narrower scientific outlook to see that there are some things which actually ought not to be scientific. he is still slightly affected with the great scientific fallacy; i mean the habit of beginning not with the human soul, which is the first thing a man learns about, but with some such thing as protoplasm, which is about the last. the one defect in his splendid mental equipment is that he does not sufficiently allow for the stuff or material of men. in his new utopia he says, for instance, that a chief point of the utopia will be a disbelief in original sin. if he had begun with the human soul--that is, if he had begun on himself--he would have found original sin almost the first thing to be believed in. he would have found, to put the matter shortly, that a permanent possibility of selfishness arises from the mere fact of having a self, and not from any accidents of education or ill-treatment. and the weakness of all utopias is this, that they take the greatest difficulty of man and assume it to be overcome, and then give an elaborate account of the overcoming of the smaller ones. they first assume that no man will want more than his share, and then are very ingenious in explaining whether his share will be delivered by motor-car or balloon. and an even stronger example of mr. wells's indifference to the human psychology can be found in his cosmopolitanism, the abolition in his utopia of all patriotic boundaries. he says in his innocent way that utopia must be a world-state, or else people might make war on it. it does not seem to occur to him that, for a good many of us, if it were a world-state we should still make war on it to the end of the world. for if we admit that there must be varieties in art or opinion what sense is there in thinking there will not be varieties in government? the fact is very simple. unless you are going deliberately to prevent a thing being good, you cannot prevent it being worth fighting for. it is impossible to prevent a possible conflict of civilizations, because it is impossible to prevent a possible conflict between ideals. if there were no longer our modern strife between nations, there would only be a strife between utopias. for the highest thing does not tend to union only; the highest thing, tends also to differentiation. you can often get men to fight for the union; but you can never prevent them from fighting also for the differentiation. this variety in the highest thing is the meaning of the fierce patriotism, the fierce nationalism of the great european civilization. it is also, incidentally, the meaning of the doctrine of the trinity. but i think the main mistake of mr. wells's philosophy is a somewhat deeper one, one that he expresses in a very entertaining manner in the introductory part of the new utopia. his philosophy in some sense amounts to a denial of the possibility of philosophy itself. at least, he maintains that there are no secure and reliable ideas upon which we can rest with a final mental satisfaction. it will be both clearer, however, and more amusing to quote mr. wells himself. he says, "nothing endures, nothing is precise and certain (except the mind of a pedant).... being indeed!--there is no being, but a universal becoming of individualities, and plato turned his back on truth when he turned towards his museum of specific ideals." mr. wells says, again, "there is no abiding thing in what we know. we change from weaker to stronger lights, and each more powerful light pierces our hitherto opaque foundations and reveals fresh and different opacities below." now, when mr. wells says things like this, i speak with all respect when i say that he does not observe an evident mental distinction. it cannot be true that there is nothing abiding in what we know. for if that were so we should not know it all and should not call it knowledge. our mental state may be very different from that of somebody else some thousands of years back; but it cannot be entirely different, or else we should not be conscious of a difference. mr. wells must surely realize the first and simplest of the paradoxes that sit by the springs of truth. he must surely see that the fact of two things being different implies that they are similar. the hare and the tortoise may differ in the quality of swiftness, but they must agree in the quality of motion. the swiftest hare cannot be swifter than an isosceles triangle or the idea of pinkness. when we say the hare moves faster, we say that the tortoise moves. and when we say of a thing that it moves, we say, without need of other words, that there are things that do not move. and even in the act of saying that things change, we say that there is something unchangeable. but certainly the best example of mr. wells's fallacy can be found in the example which he himself chooses. it is quite true that we see a dim light which, compared with a darker thing, is light, but which, compared with a stronger light, is darkness. but the quality of light remains the same thing, or else we should not call it a stronger light or recognize it as such. if the character of light were not fixed in the mind, we should be quite as likely to call a denser shadow a stronger light, or vice versa if the character of light became even for an instant unfixed, if it became even by a hair's-breadth doubtful, if, for example, there crept into our idea of light some vague idea of blueness, then in that flash we have become doubtful whether the new light has more light or less. in brief, the progress may be as varying as a cloud, but the direction must be as rigid as a french road. north and south are relative in the sense that i am north of bournemouth and south of spitzbergen. but if there be any doubt of the position of the north pole, there is in equal degree a doubt of whether i am south of spitzbergen at all. the absolute idea of light may be practically unattainable. we may not be able to procure pure light. we may not be able to get to the north pole. but because the north pole is unattainable, it does not follow that it is indefinable. and it is only because the north pole is not indefinable that we can make a satisfactory map of brighton and worthing. in other words, plato turned his face to truth but his back on mr. h. g. wells, when he turned to his museum of specified ideals. it is precisely here that plato shows his sense. it is not true that everything changes; the things that change are all the manifest and material things. there is something that does not change; and that is precisely the abstract quality, the invisible idea. mr. wells says truly enough, that a thing which we have seen in one connection as dark we may see in another connection as light. but the thing common to both incidents is the mere idea of light--which we have not seen at all. mr. wells might grow taller and taller for unending aeons till his head was higher than the loneliest star. i can imagine his writing a good novel about it. in that case he would see the trees first as tall things and then as short things; he would see the clouds first as high and then as low. but there would remain with him through the ages in that starry loneliness the idea of tallness; he would have in the awful spaces for companion and comfort the definite conception that he was growing taller and not (for instance) growing fatter. and now it comes to my mind that mr. h. g. wells actually has written a very delightful romance about men growing as tall as trees; and that here, again, he seems to me to have been a victim of this vague relativism. "the food of the gods" is, like mr. bernard shaw's play, in essence a study of the superman idea. and it lies, i think, even through the veil of a half-pantomimic allegory, open to the same intellectual attack. we cannot be expected to have any regard for a great creature if he does not in any manner conform to our standards. for unless he passes our standard of greatness we cannot even call him great. nietszche summed up all that is interesting in the superman idea when he said, "man is a thing which has to be surpassed." but the very word "surpass" implies the existence of a standard common to us and the thing surpassing us. if the superman is more manly than men are, of course they will ultimately deify him, even if they happen to kill him first. but if he is simply more supermanly, they may be quite indifferent to him as they would be to another seemingly aimless monstrosity. he must submit to our test even in order to overawe us. mere force or size even is a standard; but that alone will never make men think a man their superior. giants, as in the wise old fairy-tales, are vermin. supermen, if not good men, are vermin. "the food of the gods" is the tale of "jack the giant-killer" told from the point of view of the giant. this has not, i think, been done before in literature; but i have little doubt that the psychological substance of it existed in fact. i have little doubt that the giant whom jack killed did regard himself as the superman. it is likely enough that he considered jack a narrow and parochial person who wished to frustrate a great forward movement of the life-force. if (as not unfrequently was the case) he happened to have two heads, he would point out the elementary maxim which declares them to be better than one. he would enlarge on the subtle modernity of such an equipment, enabling a giant to look at a subject from two points of view, or to correct himself with promptitude. but jack was the champion of the enduring human standards, of the principle of one man one head and one man one conscience, of the single head and the single heart and the single eye. jack was quite unimpressed by the question of whether the giant was a particularly gigantic giant. all he wished to know was whether he was a good giant--that is, a giant who was any good to us. what were the giant's religious views; what his views on politics and the duties of the citizen? was he fond of children--or fond of them only in a dark and sinister sense? to use a fine phrase for emotional sanity, was his heart in the right place? jack had sometimes to cut him up with a sword in order to find out. the old and correct story of jack the giant-killer is simply the whole story of man; if it were understood we should need no bibles or histories. but the modern world in particular does not seem to understand it at all. the modern world, like mr. wells is on the side of the giants; the safest place, and therefore the meanest and the most prosaic. the modern world, when it praises its little caesars, talks of being strong and brave: but it does not seem to see the eternal paradox involved in the conjunction of these ideas. the strong cannot be brave. only the weak can be brave; and yet again, in practice, only those who can be brave can be trusted, in time of doubt, to be strong. the only way in which a giant could really keep himself in training against the inevitable jack would be by continually fighting other giants ten times as big as himself. that is by ceasing to be a giant and becoming a jack. thus that sympathy with the small or the defeated as such, with which we liberals and nationalists have been often reproached, is not a useless sentimentalism at all, as mr. wells and his friends fancy. it is the first law of practical courage. to be in the weakest camp is to be in the strongest school. nor can i imagine anything that would do humanity more good than the advent of a race of supermen, for them to fight like dragons. if the superman is better than we, of course we need not fight him; but in that case, why not call him the saint? but if he is merely stronger (whether physically, mentally, or morally stronger, i do not care a farthing), then he ought to have to reckon with us at least for all the strength we have. it we are weaker than he, that is no reason why we should be weaker than ourselves. if we are not tall enough to touch the giant's knees, that is no reason why we should become shorter by falling on our own. but that is at bottom the meaning of all modern hero-worship and celebration of the strong man, the caesar the superman. that he may be something more than man, we must be something less. doubtless there is an older and better hero-worship than this. but the old hero was a being who, like achilles, was more human than humanity itself. nietzsche's superman is cold and friendless. achilles is so foolishly fond of his friend that he slaughters armies in the agony of his bereavement. mr. shaw's sad caesar says in his desolate pride, "he who has never hoped can never despair." the man-god of old answers from his awful hill, "was ever sorrow like unto my sorrow?" a great man is not a man so strong that he feels less than other men; he is a man so strong that he feels more. and when nietszche says, "a new commandment i give to you, 'be hard,'" he is really saying, "a new commandment i give to you, 'be dead.'" sensibility is the definition of life. i recur for a last word to jack the giant-killer. i have dwelt on this matter of mr. wells and the giants, not because it is specially prominent in his mind; i know that the superman does not bulk so large in his cosmos as in that of mr. bernard shaw. i have dwelt on it for the opposite reason; because this heresy of immoral hero-worship has taken, i think, a slighter hold of him, and may perhaps still be prevented from perverting one of the best thinkers of the day. in the course of "the new utopia" mr. wells makes more than one admiring allusion to mr. w. e. henley. that clever and unhappy man lived in admiration of a vague violence, and was always going back to rude old tales and rude old ballads, to strong and primitive literatures, to find the praise of strength and the justification of tyranny. but he could not find it. it is not there. the primitive literature is shown in the tale of jack the giant-killer. the strong old literature is all in praise of the weak. the rude old tales are as tender to minorities as any modern political idealist. the rude old ballads are as sentimentally concerned for the under-dog as the aborigines protection society. when men were tough and raw, when they lived amid hard knocks and hard laws, when they knew what fighting really was, they had only two kinds of songs. the first was a rejoicing that the weak had conquered the strong, the second a lamentation that the strong had, for once in a way, conquered the weak. for this defiance of the statu quo, this constant effort to alter the existing balance, this premature challenge to the powerful, is the whole nature and inmost secret of the psychological adventure which is called man. it is his strength to disdain strength. the forlorn hope is not only a real hope, it is the only real hope of mankind. in the coarsest ballads of the greenwood men are admired most when they defy, not only the king, but what is more to the point, the hero. the moment robin hood becomes a sort of superman, that moment the chivalrous chronicler shows us robin thrashed by a poor tinker whom he thought to thrust aside. and the chivalrous chronicler makes robin hood receive the thrashing in a glow of admiration. this magnanimity is not a product of modern humanitarianism; it is not a product of anything to do with peace. this magnanimity is merely one of the lost arts of war. the henleyites call for a sturdy and fighting england, and they go back to the fierce old stories of the sturdy and fighting english. and the thing that they find written across that fierce old literature everywhere, is "the policy of majuba." vi. christmas and the aesthetes the world is round, so round that the schools of optimism and pessimism have been arguing from the beginning whether it is the right way up. the difficulty does not arise so much from the mere fact that good and evil are mingled in roughly equal proportions; it arises chiefly from the fact that men always differ about what parts are good and what evil. hence the difficulty which besets "undenominational religions." they profess to include what is beautiful in all creeds, but they appear to many to have collected all that is dull in them. all the colours mixed together in purity ought to make a perfect white. mixed together on any human paint-box, they make a thing like mud, and a thing very like many new religions. such a blend is often something much worse than any one creed taken separately, even the creed of the thugs. the error arises from the difficulty of detecting what is really the good part and what is really the bad part of any given religion. and this pathos falls rather heavily on those persons who have the misfortune to think of some religion or other, that the parts commonly counted good are bad, and the parts commonly counted bad are good. it is tragic to admire and honestly admire a human group, but to admire it in a photographic negative. it is difficult to congratulate all their whites on being black and all their blacks on their whiteness. this will often happen to us in connection with human religions. take two institutions which bear witness to the religious energy of the nineteenth century. take the salvation army and the philosophy of auguste comte. the usual verdict of educated people on the salvation army is expressed in some such words as these: "i have no doubt they do a great deal of good, but they do it in a vulgar and profane style; their aims are excellent, but their methods are wrong." to me, unfortunately, the precise reverse of this appears to be the truth. i do not know whether the aims of the salvation army are excellent, but i am quite sure their methods are admirable. their methods are the methods of all intense and hearty religions; they are popular like all religion, military like all religion, public and sensational like all religion. they are not reverent any more than roman catholics are reverent, for reverence in the sad and delicate meaning of the term reverence is a thing only possible to infidels. that beautiful twilight you will find in euripides, in renan, in matthew arnold; but in men who believe you will not find it--you will find only laughter and war. a man cannot pay that kind of reverence to truth solid as marble; they can only be reverent towards a beautiful lie. and the salvation army, though their voice has broken out in a mean environment and an ugly shape, are really the old voice of glad and angry faith, hot as the riots of dionysus, wild as the gargoyles of catholicism, not to be mistaken for a philosophy. professor huxley, in one of his clever phrases, called the salvation army "corybantic christianity." huxley was the last and noblest of those stoics who have never understood the cross. if he had understood christianity he would have known that there never has been, and never can be, any christianity that is not corybantic. and there is this difference between the matter of aims and the matter of methods, that to judge of the aims of a thing like the salvation army is very difficult, to judge of their ritual and atmosphere very easy. no one, perhaps, but a sociologist can see whether general booth's housing scheme is right. but any healthy person can see that banging brass cymbals together must be right. a page of statistics, a plan of model dwellings, anything which is rational, is always difficult for the lay mind. but the thing which is irrational any one can understand. that is why religion came so early into the world and spread so far, while science came so late into the world and has not spread at all. history unanimously attests the fact that it is only mysticism which stands the smallest chance of being understanded of the people. common sense has to be kept as an esoteric secret in the dark temple of culture. and so while the philanthropy of the salvationists and its genuineness may be a reasonable matter for the discussion of the doctors, there can be no doubt about the genuineness of their brass bands, for a brass band is purely spiritual, and seeks only to quicken the internal life. the object of philanthropy is to do good; the object of religion is to be good, if only for a moment, amid a crash of brass. and the same antithesis exists about another modern religion--i mean the religion of comte, generally known as positivism, or the worship of humanity. such men as mr. frederic harrison, that brilliant and chivalrous philosopher, who still, by his mere personality, speaks for the creed, would tell us that he offers us the philosophy of comte, but not all comte's fantastic proposals for pontiffs and ceremonials, the new calendar, the new holidays and saints' days. he does not mean that we should dress ourselves up as priests of humanity or let off fireworks because it is milton's birthday. to the solid english comtist all this appears, he confesses, to be a little absurd. to me it appears the only sensible part of comtism. as a philosophy it is unsatisfactory. it is evidently impossible to worship humanity, just as it is impossible to worship the savile club; both are excellent institutions to which we may happen to belong. but we perceive clearly that the savile club did not make the stars and does not fill the universe. and it is surely unreasonable to attack the doctrine of the trinity as a piece of bewildering mysticism, and then to ask men to worship a being who is ninety million persons in one god, neither confounding the persons nor dividing the substance. but if the wisdom of comte was insufficient, the folly of comte was wisdom. in an age of dusty modernity, when beauty was thought of as something barbaric and ugliness as something sensible, he alone saw that men must always have the sacredness of mummery. he saw that while the brutes have all the useful things, the things that are truly human are the useless ones. he saw the falsehood of that almost universal notion of to-day, the notion that rites and forms are something artificial, additional, and corrupt. ritual is really much older than thought; it is much simpler and much wilder than thought. a feeling touching the nature of things does not only make men feel that there are certain proper things to say; it makes them feel that there are certain proper things to do. the more agreeable of these consist of dancing, building temples, and shouting very loud; the less agreeable, of wearing green carnations and burning other philosophers alive. but everywhere the religious dance came before the religious hymn, and man was a ritualist before he could speak. if comtism had spread the world would have been converted, not by the comtist philosophy, but by the comtist calendar. by discouraging what they conceive to be the weakness of their master, the english positivists have broken the strength of their religion. a man who has faith must be prepared not only to be a martyr, but to be a fool. it is absurd to say that a man is ready to toil and die for his convictions when he is not even ready to wear a wreath round his head for them. i myself, to take a corpus vile, am very certain that i would not read the works of comte through for any consideration whatever. but i can easily imagine myself with the greatest enthusiasm lighting a bonfire on darwin day. that splendid effort failed, and nothing in the style of it has succeeded. there has been no rationalist festival, no rationalist ecstasy. men are still in black for the death of god. when christianity was heavily bombarded in the last century upon no point was it more persistently and brilliantly attacked than upon that of its alleged enmity to human joy. shelley and swinburne and all their armies have passed again and again over the ground, but they have not altered it. they have not set up a single new trophy or ensign for the world's merriment to rally to. they have not given a name or a new occasion of gaiety. mr. swinburne does not hang up his stocking on the eve of the birthday of victor hugo. mr. william archer does not sing carols descriptive of the infancy of ibsen outside people's doors in the snow. in the round of our rational and mournful year one festival remains out of all those ancient gaieties that once covered the whole earth. christmas remains to remind us of those ages, whether pagan or christian, when the many acted poetry instead of the few writing it. in all the winter in our woods there is no tree in glow but the holly. the strange truth about the matter is told in the very word "holiday." a bank holiday means presumably a day which bankers regard as holy. a half-holiday means, i suppose, a day on which a schoolboy is only partially holy. it is hard to see at first sight why so human a thing as leisure and larkiness should always have a religious origin. rationally there appears no reason why we should not sing and give each other presents in honour of anything--the birth of michael angelo or the opening of euston station. but it does not work. as a fact, men only become greedily and gloriously material about something spiritualistic. take away the nicene creed and similar things, and you do some strange wrong to the sellers of sausages. take away the strange beauty of the saints, and what has remained to us is the far stranger ugliness of wandsworth. take away the supernatural, and what remains is the unnatural. and now i have to touch upon a very sad matter. there are in the modern world an admirable class of persons who really make protest on behalf of that antiqua pulchritudo of which augustine spoke, who do long for the old feasts and formalities of the childhood of the world. william morris and his followers showed how much brighter were the dark ages than the age of manchester. mr. w. b. yeats frames his steps in prehistoric dances, but no man knows and joins his voice to forgotten choruses that no one but he can hear. mr. george moore collects every fragment of irish paganism that the forgetfulness of the catholic church has left or possibly her wisdom preserved. there are innumerable persons with eye-glasses and green garments who pray for the return of the maypole or the olympian games. but there is about these people a haunting and alarming something which suggests that it is just possible that they do not keep christmas. it is painful to regard human nature in such a light, but it seems somehow possible that mr. george moore does not wave his spoon and shout when the pudding is set alight. it is even possible that mr. w. b. yeats never pulls crackers. if so, where is the sense of all their dreams of festive traditions? here is a solid and ancient festive tradition still plying a roaring trade in the streets, and they think it vulgar. if this is so, let them be very certain of this, that they are the kind of people who in the time of the maypole would have thought the maypole vulgar; who in the time of the canterbury pilgrimage would have thought the canterbury pilgrimage vulgar; who in the time of the olympian games would have thought the olympian games vulgar. nor can there be any reasonable doubt that they were vulgar. let no man deceive himself; if by vulgarity we mean coarseness of speech, rowdiness of behaviour, gossip, horseplay, and some heavy drinking, vulgarity there always was wherever there was joy, wherever there was faith in the gods. wherever you have belief you will have hilarity, wherever you have hilarity you will have some dangers. and as creed and mythology produce this gross and vigorous life, so in its turn this gross and vigorous life will always produce creed and mythology. if we ever get the english back on to the english land they will become again a religious people, if all goes well, a superstitious people. the absence from modern life of both the higher and lower forms of faith is largely due to a divorce from nature and the trees and clouds. if we have no more turnip ghosts it is chiefly from the lack of turnips. vii. omar and the sacred vine a new morality has burst upon us with some violence in connection with the problem of strong drink; and enthusiasts in the matter range from the man who is violently thrown out at . , to the lady who smashes american bars with an axe. in these discussions it is almost always felt that one very wise and moderate position is to say that wine or such stuff should only be drunk as a medicine. with this i should venture to disagree with a peculiar ferocity. the one genuinely dangerous and immoral way of drinking wine is to drink it as a medicine. and for this reason, if a man drinks wine in order to obtain pleasure, he is trying to obtain something exceptional, something he does not expect every hour of the day, something which, unless he is a little insane, he will not try to get every hour of the day. but if a man drinks wine in order to obtain health, he is trying to get something natural; something, that is, that he ought not to be without; something that he may find it difficult to reconcile himself to being without. the man may not be seduced who has seen the ecstasy of being ecstatic; it is more dazzling to catch a glimpse of the ecstasy of being ordinary. if there were a magic ointment, and we took it to a strong man, and said, "this will enable you to jump off the monument," doubtless he would jump off the monument, but he would not jump off the monument all day long to the delight of the city. but if we took it to a blind man, saying, "this will enable you to see," he would be under a heavier temptation. it would be hard for him not to rub it on his eyes whenever he heard the hoof of a noble horse or the birds singing at daybreak. it is easy to deny one's self festivity; it is difficult to deny one's self normality. hence comes the fact which every doctor knows, that it is often perilous to give alcohol to the sick even when they need it. i need hardly say that i do not mean that i think the giving of alcohol to the sick for stimulus is necessarily unjustifiable. but i do mean that giving it to the healthy for fun is the proper use of it, and a great deal more consistent with health. the sound rule in the matter would appear to be like many other sound rules--a paradox. drink because you are happy, but never because you are miserable. never drink when you are wretched without it, or you will be like the grey-faced gin-drinker in the slum; but drink when you would be happy without it, and you will be like the laughing peasant of italy. never drink because you need it, for this is rational drinking, and the way to death and hell. but drink because you do not need it, for this is irrational drinking, and the ancient health of the world. for more than thirty years the shadow and glory of a great eastern figure has lain upon our english literature. fitzgerald's translation of omar khayyam concentrated into an immortal poignancy all the dark and drifting hedonism of our time. of the literary splendour of that work it would be merely banal to speak; in few other of the books of men has there been anything so combining the gay pugnacity of an epigram with the vague sadness of a song. but of its philosophical, ethical, and religious influence which has been almost as great as its brilliancy, i should like to say a word, and that word, i confess, one of uncompromising hostility. there are a great many things which might be said against the spirit of the rubaiyat, and against its prodigious influence. but one matter of indictment towers ominously above the rest--a genuine disgrace to it, a genuine calamity to us. this is the terrible blow that this great poem has struck against sociability and the joy of life. some one called omar "the sad, glad old persian." sad he is; glad he is not, in any sense of the word whatever. he has been a worse foe to gladness than the puritans. a pensive and graceful oriental lies under the rose-tree with his wine-pot and his scroll of poems. it may seem strange that any one's thoughts should, at the moment of regarding him, fly back to the dark bedside where the doctor doles out brandy. it may seem stranger still that they should go back to the grey wastrel shaking with gin in houndsditch. but a great philosophical unity links the three in an evil bond. omar khayyam's wine-bibbing is bad, not because it is wine-bibbing. it is bad, and very bad, because it is medical wine-bibbing. it is the drinking of a man who drinks because he is not happy. his is the wine that shuts out the universe, not the wine that reveals it. it is not poetical drinking, which is joyous and instinctive; it is rational drinking, which is as prosaic as an investment, as unsavoury as a dose of camomile. whole heavens above it, from the point of view of sentiment, though not of style, rises the splendour of some old english drinking-song-- "then pass the bowl, my comrades all, and let the zider vlow." for this song was caught up by happy men to express the worth of truly worthy things, of brotherhood and garrulity, and the brief and kindly leisure of the poor. of course, the great part of the more stolid reproaches directed against the omarite morality are as false and babyish as such reproaches usually are. one critic, whose work i have read, had the incredible foolishness to call omar an atheist and a materialist. it is almost impossible for an oriental to be either; the east understands metaphysics too well for that. of course, the real objection which a philosophical christian would bring against the religion of omar, is not that he gives no place to god, it is that he gives too much place to god. his is that terrible theism which can imagine nothing else but deity, and which denies altogether the outlines of human personality and human will. "the ball no question makes of ayes or noes, but here or there as strikes the player goes; and he that tossed you down into the field, he knows about it all--he knows--he knows." a christian thinker such as augustine or dante would object to this because it ignores free-will, which is the valour and dignity of the soul. the quarrel of the highest christianity with this scepticism is not in the least that the scepticism denies the existence of god; it is that it denies the existence of man. in this cult of the pessimistic pleasure-seeker the rubaiyat stands first in our time; but it does not stand alone. many of the most brilliant intellects of our time have urged us to the same self-conscious snatching at a rare delight. walter pater said that we were all under sentence of death, and the only course was to enjoy exquisite moments simply for those moments' sake. the same lesson was taught by the very powerful and very desolate philosophy of oscar wilde. it is the carpe diem religion; but the carpe diem religion is not the religion of happy people, but of very unhappy people. great joy does, not gather the rosebuds while it may; its eyes are fixed on the immortal rose which dante saw. great joy has in it the sense of immortality; the very splendour of youth is the sense that it has all space to stretch its legs in. in all great comic literature, in "tristram shandy" or "pickwick", there is this sense of space and incorruptibility; we feel the characters are deathless people in an endless tale. it is true enough, of course, that a pungent happiness comes chiefly in certain passing moments; but it is not true that we should think of them as passing, or enjoy them simply "for those moments' sake." to do this is to rationalize the happiness, and therefore to destroy it. happiness is a mystery like religion, and should never be rationalized. suppose a man experiences a really splendid moment of pleasure. i do not mean something connected with a bit of enamel, i mean something with a violent happiness in it--an almost painful happiness. a man may have, for instance, a moment of ecstasy in first love, or a moment of victory in battle. the lover enjoys the moment, but precisely not for the moment's sake. he enjoys it for the woman's sake, or his own sake. the warrior enjoys the moment, but not for the sake of the moment; he enjoys it for the sake of the flag. the cause which the flag stands for may be foolish and fleeting; the love may be calf-love, and last a week. but the patriot thinks of the flag as eternal; the lover thinks of his love as something that cannot end. these moments are filled with eternity; these moments are joyful because they do not seem momentary. once look at them as moments after pater's manner, and they become as cold as pater and his style. man cannot love mortal things. he can only love immortal things for an instant. pater's mistake is revealed in his most famous phrase. he asks us to burn with a hard, gem-like flame. flames are never hard and never gem-like--they cannot be handled or arranged. so human emotions are never hard and never gem-like; they are always dangerous, like flames, to touch or even to examine. there is only one way in which our passions can become hard and gem-like, and that is by becoming as cold as gems. no blow then has ever been struck at the natural loves and laughter of men so sterilizing as this carpe diem of the aesthetes. for any kind of pleasure a totally different spirit is required; a certain shyness, a certain indeterminate hope, a certain boyish expectation. purity and simplicity are essential to passions--yes even to evil passions. even vice demands a sort of virginity. omar's (or fitzgerald's) effect upon the other world we may let go, his hand upon this world has been heavy and paralyzing. the puritans, as i have said, are far jollier than he. the new ascetics who follow thoreau or tolstoy are much livelier company; for, though the surrender of strong drink and such luxuries may strike us as an idle negation, it may leave a man with innumerable natural pleasures, and, above all, with man's natural power of happiness. thoreau could enjoy the sunrise without a cup of coffee. if tolstoy cannot admire marriage, at least he is healthy enough to admire mud. nature can be enjoyed without even the most natural luxuries. a good bush needs no wine. but neither nature nor wine nor anything else can be enjoyed if we have the wrong attitude towards happiness, and omar (or fitzgerald) did have the wrong attitude towards happiness. he and those he has influenced do not see that if we are to be truly gay, we must believe that there is some eternal gaiety in the nature of things. we cannot enjoy thoroughly even a pas-de-quatre at a subscription dance unless we believe that the stars are dancing to the same tune. no one can be really hilarious but the serious man. "wine," says the scripture, "maketh glad the heart of man," but only of the man who has a heart. the thing called high spirits is possible only to the spiritual. ultimately a man cannot rejoice in anything except the nature of things. ultimately a man can enjoy nothing except religion. once in the world's history men did believe that the stars were dancing to the tune of their temples, and they danced as men have never danced since. with this old pagan eudaemonism the sage of the rubaiyat has quite as little to do as he has with any christian variety. he is no more a bacchanal than he is a saint. dionysus and his church was grounded on a serious joie-de-vivre like that of walt whitman. dionysus made wine, not a medicine, but a sacrament. jesus christ also made wine, not a medicine, but a sacrament. but omar makes it, not a sacrament, but a medicine. he feasts because life is not joyful; he revels because he is not glad. "drink," he says, "for you know not whence you come nor why. drink, for you know not when you go nor where. drink, because the stars are cruel and the world as idle as a humming-top. drink, because there is nothing worth trusting, nothing worth fighting for. drink, because all things are lapsed in a base equality and an evil peace." so he stands offering us the cup in his hand. and at the high altar of christianity stands another figure, in whose hand also is the cup of the vine. "drink" he says "for the whole world is as red as this wine, with the crimson of the love and wrath of god. drink, for the trumpets are blowing for battle and this is the stirrup-cup. drink, for this my blood of the new testament that is shed for you. drink, for i know of whence you come and why. drink, for i know of when you go and where." viii. the mildness of the yellow press there is a great deal of protest made from one quarter or another nowadays against the influence of that new journalism which is associated with the names of sir alfred harmsworth and mr. pearson. but almost everybody who attacks it attacks on the ground that it is very sensational, very violent and vulgar and startling. i am speaking in no affected contrariety, but in the simplicity of a genuine personal impression, when i say that this journalism offends as being not sensational or violent enough. the real vice is not that it is startling, but that it is quite insupportably tame. the whole object is to keep carefully along a certain level of the expected and the commonplace; it may be low, but it must take care also to be flat. never by any chance in it is there any of that real plebeian pungency which can be heard from the ordinary cabman in the ordinary street. we have heard of a certain standard of decorum which demands that things should be funny without being vulgar, but the standard of this decorum demands that if things are vulgar they shall be vulgar without being funny. this journalism does not merely fail to exaggerate life--it positively underrates it; and it has to do so because it is intended for the faint and languid recreation of men whom the fierceness of modern life has fatigued. this press is not the yellow press at all; it is the drab press. sir alfred harmsworth must not address to the tired clerk any observation more witty than the tired clerk might be able to address to sir alfred harmsworth. it must not expose anybody (anybody who is powerful, that is), it must not offend anybody, it must not even please anybody, too much. a general vague idea that in spite of all this, our yellow press is sensational, arises from such external accidents as large type or lurid headlines. it is quite true that these editors print everything they possibly can in large capital letters. but they do this, not because it is startling, but because it is soothing. to people wholly weary or partly drunk in a dimly lighted train, it is a simplification and a comfort to have things presented in this vast and obvious manner. the editors use this gigantic alphabet in dealing with their readers, for exactly the same reason that parents and governesses use a similar gigantic alphabet in teaching children to spell. the nursery authorities do not use an a as big as a horseshoe in order to make the child jump; on the contrary, they use it to put the child at his ease, to make things smoother and more evident. of the same character is the dim and quiet dame school which sir alfred harmsworth and mr. pearson keep. all their sentiments are spelling-book sentiments--that is to say, they are sentiments with which the pupil is already respectfully familiar. all their wildest posters are leaves torn from a copy-book. of real sensational journalism, as it exists in france, in ireland, and in america, we have no trace in this country. when a journalist in ireland wishes to create a thrill, he creates a thrill worth talking about. he denounces a leading irish member for corruption, or he charges the whole police system with a wicked and definite conspiracy. when a french journalist desires a frisson there is a frisson; he discovers, let us say, that the president of the republic has murdered three wives. our yellow journalists invent quite as unscrupulously as this; their moral condition is, as regards careful veracity, about the same. but it is their mental calibre which happens to be such that they can only invent calm and even reassuring things. the fictitious version of the massacre of the envoys of pekin was mendacious, but it was not interesting, except to those who had private reasons for terror or sorrow. it was not connected with any bold and suggestive view of the chinese situation. it revealed only a vague idea that nothing could be impressive except a great deal of blood. real sensationalism, of which i happen to be very fond, may be either moral or immoral. but even when it is most immoral, it requires moral courage. for it is one of the most dangerous things on earth genuinely to surprise anybody. if you make any sentient creature jump, you render it by no means improbable that it will jump on you. but the leaders of this movement have no moral courage or immoral courage; their whole method consists in saying, with large and elaborate emphasis, the things which everybody else says casually, and without remembering what they have said. when they brace themselves up to attack anything, they never reach the point of attacking anything which is large and real, and would resound with the shock. they do not attack the army as men do in france, or the judges as men do in ireland, or the democracy itself as men did in england a hundred years ago. they attack something like the war office--something, that is, which everybody attacks and nobody bothers to defend, something which is an old joke in fourth-rate comic papers. just as a man shows he has a weak voice by straining it to shout, so they show the hopelessly unsensational nature of their minds when they really try to be sensational. with the whole world full of big and dubious institutions, with the whole wickedness of civilization staring them in the face, their idea of being bold and bright is to attack the war office. they might as well start a campaign against the weather, or form a secret society in order to make jokes about mothers-in-law. nor is it only from the point of view of particular amateurs of the sensational such as myself, that it is permissible to say, in the words of cowper's alexander selkirk, that "their tameness is shocking to me." the whole modern world is pining for a genuinely sensational journalism. this has been discovered by that very able and honest journalist, mr. blatchford, who started his campaign against christianity, warned on all sides, i believe, that it would ruin his paper, but who continued from an honourable sense of intellectual responsibility. he discovered, however, that while he had undoubtedly shocked his readers, he had also greatly advanced his newspaper. it was bought--first, by all the people who agreed with him and wanted to read it; and secondly, by all the people who disagreed with him, and wanted to write him letters. those letters were voluminous (i helped, i am glad to say, to swell their volume), and they were generally inserted with a generous fulness. thus was accidentally discovered (like the steam-engine) the great journalistic maxim--that if an editor can only make people angry enough, they will write half his newspaper for him for nothing. some hold that such papers as these are scarcely the proper objects of so serious a consideration; but that can scarcely be maintained from a political or ethical point of view. in this problem of the mildness and tameness of the harmsworth mind there is mirrored the outlines of a much larger problem which is akin to it. the harmsworthian journalist begins with a worship of success and violence, and ends in sheer timidity and mediocrity. but he is not alone in this, nor does he come by this fate merely because he happens personally to be stupid. every man, however brave, who begins by worshipping violence, must end in mere timidity. every man, however wise, who begins by worshipping success, must end in mere mediocrity. this strange and paradoxical fate is involved, not in the individual, but in the philosophy, in the point of view. it is not the folly of the man which brings about this necessary fall; it is his wisdom. the worship of success is the only one out of all possible worships of which this is true, that its followers are foredoomed to become slaves and cowards. a man may be a hero for the sake of mrs. gallup's ciphers or for the sake of human sacrifice, but not for the sake of success. for obviously a man may choose to fail because he loves mrs. gallup or human sacrifice; but he cannot choose to fail because he loves success. when the test of triumph is men's test of everything, they never endure long enough to triumph at all. as long as matters are really hopeful, hope is a mere flattery or platitude; it is only when everything is hopeless that hope begins to be a strength at all. like all the christian virtues, it is as unreasonable as it is indispensable. it was through this fatal paradox in the nature of things that all these modern adventurers come at last to a sort of tedium and acquiescence. they desired strength; and to them to desire strength was to admire strength; to admire strength was simply to admire the statu quo. they thought that he who wished to be strong ought to respect the strong. they did not realize the obvious verity that he who wishes to be strong must despise the strong. they sought to be everything, to have the whole force of the cosmos behind them, to have an energy that would drive the stars. but they did not realize the two great facts--first, that in the attempt to be everything the first and most difficult step is to be something; second, that the moment a man is something, he is essentially defying everything. the lower animals, say the men of science, fought their way up with a blind selfishness. if this be so, the only real moral of it is that our unselfishness, if it is to triumph, must be equally blind. the mammoth did not put his head on one side and wonder whether mammoths were a little out of date. mammoths were at least as much up to date as that individual mammoth could make them. the great elk did not say, "cloven hoofs are very much worn now." he polished his own weapons for his own use. but in the reasoning animal there has arisen a more horrible danger, that he may fail through perceiving his own failure. when modern sociologists talk of the necessity of accommodating one's self to the trend of the time, they forget that the trend of the time at its best consists entirely of people who will not accommodate themselves to anything. at its worst it consists of many millions of frightened creatures all accommodating themselves to a trend that is not there. and that is becoming more and more the situation of modern england. every man speaks of public opinion, and means by public opinion, public opinion minus his opinion. every man makes his contribution negative under the erroneous impression that the next man's contribution is positive. every man surrenders his fancy to a general tone which is itself a surrender. and over all the heartless and fatuous unity spreads this new and wearisome and platitudinous press, incapable of invention, incapable of audacity, capable only of a servility all the more contemptible because it is not even a servility to the strong. but all who begin with force and conquest will end in this. the chief characteristic of the "new journalism" is simply that it is bad journalism. it is beyond all comparison the most shapeless, careless, and colourless work done in our day. i read yesterday a sentence which should be written in letters of gold and adamant; it is the very motto of the new philosophy of empire. i found it (as the reader has already eagerly guessed) in pearson's magazine, while i was communing (soul to soul) with mr. c. arthur pearson, whose first and suppressed name i am afraid is chilperic. it occurred in an article on the american presidential election. this is the sentence, and every one should read it carefully, and roll it on the tongue, till all the honey be tasted. "a little sound common sense often goes further with an audience of american working-men than much high-flown argument. a speaker who, as he brought forward his points, hammered nails into a board, won hundreds of votes for his side at the last presidential election." i do not wish to soil this perfect thing with comment; the words of mercury are harsh after the songs of apollo. but just think for a moment of the mind, the strange inscrutable mind, of the man who wrote that, of the editor who approved it, of the people who are probably impressed by it, of the incredible american working-man, of whom, for all i know, it may be true. think what their notion of "common sense" must be! it is delightful to realize that you and i are now able to win thousands of votes should we ever be engaged in a presidential election, by doing something of this kind. for i suppose the nails and the board are not essential to the exhibition of "common sense;" there may be variations. we may read-- "a little common sense impresses american working-men more than high-flown argument. a speaker who, as he made his points, pulled buttons off his waistcoat, won thousands of votes for his side." or, "sound common sense tells better in america than high-flown argument. thus senator budge, who threw his false teeth in the air every time he made an epigram, won the solid approval of american working-men." or again, "the sound common sense of a gentleman from earlswood, who stuck straws in his hair during the progress of his speech, assured the victory of mr. roosevelt." there are many other elements in this article on which i should love to linger. but the matter which i wish to point out is that in that sentence is perfectly revealed the whole truth of what our chamberlainites, hustlers, bustlers, empire-builders, and strong, silent men, really mean by "commonsense." they mean knocking, with deafening noise and dramatic effect, meaningless bits of iron into a useless bit of wood. a man goes on to an american platform and behaves like a mountebank fool with a board and a hammer; well, i do not blame him; i might even admire him. he may be a dashing and quite decent strategist. he may be a fine romantic actor, like burke flinging the dagger on the floor. he may even (for all i know) be a sublime mystic, profoundly impressed with the ancient meaning of the divine trade of the carpenter, and offering to the people a parable in the form of a ceremony. all i wish to indicate is the abyss of mental confusion in which such wild ritualism can be called "sound common sense." and it is in that abyss of mental confusion, and in that alone, that the new imperialism lives and moves and has its being. the whole glory and greatness of mr. chamberlain consists in this: that if a man hits the right nail on the head nobody cares where he hits it to or what it does. they care about the noise of the hammer, not about the silent drip of the nail. before and throughout the african war, mr. chamberlain was always knocking in nails, with ringing decisiveness. but when we ask, "but what have these nails held together? where is your carpentry? where are your contented outlanders? where is your free south africa? where is your british prestige? what have your nails done?" then what answer is there? we must go back (with an affectionate sigh) to our pearson for the answer to the question of what the nails have done: "the speaker who hammered nails into a board won thousands of votes." now the whole of this passage is admirably characteristic of the new journalism which mr. pearson represents, the new journalism which has just purchased the standard. to take one instance out of hundreds, the incomparable man with the board and nails is described in the pearson's article as calling out (as he smote the symbolic nail), "lie number one. nailed to the mast! nailed to the mast!" in the whole office there was apparently no compositor or office-boy to point out that we speak of lies being nailed to the counter, and not to the mast. nobody in the office knew that pearson's magazine was falling into a stale irish bull, which must be as old as st. patrick. this is the real and essential tragedy of the sale of the standard. it is not merely that journalism is victorious over literature. it is that bad journalism is victorious over good journalism. it is not that one article which we consider costly and beautiful is being ousted by another kind of article which we consider common or unclean. it is that of the same article a worse quality is preferred to a better. if you like popular journalism (as i do), you will know that pearson's magazine is poor and weak popular journalism. you will know it as certainly as you know bad butter. you will know as certainly that it is poor popular journalism as you know that the strand, in the great days of sherlock holmes, was good popular journalism. mr. pearson has been a monument of this enormous banality. about everything he says and does there is something infinitely weak-minded. he clamours for home trades and employs foreign ones to print his paper. when this glaring fact is pointed out, he does not say that the thing was an oversight, like a sane man. he cuts it off with scissors, like a child of three. his very cunning is infantile. and like a child of three, he does not cut it quite off. in all human records i doubt if there is such an example of a profound simplicity in deception. this is the sort of intelligence which now sits in the seat of the sane and honourable old tory journalism. if it were really the triumph of the tropical exuberance of the yankee press, it would be vulgar, but still tropical. but it is not. we are delivered over to the bramble, and from the meanest of the shrubs comes the fire upon the cedars of lebanon. the only question now is how much longer the fiction will endure that journalists of this order represent public opinion. it may be doubted whether any honest and serious tariff reformer would for a moment maintain that there was any majority for tariff reform in the country comparable to the ludicrous preponderance which money has given it among the great dailies. the only inference is that for purposes of real public opinion the press is now a mere plutocratic oligarchy. doubtless the public buys the wares of these men, for one reason or another. but there is no more reason to suppose that the public admires their politics than that the public admires the delicate philosophy of mr. crosse or the darker and sterner creed of mr. blackwell. if these men are merely tradesmen, there is nothing to say except that there are plenty like them in the battersea park road, and many much better. but if they make any sort of attempt to be politicians, we can only point out to them that they are not as yet even good journalists. ix. the moods of mr. george moore mr. george moore began his literary career by writing his personal confessions; nor is there any harm in this if he had not continued them for the remainder of his life. he is a man of genuinely forcible mind and of great command over a kind of rhetorical and fugitive conviction which excites and pleases. he is in a perpetual state of temporary honesty. he has admired all the most admirable modern eccentrics until they could stand it no longer. everything he writes, it is to be fully admitted, has a genuine mental power. his account of his reason for leaving the roman catholic church is possibly the most admirable tribute to that communion which has been written of late years. for the fact of the matter is, that the weakness which has rendered barren the many brilliancies of mr. moore is actually that weakness which the roman catholic church is at its best in combating. mr. moore hates catholicism because it breaks up the house of looking-glasses in which he lives. mr. moore does not dislike so much being asked to believe in the spiritual existence of miracles or sacraments, but he does fundamentally dislike being asked to believe in the actual existence of other people. like his master pater and all the aesthetes, his real quarrel with life is that it is not a dream that can be moulded by the dreamer. it is not the dogma of the reality of the other world that troubles him, but the dogma of the reality of this world. the truth is that the tradition of christianity (which is still the only coherent ethic of europe) rests on two or three paradoxes or mysteries which can easily be impugned in argument and as easily justified in life. one of them, for instance, is the paradox of hope or faith--that the more hopeless is the situation the more hopeful must be the man. stevenson understood this, and consequently mr. moore cannot understand stevenson. another is the paradox of charity or chivalry that the weaker a thing is the more it should be respected, that the more indefensible a thing is the more it should appeal to us for a certain kind of defence. thackeray understood this, and therefore mr. moore does not understand thackeray. now, one of these very practical and working mysteries in the christian tradition, and one which the roman catholic church, as i say, has done her best work in singling out, is the conception of the sinfulness of pride. pride is a weakness in the character; it dries up laughter, it dries up wonder, it dries up chivalry and energy. the christian tradition understands this; therefore mr. moore does not understand the christian tradition. for the truth is much stranger even than it appears in the formal doctrine of the sin of pride. it is not only true that humility is a much wiser and more vigorous thing than pride. it is also true that vanity is a much wiser and more vigorous thing than pride. vanity is social--it is almost a kind of comradeship; pride is solitary and uncivilized. vanity is active; it desires the applause of infinite multitudes; pride is passive, desiring only the applause of one person, which it already has. vanity is humorous, and can enjoy the joke even of itself; pride is dull, and cannot even smile. and the whole of this difference is the difference between stevenson and mr. george moore, who, as he informs us, has "brushed stevenson aside." i do not know where he has been brushed to, but wherever it is i fancy he is having a good time, because he had the wisdom to be vain, and not proud. stevenson had a windy vanity; mr. moore has a dusty egoism. hence stevenson could amuse himself as well as us with his vanity; while the richest effects of mr. moore's absurdity are hidden from his eyes. if we compare this solemn folly with the happy folly with which stevenson belauds his own books and berates his own critics, we shall not find it difficult to guess why it is that stevenson at least found a final philosophy of some sort to live by, while mr. moore is always walking the world looking for a new one. stevenson had found that the secret of life lies in laughter and humility. self is the gorgon. vanity sees it in the mirror of other men and lives. pride studies it for itself and is turned to stone. it is necessary to dwell on this defect in mr. moore, because it is really the weakness of work which is not without its strength. mr. moore's egoism is not merely a moral weakness, it is a very constant and influential aesthetic weakness as well. we should really be much more interested in mr. moore if he were not quite so interested in himself. we feel as if we were being shown through a gallery of really fine pictures, into each of which, by some useless and discordant convention, the artist had represented the same figure in the same attitude. "the grand canal with a distant view of mr. moore," "effect of mr. moore through a scotch mist," "mr. moore by firelight," "ruins of mr. moore by moonlight," and so on, seems to be the endless series. he would no doubt reply that in such a book as this he intended to reveal himself. but the answer is that in such a book as this he does not succeed. one of the thousand objections to the sin of pride lies precisely in this, that self-consciousness of necessity destroys self-revelation. a man who thinks a great deal about himself will try to be many-sided, attempt a theatrical excellence at all points, will try to be an encyclopaedia of culture, and his own real personality will be lost in that false universalism. thinking about himself will lead to trying to be the universe; trying to be the universe will lead to ceasing to be anything. if, on the other hand, a man is sensible enough to think only about the universe; he will think about it in his own individual way. he will keep virgin the secret of god; he will see the grass as no other man can see it, and look at a sun that no man has ever known. this fact is very practically brought out in mr. moore's "confessions." in reading them we do not feel the presence of a clean-cut personality like that of thackeray and matthew arnold. we only read a number of quite clever and largely conflicting opinions which might be uttered by any clever person, but which we are called upon to admire specifically, because they are uttered by mr. moore. he is the only thread that connects catholicism and protestantism, realism and mysticism--he or rather his name. he is profoundly absorbed even in views he no longer holds, and he expects us to be. and he intrudes the capital "i" even where it need not be intruded--even where it weakens the force of a plain statement. where another man would say, "it is a fine day," mr. moore says, "seen through my temperament, the day appeared fine." where another man would say "milton has obviously a fine style," mr. moore would say, "as a stylist milton had always impressed me." the nemesis of this self-centred spirit is that of being totally ineffectual. mr. moore has started many interesting crusades, but he has abandoned them before his disciples could begin. even when he is on the side of the truth he is as fickle as the children of falsehood. even when he has found reality he cannot find rest. one irish quality he has which no irishman was ever without--pugnacity; and that is certainly a great virtue, especially in the present age. but he has not the tenacity of conviction which goes with the fighting spirit in a man like bernard shaw. his weakness of introspection and selfishness in all their glory cannot prevent him fighting; but they will always prevent him winning. x. on sandals and simplicity the great misfortune of the modern english is not at all that they are more boastful than other people (they are not); it is that they are boastful about those particular things which nobody can boast of without losing them. a frenchman can be proud of being bold and logical, and still remain bold and logical. a german can be proud of being reflective and orderly, and still remain reflective and orderly. but an englishman cannot be proud of being simple and direct, and still remain simple and direct. in the matter of these strange virtues, to know them is to kill them. a man may be conscious of being heroic or conscious of being divine, but he cannot (in spite of all the anglo-saxon poets) be conscious of being unconscious. now, i do not think that it can be honestly denied that some portion of this impossibility attaches to a class very different in their own opinion, at least, to the school of anglo-saxonism. i mean that school of the simple life, commonly associated with tolstoy. if a perpetual talk about one's own robustness leads to being less robust, it is even more true that a perpetual talking about one's own simplicity leads to being less simple. one great complaint, i think, must stand against the modern upholders of the simple life--the simple life in all its varied forms, from vegetarianism to the honourable consistency of the doukhobors. this complaint against them stands, that they would make us simple in the unimportant things, but complex in the important things. they would make us simple in the things that do not matter--that is, in diet, in costume, in etiquette, in economic system. but they would make us complex in the things that do matter--in philosophy, in loyalty, in spiritual acceptance, and spiritual rejection. it does not so very much matter whether a man eats a grilled tomato or a plain tomato; it does very much matter whether he eats a plain tomato with a grilled mind. the only kind of simplicity worth preserving is the simplicity of the heart, the simplicity which accepts and enjoys. there may be a reasonable doubt as to what system preserves this; there can surely be no doubt that a system of simplicity destroys it. there is more simplicity in the man who eats caviar on impulse than in the man who eats grape-nuts on principle. the chief error of these people is to be found in the very phrase to which they are most attached--"plain living and high thinking." these people do not stand in need of, will not be improved by, plain living and high thinking. they stand in need of the contrary. they would be improved by high living and plain thinking. a little high living (i say, having a full sense of responsibility, a little high living) would teach them the force and meaning of the human festivities, of the banquet that has gone on from the beginning of the world. it would teach them the historic fact that the artificial is, if anything, older than the natural. it would teach them that the loving-cup is as old as any hunger. it would teach them that ritualism is older than any religion. and a little plain thinking would teach them how harsh and fanciful are the mass of their own ethics, how very civilized and very complicated must be the brain of the tolstoyan who really believes it to be evil to love one's country and wicked to strike a blow. a man approaches, wearing sandals and simple raiment, a raw tomato held firmly in his right hand, and says, "the affections of family and country alike are hindrances to the fuller development of human love;" but the plain thinker will only answer him, with a wonder not untinged with admiration, "what a great deal of trouble you must have taken in order to feel like that." high living will reject the tomato. plain thinking will equally decisively reject the idea of the invariable sinfulness of war. high living will convince us that nothing is more materialistic than to despise a pleasure as purely material. and plain thinking will convince us that nothing is more materialistic than to reserve our horror chiefly for material wounds. the only simplicity that matters is the simplicity of the heart. if that be gone, it can be brought back by no turnips or cellular clothing; but only by tears and terror and the fires that are not quenched. if that remain, it matters very little if a few early victorian armchairs remain along with it. let us put a complex entree into a simple old gentleman; let us not put a simple entree into a complex old gentleman. so long as human society will leave my spiritual inside alone, i will allow it, with a comparative submission, to work its wild will with my physical interior. i will submit to cigars. i will meekly embrace a bottle of burgundy. i will humble myself to a hansom cab. if only by this means i may preserve to myself the virginity of the spirit, which enjoys with astonishment and fear. i do not say that these are the only methods of preserving it. i incline to the belief that there are others. but i will have nothing to do with simplicity which lacks the fear, the astonishment, and the joy alike. i will have nothing to do with the devilish vision of a child who is too simple to like toys. the child is, indeed, in these, and many other matters, the best guide. and in nothing is the child so righteously childlike, in nothing does he exhibit more accurately the sounder order of simplicity, than in the fact that he sees everything with a simple pleasure, even the complex things. the false type of naturalness harps always on the distinction between the natural and the artificial. the higher kind of naturalness ignores that distinction. to the child the tree and the lamp-post are as natural and as artificial as each other; or rather, neither of them are natural but both supernatural. for both are splendid and unexplained. the flower with which god crowns the one, and the flame with which sam the lamplighter crowns the other, are equally of the gold of fairy-tales. in the middle of the wildest fields the most rustic child is, ten to one, playing at steam-engines. and the only spiritual or philosophical objection to steam-engines is not that men pay for them or work at them, or make them very ugly, or even that men are killed by them; but merely that men do not play at them. the evil is that the childish poetry of clockwork does not remain. the wrong is not that engines are too much admired, but that they are not admired enough. the sin is not that engines are mechanical, but that men are mechanical. in this matter, then, as in all the other matters treated in this book, our main conclusion is that it is a fundamental point of view, a philosophy or religion which is needed, and not any change in habit or social routine. the things we need most for immediate practical purposes are all abstractions. we need a right view of the human lot, a right view of the human society; and if we were living eagerly and angrily in the enthusiasm of those things, we should, ipso facto, be living simply in the genuine and spiritual sense. desire and danger make every one simple. and to those who talk to us with interfering eloquence about jaeger and the pores of the skin, and about plasmon and the coats of the stomach, at them shall only be hurled the words that are hurled at fops and gluttons, "take no thought what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink, or wherewithal ye shall be clothed. for after all these things do the gentiles seek. but seek first the kingdom of god and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." those amazing words are not only extraordinarily good, practical politics; they are also superlatively good hygiene. the one supreme way of making all those processes go right, the processes of health, and strength, and grace, and beauty, the one and only way of making certain of their accuracy, is to think about something else. if a man is bent on climbing into the seventh heaven, he may be quite easy about the pores of his skin. if he harnesses his waggon to a star, the process will have a most satisfactory effect upon the coats of his stomach. for the thing called "taking thought," the thing for which the best modern word is "rationalizing," is in its nature, inapplicable to all plain and urgent things. men take thought and ponder rationalistically, touching remote things--things that only theoretically matter, such as the transit of venus. but only at their peril can men rationalize about so practical a matter as health. xi science and the savages a permanent disadvantage of the study of folk-lore and kindred subjects is that the man of science can hardly be in the nature of things very frequently a man of the world. he is a student of nature; he is scarcely ever a student of human nature. and even where this difficulty is overcome, and he is in some sense a student of human nature, this is only a very faint beginning of the painful progress towards being human. for the study of primitive race and religion stands apart in one important respect from all, or nearly all, the ordinary scientific studies. a man can understand astronomy only by being an astronomer; he can understand entomology only by being an entomologist (or, perhaps, an insect); but he can understand a great deal of anthropology merely by being a man. he is himself the animal which he studies. hence arises the fact which strikes the eye everywhere in the records of ethnology and folk-lore--the fact that the same frigid and detached spirit which leads to success in the study of astronomy or botany leads to disaster in the study of mythology or human origins. it is necessary to cease to be a man in order to do justice to a microbe; it is not necessary to cease to be a man in order to do justice to men. that same suppression of sympathies, that same waving away of intuitions or guess-work which make a man preternaturally clever in dealing with the stomach of a spider, will make him preternaturally stupid in dealing with the heart of man. he is making himself inhuman in order to understand humanity. an ignorance of the other world is boasted by many men of science; but in this matter their defect arises, not from ignorance of the other world, but from ignorance of this world. for the secrets about which anthropologists concern themselves can be best learnt, not from books or voyages, but from the ordinary commerce of man with man. the secret of why some savage tribe worships monkeys or the moon is not to be found even by travelling among those savages and taking down their answers in a note-book, although the cleverest man may pursue this course. the answer to the riddle is in england; it is in london; nay, it is in his own heart. when a man has discovered why men in bond street wear black hats he will at the same moment have discovered why men in timbuctoo wear red feathers. the mystery in the heart of some savage war-dance should not be studied in books of scientific travel; it should be studied at a subscription ball. if a man desires to find out the origins of religions, let him not go to the sandwich islands; let him go to church. if a man wishes to know the origin of human society, to know what society, philosophically speaking, really is, let him not go into the british museum; let him go into society. this total misunderstanding of the real nature of ceremonial gives rise to the most awkward and dehumanized versions of the conduct of men in rude lands or ages. the man of science, not realizing that ceremonial is essentially a thing which is done without a reason, has to find a reason for every sort of ceremonial, and, as might be supposed, the reason is generally a very absurd one--absurd because it originates not in the simple mind of the barbarian, but in the sophisticated mind of the professor. the teamed man will say, for instance, "the natives of mumbojumbo land believe that the dead man can eat and will require food upon his journey to the other world. this is attested by the fact that they place food in the grave, and that any family not complying with this rite is the object of the anger of the priests and the tribe." to any one acquainted with humanity this way of talking is topsy-turvy. it is like saying, "the english in the twentieth century believed that a dead man could smell. this is attested by the fact that they always covered his grave with lilies, violets, or other flowers. some priestly and tribal terrors were evidently attached to the neglect of this action, as we have records of several old ladies who were very much disturbed in mind because their wreaths had not arrived in time for the funeral." it may be of course that savages put food with a dead man because they think that a dead man can eat, or weapons with a dead man because they think that a dead man can fight. but personally i do not believe that they think anything of the kind. i believe they put food or weapons on the dead for the same reason that we put flowers, because it is an exceedingly natural and obvious thing to do. we do not understand, it is true, the emotion which makes us think it obvious and natural; but that is because, like all the important emotions of human existence it is essentially irrational. we do not understand the savage for the same reason that the savage does not understand himself. and the savage does not understand himself for the same reason that we do not understand ourselves either. the obvious truth is that the moment any matter has passed through the human mind it is finally and for ever spoilt for all purposes of science. it has become a thing incurably mysterious and infinite; this mortal has put on immortality. even what we call our material desires are spiritual, because they are human. science can analyse a pork-chop, and say how much of it is phosphorus and how much is protein; but science cannot analyse any man's wish for a pork-chop, and say how much of it is hunger, how much custom, how much nervous fancy, how much a haunting love of the beautiful. the man's desire for the pork-chop remains literally as mystical and ethereal as his desire for heaven. all attempts, therefore, at a science of any human things, at a science of history, a science of folk-lore, a science of sociology, are by their nature not merely hopeless, but crazy. you can no more be certain in economic history that a man's desire for money was merely a desire for money than you can be certain in hagiology that a saint's desire for god was merely a desire for god. and this kind of vagueness in the primary phenomena of the study is an absolutely final blow to anything in the nature of a science. men can construct a science with very few instruments, or with very plain instruments; but no one on earth could construct a science with unreliable instruments. a man might work out the whole of mathematics with a handful of pebbles, but not with a handful of clay which was always falling apart into new fragments, and falling together into new combinations. a man might measure heaven and earth with a reed, but not with a growing reed. as one of the enormous follies of folk-lore, let us take the case of the transmigration of stories, and the alleged unity of their source. story after story the scientific mythologists have cut out of its place in history, and pinned side by side with similar stories in their museum of fables. the process is industrious, it is fascinating, and the whole of it rests on one of the plainest fallacies in the world. that a story has been told all over the place at some time or other, not only does not prove that it never really happened; it does not even faintly indicate or make slightly more probable that it never happened. that a large number of fishermen have falsely asserted that they have caught a pike two feet long, does not in the least affect the question of whether any one ever really did so. that numberless journalists announce a franco-german war merely for money is no evidence one way or the other upon the dark question of whether such a war ever occurred. doubtless in a few hundred years the innumerable franco-german wars that did not happen will have cleared the scientific mind of any belief in the legendary war of ' which did. but that will be because if folk-lore students remain at all, their nature will be unchanged; and their services to folk-lore will be still as they are at present, greater than they know. for in truth these men do something far more godlike than studying legends; they create them. there are two kinds of stories which the scientists say cannot be true, because everybody tells them. the first class consists of the stories which are told everywhere, because they are somewhat odd or clever; there is nothing in the world to prevent their having happened to somebody as an adventure any more than there is anything to prevent their having occurred, as they certainly did occur, to somebody as an idea. but they are not likely to have happened to many people. the second class of their "myths" consist of the stories that are told everywhere for the simple reason that they happen everywhere. of the first class, for instance, we might take such an example as the story of william tell, now generally ranked among legends upon the sole ground that it is found in the tales of other peoples. now, it is obvious that this was told everywhere because whether true or fictitious it is what is called "a good story;" it is odd, exciting, and it has a climax. but to suggest that some such eccentric incident can never have happened in the whole history of archery, or that it did not happen to any particular person of whom it is told, is stark impudence. the idea of shooting at a mark attached to some valuable or beloved person is an idea doubtless that might easily have occurred to any inventive poet. but it is also an idea that might easily occur to any boastful archer. it might be one of the fantastic caprices of some story-teller. it might equally well be one of the fantastic caprices of some tyrant. it might occur first in real life and afterwards occur in legends. or it might just as well occur first in legends and afterwards occur in real life. if no apple has ever been shot off a boy's head from the beginning of the world, it may be done tomorrow morning, and by somebody who has never heard of william tell. this type of tale, indeed, may be pretty fairly paralleled with the ordinary anecdote terminating in a repartee or an irish bull. such a retort as the famous "je ne vois pas la necessite" we have all seen attributed to talleyrand, to voltaire, to henri quatre, to an anonymous judge, and so on. but this variety does not in any way make it more likely that the thing was never said at all. it is highly likely that it was really said by somebody unknown. it is highly likely that it was really said by talleyrand. in any case, it is not any more difficult to believe that the mot might have occurred to a man in conversation than to a man writing memoirs. it might have occurred to any of the men i have mentioned. but there is this point of distinction about it, that it is not likely to have occurred to all of them. and this is where the first class of so-called myth differs from the second to which i have previously referred. for there is a second class of incident found to be common to the stories of five or six heroes, say to sigurd, to hercules, to rustem, to the cid, and so on. and the peculiarity of this myth is that not only is it highly reasonable to imagine that it really happened to one hero, but it is highly reasonable to imagine that it really happened to all of them. such a story, for instance, is that of a great man having his strength swayed or thwarted by the mysterious weakness of a woman. the anecdotal story, the story of william tell, is as i have said, popular, because it is peculiar. but this kind of story, the story of samson and delilah of arthur and guinevere, is obviously popular because it is not peculiar. it is popular as good, quiet fiction is popular, because it tells the truth about people. if the ruin of samson by a woman, and the ruin of hercules by a woman, have a common legendary origin, it is gratifying to know that we can also explain, as a fable, the ruin of nelson by a woman and the ruin of parnell by a woman. and, indeed, i have no doubt whatever that, some centuries hence, the students of folk-lore will refuse altogether to believe that elizabeth barrett eloped with robert browning, and will prove their point up to the hilt by the unquestionable fact that the whole fiction of the period was full of such elopements from end to end. possibly the most pathetic of all the delusions of the modern students of primitive belief is the notion they have about the thing they call anthropomorphism. they believe that primitive men attributed phenomena to a god in human form in order to explain them, because his mind in its sullen limitation could not reach any further than his own clownish existence. the thunder was called the voice of a man, the lightning the eyes of a man, because by this explanation they were made more reasonable and comfortable. the final cure for all this kind of philosophy is to walk down a lane at night. any one who does so will discover very quickly that men pictured something semi-human at the back of all things, not because such a thought was natural, but because it was supernatural; not because it made things more comprehensible, but because it made them a hundred times more incomprehensible and mysterious. for a man walking down a lane at night can see the conspicuous fact that as long as nature keeps to her own course, she has no power with us at all. as long as a tree is a tree, it is a top-heavy monster with a hundred arms, a thousand tongues, and only one leg. but so long as a tree is a tree, it does not frighten us at all. it begins to be something alien, to be something strange, only when it looks like ourselves. when a tree really looks like a man our knees knock under us. and when the whole universe looks like a man we fall on our faces. xii paganism and mr. lowes dickinson of the new paganism (or neo-paganism), as it was preached flamboyantly by mr. swinburne or delicately by walter pater, there is no necessity to take any very grave account, except as a thing which left behind it incomparable exercises in the english language. the new paganism is no longer new, and it never at any time bore the smallest resemblance to paganism. the ideas about the ancient civilization which it has left loose in the public mind are certainly extraordinary enough. the term "pagan" is continually used in fiction and light literature as meaning a man without any religion, whereas a pagan was generally a man with about half a dozen. the pagans, according to this notion, were continually crowning themselves with flowers and dancing about in an irresponsible state, whereas, if there were two things that the best pagan civilization did honestly believe in, they were a rather too rigid dignity and a much too rigid responsibility. pagans are depicted as above all things inebriate and lawless, whereas they were above all things reasonable and respectable. they are praised as disobedient when they had only one great virtue--civic obedience. they are envied and admired as shamelessly happy when they had only one great sin--despair. mr. lowes dickinson, the most pregnant and provocative of recent writers on this and similar subjects, is far too solid a man to have fallen into this old error of the mere anarchy of paganism. in order to make hay of that hellenic enthusiasm which has as its ideal mere appetite and egotism, it is not necessary to know much philosophy, but merely to know a little greek. mr. lowes dickinson knows a great deal of philosophy, and also a great deal of greek, and his error, if error he has, is not that of the crude hedonist. but the contrast which he offers between christianity and paganism in the matter of moral ideals--a contrast which he states very ably in a paper called "how long halt ye?" which appeared in the independent review--does, i think, contain an error of a deeper kind. according to him, the ideal of paganism was not, indeed, a mere frenzy of lust and liberty and caprice, but was an ideal of full and satisfied humanity. according to him, the ideal of christianity was the ideal of asceticism. when i say that i think this idea wholly wrong as a matter of philosophy and history, i am not talking for the moment about any ideal christianity of my own, or even of any primitive christianity undefiled by after events. i am not, like so many modern christian idealists, basing my case upon certain things which christ said. neither am i, like so many other christian idealists, basing my case upon certain things that christ forgot to say. i take historic christianity with all its sins upon its head; i take it, as i would take jacobinism, or mormonism, or any other mixed or unpleasing human product, and i say that the meaning of its action was not to be found in asceticism. i say that its point of departure from paganism was not asceticism. i say that its point of difference with the modern world was not asceticism. i say that st. simeon stylites had not his main inspiration in asceticism. i say that the main christian impulse cannot be described as asceticism, even in the ascetics. let me set about making the matter clear. there is one broad fact about the relations of christianity and paganism which is so simple that many will smile at it, but which is so important that all moderns forget it. the primary fact about christianity and paganism is that one came after the other. mr. lowes dickinson speaks of them as if they were parallel ideals--even speaks as if paganism were the newer of the two, and the more fitted for a new age. he suggests that the pagan ideal will be the ultimate good of man; but if that is so, we must at least ask with more curiosity than he allows for, why it was that man actually found his ultimate good on earth under the stars, and threw it away again. it is this extraordinary enigma to which i propose to attempt an answer. there is only one thing in the modern world that has been face to face with paganism; there is only one thing in the modern world which in that sense knows anything about paganism: and that is christianity. that fact is really the weak point in the whole of that hedonistic neo-paganism of which i have spoken. all that genuinely remains of the ancient hymns or the ancient dances of europe, all that has honestly come to us from the festivals of phoebus or pan, is to be found in the festivals of the christian church. if any one wants to hold the end of a chain which really goes back to the heathen mysteries, he had better take hold of a festoon of flowers at easter or a string of sausages at christmas. everything else in the modern world is of christian origin, even everything that seems most anti-christian. the french revolution is of christian origin. the newspaper is of christian origin. the anarchists are of christian origin. physical science is of christian origin. the attack on christianity is of christian origin. there is one thing, and one thing only, in existence at the present day which can in any sense accurately be said to be of pagan origin, and that is christianity. the real difference between paganism and christianity is perfectly summed up in the difference between the pagan, or natural, virtues, and those three virtues of christianity which the church of rome calls virtues of grace. the pagan, or rational, virtues are such things as justice and temperance, and christianity has adopted them. the three mystical virtues which christianity has not adopted, but invented, are faith, hope, and charity. now much easy and foolish christian rhetoric could easily be poured out upon those three words, but i desire to confine myself to the two facts which are evident about them. the first evident fact (in marked contrast to the delusion of the dancing pagan)--the first evident fact, i say, is that the pagan virtues, such as justice and temperance, are the sad virtues, and that the mystical virtues of faith, hope, and charity are the gay and exuberant virtues. and the second evident fact, which is even more evident, is the fact that the pagan virtues are the reasonable virtues, and that the christian virtues of faith, hope, and charity are in their essence as unreasonable as they can be. as the word "unreasonable" is open to misunderstanding, the matter may be more accurately put by saying that each one of these christian or mystical virtues involves a paradox in its own nature, and that this is not true of any of the typically pagan or rationalist virtues. justice consists in finding out a certain thing due to a certain man and giving it to him. temperance consists in finding out the proper limit of a particular indulgence and adhering to that. but charity means pardoning what is unpardonable, or it is no virtue at all. hope means hoping when things are hopeless, or it is no virtue at all. and faith means believing the incredible, or it is no virtue at all. it is somewhat amusing, indeed, to notice the difference between the fate of these three paradoxes in the fashion of the modern mind. charity is a fashionable virtue in our time; it is lit up by the gigantic firelight of dickens. hope is a fashionable virtue to-day; our attention has been arrested for it by the sudden and silver trumpet of stevenson. but faith is unfashionable, and it is customary on every side to cast against it the fact that it is a paradox. everybody mockingly repeats the famous childish definition that faith is "the power of believing that which we know to be untrue." yet it is not one atom more paradoxical than hope or charity. charity is the power of defending that which we know to be indefensible. hope is the power of being cheerful in circumstances which we know to be desperate. it is true that there is a state of hope which belongs to bright prospects and the morning; but that is not the virtue of hope. the virtue of hope exists only in earthquake and, eclipse. it is true that there is a thing crudely called charity, which means charity to the deserving poor; but charity to the deserving is not charity at all, but justice. it is the undeserving who require it, and the ideal either does not exist at all, or exists wholly for them. for practical purposes it is at the hopeless moment that we require the hopeful man, and the virtue either does not exist at all, or begins to exist at that moment. exactly at the instant when hope ceases to be reasonable it begins to be useful. now the old pagan world went perfectly straightforward until it discovered that going straightforward is an enormous mistake. it was nobly and beautifully reasonable, and discovered in its death-pang this lasting and valuable truth, a heritage for the ages, that reasonableness will not do. the pagan age was truly an eden or golden age, in this essential sense, that it is not to be recovered. and it is not to be recovered in this sense again that, while we are certainly jollier than the pagans, and much more right than the pagans, there is not one of us who can, by the utmost stretch of energy, be so sensible as the pagans. that naked innocence of the intellect cannot be recovered by any man after christianity; and for this excellent reason, that every man after christianity knows it to be misleading. let me take an example, the first that occurs to the mind, of this impossible plainness in the pagan point of view. the greatest tribute to christianity in the modern world is tennyson's "ulysses." the poet reads into the story of ulysses the conception of an incurable desire to wander. but the real ulysses does not desire to wander at all. he desires to get home. he displays his heroic and unconquerable qualities in resisting the misfortunes which baulk him; but that is all. there is no love of adventure for its own sake; that is a christian product. there is no love of penelope for her own sake; that is a christian product. everything in that old world would appear to have been clean and obvious. a good man was a good man; a bad man was a bad man. for this reason they had no charity; for charity is a reverent agnosticism towards the complexity of the soul. for this reason they had no such thing as the art of fiction, the novel; for the novel is a creation of the mystical idea of charity. for them a pleasant landscape was pleasant, and an unpleasant landscape unpleasant. hence they had no idea of romance; for romance consists in thinking a thing more delightful because it is dangerous; it is a christian idea. in a word, we cannot reconstruct or even imagine the beautiful and astonishing pagan world. it was a world in which common sense was really common. my general meaning touching the three virtues of which i have spoken will now, i hope, be sufficiently clear. they are all three paradoxical, they are all three practical, and they are all three paradoxical because they are practical. it is the stress of ultimate need, and a terrible knowledge of things as they are, which led men to set up these riddles, and to die for them. whatever may be the meaning of the contradiction, it is the fact that the only kind of hope that is of any use in a battle is a hope that denies arithmetic. whatever may be the meaning of the contradiction, it is the fact that the only kind of charity which any weak spirit wants, or which any generous spirit feels, is the charity which forgives the sins that are like scarlet. whatever may be the meaning of faith, it must always mean a certainty about something we cannot prove. thus, for instance, we believe by faith in the existence of other people. but there is another christian virtue, a virtue far more obviously and historically connected with christianity, which will illustrate even better the connection between paradox and practical necessity. this virtue cannot be questioned in its capacity as a historical symbol; certainly mr. lowes dickinson will not question it. it has been the boast of hundreds of the champions of christianity. it has been the taunt of hundreds of the opponents of christianity. it is, in essence, the basis of mr. lowes dickinson's whole distinction between christianity and paganism. i mean, of course, the virtue of humility. i admit, of course, most readily, that a great deal of false eastern humility (that is, of strictly ascetic humility) mixed itself with the main stream of european christianity. we must not forget that when we speak of christianity we are speaking of a whole continent for about a thousand years. but of this virtue even more than of the other three, i would maintain the general proposition adopted above. civilization discovered christian humility for the same urgent reason that it discovered faith and charity--that is, because christian civilization had to discover it or die. the great psychological discovery of paganism, which turned it into christianity, can be expressed with some accuracy in one phrase. the pagan set out, with admirable sense, to enjoy himself. by the end of his civilization he had discovered that a man cannot enjoy himself and continue to enjoy anything else. mr. lowes dickinson has pointed out in words too excellent to need any further elucidation, the absurd shallowness of those who imagine that the pagan enjoyed himself only in a materialistic sense. of course, he enjoyed himself, not only intellectually even, he enjoyed himself morally, he enjoyed himself spiritually. but it was himself that he was enjoying; on the face of it, a very natural thing to do. now, the psychological discovery is merely this, that whereas it had been supposed that the fullest possible enjoyment is to be found by extending our ego to infinity, the truth is that the fullest possible enjoyment is to be found by reducing our ego to zero. humility is the thing which is for ever renewing the earth and the stars. it is humility, and not duty, which preserves the stars from wrong, from the unpardonable wrong of casual resignation; it is through humility that the most ancient heavens for us are fresh and strong. the curse that came before history has laid on us all a tendency to be weary of wonders. if we saw the sun for the first time it would be the most fearful and beautiful of meteors. now that we see it for the hundredth time we call it, in the hideous and blasphemous phrase of wordsworth, "the light of common day." we are inclined to increase our claims. we are inclined to demand six suns, to demand a blue sun, to demand a green sun. humility is perpetually putting us back in the primal darkness. there all light is lightning, startling and instantaneous. until we understand that original dark, in which we have neither sight nor expectation, we can give no hearty and childlike praise to the splendid sensationalism of things. the terms "pessimism" and "optimism," like most modern terms, are unmeaning. but if they can be used in any vague sense as meaning something, we may say that in this great fact pessimism is the very basis of optimism. the man who destroys himself creates the universe. to the humble man, and to the humble man alone, the sun is really a sun; to the humble man, and to the humble man alone, the sea is really a sea. when he looks at all the faces in the street, he does not only realize that men are alive, he realizes with a dramatic pleasure that they are not dead. i have not spoken of another aspect of the discovery of humility as a psychological necessity, because it is more commonly insisted on, and is in itself more obvious. but it is equally clear that humility is a permanent necessity as a condition of effort and self-examination. it is one of the deadly fallacies of jingo politics that a nation is stronger for despising other nations. as a matter of fact, the strongest nations are those, like prussia or japan, which began from very mean beginnings, but have not been too proud to sit at the feet of the foreigner and learn everything from him. almost every obvious and direct victory has been the victory of the plagiarist. this is, indeed, only a very paltry by-product of humility, but it is a product of humility, and, therefore, it is successful. prussia had no christian humility in its internal arrangements; hence its internal arrangements were miserable. but it had enough christian humility slavishly to copy france (even down to frederick the great's poetry), and that which it had the humility to copy it had ultimately the honour to conquer. the case of the japanese is even more obvious; their only christian and their only beautiful quality is that they have humbled themselves to be exalted. all this aspect of humility, however, as connected with the matter of effort and striving for a standard set above us, i dismiss as having been sufficiently pointed out by almost all idealistic writers. it may be worth while, however, to point out the interesting disparity in the matter of humility between the modern notion of the strong man and the actual records of strong men. carlyle objected to the statement that no man could be a hero to his valet. every sympathy can be extended towards him in the matter if he merely or mainly meant that the phrase was a disparagement of hero-worship. hero-worship is certainly a generous and human impulse; the hero may be faulty, but the worship can hardly be. it may be that no man would be a hero to his valet. but any man would be a valet to his hero. but in truth both the proverb itself and carlyle's stricture upon it ignore the most essential matter at issue. the ultimate psychological truth is not that no man is a hero to his valet. the ultimate psychological truth, the foundation of christianity, is that no man is a hero to himself. cromwell, according to carlyle, was a strong man. according to cromwell, he was a weak one. the weak point in the whole of carlyle's case for aristocracy lies, indeed, in his most celebrated phrase. carlyle said that men were mostly fools. christianity, with a surer and more reverent realism, says that they are all fools. this doctrine is sometimes called the doctrine of original sin. it may also be described as the doctrine of the equality of men. but the essential point of it is merely this, that whatever primary and far-reaching moral dangers affect any man, affect all men. all men can be criminals, if tempted; all men can be heroes, if inspired. and this doctrine does away altogether with carlyle's pathetic belief (or any one else's pathetic belief) in "the wise few." there are no wise few. every aristocracy that has ever existed has behaved, in all essential points, exactly like a small mob. every oligarchy is merely a knot of men in the street--that is to say, it is very jolly, but not infallible. and no oligarchies in the world's history have ever come off so badly in practical affairs as the very proud oligarchies--the oligarchy of poland, the oligarchy of venice. and the armies that have most swiftly and suddenly broken their enemies in pieces have been the religious armies--the moslem armies, for instance, or the puritan armies. and a religious army may, by its nature, be defined as an army in which every man is taught not to exalt but to abase himself. many modern englishmen talk of themselves as the sturdy descendants of their sturdy puritan fathers. as a fact, they would run away from a cow. if you asked one of their puritan fathers, if you asked bunyan, for instance, whether he was sturdy, he would have answered, with tears, that he was as weak as water. and because of this he would have borne tortures. and this virtue of humility, while being practical enough to win battles, will always be paradoxical enough to puzzle pedants. it is at one with the virtue of charity in this respect. every generous person will admit that the one kind of sin which charity should cover is the sin which is inexcusable. and every generous person will equally agree that the one kind of pride which is wholly damnable is the pride of the man who has something to be proud of. the pride which, proportionally speaking, does not hurt the character, is the pride in things which reflect no credit on the person at all. thus it does a man no harm to be proud of his country, and comparatively little harm to be proud of his remote ancestors. it does him more harm to be proud of having made money, because in that he has a little more reason for pride. it does him more harm still to be proud of what is nobler than money--intellect. and it does him most harm of all to value himself for the most valuable thing on earth--goodness. the man who is proud of what is really creditable to him is the pharisee, the man whom christ himself could not forbear to strike. my objection to mr. lowes dickinson and the reassertors of the pagan ideal is, then, this. i accuse them of ignoring definite human discoveries in the moral world, discoveries as definite, though not as material, as the discovery of the circulation of the blood. we cannot go back to an ideal of reason and sanity. for mankind has discovered that reason does not lead to sanity. we cannot go back to an ideal of pride and enjoyment. for mankind has discovered that pride does not lead to enjoyment. i do not know by what extraordinary mental accident modern writers so constantly connect the idea of progress with the idea of independent thinking. progress is obviously the antithesis of independent thinking. for under independent or individualistic thinking, every man starts at the beginning, and goes, in all probability, just as far as his father before him. but if there really be anything of the nature of progress, it must mean, above all things, the careful study and assumption of the whole of the past. i accuse mr. lowes dickinson and his school of reaction in the only real sense. if he likes, let him ignore these great historic mysteries--the mystery of charity, the mystery of chivalry, the mystery of faith. if he likes, let him ignore the plough or the printing-press. but if we do revive and pursue the pagan ideal of a simple and rational self-completion we shall end--where paganism ended. i do not mean that we shall end in destruction. i mean that we shall end in christianity. xiii. celts and celtophiles science in the modern world has many uses; its chief use, however, is to provide long words to cover the errors of the rich. the word "kleptomania" is a vulgar example of what i mean. it is on a par with that strange theory, always advanced when a wealthy or prominent person is in the dock, that exposure is more of a punishment for the rich than for the poor. of course, the very reverse is the truth. exposure is more of a punishment for the poor than for the rich. the richer a man is the easier it is for him to be a tramp. the richer a man is the easier it is for him to be popular and generally respected in the cannibal islands. but the poorer a man is the more likely it is that he will have to use his past life whenever he wants to get a bed for the night. honour is a luxury for aristocrats, but it is a necessity for hall-porters. this is a secondary matter, but it is an example of the general proposition i offer--the proposition that an enormous amount of modern ingenuity is expended on finding defences for the indefensible conduct of the powerful. as i have said above, these defences generally exhibit themselves most emphatically in the form of appeals to physical science. and of all the forms in which science, or pseudo-science, has come to the rescue of the rich and stupid, there is none so singular as the singular invention of the theory of races. when a wealthy nation like the english discovers the perfectly patent fact that it is making a ludicrous mess of the government of a poorer nation like the irish, it pauses for a moment in consternation, and then begins to talk about celts and teutons. as far as i can understand the theory, the irish are celts and the english are teutons. of course, the irish are not celts any more than the english are teutons. i have not followed the ethnological discussion with much energy, but the last scientific conclusion which i read inclined on the whole to the summary that the english were mainly celtic and the irish mainly teutonic. but no man alive, with even the glimmering of a real scientific sense, would ever dream of applying the terms "celtic" or "teutonic" to either of them in any positive or useful sense. that sort of thing must be left to people who talk about the anglo-saxon race, and extend the expression to america. how much of the blood of the angles and saxons (whoever they were) there remains in our mixed british, roman, german, dane, norman, and picard stock is a matter only interesting to wild antiquaries. and how much of that diluted blood can possibly remain in that roaring whirlpool of america into which a cataract of swedes, jews, germans, irishmen, and italians is perpetually pouring, is a matter only interesting to lunatics. it would have been wiser for the english governing class to have called upon some other god. all other gods, however weak and warring, at least boast of being constant. but science boasts of being in a flux for ever; boasts of being unstable as water. and england and the english governing class never did call on this absurd deity of race until it seemed, for an instant, that they had no other god to call on. all the most genuine englishmen in history would have yawned or laughed in your face if you had begun to talk about anglo-saxons. if you had attempted to substitute the ideal of race for the ideal of nationality, i really do not like to think what they would have said. i certainly should not like to have been the officer of nelson who suddenly discovered his french blood on the eve of trafalgar. i should not like to have been the norfolk or suffolk gentleman who had to expound to admiral blake by what demonstrable ties of genealogy he was irrevocably bound to the dutch. the truth of the whole matter is very simple. nationality exists, and has nothing in the world to do with race. nationality is a thing like a church or a secret society; it is a product of the human soul and will; it is a spiritual product. and there are men in the modern world who would think anything and do anything rather than admit that anything could be a spiritual product. a nation, however, as it confronts the modern world, is a purely spiritual product. sometimes it has been born in independence, like scotland. sometimes it has been born in dependence, in subjugation, like ireland. sometimes it is a large thing cohering out of many smaller things, like italy. sometimes it is a small thing breaking away from larger things, like poland. but in each and every case its quality is purely spiritual, or, if you will, purely psychological. it is a moment when five men become a sixth man. every one knows it who has ever founded a club. it is a moment when five places become one place. every one must know it who has ever had to repel an invasion. mr. timothy healy, the most serious intellect in the present house of commons, summed up nationality to perfection when he simply called it something for which people will die, as he excellently said in reply to lord hugh cecil, "no one, not even the noble lord, would die for the meridian of greenwich." and that is the great tribute to its purely psychological character. it is idle to ask why greenwich should not cohere in this spiritual manner while athens or sparta did. it is like asking why a man falls in love with one woman and not with another. now, of this great spiritual coherence, independent of external circumstances, or of race, or of any obvious physical thing, ireland is the most remarkable example. rome conquered nations, but ireland has conquered races. the norman has gone there and become irish, the scotchman has gone there and become irish, the spaniard has gone there and become irish, even the bitter soldier of cromwell has gone there and become irish. ireland, which did not exist even politically, has been stronger than all the races that existed scientifically. the purest germanic blood, the purest norman blood, the purest blood of the passionate scotch patriot, has not been so attractive as a nation without a flag. ireland, unrecognized and oppressed, has easily absorbed races, as such trifles are easily absorbed. she has easily disposed of physical science, as such superstitions are easily disposed of. nationality in its weakness has been stronger than ethnology in its strength. five triumphant races have been absorbed, have been defeated by a defeated nationality. this being the true and strange glory of ireland, it is impossible to hear without impatience of the attempt so constantly made among her modern sympathizers to talk about celts and celticism. who were the celts? i defy anybody to say. who are the irish? i defy any one to be indifferent, or to pretend not to know. mr. w. b. yeats, the great irish genius who has appeared in our time, shows his own admirable penetration in discarding altogether the argument from a celtic race. but he does not wholly escape, and his followers hardly ever escape, the general objection to the celtic argument. the tendency of that argument is to represent the irish or the celts as a strange and separate race, as a tribe of eccentrics in the modern world immersed in dim legends and fruitless dreams. its tendency is to exhibit the irish as odd, because they see the fairies. its trend is to make the irish seem weird and wild because they sing old songs and join in strange dances. but this is quite an error; indeed, it is the opposite of the truth. it is the english who are odd because they do not see the fairies. it is the inhabitants of kensington who are weird and wild because they do not sing old songs and join in strange dances. in all this the irish are not in the least strange and separate, are not in the least celtic, as the word is commonly and popularly used. in all this the irish are simply an ordinary sensible nation, living the life of any other ordinary and sensible nation which has not been either sodden with smoke or oppressed by money-lenders, or otherwise corrupted with wealth and science. there is nothing celtic about having legends. it is merely human. the germans, who are (i suppose) teutonic, have hundreds of legends, wherever it happens that the germans are human. there is nothing celtic about loving poetry; the english loved poetry more, perhaps, than any other people before they came under the shadow of the chimney-pot and the shadow of the chimney-pot hat. it is not ireland which is mad and mystic; it is manchester which is mad and mystic, which is incredible, which is a wild exception among human things. ireland has no need to play the silly game of the science of races; ireland has no need to pretend to be a tribe of visionaries apart. in the matter of visions, ireland is more than a nation, it is a model nation. xiv on certain modern writers and the institution of the family the family may fairly be considered, one would think, an ultimate human institution. every one would admit that it has been the main cell and central unit of almost all societies hitherto, except, indeed, such societies as that of lacedaemon, which went in for "efficiency," and has, therefore, perished, and left not a trace behind. christianity, even enormous as was its revolution, did not alter this ancient and savage sanctity; it merely reversed it. it did not deny the trinity of father, mother, and child. it merely read it backwards, making it run child, mother, father. this it called, not the family, but the holy family, for many things are made holy by being turned upside down. but some sages of our own decadence have made a serious attack on the family. they have impugned it, as i think wrongly; and its defenders have defended it, and defended it wrongly. the common defence of the family is that, amid the stress and fickleness of life, it is peaceful, pleasant, and at one. but there is another defence of the family which is possible, and to me evident; this defence is that the family is not peaceful and not pleasant and not at one. it is not fashionable to say much nowadays of the advantages of the small community. we are told that we must go in for large empires and large ideas. there is one advantage, however, in the small state, the city, or the village, which only the wilfully blind can overlook. the man who lives in a small community lives in a much larger world. he knows much more of the fierce varieties and uncompromising divergences of men. the reason is obvious. in a large community we can choose our companions. in a small community our companions are chosen for us. thus in all extensive and highly civilized societies groups come into existence founded upon what is called sympathy, and shut out the real world more sharply than the gates of a monastery. there is nothing really narrow about the clan; the thing which is really narrow is the clique. the men of the clan live together because they all wear the same tartan or are all descended from the same sacred cow; but in their souls, by the divine luck of things, there will always be more colours than in any tartan. but the men of the clique live together because they have the same kind of soul, and their narrowness is a narrowness of spiritual coherence and contentment, like that which exists in hell. a big society exists in order to form cliques. a big society is a society for the promotion of narrowness. it is a machinery for the purpose of guarding the solitary and sensitive individual from all experience of the bitter and bracing human compromises. it is, in the most literal sense of the words, a society for the prevention of christian knowledge. we can see this change, for instance, in the modern transformation of the thing called a club. when london was smaller, and the parts of london more self-contained and parochial, the club was what it still is in villages, the opposite of what it is now in great cities. then the club was valued as a place where a man could be sociable. now the club is valued as a place where a man can be unsociable. the more the enlargement and elaboration of our civilization goes on the more the club ceases to be a place where a man can have a noisy argument, and becomes more and more a place where a man can have what is somewhat fantastically called a quiet chop. its aim is to make a man comfortable, and to make a man comfortable is to make him the opposite of sociable. sociability, like all good things, is full of discomforts, dangers, and renunciations. the club tends to produce the most degraded of all combinations--the luxurious anchorite, the man who combines the self-indulgence of lucullus with the insane loneliness of st. simeon stylites. if we were to-morrow morning snowed up in the street in which we live, we should step suddenly into a much larger and much wilder world than we have ever known. and it is the whole effort of the typically modern person to escape from the street in which he lives. first he invents modern hygiene and goes to margate. then he invents modern culture and goes to florence. then he invents modern imperialism and goes to timbuctoo. he goes to the fantastic borders of the earth. he pretends to shoot tigers. he almost rides on a camel. and in all this he is still essentially fleeing from the street in which he was born; and of this flight he is always ready with his own explanation. he says he is fleeing from his street because it is dull; he is lying. he is really fleeing from his street because it is a great deal too exciting. it is exciting because it is exacting; it is exacting because it is alive. he can visit venice because to him the venetians are only venetians; the people in his own street are men. he can stare at the chinese because for him the chinese are a passive thing to be stared at; if he stares at the old lady in the next garden, she becomes active. he is forced to flee, in short, from the too stimulating society of his equals--of free men, perverse, personal, deliberately different from himself. the street in brixton is too glowing and overpowering. he has to soothe and quiet himself among tigers and vultures, camels and crocodiles. these creatures are indeed very different from himself. but they do not put their shape or colour or custom into a decisive intellectual competition with his own. they do not seek to destroy his principles and assert their own; the stranger monsters of the suburban street do seek to do this. the camel does not contort his features into a fine sneer because mr. robinson has not got a hump; the cultured gentleman at no. does exhibit a sneer because robinson has not got a dado. the vulture will not roar with laughter because a man does not fly; but the major at no. will roar with laughter because a man does not smoke. the complaint we commonly have to make of our neighbours is that they will not, as we express it, mind their own business. we do not really mean that they will not mind their own business. if our neighbours did not mind their own business they would be asked abruptly for their rent, and would rapidly cease to be our neighbours. what we really mean when we say that they cannot mind their own business is something much deeper. we do not dislike them because they have so little force and fire that they cannot be interested in themselves. we dislike them because they have so much force and fire that they can be interested in us as well. what we dread about our neighbours, in short, is not the narrowness of their horizon, but their superb tendency to broaden it. and all aversions to ordinary humanity have this general character. they are not aversions to its feebleness (as is pretended), but to its energy. the misanthropes pretend that they despise humanity for its weakness. as a matter of fact, they hate it for its strength. of course, this shrinking from the brutal vivacity and brutal variety of common men is a perfectly reasonable and excusable thing as long as it does not pretend to any point of superiority. it is when it calls itself aristocracy or aestheticism or a superiority to the bourgeoisie that its inherent weakness has in justice to be pointed out. fastidiousness is the most pardonable of vices; but it is the most unpardonable of virtues. nietzsche, who represents most prominently this pretentious claim of the fastidious, has a description somewhere--a very powerful description in the purely literary sense--of the disgust and disdain which consume him at the sight of the common people with their common faces, their common voices, and their common minds. as i have said, this attitude is almost beautiful if we may regard it as pathetic. nietzsche's aristocracy has about it all the sacredness that belongs to the weak. when he makes us feel that he cannot endure the innumerable faces, the incessant voices, the overpowering omnipresence which belongs to the mob, he will have the sympathy of anybody who has ever been sick on a steamer or tired in a crowded omnibus. every man has hated mankind when he was less than a man. every man has had humanity in his eyes like a blinding fog, humanity in his nostrils like a suffocating smell. but when nietzsche has the incredible lack of humour and lack of imagination to ask us to believe that his aristocracy is an aristocracy of strong muscles or an aristocracy of strong wills, it is necessary to point out the truth. it is an aristocracy of weak nerves. we make our friends; we make our enemies; but god makes our next-door neighbour. hence he comes to us clad in all the careless terrors of nature; he is as strange as the stars, as reckless and indifferent as the rain. he is man, the most terrible of the beasts. that is why the old religions and the old scriptural language showed so sharp a wisdom when they spoke, not of one's duty towards humanity, but one's duty towards one's neighbour. the duty towards humanity may often take the form of some choice which is personal or even pleasurable. that duty may be a hobby; it may even be a dissipation. we may work in the east end because we are peculiarly fitted to work in the east end, or because we think we are; we may fight for the cause of international peace because we are very fond of fighting. the most monstrous martyrdom, the most repulsive experience, may be the result of choice or a kind of taste. we may be so made as to be particularly fond of lunatics or specially interested in leprosy. we may love negroes because they are black or german socialists because they are pedantic. but we have to love our neighbour because he is there--a much more alarming reason for a much more serious operation. he is the sample of humanity which is actually given us. precisely because he may be anybody he is everybody. he is a symbol because he is an accident. doubtless men flee from small environments into lands that are very deadly. but this is natural enough; for they are not fleeing from death. they are fleeing from life. and this principle applies to ring within ring of the social system of humanity. it is perfectly reasonable that men should seek for some particular variety of the human type, so long as they are seeking for that variety of the human type, and not for mere human variety. it is quite proper that a british diplomatist should seek the society of japanese generals, if what he wants is japanese generals. but if what he wants is people different from himself, he had much better stop at home and discuss religion with the housemaid. it is quite reasonable that the village genius should come up to conquer london if what he wants is to conquer london. but if he wants to conquer something fundamentally and symbolically hostile and also very strong, he had much better remain where he is and have a row with the rector. the man in the suburban street is quite right if he goes to ramsgate for the sake of ramsgate--a difficult thing to imagine. but if, as he expresses it, he goes to ramsgate "for a change," then he would have a much more romantic and even melodramatic change if he jumped over the wall into his neighbours garden. the consequences would be bracing in a sense far beyond the possibilities of ramsgate hygiene. now, exactly as this principle applies to the empire, to the nation within the empire, to the city within the nation, to the street within the city, so it applies to the home within the street. the institution of the family is to be commended for precisely the same reasons that the institution of the nation, or the institution of the city, are in this matter to be commended. it is a good thing for a man to live in a family for the same reason that it is a good thing for a man to be besieged in a city. it is a good thing for a man to live in a family in the same sense that it is a beautiful and delightful thing for a man to be snowed up in a street. they all force him to realize that life is not a thing from outside, but a thing from inside. above all, they all insist upon the fact that life, if it be a truly stimulating and fascinating life, is a thing which, of its nature, exists in spite of ourselves. the modern writers who have suggested, in a more or less open manner, that the family is a bad institution, have generally confined themselves to suggesting, with much sharpness, bitterness, or pathos, that perhaps the family is not always very congenial. of course the family is a good institution because it is uncongenial. it is wholesome precisely because it contains so many divergencies and varieties. it is, as the sentimentalists say, like a little kingdom, and, like most other little kingdoms, is generally in a state of something resembling anarchy. it is exactly because our brother george is not interested in our religious difficulties, but is interested in the trocadero restaurant, that the family has some of the bracing qualities of the commonwealth. it is precisely because our uncle henry does not approve of the theatrical ambitions of our sister sarah that the family is like humanity. the men and women who, for good reasons and bad, revolt against the family, are, for good reasons and bad, simply revolting against mankind. aunt elizabeth is unreasonable, like mankind. papa is excitable, like mankind our youngest brother is mischievous, like mankind. grandpapa is stupid, like the world; he is old, like the world. those who wish, rightly or wrongly, to step out of all this, do definitely wish to step into a narrower world. they are dismayed and terrified by the largeness and variety of the family. sarah wishes to find a world wholly consisting of private theatricals; george wishes to think the trocadero a cosmos. i do not say, for a moment, that the flight to this narrower life may not be the right thing for the individual, any more than i say the same thing about flight into a monastery. but i do say that anything is bad and artificial which tends to make these people succumb to the strange delusion that they are stepping into a world which is actually larger and more varied than their own. the best way that a man could test his readiness to encounter the common variety of mankind would be to climb down a chimney into any house at random, and get on as well as possible with the people inside. and that is essentially what each one of us did on the day that he was born. this is, indeed, the sublime and special romance of the family. it is romantic because it is a toss-up. it is romantic because it is everything that its enemies call it. it is romantic because it is arbitrary. it is romantic because it is there. so long as you have groups of men chosen rationally, you have some special or sectarian atmosphere. it is when you have groups of men chosen irrationally that you have men. the element of adventure begins to exist; for an adventure is, by its nature, a thing that comes to us. it is a thing that chooses us, not a thing that we choose. falling in love has been often regarded as the supreme adventure, the supreme romantic accident. in so much as there is in it something outside ourselves, something of a sort of merry fatalism, this is very true. love does take us and transfigure and torture us. it does break our hearts with an unbearable beauty, like the unbearable beauty of music. but in so far as we have certainly something to do with the matter; in so far as we are in some sense prepared to fall in love and in some sense jump into it; in so far as we do to some extent choose and to some extent even judge--in all this falling in love is not truly romantic, is not truly adventurous at all. in this degree the supreme adventure is not falling in love. the supreme adventure is being born. there we do walk suddenly into a splendid and startling trap. there we do see something of which we have not dreamed before. our father and mother do lie in wait for us and leap out on us, like brigands from a bush. our uncle is a surprise. our aunt is, in the beautiful common expression, a bolt from the blue. when we step into the family, by the act of being born, we do step into a world which is incalculable, into a world which has its own strange laws, into a world which could do without us, into a world that we have not made. in other words, when we step into the family we step into a fairy-tale. this colour as of a fantastic narrative ought to cling to the family and to our relations with it throughout life. romance is the deepest thing in life; romance is deeper even than reality. for even if reality could be proved to be misleading, it still could not be proved to be unimportant or unimpressive. even if the facts are false, they are still very strange. and this strangeness of life, this unexpected and even perverse element of things as they fall out, remains incurably interesting. the circumstances we can regulate may become tame or pessimistic; but the "circumstances over which we have no control" remain god-like to those who, like mr. micawber, can call on them and renew their strength. people wonder why the novel is the most popular form of literature; people wonder why it is read more than books of science or books of metaphysics. the reason is very simple; it is merely that the novel is more true than they are. life may sometimes legitimately appear as a book of science. life may sometimes appear, and with a much greater legitimacy, as a book of metaphysics. but life is always a novel. our existence may cease to be a song; it may cease even to be a beautiful lament. our existence may not be an intelligible justice, or even a recognizable wrong. but our existence is still a story. in the fiery alphabet of every sunset is written, "to be continued in our next." if we have sufficient intellect, we can finish a philosophical and exact deduction, and be certain that we are finishing it right. with the adequate brain-power we could finish any scientific discovery, and be certain that we were finishing it right. but not with the most gigantic intellect could we finish the simplest or silliest story, and be certain that we were finishing it right. that is because a story has behind it, not merely intellect which is partly mechanical, but will, which is in its essence divine. the narrative writer can send his hero to the gallows if he likes in the last chapter but one. he can do it by the same divine caprice whereby he, the author, can go to the gallows himself, and to hell afterwards if he chooses. and the same civilization, the chivalric european civilization which asserted freewill in the thirteenth century, produced the thing called "fiction" in the eighteenth. when thomas aquinas asserted the spiritual liberty of man, he created all the bad novels in the circulating libraries. but in order that life should be a story or romance to us, it is necessary that a great part of it, at any rate, should be settled for us without our permission. if we wish life to be a system, this may be a nuisance; but if we wish it to be a drama, it is an essential. it may often happen, no doubt, that a drama may be written by somebody else which we like very little. but we should like it still less if the author came before the curtain every hour or so, and forced on us the whole trouble of inventing the next act. a man has control over many things in his life; he has control over enough things to be the hero of a novel. but if he had control over everything, there would be so much hero that there would be no novel. and the reason why the lives of the rich are at bottom so tame and uneventful is simply that they can choose the events. they are dull because they are omnipotent. they fail to feel adventures because they can make the adventures. the thing which keeps life romantic and full of fiery possibilities is the existence of these great plain limitations which force all of us to meet the things we do not like or do not expect. it is vain for the supercilious moderns to talk of being in uncongenial surroundings. to be in a romance is to be in uncongenial surroundings. to be born into this earth is to be born into uncongenial surroundings, hence to be born into a romance. of all these great limitations and frameworks which fashion and create the poetry and variety of life, the family is the most definite and important. hence it is misunderstood by the moderns, who imagine that romance would exist most perfectly in a complete state of what they call liberty. they think that if a man makes a gesture it would be a startling and romantic matter that the sun should fall from the sky. but the startling and romantic thing about the sun is that it does not fall from the sky. they are seeking under every shape and form a world where there are no limitations--that is, a world where there are no outlines; that is, a world where there are no shapes. there is nothing baser than that infinity. they say they wish to be, as strong as the universe, but they really wish the whole universe as weak as themselves. xv on smart novelists and the smart set in one sense, at any rate, it is more valuable to read bad literature than good literature. good literature may tell us the mind of one man; but bad literature may tell us the mind of many men. a good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author. it does much more than that, it tells us the truth about its readers; and, oddly enough, it tells us this all the more the more cynical and immoral be the motive of its manufacture. the more dishonest a book is as a book the more honest it is as a public document. a sincere novel exhibits the simplicity of one particular man; an insincere novel exhibits the simplicity of mankind. the pedantic decisions and definable readjustments of man may be found in scrolls and statute books and scriptures; but men's basic assumptions and everlasting energies are to be found in penny dreadfuls and halfpenny novelettes. thus a man, like many men of real culture in our day, might learn from good literature nothing except the power to appreciate good literature. but from bad literature he might learn to govern empires and look over the map of mankind. there is one rather interesting example of this state of things in which the weaker literature is really the stronger and the stronger the weaker. it is the case of what may be called, for the sake of an approximate description, the literature of aristocracy; or, if you prefer the description, the literature of snobbishness. now if any one wishes to find a really effective and comprehensible and permanent case for aristocracy well and sincerely stated, let him read, not the modern philosophical conservatives, not even nietzsche, let him read the bow bells novelettes. of the case of nietzsche i am confessedly more doubtful. nietzsche and the bow bells novelettes have both obviously the same fundamental character; they both worship the tall man with curling moustaches and herculean bodily power, and they both worship him in a manner which is somewhat feminine and hysterical. even here, however, the novelette easily maintains its philosophical superiority, because it does attribute to the strong man those virtues which do commonly belong to him, such virtues as laziness and kindliness and a rather reckless benevolence, and a great dislike of hurting the weak. nietzsche, on the other hand, attributes to the strong man that scorn against weakness which only exists among invalids. it is not, however, of the secondary merits of the great german philosopher, but of the primary merits of the bow bells novelettes, that it is my present affair to speak. the picture of aristocracy in the popular sentimental novelette seems to me very satisfactory as a permanent political and philosophical guide. it may be inaccurate about details such as the title by which a baronet is addressed or the width of a mountain chasm which a baronet can conveniently leap, but it is not a bad description of the general idea and intention of aristocracy as they exist in human affairs. the essential dream of aristocracy is magnificence and valour; and if the family herald supplement sometimes distorts or exaggerates these things, at least, it does not fall short in them. it never errs by making the mountain chasm too narrow or the title of the baronet insufficiently impressive. but above this sane reliable old literature of snobbishness there has arisen in our time another kind of literature of snobbishness which, with its much higher pretensions, seems to me worthy of very much less respect. incidentally (if that matters), it is much better literature. but it is immeasurably worse philosophy, immeasurably worse ethics and politics, immeasurably worse vital rendering of aristocracy and humanity as they really are. from such books as those of which i wish now to speak we can discover what a clever man can do with the idea of aristocracy. but from the family herald supplement literature we can learn what the idea of aristocracy can do with a man who is not clever. and when we know that we know english history. this new aristocratic fiction must have caught the attention of everybody who has read the best fiction for the last fifteen years. it is that genuine or alleged literature of the smart set which represents that set as distinguished, not only by smart dresses, but by smart sayings. to the bad baronet, to the good baronet, to the romantic and misunderstood baronet who is supposed to be a bad baronet, but is a good baronet, this school has added a conception undreamed of in the former years--the conception of an amusing baronet. the aristocrat is not merely to be taller than mortal men and stronger and handsomer, he is also to be more witty. he is the long man with the short epigram. many eminent, and deservedly eminent, modern novelists must accept some responsibility for having supported this worst form of snobbishness--an intellectual snobbishness. the talented author of "dodo" is responsible for having in some sense created the fashion as a fashion. mr. hichens, in the "green carnation," reaffirmed the strange idea that young noblemen talk well; though his case had some vague biographical foundation, and in consequence an excuse. mrs. craigie is considerably guilty in the matter, although, or rather because, she has combined the aristocratic note with a note of some moral and even religious sincerity. when you are saving a man's soul, even in a novel, it is indecent to mention that he is a gentleman. nor can blame in this matter be altogether removed from a man of much greater ability, and a man who has proved his possession of the highest of human instinct, the romantic instinct--i mean mr. anthony hope. in a galloping, impossible melodrama like "the prisoner of zenda," the blood of kings fanned an excellent fantastic thread or theme. but the blood of kings is not a thing that can be taken seriously. and when, for example, mr. hope devotes so much serious and sympathetic study to the man called tristram of blent, a man who throughout burning boyhood thought of nothing but a silly old estate, we feel even in mr. hope the hint of this excessive concern about the oligarchic idea. it is hard for any ordinary person to feel so much interest in a young man whose whole aim is to own the house of blent at the time when every other young man is owning the stars. mr. hope, however, is a very mild case, and in him there is not only an element of romance, but also a fine element of irony which warns us against taking all this elegance too seriously. above all, he shows his sense in not making his noblemen so incredibly equipped with impromptu repartee. this habit of insisting on the wit of the wealthier classes is the last and most servile of all the servilities. it is, as i have said, immeasurably more contemptible than the snobbishness of the novelette which describes the nobleman as smiling like an apollo or riding a mad elephant. these may be exaggerations of beauty and courage, but beauty and courage are the unconscious ideals of aristocrats, even of stupid aristocrats. the nobleman of the novelette may not be sketched with any very close or conscientious attention to the daily habits of noblemen. but he is something more important than a reality; he is a practical ideal. the gentleman of fiction may not copy the gentleman of real life; but the gentleman of real life is copying the gentleman of fiction. he may not be particularly good-looking, but he would rather be good-looking than anything else; he may not have ridden on a mad elephant, but he rides a pony as far as possible with an air as if he had. and, upon the whole, the upper class not only especially desire these qualities of beauty and courage, but in some degree, at any rate, especially possess them. thus there is nothing really mean or sycophantic about the popular literature which makes all its marquises seven feet high. it is snobbish, but it is not servile. its exaggeration is based on an exuberant and honest admiration; its honest admiration is based upon something which is in some degree, at any rate, really there. the english lower classes do not fear the english upper classes in the least; nobody could. they simply and freely and sentimentally worship them. the strength of the aristocracy is not in the aristocracy at all; it is in the slums. it is not in the house of lords; it is not in the civil service; it is not in the government offices; it is not even in the huge and disproportionate monopoly of the english land. it is in a certain spirit. it is in the fact that when a navvy wishes to praise a man, it comes readily to his tongue to say that he has behaved like a gentleman. from a democratic point of view he might as well say that he had behaved like a viscount. the oligarchic character of the modern english commonwealth does not rest, like many oligarchies, on the cruelty of the rich to the poor. it does not even rest on the kindness of the rich to the poor. it rests on the perennial and unfailing kindness of the poor to the rich. the snobbishness of bad literature, then, is not servile; but the snobbishness of good literature is servile. the old-fashioned halfpenny romance where the duchesses sparkled with diamonds was not servile; but the new romance where they sparkle with epigrams is servile. for in thus attributing a special and startling degree of intellect and conversational or controversial power to the upper classes, we are attributing something which is not especially their virtue or even especially their aim. we are, in the words of disraeli (who, being a genius and not a gentleman, has perhaps primarily to answer for the introduction of this method of flattering the gentry), we are performing the essential function of flattery which is flattering the people for the qualities they have not got. praise may be gigantic and insane without having any quality of flattery so long as it is praise of something that is noticeably in existence. a man may say that a giraffe's head strikes the stars, or that a whale fills the german ocean, and still be only in a rather excited state about a favourite animal. but when he begins to congratulate the giraffe on his feathers, and the whale on the elegance of his legs, we find ourselves confronted with that social element which we call flattery. the middle and lower orders of london can sincerely, though not perhaps safely, admire the health and grace of the english aristocracy. and this for the very simple reason that the aristocrats are, upon the whole, more healthy and graceful than the poor. but they cannot honestly admire the wit of the aristocrats. and this for the simple reason that the aristocrats are not more witty than the poor, but a very great deal less so. a man does not hear, as in the smart novels, these gems of verbal felicity dropped between diplomatists at dinner. where he really does hear them is between two omnibus conductors in a block in holborn. the witty peer whose impromptus fill the books of mrs. craigie or miss fowler, would, as a matter of fact, be torn to shreds in the art of conversation by the first boot-black he had the misfortune to fall foul of. the poor are merely sentimental, and very excusably sentimental, if they praise the gentleman for having a ready hand and ready money. but they are strictly slaves and sycophants if they praise him for having a ready tongue. for that they have far more themselves. the element of oligarchical sentiment in these novels, however, has, i think, another and subtler aspect, an aspect more difficult to understand and more worth understanding. the modern gentleman, particularly the modern english gentleman, has become so central and important in these books, and through them in the whole of our current literature and our current mode of thought, that certain qualities of his, whether original or recent, essential or accidental, have altered the quality of our english comedy. in particular, that stoical ideal, absurdly supposed to be the english ideal, has stiffened and chilled us. it is not the english ideal; but it is to some extent the aristocratic ideal; or it may be only the ideal of aristocracy in its autumn or decay. the gentleman is a stoic because he is a sort of savage, because he is filled with a great elemental fear that some stranger will speak to him. that is why a third-class carriage is a community, while a first-class carriage is a place of wild hermits. but this matter, which is difficult, i may be permitted to approach in a more circuitous way. the haunting element of ineffectualness which runs through so much of the witty and epigrammatic fiction fashionable during the last eight or ten years, which runs through such works of a real though varying ingenuity as "dodo," or "concerning isabel carnaby," or even "some emotions and a moral," may be expressed in various ways, but to most of us i think it will ultimately amount to the same thing. this new frivolity is inadequate because there is in it no strong sense of an unuttered joy. the men and women who exchange the repartees may not only be hating each other, but hating even themselves. any one of them might be bankrupt that day, or sentenced to be shot the next. they are joking, not because they are merry, but because they are not; out of the emptiness of the heart the mouth speaketh. even when they talk pure nonsense it is a careful nonsense--a nonsense of which they are economical, or, to use the perfect expression of mr. w. s. gilbert in "patience," it is such "precious nonsense." even when they become light-headed they do not become light-hearted. all those who have read anything of the rationalism of the moderns know that their reason is a sad thing. but even their unreason is sad. the causes of this incapacity are also not very difficult to indicate. the chief of all, of course, is that miserable fear of being sentimental, which is the meanest of all the modern terrors--meaner even than the terror which produces hygiene. everywhere the robust and uproarious humour has come from the men who were capable not merely of sentimentalism, but a very silly sentimentalism. there has been no humour so robust or uproarious as that of the sentimentalist steele or the sentimentalist sterne or the sentimentalist dickens. these creatures who wept like women were the creatures who laughed like men. it is true that the humour of micawber is good literature and that the pathos of little nell is bad. but the kind of man who had the courage to write so badly in the one case is the kind of man who would have the courage to write so well in the other. the same unconsciousness, the same violent innocence, the same gigantesque scale of action which brought the napoleon of comedy his jena brought him also his moscow. and herein is especially shown the frigid and feeble limitations of our modern wits. they make violent efforts, they make heroic and almost pathetic efforts, but they cannot really write badly. there are moments when we almost think that they are achieving the effect, but our hope shrivels to nothing the moment we compare their little failures with the enormous imbecilities of byron or shakespeare. for a hearty laugh it is necessary to have touched the heart. i do not know why touching the heart should always be connected only with the idea of touching it to compassion or a sense of distress. the heart can be touched to joy and triumph; the heart can be touched to amusement. but all our comedians are tragic comedians. these later fashionable writers are so pessimistic in bone and marrow that they never seem able to imagine the heart having any concern with mirth. when they speak of the heart, they always mean the pangs and disappointments of the emotional life. when they say that a man's heart is in the right place, they mean, apparently, that it is in his boots. our ethical societies understand fellowship, but they do not understand good fellowship. similarly, our wits understand talk, but not what dr. johnson called a good talk. in order to have, like dr. johnson, a good talk, it is emphatically necessary to be, like dr. johnson, a good man--to have friendship and honour and an abysmal tenderness. above all, it is necessary to be openly and indecently humane, to confess with fulness all the primary pities and fears of adam. johnson was a clear-headed humorous man, and therefore he did not mind talking seriously about religion. johnson was a brave man, one of the bravest that ever walked, and therefore he did not mind avowing to any one his consuming fear of death. the idea that there is something english in the repression of one's feelings is one of those ideas which no englishman ever heard of until england began to be governed exclusively by scotchmen, americans, and jews. at the best, the idea is a generalization from the duke of wellington--who was an irishman. at the worst, it is a part of that silly teutonism which knows as little about england as it does about anthropology, but which is always talking about vikings. as a matter of fact, the vikings did not repress their feelings in the least. they cried like babies and kissed each other like girls; in short, they acted in that respect like achilles and all strong heroes the children of the gods. and though the english nationality has probably not much more to do with the vikings than the french nationality or the irish nationality, the english have certainly been the children of the vikings in the matter of tears and kisses. it is not merely true that all the most typically english men of letters, like shakespeare and dickens, richardson and thackeray, were sentimentalists. it is also true that all the most typically english men of action were sentimentalists, if possible, more sentimental. in the great elizabethan age, when the english nation was finally hammered out, in the great eighteenth century when the british empire was being built up everywhere, where in all these times, where was this symbolic stoical englishman who dresses in drab and black and represses his feelings? were all the elizabethan palladins and pirates like that? were any of them like that? was grenville concealing his emotions when he broke wine-glasses to pieces with his teeth and bit them till the blood poured down? was essex restraining his excitement when he threw his hat into the sea? did raleigh think it sensible to answer the spanish guns only, as stevenson says, with a flourish of insulting trumpets? did sydney ever miss an opportunity of making a theatrical remark in the whole course of his life and death? were even the puritans stoics? the english puritans repressed a good deal, but even they were too english to repress their feelings. it was by a great miracle of genius assuredly that carlyle contrived to admire simultaneously two things so irreconcilably opposed as silence and oliver cromwell. cromwell was the very reverse of a strong, silent man. cromwell was always talking, when he was not crying. nobody, i suppose, will accuse the author of "grace abounding" of being ashamed of his feelings. milton, indeed, it might be possible to represent as a stoic; in some sense he was a stoic, just as he was a prig and a polygamist and several other unpleasant and heathen things. but when we have passed that great and desolate name, which may really be counted an exception, we find the tradition of english emotionalism immediately resumed and unbrokenly continuous. whatever may have been the moral beauty of the passions of etheridge and dorset, sedley and buckingham, they cannot be accused of the fault of fastidiously concealing them. charles the second was very popular with the english because, like all the jolly english kings, he displayed his passions. william the dutchman was very unpopular with the english because, not being an englishman, he did hide his emotions. he was, in fact, precisely the ideal englishman of our modern theory; and precisely for that reason all the real englishmen loathed him like leprosy. with the rise of the great england of the eighteenth century, we find this open and emotional tone still maintained in letters and politics, in arts and in arms. perhaps the only quality which was possessed in common by the great fielding, and the great richardson was that neither of them hid their feelings. swift, indeed, was hard and logical, because swift was irish. and when we pass to the soldiers and the rulers, the patriots and the empire-builders of the eighteenth century, we find, as i have said, that they were, if possible, more romantic than the romancers, more poetical than the poets. chatham, who showed the world all his strength, showed the house of commons all his weakness. wolfe walked about the room with a drawn sword calling himself caesar and hannibal, and went to death with poetry in his mouth. clive was a man of the same type as cromwell or bunyan, or, for the matter of that, johnson--that is, he was a strong, sensible man with a kind of running spring of hysteria and melancholy in him. like johnson, he was all the more healthy because he was morbid. the tales of all the admirals and adventurers of that england are full of braggadocio, of sentimentality, of splendid affectation. but it is scarcely necessary to multiply examples of the essentially romantic englishman when one example towers above them all. mr. rudyard kipling has said complacently of the english, "we do not fall on the neck and kiss when we come together." it is true that this ancient and universal custom has vanished with the modern weakening of england. sydney would have thought nothing of kissing spenser. but i willingly concede that mr. broderick would not be likely to kiss mr. arnold-foster, if that be any proof of the increased manliness and military greatness of england. but the englishman who does not show his feelings has not altogether given up the power of seeing something english in the great sea-hero of the napoleonic war. you cannot break the legend of nelson. and across the sunset of that glory is written in flaming letters for ever the great english sentiment, "kiss me, hardy." this ideal of self-repression, then, is, whatever else it is, not english. it is, perhaps, somewhat oriental, it is slightly prussian, but in the main it does not come, i think, from any racial or national source. it is, as i have said, in some sense aristocratic; it comes not from a people, but from a class. even aristocracy, i think, was not quite so stoical in the days when it was really strong. but whether this unemotional ideal be the genuine tradition of the gentleman, or only one of the inventions of the modern gentleman (who may be called the decayed gentleman), it certainly has something to do with the unemotional quality in these society novels. from representing aristocrats as people who suppressed their feelings, it has been an easy step to representing aristocrats as people who had no feelings to suppress. thus the modern oligarchist has made a virtue for the oligarchy of the hardness as well as the brightness of the diamond. like a sonneteer addressing his lady in the seventeenth century, he seems to use the word "cold" almost as a eulogium, and the word "heartless" as a kind of compliment. of course, in people so incurably kind-hearted and babyish as are the english gentry, it would be impossible to create anything that can be called positive cruelty; so in these books they exhibit a sort of negative cruelty. they cannot be cruel in acts, but they can be so in words. all this means one thing, and one thing only. it means that the living and invigorating ideal of england must be looked for in the masses; it must be looked for where dickens found it--dickens among whose glories it was to be a humorist, to be a sentimentalist, to be an optimist, to be a poor man, to be an englishman, but the greatest of whose glories was that he saw all mankind in its amazing and tropical luxuriance, and did not even notice the aristocracy; dickens, the greatest of whose glories was that he could not describe a gentleman. xvi on mr. mccabe and a divine frivolity a critic once remonstrated with me saying, with an air of indignant reasonableness, "if you must make jokes, at least you need not make them on such serious subjects." i replied with a natural simplicity and wonder, "about what other subjects can one make jokes except serious subjects?" it is quite useless to talk about profane jesting. all jesting is in its nature profane, in the sense that it must be the sudden realization that something which thinks itself solemn is not so very solemn after all. if a joke is not a joke about religion or morals, it is a joke about police-magistrates or scientific professors or undergraduates dressed up as queen victoria. and people joke about the police-magistrate more than they joke about the pope, not because the police-magistrate is a more frivolous subject, but, on the contrary, because the police-magistrate is a more serious subject than the pope. the bishop of rome has no jurisdiction in this realm of england; whereas the police-magistrate may bring his solemnity to bear quite suddenly upon us. men make jokes about old scientific professors, even more than they make them about bishops--not because science is lighter than religion, but because science is always by its nature more solemn and austere than religion. it is not i; it is not even a particular class of journalists or jesters who make jokes about the matters which are of most awful import; it is the whole human race. if there is one thing more than another which any one will admit who has the smallest knowledge of the world, it is that men are always speaking gravely and earnestly and with the utmost possible care about the things that are not important, but always talking frivolously about the things that are. men talk for hours with the faces of a college of cardinals about things like golf, or tobacco, or waistcoats, or party politics. but all the most grave and dreadful things in the world are the oldest jokes in the world--being married; being hanged. one gentleman, however, mr. mccabe, has in this matter made to me something that almost amounts to a personal appeal; and as he happens to be a man for whose sincerity and intellectual virtue i have a high respect, i do not feel inclined to let it pass without some attempt to satisfy my critic in the matter. mr. mccabe devotes a considerable part of the last essay in the collection called "christianity and rationalism on trial" to an objection, not to my thesis, but to my method, and a very friendly and dignified appeal to me to alter it. i am much inclined to defend myself in this matter out of mere respect for mr. mccabe, and still more so out of mere respect for the truth which is, i think, in danger by his error, not only in this question, but in others. in order that there may be no injustice done in the matter, i will quote mr. mccabe himself. "but before i follow mr. chesterton in some detail i would make a general observation on his method. he is as serious as i am in his ultimate purpose, and i respect him for that. he knows, as i do, that humanity stands at a solemn parting of the ways. towards some unknown goal it presses through the ages, impelled by an overmastering desire of happiness. to-day it hesitates, lightheartedly enough, but every serious thinker knows how momentous the decision may be. it is, apparently, deserting the path of religion and entering upon the path of secularism. will it lose itself in quagmires of sensuality down this new path, and pant and toil through years of civic and industrial anarchy, only to learn it had lost the road, and must return to religion? or will it find that at last it is leaving the mists and the quagmires behind it; that it is ascending the slope of the hill so long dimly discerned ahead, and making straight for the long-sought utopia? this is the drama of our time, and every man and every woman should understand it. "mr. chesterton understands it. further, he gives us credit for understanding it. he has nothing of that paltry meanness or strange density of so many of his colleagues, who put us down as aimless iconoclasts or moral anarchists. he admits that we are waging a thankless war for what we take to be truth and progress. he is doing the same. but why, in the name of all that is reasonable, should we, when we are agreed on the momentousness of the issue either way, forthwith desert serious methods of conducting the controversy? why, when the vital need of our time is to induce men and women to collect their thoughts occasionally, and be men and women--nay, to remember that they are really gods that hold the destinies of humanity on their knees--why should we think that this kaleidoscopic play of phrases is inopportune? the ballets of the alhambra, and the fireworks of the crystal palace, and mr. chesterton's daily news articles, have their place in life. but how a serious social student can think of curing the thoughtlessness of our generation by strained paradoxes; of giving people a sane grasp of social problems by literary sleight-of-hand; of settling important questions by a reckless shower of rocket-metaphors and inaccurate 'facts,' and the substitution of imagination for judgment, i cannot see." i quote this passage with a particular pleasure, because mr. mccabe certainly cannot put too strongly the degree to which i give him and his school credit for their complete sincerity and responsibility of philosophical attitude. i am quite certain that they mean every word they say. i also mean every word i say. but why is it that mr. mccabe has some sort of mysterious hesitation about admitting that i mean every word i say; why is it that he is not quite as certain of my mental responsibility as i am of his mental responsibility? if we attempt to answer the question directly and well, we shall, i think, have come to the root of the matter by the shortest cut. mr. mccabe thinks that i am not serious but only funny, because mr. mccabe thinks that funny is the opposite of serious. funny is the opposite of not funny, and of nothing else. the question of whether a man expresses himself in a grotesque or laughable phraseology, or in a stately and restrained phraseology, is not a question of motive or of moral state, it is a question of instinctive language and self-expression. whether a man chooses to tell the truth in long sentences or short jokes is a problem analogous to whether he chooses to tell the truth in french or german. whether a man preaches his gospel grotesquely or gravely is merely like the question of whether he preaches it in prose or verse. the question of whether swift was funny in his irony is quite another sort of question to the question of whether swift was serious in his pessimism. surely even mr. mccabe would not maintain that the more funny "gulliver" is in its method the less it can be sincere in its object. the truth is, as i have said, that in this sense the two qualities of fun and seriousness have nothing whatever to do with each other, they are no more comparable than black and triangular. mr. bernard shaw is funny and sincere. mr. george robey is funny and not sincere. mr. mccabe is sincere and not funny. the average cabinet minister is not sincere and not funny. in short, mr. mccabe is under the influence of a primary fallacy which i have found very common in men of the clerical type. numbers of clergymen have from time to time reproached me for making jokes about religion; and they have almost always invoked the authority of that very sensible commandment which says, "thou shalt not take the name of the lord thy god in vain." of course, i pointed out that i was not in any conceivable sense taking the name in vain. to take a thing and make a joke out of it is not to take it in vain. it is, on the contrary, to take it and use it for an uncommonly good object. to use a thing in vain means to use it without use. but a joke may be exceedingly useful; it may contain the whole earthly sense, not to mention the whole heavenly sense, of a situation. and those who find in the bible the commandment can find in the bible any number of the jokes. in the same book in which god's name is fenced from being taken in vain, god himself overwhelms job with a torrent of terrible levities. the same book which says that god's name must not be taken vainly, talks easily and carelessly about god laughing and god winking. evidently it is not here that we have to look for genuine examples of what is meant by a vain use of the name. and it is not very difficult to see where we have really to look for it. the people (as i tactfully pointed out to them) who really take the name of the lord in vain are the clergymen themselves. the thing which is fundamentally and really frivolous is not a careless joke. the thing which is fundamentally and really frivolous is a careless solemnity. if mr. mccabe really wishes to know what sort of guarantee of reality and solidity is afforded by the mere act of what is called talking seriously, let him spend a happy sunday in going the round of the pulpits. or, better still, let him drop in at the house of commons or the house of lords. even mr. mccabe would admit that these men are solemn--more solemn than i am. and even mr. mccabe, i think, would admit that these men are frivolous--more frivolous than i am. why should mr. mccabe be so eloquent about the danger arising from fantastic and paradoxical writers? why should he be so ardent in desiring grave and verbose writers? there are not so very many fantastic and paradoxical writers. but there are a gigantic number of grave and verbose writers; and it is by the efforts of the grave and verbose writers that everything that mr. mccabe detests (and everything that i detest, for that matter) is kept in existence and energy. how can it have come about that a man as intelligent as mr. mccabe can think that paradox and jesting stop the way? it is solemnity that is stopping the way in every department of modern effort. it is his own favourite "serious methods;" it is his own favourite "momentousness;" it is his own favourite "judgment" which stops the way everywhere. every man who has ever headed a deputation to a minister knows this. every man who has ever written a letter to the times knows it. every rich man who wishes to stop the mouths of the poor talks about "momentousness." every cabinet minister who has not got an answer suddenly develops a "judgment." every sweater who uses vile methods recommends "serious methods." i said a moment ago that sincerity had nothing to do with solemnity, but i confess that i am not so certain that i was right. in the modern world, at any rate, i am not so sure that i was right. in the modern world solemnity is the direct enemy of sincerity. in the modern world sincerity is almost always on one side, and solemnity almost always on the other. the only answer possible to the fierce and glad attack of sincerity is the miserable answer of solemnity. let mr. mccabe, or any one else who is much concerned that we should be grave in order to be sincere, simply imagine the scene in some government office in which mr. bernard shaw should head a socialist deputation to mr. austen chamberlain. on which side would be the solemnity? and on which the sincerity? i am, indeed, delighted to discover that mr. mccabe reckons mr. shaw along with me in his system of condemnation of frivolity. he said once, i believe, that he always wanted mr. shaw to label his paragraphs serious or comic. i do not know which paragraphs of mr. shaw are paragraphs to be labelled serious; but surely there can be no doubt that this paragraph of mr. mccabe's is one to be labelled comic. he also says, in the article i am now discussing, that mr. shaw has the reputation of deliberately saying everything which his hearers do not expect him to say. i need not labour the inconclusiveness and weakness of this, because it has already been dealt with in my remarks on mr. bernard shaw. suffice it to say here that the only serious reason which i can imagine inducing any one person to listen to any other is, that the first person looks to the second person with an ardent faith and a fixed attention, expecting him to say what he does not expect him to say. it may be a paradox, but that is because paradoxes are true. it may not be rational, but that is because rationalism is wrong. but clearly it is quite true that whenever we go to hear a prophet or teacher we may or may not expect wit, we may or may not expect eloquence, but we do expect what we do not expect. we may not expect the true, we may not even expect the wise, but we do expect the unexpected. if we do not expect the unexpected, why do we go there at all? if we expect the expected, why do we not sit at home and expect it by ourselves? if mr. mccabe means merely this about mr. shaw, that he always has some unexpected application of his doctrine to give to those who listen to him, what he says is quite true, and to say it is only to say that mr. shaw is an original man. but if he means that mr. shaw has ever professed or preached any doctrine but one, and that his own, then what he says is not true. it is not my business to defend mr. shaw; as has been seen already, i disagree with him altogether. but i do not mind, on his behalf offering in this matter a flat defiance to all his ordinary opponents, such as mr. mccabe. i defy mr. mccabe, or anybody else, to mention one single instance in which mr. shaw has, for the sake of wit or novelty, taken up any position which was not directly deducible from the body of his doctrine as elsewhere expressed. i have been, i am happy to say, a tolerably close student of mr. shaw's utterances, and i request mr. mccabe, if he will not believe that i mean anything else, to believe that i mean this challenge. all this, however, is a parenthesis. the thing with which i am here immediately concerned is mr. mccabe's appeal to me not to be so frivolous. let me return to the actual text of that appeal. there are, of course, a great many things that i might say about it in detail. but i may start with saying that mr. mccabe is in error in supposing that the danger which i anticipate from the disappearance of religion is the increase of sensuality. on the contrary, i should be inclined to anticipate a decrease in sensuality, because i anticipate a decrease in life. i do not think that under modern western materialism we should have anarchy. i doubt whether we should have enough individual valour and spirit even to have liberty. it is quite an old-fashioned fallacy to suppose that our objection to scepticism is that it removes the discipline from life. our objection to scepticism is that it removes the motive power. materialism is not a thing which destroys mere restraint. materialism itself is the great restraint. the mccabe school advocates a political liberty, but it denies spiritual liberty. that is, it abolishes the laws which could be broken, and substitutes laws that cannot. and that is the real slavery. the truth is that the scientific civilization in which mr. mccabe believes has one rather particular defect; it is perpetually tending to destroy that democracy or power of the ordinary man in which mr. mccabe also believes. science means specialism, and specialism means oligarchy. if you once establish the habit of trusting particular men to produce particular results in physics or astronomy, you leave the door open for the equally natural demand that you should trust particular men to do particular things in government and the coercing of men. if, you feel it to be reasonable that one beetle should be the only study of one man, and that one man the only student of that one beetle, it is surely a very harmless consequence to go on to say that politics should be the only study of one man, and that one man the only student of politics. as i have pointed out elsewhere in this book, the expert is more aristocratic than the aristocrat, because the aristocrat is only the man who lives well, while the expert is the man who knows better. but if we look at the progress of our scientific civilization we see a gradual increase everywhere of the specialist over the popular function. once men sang together round a table in chorus; now one man sings alone, for the absurd reason that he can sing better. if scientific civilization goes on (which is most improbable) only one man will laugh, because he can laugh better than the rest. i do not know that i can express this more shortly than by taking as a text the single sentence of mr. mccabe, which runs as follows: "the ballets of the alhambra and the fireworks of the crystal palace and mr. chesterton's daily news articles have their places in life." i wish that my articles had as noble a place as either of the other two things mentioned. but let us ask ourselves (in a spirit of love, as mr. chadband would say), what are the ballets of the alhambra? the ballets of the alhambra are institutions in which a particular selected row of persons in pink go through an operation known as dancing. now, in all commonwealths dominated by a religion--in the christian commonwealths of the middle ages and in many rude societies--this habit of dancing was a common habit with everybody, and was not necessarily confined to a professional class. a person could dance without being a dancer; a person could dance without being a specialist; a person could dance without being pink. and, in proportion as mr. mccabe's scientific civilization advances--that is, in proportion as religious civilization (or real civilization) decays--the more and more "well trained," the more and more pink, become the people who do dance, and the more and more numerous become the people who don't. mr. mccabe may recognize an example of what i mean in the gradual discrediting in society of the ancient european waltz or dance with partners, and the substitution of that horrible and degrading oriental interlude which is known as skirt-dancing. that is the whole essence of decadence, the effacement of five people who do a thing for fun by one person who does it for money. now it follows, therefore, that when mr. mccabe says that the ballets of the alhambra and my articles "have their place in life," it ought to be pointed out to him that he is doing his best to create a world in which dancing, properly speaking, will have no place in life at all. he is, indeed, trying to create a world in which there will be no life for dancing to have a place in. the very fact that mr. mccabe thinks of dancing as a thing belonging to some hired women at the alhambra is an illustration of the same principle by which he is able to think of religion as a thing belonging to some hired men in white neckties. both these things are things which should not be done for us, but by us. if mr. mccabe were really religious he would be happy. if he were really happy he would dance. briefly, we may put the matter in this way. the main point of modern life is not that the alhambra ballet has its place in life. the main point, the main enormous tragedy of modern life, is that mr. mccabe has not his place in the alhambra ballet. the joy of changing and graceful posture, the joy of suiting the swing of music to the swing of limbs, the joy of whirling drapery, the joy of standing on one leg,--all these should belong by rights to mr. mccabe and to me; in short, to the ordinary healthy citizen. probably we should not consent to go through these evolutions. but that is because we are miserable moderns and rationalists. we do not merely love ourselves more than we love duty; we actually love ourselves more than we love joy. when, therefore, mr. mccabe says that he gives the alhambra dances (and my articles) their place in life, i think we are justified in pointing out that by the very nature of the case of his philosophy and of his favourite civilization he gives them a very inadequate place. for (if i may pursue the too flattering parallel) mr. mccabe thinks of the alhambra and of my articles as two very odd and absurd things, which some special people do (probably for money) in order to amuse him. but if he had ever felt himself the ancient, sublime, elemental, human instinct to dance, he would have discovered that dancing is not a frivolous thing at all, but a very serious thing. he would have discovered that it is the one grave and chaste and decent method of expressing a certain class of emotions. and similarly, if he had ever had, as mr. shaw and i have had, the impulse to what he calls paradox, he would have discovered that paradox again is not a frivolous thing, but a very serious thing. he would have found that paradox simply means a certain defiant joy which belongs to belief. i should regard any civilization which was without a universal habit of uproarious dancing as being, from the full human point of view, a defective civilization. and i should regard any mind which had not got the habit in one form or another of uproarious thinking as being, from the full human point of view, a defective mind. it is vain for mr. mccabe to say that a ballet is a part of him. he should be part of a ballet, or else he is only part of a man. it is in vain for him to say that he is "not quarrelling with the importation of humour into the controversy." he ought himself to be importing humour into every controversy; for unless a man is in part a humorist, he is only in part a man. to sum up the whole matter very simply, if mr. mccabe asks me why i import frivolity into a discussion of the nature of man, i answer, because frivolity is a part of the nature of man. if he asks me why i introduce what he calls paradoxes into a philosophical problem, i answer, because all philosophical problems tend to become paradoxical. if he objects to my treating of life riotously, i reply that life is a riot. and i say that the universe as i see it, at any rate, is very much more like the fireworks at the crystal palace than it is like his own philosophy. about the whole cosmos there is a tense and secret festivity--like preparations for guy fawkes' day. eternity is the eve of something. i never look up at the stars without feeling that they are the fires of a schoolboy's rocket, fixed in their everlasting fall. xvii on the wit of whistler that capable and ingenious writer, mr. arthur symons, has included in a book of essays recently published, i believe, an apologia for "london nights," in which he says that morality should be wholly subordinated to art in criticism, and he uses the somewhat singular argument that art or the worship of beauty is the same in all ages, while morality differs in every period and in every respect. he appears to defy his critics or his readers to mention any permanent feature or quality in ethics. this is surely a very curious example of that extravagant bias against morality which makes so many ultra-modern aesthetes as morbid and fanatical as any eastern hermit. unquestionably it is a very common phrase of modern intellectualism to say that the morality of one age can be entirely different to the morality of another. and like a great many other phrases of modern intellectualism, it means literally nothing at all. if the two moralities are entirely different, why do you call them both moralities? it is as if a man said, "camels in various places are totally diverse; some have six legs, some have none, some have scales, some have feathers, some have horns, some have wings, some are green, some are triangular. there is no point which they have in common." the ordinary man of sense would reply, "then what makes you call them all camels? what do you mean by a camel? how do you know a camel when you see one?" of course, there is a permanent substance of morality, as much as there is a permanent substance of art; to say that is only to say that morality is morality, and that art is art. an ideal art critic would, no doubt, see the enduring beauty under every school; equally an ideal moralist would see the enduring ethic under every code. but practically some of the best englishmen that ever lived could see nothing but filth and idolatry in the starry piety of the brahmin. and it is equally true that practically the greatest group of artists that the world has ever seen, the giants of the renaissance, could see nothing but barbarism in the ethereal energy of gothic. this bias against morality among the modern aesthetes is nothing very much paraded. and yet it is not really a bias against morality; it is a bias against other people's morality. it is generally founded on a very definite moral preference for a certain sort of life, pagan, plausible, humane. the modern aesthete, wishing us to believe that he values beauty more than conduct, reads mallarme, and drinks absinthe in a tavern. but this is not only his favourite kind of beauty; it is also his favourite kind of conduct. if he really wished us to believe that he cared for beauty only, he ought to go to nothing but wesleyan school treats, and paint the sunlight in the hair of the wesleyan babies. he ought to read nothing but very eloquent theological sermons by old-fashioned presbyterian divines. here the lack of all possible moral sympathy would prove that his interest was purely verbal or pictorial, as it is; in all the books he reads and writes he clings to the skirts of his own morality and his own immorality. the champion of l'art pour l'art is always denouncing ruskin for his moralizing. if he were really a champion of l'art pour l'art, he would be always insisting on ruskin for his style. the doctrine of the distinction between art and morality owes a great part of its success to art and morality being hopelessly mixed up in the persons and performances of its greatest exponents. of this lucky contradiction the very incarnation was whistler. no man ever preached the impersonality of art so well; no man ever preached the impersonality of art so personally. for him pictures had nothing to do with the problems of character; but for all his fiercest admirers his character was, as a matter of fact far more interesting than his pictures. he gloried in standing as an artist apart from right and wrong. but he succeeded by talking from morning till night about his rights and about his wrongs. his talents were many, his virtues, it must be confessed, not many, beyond that kindness to tried friends, on which many of his biographers insist, but which surely is a quality of all sane men, of pirates and pickpockets; beyond this, his outstanding virtues limit themselves chiefly to two admirable ones--courage and an abstract love of good work. yet i fancy he won at last more by those two virtues than by all his talents. a man must be something of a moralist if he is to preach, even if he is to preach unmorality. professor walter raleigh, in his "in memoriam: james mcneill whistler," insists, truly enough, on the strong streak of an eccentric honesty in matters strictly pictorial, which ran through his complex and slightly confused character. "he would destroy any of his works rather than leave a careless or inexpressive touch within the limits of the frame. he would begin again a hundred times over rather than attempt by patching to make his work seem better than it was." no one will blame professor raleigh, who had to read a sort of funeral oration over whistler at the opening of the memorial exhibition, if, finding himself in that position, he confined himself mostly to the merits and the stronger qualities of his subject. we should naturally go to some other type of composition for a proper consideration of the weaknesses of whistler. but these must never be omitted from our view of him. indeed, the truth is that it was not so much a question of the weaknesses of whistler as of the intrinsic and primary weakness of whistler. he was one of those people who live up to their emotional incomes, who are always taut and tingling with vanity. hence he had no strength to spare; hence he had no kindness, no geniality; for geniality is almost definable as strength to spare. he had no god-like carelessness; he never forgot himself; his whole life was, to use his own expression, an arrangement. he went in for "the art of living"--a miserable trick. in a word, he was a great artist; but emphatically not a great man. in this connection i must differ strongly with professor raleigh upon what is, from a superficial literary point of view, one of his most effective points. he compares whistler's laughter to the laughter of another man who was a great man as well as a great artist. "his attitude to the public was exactly the attitude taken up by robert browning, who suffered as long a period of neglect and mistake, in those lines of 'the ring and the book'-- "'well, british public, ye who like me not, (god love you!) and will have your proper laugh at the dark question; laugh it! i'd laugh first.' "mr. whistler," adds professor raleigh, "always laughed first." the truth is, i believe, that whistler never laughed at all. there was no laughter in his nature; because there was no thoughtlessness and self-abandonment, no humility. i cannot understand anybody reading "the gentle art of making enemies" and thinking that there is any laughter in the wit. his wit is a torture to him. he twists himself into arabesques of verbal felicity; he is full of a fierce carefulness; he is inspired with the complete seriousness of sincere malice. he hurts himself to hurt his opponent. browning did laugh, because browning did not care; browning did not care, because browning was a great man. and when browning said in brackets to the simple, sensible people who did not like his books, "god love you!" he was not sneering in the least. he was laughing--that is to say, he meant exactly what he said. there are three distinct classes of great satirists who are also great men--that is to say, three classes of men who can laugh at something without losing their souls. the satirist of the first type is the man who, first of all enjoys himself, and then enjoys his enemies. in this sense he loves his enemy, and by a kind of exaggeration of christianity he loves his enemy the more the more he becomes an enemy. he has a sort of overwhelming and aggressive happiness in his assertion of anger; his curse is as human as a benediction. of this type of satire the great example is rabelais. this is the first typical example of satire, the satire which is voluble, which is violent, which is indecent, but which is not malicious. the satire of whistler was not this. he was never in any of his controversies simply happy; the proof of it is that he never talked absolute nonsense. there is a second type of mind which produces satire with the quality of greatness. that is embodied in the satirist whose passions are released and let go by some intolerable sense of wrong. he is maddened by the sense of men being maddened; his tongue becomes an unruly member, and testifies against all mankind. such a man was swift, in whom the saeva indignatio was a bitterness to others, because it was a bitterness to himself. such a satirist whistler was not. he did not laugh because he was happy, like rabelais. but neither did he laugh because he was unhappy, like swift. the third type of great satire is that in which he satirist is enabled to rise superior to his victim in the only serious sense which superiority can bear, in that of pitying the sinner and respecting the man even while he satirises both. such an achievement can be found in a thing like pope's "atticus" a poem in which the satirist feels that he is satirising the weaknesses which belong specially to literary genius. consequently he takes a pleasure in pointing out his enemy's strength before he points out his weakness. that is, perhaps, the highest and most honourable form of satire. that is not the satire of whistler. he is not full of a great sorrow for the wrong done to human nature; for him the wrong is altogether done to himself. he was not a great personality, because he thought so much about himself. and the case is stronger even than that. he was sometimes not even a great artist, because he thought so much about art. any man with a vital knowledge of the human psychology ought to have the most profound suspicion of anybody who claims to be an artist, and talks a great deal about art. art is a right and human thing, like walking or saying one's prayers; but the moment it begins to be talked about very solemnly, a man may be fairly certain that the thing has come into a congestion and a kind of difficulty. the artistic temperament is a disease that afflicts amateurs. it is a disease which arises from men not having sufficient power of expression to utter and get rid of the element of art in their being. it is healthful to every sane man to utter the art within him; it is essential to every sane man to get rid of the art within him at all costs. artists of a large and wholesome vitality get rid of their art easily, as they breathe easily, or perspire easily. but in artists of less force, the thing becomes a pressure, and produces a definite pain, which is called the artistic temperament. thus, very great artists are able to be ordinary men--men like shakespeare or browning. there are many real tragedies of the artistic temperament, tragedies of vanity or violence or fear. but the great tragedy of the artistic temperament is that it cannot produce any art. whistler could produce art; and in so far he was a great man. but he could not forget art; and in so far he was only a man with the artistic temperament. there can be no stronger manifestation of the man who is a really great artist than the fact that he can dismiss the subject of art; that he can, upon due occasion, wish art at the bottom of the sea. similarly, we should always be much more inclined to trust a solicitor who did not talk about conveyancing over the nuts and wine. what we really desire of any man conducting any business is that the full force of an ordinary man should be put into that particular study. we do not desire that the full force of that study should be put into an ordinary man. we do not in the least wish that our particular law-suit should pour its energy into our barrister's games with his children, or rides on his bicycle, or meditations on the morning star. but we do, as a matter of fact, desire that his games with his children, and his rides on his bicycle, and his meditations on the morning star should pour something of their energy into our law-suit. we do desire that if he has gained any especial lung development from the bicycle, or any bright and pleasing metaphors from the morning star, that the should be placed at our disposal in that particular forensic controversy. in a word, we are very glad that he is an ordinary man, since that may help him to be an exceptional lawyer. whistler never ceased to be an artist. as mr. max beerbohm pointed out in one of his extraordinarily sensible and sincere critiques, whistler really regarded whistler as his greatest work of art. the white lock, the single eyeglass, the remarkable hat--these were much dearer to him than any nocturnes or arrangements that he ever threw off. he could throw off the nocturnes; for some mysterious reason he could not throw off the hat. he never threw off from himself that disproportionate accumulation of aestheticism which is the burden of the amateur. it need hardly be said that this is the real explanation of the thing which has puzzled so many dilettante critics, the problem of the extreme ordinariness of the behaviour of so many great geniuses in history. their behaviour was so ordinary that it was not recorded; hence it was so ordinary that it seemed mysterious. hence people say that bacon wrote shakespeare. the modern artistic temperament cannot understand how a man who could write such lyrics as shakespeare wrote, could be as keen as shakespeare was on business transactions in a little town in warwickshire. the explanation is simple enough; it is that shakespeare had a real lyrical impulse, wrote a real lyric, and so got rid of the impulse and went about his business. being an artist did not prevent him from being an ordinary man, any more than being a sleeper at night or being a diner at dinner prevented him from being an ordinary man. all very great teachers and leaders have had this habit of assuming their point of view to be one which was human and casual, one which would readily appeal to every passing man. if a man is genuinely superior to his fellows the first thing that he believes in is the equality of man. we can see this, for instance, in that strange and innocent rationality with which christ addressed any motley crowd that happened to stand about him. "what man of you having a hundred sheep, and losing one, would not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which was lost?" or, again, "what man of you if his son ask for bread will he give him a stone, or if he ask for a fish will he give him a serpent?" this plainness, this almost prosaic camaraderie, is the note of all very great minds. to very great minds the things on which men agree are so immeasurably more important than the things on which they differ, that the latter, for all practical purposes, disappear. they have too much in them of an ancient laughter even to endure to discuss the difference between the hats of two men who were both born of a woman, or between the subtly varied cultures of two men who have both to die. the first-rate great man is equal with other men, like shakespeare. the second-rate great man is on his knees to other men, like whitman. the third-rate great man is superior to other men, like whistler. xviii the fallacy of the young nation to say that a man is an idealist is merely to say that he is a man; but, nevertheless, it might be possible to effect some valid distinction between one kind of idealist and another. one possible distinction, for instance, could be effected by saying that humanity is divided into conscious idealists and unconscious idealists. in a similar way, humanity is divided into conscious ritualists and unconscious ritualists. the curious thing is, in that example as in others, that it is the conscious ritualism which is comparatively simple, the unconscious ritual which is really heavy and complicated. the ritual which is comparatively rude and straightforward is the ritual which people call "ritualistic." it consists of plain things like bread and wine and fire, and men falling on their faces. but the ritual which is really complex, and many coloured, and elaborate, and needlessly formal, is the ritual which people enact without knowing it. it consists not of plain things like wine and fire, but of really peculiar, and local, and exceptional, and ingenious things--things like door-mats, and door-knockers, and electric bells, and silk hats, and white ties, and shiny cards, and confetti. the truth is that the modern man scarcely ever gets back to very old and simple things except when he is performing some religious mummery. the modern man can hardly get away from ritual except by entering a ritualistic church. in the case of these old and mystical formalities we can at least say that the ritual is not mere ritual; that the symbols employed are in most cases symbols which belong to a primary human poetry. the most ferocious opponent of the christian ceremonials must admit that if catholicism had not instituted the bread and wine, somebody else would most probably have done so. any one with a poetical instinct will admit that to the ordinary human instinct bread symbolizes something which cannot very easily be symbolized otherwise; that wine, to the ordinary human instinct, symbolizes something which cannot very easily be symbolized otherwise. but white ties in the evening are ritual, and nothing else but ritual. no one would pretend that white ties in the evening are primary and poetical. nobody would maintain that the ordinary human instinct would in any age or country tend to symbolize the idea of evening by a white necktie. rather, the ordinary human instinct would, i imagine, tend to symbolize evening by cravats with some of the colours of the sunset, not white neckties, but tawny or crimson neckties--neckties of purple or olive, or some darkened gold. mr. j. a. kensit, for example, is under the impression that he is not a ritualist. but the daily life of mr. j. a. kensit, like that of any ordinary modern man, is, as a matter of fact, one continual and compressed catalogue of mystical mummery and flummery. to take one instance out of an inevitable hundred: i imagine that mr. kensit takes off his hat to a lady; and what can be more solemn and absurd, considered in the abstract, than, symbolizing the existence of the other sex by taking off a portion of your clothing and waving it in the air? this, i repeat, is not a natural and primitive symbol, like fire or food. a man might just as well have to take off his waistcoat to a lady; and if a man, by the social ritual of his civilization, had to take off his waistcoat to a lady, every chivalrous and sensible man would take off his waistcoat to a lady. in short, mr. kensit, and those who agree with him, may think, and quite sincerely think, that men give too much incense and ceremonial to their adoration of the other world. but nobody thinks that he can give too much incense and ceremonial to the adoration of this world. all men, then, are ritualists, but are either conscious or unconscious ritualists. the conscious ritualists are generally satisfied with a few very simple and elementary signs; the unconscious ritualists are not satisfied with anything short of the whole of human life, being almost insanely ritualistic. the first is called a ritualist because he invents and remembers one rite; the other is called an anti-ritualist because he obeys and forgets a thousand. and a somewhat similar distinction to this which i have drawn with some unavoidable length, between the conscious ritualist and the unconscious ritualist, exists between the conscious idealist and the unconscious idealist. it is idle to inveigh against cynics and materialists--there are no cynics, there are no materialists. every man is idealistic; only it so often happens that he has the wrong ideal. every man is incurably sentimental; but, unfortunately, it is so often a false sentiment. when we talk, for instance, of some unscrupulous commercial figure, and say that he would do anything for money, we use quite an inaccurate expression, and we slander him very much. he would not do anything for money. he would do some things for money; he would sell his soul for money, for instance; and, as mirabeau humorously said, he would be quite wise "to take money for muck." he would oppress humanity for money; but then it happens that humanity and the soul are not things that he believes in; they are not his ideals. but he has his own dim and delicate ideals; and he would not violate these for money. he would not drink out of the soup-tureen, for money. he would not wear his coat-tails in front, for money. he would not spread a report that he had softening of the brain, for money. in the actual practice of life we find, in the matter of ideals, exactly what we have already found in the matter of ritual. we find that while there is a perfectly genuine danger of fanaticism from the men who have unworldly ideals, the permanent and urgent danger of fanaticism is from the men who have worldly ideals. people who say that an ideal is a dangerous thing, that it deludes and intoxicates, are perfectly right. but the ideal which intoxicates most is the least idealistic kind of ideal. the ideal which intoxicates least is the very ideal ideal; that sobers us suddenly, as all heights and precipices and great distances do. granted that it is a great evil to mistake a cloud for a cape; still, the cloud, which can be most easily mistaken for a cape, is the cloud that is nearest the earth. similarly, we may grant that it may be dangerous to mistake an ideal for something practical. but we shall still point out that, in this respect, the most dangerous ideal of all is the ideal which looks a little practical. it is difficult to attain a high ideal; consequently, it is almost impossible to persuade ourselves that we have attained it. but it is easy to attain a low ideal; consequently, it is easier still to persuade ourselves that we have attained it when we have done nothing of the kind. to take a random example. it might be called a high ambition to wish to be an archangel; the man who entertained such an ideal would very possibly exhibit asceticism, or even frenzy, but not, i think, delusion. he would not think he was an archangel, and go about flapping his hands under the impression that they were wings. but suppose that a sane man had a low ideal; suppose he wished to be a gentleman. any one who knows the world knows that in nine weeks he would have persuaded himself that he was a gentleman; and this being manifestly not the case, the result will be very real and practical dislocations and calamities in social life. it is not the wild ideals which wreck the practical world; it is the tame ideals. the matter may, perhaps, be illustrated by a parallel from our modern politics. when men tell us that the old liberal politicians of the type of gladstone cared only for ideals, of course, they are talking nonsense--they cared for a great many other things, including votes. and when men tell us that modern politicians of the type of mr. chamberlain or, in another way, lord rosebery, care only for votes or for material interest, then again they are talking nonsense--these men care for ideals like all other men. but the real distinction which may be drawn is this, that to the older politician the ideal was an ideal, and nothing else. to the new politician his dream is not only a good dream, it is a reality. the old politician would have said, "it would be a good thing if there were a republican federation dominating the world." but the modern politician does not say, "it would be a good thing if there were a british imperialism dominating the world." he says, "it is a good thing that there is a british imperialism dominating the world;" whereas clearly there is nothing of the kind. the old liberal would say "there ought to be a good irish government in ireland." but the ordinary modern unionist does not say, "there ought to be a good english government in ireland." he says, "there is a good english government in ireland;" which is absurd. in short, the modern politicians seem to think that a man becomes practical merely by making assertions entirely about practical things. apparently, a delusion does not matter as long as it is a materialistic delusion. instinctively most of us feel that, as a practical matter, even the contrary is true. i certainly would much rather share my apartments with a gentleman who thought he was god than with a gentleman who thought he was a grasshopper. to be continually haunted by practical images and practical problems, to be constantly thinking of things as actual, as urgent, as in process of completion--these things do not prove a man to be practical; these things, indeed, are among the most ordinary signs of a lunatic. that our modern statesmen are materialistic is nothing against their being also morbid. seeing angels in a vision may make a man a supernaturalist to excess. but merely seeing snakes in delirium tremens does not make him a naturalist. and when we come actually to examine the main stock notions of our modern practical politicians, we find that those main stock notions are mainly delusions. a great many instances might be given of the fact. we might take, for example, the case of that strange class of notions which underlie the word "union," and all the eulogies heaped upon it. of course, union is no more a good thing in itself than separation is a good thing in itself. to have a party in favour of union and a party in favour of separation is as absurd as to have a party in favour of going upstairs and a party in favour of going downstairs. the question is not whether we go up or down stairs, but where we are going to, and what we are going, for? union is strength; union is also weakness. it is a good thing to harness two horses to a cart; but it is not a good thing to try and turn two hansom cabs into one four-wheeler. turning ten nations into one empire may happen to be as feasible as turning ten shillings into one half-sovereign. also it may happen to be as preposterous as turning ten terriers into one mastiff. the question in all cases is not a question of union or absence of union, but of identity or absence of identity. owing to certain historical and moral causes, two nations may be so united as upon the whole to help each other. thus england and scotland pass their time in paying each other compliments; but their energies and atmospheres run distinct and parallel, and consequently do not clash. scotland continues to be educated and calvinistic; england continues to be uneducated and happy. but owing to certain other moral and certain other political causes, two nations may be so united as only to hamper each other; their lines do clash and do not run parallel. thus, for instance, england and ireland are so united that the irish can sometimes rule england, but can never rule ireland. the educational systems, including the last education act, are here, as in the case of scotland, a very good test of the matter. the overwhelming majority of irishmen believe in a strict catholicism; the overwhelming majority of englishmen believe in a vague protestantism. the irish party in the parliament of union is just large enough to prevent the english education being indefinitely protestant, and just small enough to prevent the irish education being definitely catholic. here we have a state of things which no man in his senses would ever dream of wishing to continue if he had not been bewitched by the sentimentalism of the mere word "union." this example of union, however, is not the example which i propose to take of the ingrained futility and deception underlying all the assumptions of the modern practical politician. i wish to speak especially of another and much more general delusion. it pervades the minds and speeches of all the practical men of all parties; and it is a childish blunder built upon a single false metaphor. i refer to the universal modern talk about young nations and new nations; about america being young, about new zealand being new. the whole thing is a trick of words. america is not young, new zealand is not new. it is a very discussable question whether they are not both much older than england or ireland. of course we may use the metaphor of youth about america or the colonies, if we use it strictly as implying only a recent origin. but if we use it (as we do use it) as implying vigour, or vivacity, or crudity, or inexperience, or hope, or a long life before them or any of the romantic attributes of youth, then it is surely as clear as daylight that we are duped by a stale figure of speech. we can easily see the matter clearly by applying it to any other institution parallel to the institution of an independent nationality. if a club called "the milk and soda league" (let us say) was set up yesterday, as i have no doubt it was, then, of course, "the milk and soda league" is a young club in the sense that it was set up yesterday, but in no other sense. it may consist entirely of moribund old gentlemen. it may be moribund itself. we may call it a young club, in the light of the fact that it was founded yesterday. we may also call it a very old club in the light of the fact that it will most probably go bankrupt to-morrow. all this appears very obvious when we put it in this form. any one who adopted the young-community delusion with regard to a bank or a butcher's shop would be sent to an asylum. but the whole modern political notion that america and the colonies must be very vigorous because they are very new, rests upon no better foundation. that america was founded long after england does not make it even in the faintest degree more probable that america will not perish a long time before england. that england existed before her colonies does not make it any the less likely that she will exist after her colonies. and when we look at the actual history of the world, we find that great european nations almost invariably have survived the vitality of their colonies. when we look at the actual history of the world, we find, that if there is a thing that is born old and dies young, it is a colony. the greek colonies went to pieces long before the greek civilization. the spanish colonies have gone to pieces long before the nation of spain--nor does there seem to be any reason to doubt the possibility or even the probability of the conclusion that the colonial civilization, which owes its origin to england, will be much briefer and much less vigorous than the civilization of england itself. the english nation will still be going the way of all european nations when the anglo-saxon race has gone the way of all fads. now, of course, the interesting question is, have we, in the case of america and the colonies, any real evidence of a moral and intellectual youth as opposed to the indisputable triviality of a merely chronological youth? consciously or unconsciously, we know that we have no such evidence, and consciously or unconsciously, therefore, we proceed to make it up. of this pure and placid invention, a good example, for instance, can be found in a recent poem of mr. rudyard kipling's. speaking of the english people and the south african war mr. kipling says that "we fawned on the younger nations for the men that could shoot and ride." some people considered this sentence insulting. all that i am concerned with at present is the evident fact that it is not true. the colonies provided very useful volunteer troops, but they did not provide the best troops, nor achieve the most successful exploits. the best work in the war on the english side was done, as might have been expected, by the best english regiments. the men who could shoot and ride were not the enthusiastic corn merchants from melbourne, any more than they were the enthusiastic clerks from cheapside. the men who could shoot and ride were the men who had been taught to shoot and ride in the discipline of the standing army of a great european power. of course, the colonials are as brave and athletic as any other average white men. of course, they acquitted themselves with reasonable credit. all i have here to indicate is that, for the purposes of this theory of the new nation, it is necessary to maintain that the colonial forces were more useful or more heroic than the gunners at colenso or the fighting fifth. and of this contention there is not, and never has been, one stick or straw of evidence. a similar attempt is made, and with even less success, to represent the literature of the colonies as something fresh and vigorous and important. the imperialist magazines are constantly springing upon us some genius from queensland or canada, through whom we are expected to smell the odours of the bush or the prairie. as a matter of fact, any one who is even slightly interested in literature as such (and i, for one, confess that i am only slightly interested in literature as such), will freely admit that the stories of these geniuses smell of nothing but printer's ink, and that not of first-rate quality. by a great effort of imperial imagination the generous english people reads into these works a force and a novelty. but the force and the novelty are not in the new writers; the force and the novelty are in the ancient heart of the english. anybody who studies them impartially will know that the first-rate writers of the colonies are not even particularly novel in their note and atmosphere, are not only not producing a new kind of good literature, but are not even in any particular sense producing a new kind of bad literature. the first-rate writers of the new countries are really almost exactly like the second-rate writers of the old countries. of course they do feel the mystery of the wilderness, the mystery of the bush, for all simple and honest men feel this in melbourne, or margate, or south st. pancras. but when they write most sincerely and most successfully, it is not with a background of the mystery of the bush, but with a background, expressed or assumed, of our own romantic cockney civilization. what really moves their souls with a kindly terror is not the mystery of the wilderness, but the mystery of a hansom cab. of course there are some exceptions to this generalization. the one really arresting exception is olive schreiner, and she is quite as certainly an exception that proves the rule. olive schreiner is a fierce, brilliant, and realistic novelist; but she is all this precisely because she is not english at all. her tribal kinship is with the country of teniers and maarten maartens--that is, with a country of realists. her literary kinship is with the pessimistic fiction of the continent; with the novelists whose very pity is cruel. olive schreiner is the one english colonial who is not conventional, for the simple reason that south africa is the one english colony which is not english, and probably never will be. and, of course, there are individual exceptions in a minor way. i remember in particular some australian tales by mr. mcilwain which were really able and effective, and which, for that reason, i suppose, are not presented to the public with blasts of a trumpet. but my general contention if put before any one with a love of letters, will not be disputed if it is understood. it is not the truth that the colonial civilization as a whole is giving us, or shows any signs of giving us, a literature which will startle and renovate our own. it may be a very good thing for us to have an affectionate illusion in the matter; that is quite another affair. the colonies may have given england a new emotion; i only say that they have not given the world a new book. touching these english colonies, i do not wish to be misunderstood. i do not say of them or of america that they have not a future, or that they will not be great nations. i merely deny the whole established modern expression about them. i deny that they are "destined" to a future. i deny that they are "destined" to be great nations. i deny (of course) that any human thing is destined to be anything. all the absurd physical metaphors, such as youth and age, living and dying, are, when applied to nations, but pseudo-scientific attempts to conceal from men the awful liberty of their lonely souls. in the case of america, indeed, a warning to this effect is instant and essential. america, of course, like every other human thing, can in spiritual sense live or die as much as it chooses. but at the present moment the matter which america has very seriously to consider is not how near it is to its birth and beginning, but how near it may be to its end. it is only a verbal question whether the american civilization is young; it may become a very practical and urgent question whether it is dying. when once we have cast aside, as we inevitably have after a moment's thought, the fanciful physical metaphor involved in the word "youth," what serious evidence have we that america is a fresh force and not a stale one? it has a great many people, like china; it has a great deal of money, like defeated carthage or dying venice. it is full of bustle and excitability, like athens after its ruin, and all the greek cities in their decline. it is fond of new things; but the old are always fond of new things. young men read chronicles, but old men read newspapers. it admires strength and good looks; it admires a big and barbaric beauty in its women, for instance; but so did rome when the goth was at the gates. all these are things quite compatible with fundamental tedium and decay. there are three main shapes or symbols in which a nation can show itself essentially glad and great--by the heroic in government, by the heroic in arms, and by the heroic in art. beyond government, which is, as it were, the very shape and body of a nation, the most significant thing about any citizen is his artistic attitude towards a holiday and his moral attitude towards a fight--that is, his way of accepting life and his way of accepting death. subjected to these eternal tests, america does not appear by any means as particularly fresh or untouched. she appears with all the weakness and weariness of modern england or of any other western power. in her politics she has broken up exactly as england has broken up, into a bewildering opportunism and insincerity. in the matter of war and the national attitude towards war, her resemblance to england is even more manifest and melancholy. it may be said with rough accuracy that there are three stages in the life of a strong people. first, it is a small power, and fights small powers. then it is a great power, and fights great powers. then it is a great power, and fights small powers, but pretends that they are great powers, in order to rekindle the ashes of its ancient emotion and vanity. after that, the next step is to become a small power itself. england exhibited this symptom of decadence very badly in the war with the transvaal; but america exhibited it worse in the war with spain. there was exhibited more sharply and absurdly than anywhere else the ironic contrast between the very careless choice of a strong line and the very careful choice of a weak enemy. america added to all her other late roman or byzantine elements the element of the caracallan triumph, the triumph over nobody. but when we come to the last test of nationality, the test of art and letters, the case is almost terrible. the english colonies have produced no great artists; and that fact may prove that they are still full of silent possibilities and reserve force. but america has produced great artists. and that fact most certainly proves that she is full of a fine futility and the end of all things. whatever the american men of genius are, they are not young gods making a young world. is the art of whistler a brave, barbaric art, happy and headlong? does mr. henry james infect us with the spirit of a schoolboy? no; the colonies have not spoken, and they are safe. their silence may be the silence of the unborn. but out of america has come a sweet and startling cry, as unmistakable as the cry of a dying man. xix slum novelists and the slums odd ideas are entertained in our time about the real nature of the doctrine of human fraternity. the real doctrine is something which we do not, with all our modern humanitarianism, very clearly understand, much less very closely practise. there is nothing, for instance, particularly undemocratic about kicking your butler downstairs. it may be wrong, but it is not unfraternal. in a certain sense, the blow or kick may be considered as a confession of equality: you are meeting your butler body to body; you are almost according him the privilege of the duel. there is nothing, undemocratic, though there may be something unreasonable, in expecting a great deal from the butler, and being filled with a kind of frenzy of surprise when he falls short of the divine stature. the thing which is really undemocratic and unfraternal is not to expect the butler to be more or less divine. the thing which is really undemocratic and unfraternal is to say, as so many modern humanitarians say, "of course one must make allowances for those on a lower plane." all things considered indeed, it may be said, without undue exaggeration, that the really undemocratic and unfraternal thing is the common practice of not kicking the butler downstairs. it is only because such a vast section of the modern world is out of sympathy with the serious democratic sentiment that this statement will seem to many to be lacking in seriousness. democracy is not philanthropy; it is not even altruism or social reform. democracy is not founded on pity for the common man; democracy is founded on reverence for the common man, or, if you will, even on fear of him. it does not champion man because man is so miserable, but because man is so sublime. it does not object so much to the ordinary man being a slave as to his not being a king, for its dream is always the dream of the first roman republic, a nation of kings. next to a genuine republic, the most democratic thing in the world is a hereditary despotism. i mean a despotism in which there is absolutely no trace whatever of any nonsense about intellect or special fitness for the post. rational despotism--that is, selective despotism--is always a curse to mankind, because with that you have the ordinary man misunderstood and misgoverned by some prig who has no brotherly respect for him at all. but irrational despotism is always democratic, because it is the ordinary man enthroned. the worst form of slavery is that which is called caesarism, or the choice of some bold or brilliant man as despot because he is suitable. for that means that men choose a representative, not because he represents them, but because he does not. men trust an ordinary man like george iii or william iv. because they are themselves ordinary men and understand him. men trust an ordinary man because they trust themselves. but men trust a great man because they do not trust themselves. and hence the worship of great men always appears in times of weakness and cowardice; we never hear of great men until the time when all other men are small. hereditary despotism is, then, in essence and sentiment democratic because it chooses from mankind at random. if it does not declare that every man may rule, it declares the next most democratic thing; it declares that any man may rule. hereditary aristocracy is a far worse and more dangerous thing, because the numbers and multiplicity of an aristocracy make it sometimes possible for it to figure as an aristocracy of intellect. some of its members will presumably have brains, and thus they, at any rate, will be an intellectual aristocracy within the social one. they will rule the aristocracy by virtue of their intellect, and they will rule the country by virtue of their aristocracy. thus a double falsity will be set up, and millions of the images of god, who, fortunately for their wives and families, are neither gentlemen nor clever men, will be represented by a man like mr. balfour or mr. wyndham, because he is too gentlemanly to be called merely clever, and just too clever to be called merely a gentleman. but even an hereditary aristocracy may exhibit, by a sort of accident, from time to time some of the basically democratic quality which belongs to a hereditary despotism. it is amusing to think how much conservative ingenuity has been wasted in the defence of the house of lords by men who were desperately endeavouring to prove that the house of lords consisted of clever men. there is one really good defence of the house of lords, though admirers of the peerage are strangely coy about using it; and that is, that the house of lords, in its full and proper strength, consists of stupid men. it really would be a plausible defence of that otherwise indefensible body to point out that the clever men in the commons, who owed their power to cleverness, ought in the last resort to be checked by the average man in the lords, who owed their power to accident. of course, there would be many answers to such a contention, as, for instance, that the house of lords is largely no longer a house of lords, but a house of tradesmen and financiers, or that the bulk of the commonplace nobility do not vote, and so leave the chamber to the prigs and the specialists and the mad old gentlemen with hobbies. but on some occasions the house of lords, even under all these disadvantages, is in some sense representative. when all the peers flocked together to vote against mr. gladstone's second home rule bill, for instance, those who said that the peers represented the english people, were perfectly right. all those dear old men who happened to be born peers were at that moment, and upon that question, the precise counterpart of all the dear old men who happened to be born paupers or middle-class gentlemen. that mob of peers did really represent the english people--that is to say, it was honest, ignorant, vaguely excited, almost unanimous, and obviously wrong. of course, rational democracy is better as an expression of the public will than the haphazard hereditary method. while we are about having any kind of democracy, let it be rational democracy. but if we are to have any kind of oligarchy, let it be irrational oligarchy. then at least we shall be ruled by men. but the thing which is really required for the proper working of democracy is not merely the democratic system, or even the democratic philosophy, but the democratic emotion. the democratic emotion, like most elementary and indispensable things, is a thing difficult to describe at any time. but it is peculiarly difficult to describe it in our enlightened age, for the simple reason that it is peculiarly difficult to find it. it is a certain instinctive attitude which feels the things in which all men agree to be unspeakably important, and all the things in which they differ (such as mere brains) to be almost unspeakably unimportant. the nearest approach to it in our ordinary life would be the promptitude with which we should consider mere humanity in any circumstance of shock or death. we should say, after a somewhat disturbing discovery, "there is a dead man under the sofa." we should not be likely to say, "there is a dead man of considerable personal refinement under the sofa." we should say, "a woman has fallen into the water." we should not say, "a highly educated woman has fallen into the water." nobody would say, "there are the remains of a clear thinker in your back garden." nobody would say, "unless you hurry up and stop him, a man with a very fine ear for music will have jumped off that cliff." but this emotion, which all of us have in connection with such things as birth and death, is to some people native and constant at all ordinary times and in all ordinary places. it was native to st. francis of assisi. it was native to walt whitman. in this strange and splendid degree it cannot be expected, perhaps, to pervade a whole commonwealth or a whole civilization; but one commonwealth may have it much more than another commonwealth, one civilization much more than another civilization. no community, perhaps, ever had it so much as the early franciscans. no community, perhaps, ever had it so little as ours. everything in our age has, when carefully examined, this fundamentally undemocratic quality. in religion and morals we should admit, in the abstract, that the sins of the educated classes were as great as, or perhaps greater than, the sins of the poor and ignorant. but in practice the great difference between the mediaeval ethics and ours is that ours concentrate attention on the sins which are the sins of the ignorant, and practically deny that the sins which are the sins of the educated are sins at all. we are always talking about the sin of intemperate drinking, because it is quite obvious that the poor have it more than the rich. but we are always denying that there is any such thing as the sin of pride, because it would be quite obvious that the rich have it more than the poor. we are always ready to make a saint or prophet of the educated man who goes into cottages to give a little kindly advice to the uneducated. but the medieval idea of a saint or prophet was something quite different. the mediaeval saint or prophet was an uneducated man who walked into grand houses to give a little kindly advice to the educated. the old tyrants had enough insolence to despoil the poor, but they had not enough insolence to preach to them. it was the gentleman who oppressed the slums; but it was the slums that admonished the gentleman. and just as we are undemocratic in faith and morals, so we are, by the very nature of our attitude in such matters, undemocratic in the tone of our practical politics. it is a sufficient proof that we are not an essentially democratic state that we are always wondering what we shall do with the poor. if we were democrats, we should be wondering what the poor will do with us. with us the governing class is always saying to itself, "what laws shall we make?" in a purely democratic state it would be always saying, "what laws can we obey?" a purely democratic state perhaps there has never been. but even the feudal ages were in practice thus far democratic, that every feudal potentate knew that any laws which he made would in all probability return upon himself. his feathers might be cut off for breaking a sumptuary law. his head might be cut off for high treason. but the modern laws are almost always laws made to affect the governed class, but not the governing. we have public-house licensing laws, but not sumptuary laws. that is to say, we have laws against the festivity and hospitality of the poor, but no laws against the festivity and hospitality of the rich. we have laws against blasphemy--that is, against a kind of coarse and offensive speaking in which nobody but a rough and obscure man would be likely to indulge. but we have no laws against heresy--that is, against the intellectual poisoning of the whole people, in which only a prosperous and prominent man would be likely to be successful. the evil of aristocracy is not that it necessarily leads to the infliction of bad things or the suffering of sad ones; the evil of aristocracy is that it places everything in the hands of a class of people who can always inflict what they can never suffer. whether what they inflict is, in their intention, good or bad, they become equally frivolous. the case against the governing class of modern england is not in the least that it is selfish; if you like, you may call the english oligarchs too fantastically unselfish. the case against them simply is that when they legislate for all men, they always omit themselves. we are undemocratic, then, in our religion, as is proved by our efforts to "raise" the poor. we are undemocratic in our government, as is proved by our innocent attempt to govern them well. but above all we are undemocratic in our literature, as is proved by the torrent of novels about the poor and serious studies of the poor which pour from our publishers every month. and the more "modern" the book is the more certain it is to be devoid of democratic sentiment. a poor man is a man who has not got much money. this may seem a simple and unnecessary description, but in the face of a great mass of modern fact and fiction, it seems very necessary indeed; most of our realists and sociologists talk about a poor man as if he were an octopus or an alligator. there is no more need to study the psychology of poverty than to study the psychology of bad temper, or the psychology of vanity, or the psychology of animal spirits. a man ought to know something of the emotions of an insulted man, not by being insulted, but simply by being a man. and he ought to know something of the emotions of a poor man, not by being poor, but simply by being a man. therefore, in any writer who is describing poverty, my first objection to him will be that he has studied his subject. a democrat would have imagined it. a great many hard things have been said about religious slumming and political or social slumming, but surely the most despicable of all is artistic slumming. the religious teacher is at least supposed to be interested in the costermonger because he is a man; the politician is in some dim and perverted sense interested in the costermonger because he is a citizen; it is only the wretched writer who is interested in the costermonger merely because he is a costermonger. nevertheless, so long as he is merely seeking impressions, or in other words copy, his trade, though dull, is honest. but when he endeavours to represent that he is describing the spiritual core of a costermonger, his dim vices and his delicate virtues, then we must object that his claim is preposterous; we must remind him that he is a journalist and nothing else. he has far less psychological authority even than the foolish missionary. for he is in the literal and derivative sense a journalist, while the missionary is an eternalist. the missionary at least pretends to have a version of the man's lot for all time; the journalist only pretends to have a version of it from day to day. the missionary comes to tell the poor man that he is in the same condition with all men. the journalist comes to tell other people how different the poor man is from everybody else. if the modern novels about the slums, such as novels of mr. arthur morrison, or the exceedingly able novels of mr. somerset maugham, are intended to be sensational, i can only say that that is a noble and reasonable object, and that they attain it. a sensation, a shock to the imagination, like the contact with cold water, is always a good and exhilarating thing; and, undoubtedly, men will always seek this sensation (among other forms) in the form of the study of the strange antics of remote or alien peoples. in the twelfth century men obtained this sensation by reading about dog-headed men in africa. in the twentieth century they obtained it by reading about pig-headed boers in africa. the men of the twentieth century were certainly, it must be admitted, somewhat the more credulous of the two. for it is not recorded of the men in the twelfth century that they organized a sanguinary crusade solely for the purpose of altering the singular formation of the heads of the africans. but it may be, and it may even legitimately be, that since all these monsters have faded from the popular mythology, it is necessary to have in our fiction the image of the horrible and hairy east-ender, merely to keep alive in us a fearful and childlike wonder at external peculiarities. but the middle ages (with a great deal more common sense than it would now be fashionable to admit) regarded natural history at bottom rather as a kind of joke; they regarded the soul as very important. hence, while they had a natural history of dog-headed men, they did not profess to have a psychology of dog-headed men. they did not profess to mirror the mind of a dog-headed man, to share his tenderest secrets, or mount with his most celestial musings. they did not write novels about the semi-canine creature, attributing to him all the oldest morbidities and all the newest fads. it is permissible to present men as monsters if we wish to make the reader jump; and to make anybody jump is always a christian act. but it is not permissible to present men as regarding themselves as monsters, or as making themselves jump. to summarize, our slum fiction is quite defensible as aesthetic fiction; it is not defensible as spiritual fact. one enormous obstacle stands in the way of its actuality. the men who write it, and the men who read it, are men of the middle classes or the upper classes; at least, of those who are loosely termed the educated classes. hence, the fact that it is the life as the refined man sees it proves that it cannot be the life as the unrefined man lives it. rich men write stories about poor men, and describe them as speaking with a coarse, or heavy, or husky enunciation. but if poor men wrote novels about you or me they would describe us as speaking with some absurd shrill and affected voice, such as we only hear from a duchess in a three-act farce. the slum novelist gains his whole effect by the fact that some detail is strange to the reader; but that detail by the nature of the case cannot be strange in itself. it cannot be strange to the soul which he is professing to study. the slum novelist gains his effects by describing the same grey mist as draping the dingy factory and the dingy tavern. but to the man he is supposed to be studying there must be exactly the same difference between the factory and the tavern that there is to a middle-class man between a late night at the office and a supper at pagani's. the slum novelist is content with pointing out that to the eye of his particular class a pickaxe looks dirty and a pewter pot looks dirty. but the man he is supposed to be studying sees the difference between them exactly as a clerk sees the difference between a ledger and an edition de luxe. the chiaroscuro of the life is inevitably lost; for to us the high lights and the shadows are a light grey. but the high lights and the shadows are not a light grey in that life any more than in any other. the kind of man who could really express the pleasures of the poor would be also the kind of man who could share them. in short, these books are not a record of the psychology of poverty. they are a record of the psychology of wealth and culture when brought in contact with poverty. they are not a description of the state of the slums. they are only a very dark and dreadful description of the state of the slummers. one might give innumerable examples of the essentially unsympathetic and unpopular quality of these realistic writers. but perhaps the simplest and most obvious example with which we could conclude is the mere fact that these writers are realistic. the poor have many other vices, but, at least, they are never realistic. the poor are melodramatic and romantic in grain; the poor all believe in high moral platitudes and copy-book maxims; probably this is the ultimate meaning of the great saying, "blessed are the poor." blessed are the poor, for they are always making life, or trying to make life like an adelphi play. some innocent educationalists and philanthropists (for even philanthropists can be innocent) have expressed a grave astonishment that the masses prefer shilling shockers to scientific treatises and melodramas to problem plays. the reason is very simple. the realistic story is certainly more artistic than the melodramatic story. if what you desire is deft handling, delicate proportions, a unit of artistic atmosphere, the realistic story has a full advantage over the melodrama. in everything that is light and bright and ornamental the realistic story has a full advantage over the melodrama. but, at least, the melodrama has one indisputable advantage over the realistic story. the melodrama is much more like life. it is much more like man, and especially the poor man. it is very banal and very inartistic when a poor woman at the adelphi says, "do you think i will sell my own child?" but poor women in the battersea high road do say, "do you think i will sell my own child?" they say it on every available occasion; you can hear a sort of murmur or babble of it all the way down the street. it is very stale and weak dramatic art (if that is all) when the workman confronts his master and says, "i'm a man." but a workman does say "i'm a man" two or three times every day. in fact, it is tedious, possibly, to hear poor men being melodramatic behind the footlights; but that is because one can always hear them being melodramatic in the street outside. in short, melodrama, if it is dull, is dull because it is too accurate. somewhat the same problem exists in the case of stories about schoolboys. mr. kipling's "stalky and co." is much more amusing (if you are talking about amusement) than the late dean farrar's "eric; or, little by little." but "eric" is immeasurably more like real school-life. for real school-life, real boyhood, is full of the things of which eric is full--priggishness, a crude piety, a silly sin, a weak but continual attempt at the heroic, in a word, melodrama. and if we wish to lay a firm basis for any efforts to help the poor, we must not become realistic and see them from the outside. we must become melodramatic, and see them from the inside. the novelist must not take out his notebook and say, "i am an expert." no; he must imitate the workman in the adelphi play. he must slap himself on the chest and say, "i am a man." xx. concluding remarks on the importance of orthodoxy whether the human mind can advance or not, is a question too little discussed, for nothing can be more dangerous than to found our social philosophy on any theory which is debatable but has not been debated. but if we assume, for the sake of argument, that there has been in the past, or will be in the future, such a thing as a growth or improvement of the human mind itself, there still remains a very sharp objection to be raised against the modern version of that improvement. the vice of the modern notion of mental progress is that it is always something concerned with the breaking of bonds, the effacing of boundaries, the casting away of dogmas. but if there be such a thing as mental growth, it must mean the growth into more and more definite convictions, into more and more dogmas. the human brain is a machine for coming to conclusions; if it cannot come to conclusions it is rusty. when we hear of a man too clever to believe, we are hearing of something having almost the character of a contradiction in terms. it is like hearing of a nail that was too good to hold down a carpet; or a bolt that was too strong to keep a door shut. man can hardly be defined, after the fashion of carlyle, as an animal who makes tools; ants and beavers and many other animals make tools, in the sense that they make an apparatus. man can be defined as an animal that makes dogmas. as he piles doctrine on doctrine and conclusion on conclusion in the formation of some tremendous scheme of philosophy and religion, he is, in the only legitimate sense of which the expression is capable, becoming more and more human. when he drops one doctrine after another in a refined scepticism, when he declines to tie himself to a system, when he says that he has outgrown definitions, when he says that he disbelieves in finality, when, in his own imagination, he sits as god, holding no form of creed but contemplating all, then he is by that very process sinking slowly backwards into the vagueness of the vagrant animals and the unconsciousness of the grass. trees have no dogmas. turnips are singularly broad-minded. if then, i repeat, there is to be mental advance, it must be mental advance in the construction of a definite philosophy of life. and that philosophy of life must be right and the other philosophies wrong. now of all, or nearly all, the able modern writers whom i have briefly studied in this book, this is especially and pleasingly true, that they do each of them have a constructive and affirmative view, and that they do take it seriously and ask us to take it seriously. there is nothing merely sceptically progressive about mr. rudyard kipling. there is nothing in the least broad minded about mr. bernard shaw. the paganism of mr. lowes dickinson is more grave than any christianity. even the opportunism of mr. h. g. wells is more dogmatic than the idealism of anybody else. somebody complained, i think, to matthew arnold that he was getting as dogmatic as carlyle. he replied, "that may be true; but you overlook an obvious difference. i am dogmatic and right, and carlyle is dogmatic and wrong." the strong humour of the remark ought not to disguise from us its everlasting seriousness and common sense; no man ought to write at all, or even to speak at all, unless he thinks that he is in truth and the other man in error. in similar style, i hold that i am dogmatic and right, while mr. shaw is dogmatic and wrong. but my main point, at present, is to notice that the chief among these writers i have discussed do most sanely and courageously offer themselves as dogmatists, as founders of a system. it may be true that the thing in mr. shaw most interesting to me, is the fact that mr. shaw is wrong. but it is equally true that the thing in mr. shaw most interesting to himself, is the fact that mr. shaw is right. mr. shaw may have none with him but himself; but it is not for himself he cares. it is for the vast and universal church, of which he is the only member. the two typical men of genius whom i have mentioned here, and with whose names i have begun this book, are very symbolic, if only because they have shown that the fiercest dogmatists can make the best artists. in the fin de siecle atmosphere every one was crying out that literature should be free from all causes and all ethical creeds. art was to produce only exquisite workmanship, and it was especially the note of those days to demand brilliant plays and brilliant short stories. and when they got them, they got them from a couple of moralists. the best short stories were written by a man trying to preach imperialism. the best plays were written by a man trying to preach socialism. all the art of all the artists looked tiny and tedious beside the art which was a byproduct of propaganda. the reason, indeed, is very simple. a man cannot be wise enough to be a great artist without being wise enough to wish to be a philosopher. a man cannot have the energy to produce good art without having the energy to wish to pass beyond it. a small artist is content with art; a great artist is content with nothing except everything. so we find that when real forces, good or bad, like kipling and g. b. s., enter our arena, they bring with them not only startling and arresting art, but very startling and arresting dogmas. and they care even more, and desire us to care even more, about their startling and arresting dogmas than about their startling and arresting art. mr. shaw is a good dramatist, but what he desires more than anything else to be is a good politician. mr. rudyard kipling is by divine caprice and natural genius an unconventional poet; but what he desires more than anything else to be is a conventional poet. he desires to be the poet of his people, bone of their bone, and flesh of their flesh, understanding their origins, celebrating their destiny. he desires to be poet laureate, a most sensible and honourable and public-spirited desire. having been given by the gods originality--that is, disagreement with others--he desires divinely to agree with them. but the most striking instance of all, more striking, i think, even than either of these, is the instance of mr. h. g. wells. he began in a sort of insane infancy of pure art. he began by making a new heaven and a new earth, with the same irresponsible instinct by which men buy a new necktie or button-hole. he began by trifling with the stars and systems in order to make ephemeral anecdotes; he killed the universe for a joke. he has since become more and more serious, and has become, as men inevitably do when they become more and more serious, more and more parochial. he was frivolous about the twilight of the gods; but he is serious about the london omnibus. he was careless in "the time machine," for that dealt only with the destiny of all things; but he is careful, and even cautious, in "mankind in the making," for that deals with the day after to-morrow. he began with the end of the world, and that was easy. now he has gone on to the beginning of the world, and that is difficult. but the main result of all this is the same as in the other cases. the men who have really been the bold artists, the realistic artists, the uncompromising artists, are the men who have turned out, after all, to be writing "with a purpose." suppose that any cool and cynical art-critic, any art-critic fully impressed with the conviction that artists were greatest when they were most purely artistic, suppose that a man who professed ably a humane aestheticism, as did mr. max beerbohm, or a cruel aestheticism, as did mr. w. e. henley, had cast his eye over the whole fictional literature which was recent in the year , and had been asked to select the three most vigorous and promising and original artists and artistic works, he would, i think, most certainly have said that for a fine artistic audacity, for a real artistic delicacy, or for a whiff of true novelty in art, the things that stood first were "soldiers three," by a mr. rudyard kipling; "arms and the man," by a mr. bernard shaw; and "the time machine," by a man called wells. and all these men have shown themselves ingrainedly didactic. you may express the matter if you will by saying that if we want doctrines we go to the great artists. but it is clear from the psychology of the matter that this is not the true statement; the true statement is that when we want any art tolerably brisk and bold we have to go to the doctrinaires. in concluding this book, therefore, i would ask, first and foremost, that men such as these of whom i have spoken should not be insulted by being taken for artists. no man has any right whatever merely to enjoy the work of mr. bernard shaw; he might as well enjoy the invasion of his country by the french. mr. shaw writes either to convince or to enrage us. no man has any business to be a kiplingite without being a politician, and an imperialist politician. if a man is first with us, it should be because of what is first with him. if a man convinces us at all, it should be by his convictions. if we hate a poem of kipling's from political passion, we are hating it for the same reason that the poet loved it; if we dislike him because of his opinions, we are disliking him for the best of all possible reasons. if a man comes into hyde park to preach it is permissible to hoot him; but it is discourteous to applaud him as a performing bear. and an artist is only a performing bear compared with the meanest man who fancies he has anything to say. there is, indeed, one class of modern writers and thinkers who cannot altogether be overlooked in this question, though there is no space here for a lengthy account of them, which, indeed, to confess the truth, would consist chiefly of abuse. i mean those who get over all these abysses and reconcile all these wars by talking about "aspects of truth," by saying that the art of kipling represents one aspect of the truth, and the art of william watson another; the art of mr. bernard shaw one aspect of the truth, and the art of mr. cunningham grahame another; the art of mr. h. g. wells one aspect, and the art of mr. coventry patmore (say) another. i will only say here that this seems to me an evasion which has not even had the sense to disguise itself ingeniously in words. if we talk of a certain thing being an aspect of truth, it is evident that we claim to know what is truth; just as, if we talk of the hind leg of a dog, we claim to know what is a dog. unfortunately, the philosopher who talks about aspects of truth generally also asks, "what is truth?" frequently even he denies the existence of truth, or says it is inconceivable by the human intelligence. how, then, can he recognize its aspects? i should not like to be an artist who brought an architectural sketch to a builder, saying, "this is the south aspect of sea-view cottage. sea-view cottage, of course, does not exist." i should not even like very much to have to explain, under such circumstances, that sea-view cottage might exist, but was unthinkable by the human mind. nor should i like any better to be the bungling and absurd metaphysician who professed to be able to see everywhere the aspects of a truth that is not there. of course, it is perfectly obvious that there are truths in kipling, that there are truths in shaw or wells. but the degree to which we can perceive them depends strictly upon how far we have a definite conception inside us of what is truth. it is ludicrous to suppose that the more sceptical we are the more we see good in everything. it is clear that the more we are certain what good is, the more we shall see good in everything. i plead, then, that we should agree or disagree with these men. i plead that we should agree with them at least in having an abstract belief. but i know that there are current in the modern world many vague objections to having an abstract belief, and i feel that we shall not get any further until we have dealt with some of them. the first objection is easily stated. a common hesitation in our day touching the use of extreme convictions is a sort of notion that extreme convictions specially upon cosmic matters, have been responsible in the past for the thing which is called bigotry. but a very small amount of direct experience will dissipate this view. in real life the people who are most bigoted are the people who have no convictions at all. the economists of the manchester school who disagree with socialism take socialism seriously. it is the young man in bond street, who does not know what socialism means much less whether he agrees with it, who is quite certain that these socialist fellows are making a fuss about nothing. the man who understands the calvinist philosophy enough to agree with it must understand the catholic philosophy in order to disagree with it. it is the vague modern who is not at all certain what is right who is most certain that dante was wrong. the serious opponent of the latin church in history, even in the act of showing that it produced great infamies, must know that it produced great saints. it is the hard-headed stockbroker, who knows no history and believes no religion, who is, nevertheless, perfectly convinced that all these priests are knaves. the salvationist at the marble arch may be bigoted, but he is not too bigoted to yearn from a common human kinship after the dandy on church parade. but the dandy on church parade is so bigoted that he does not in the least yearn after the salvationist at the marble arch. bigotry may be roughly defined as the anger of men who have no opinions. it is the resistance offered to definite ideas by that vague bulk of people whose ideas are indefinite to excess. bigotry may be called the appalling frenzy of the indifferent. this frenzy of the indifferent is in truth a terrible thing; it has made all monstrous and widely pervading persecutions. in this degree it was not the people who cared who ever persecuted; the people who cared were not sufficiently numerous. it was the people who did not care who filled the world with fire and oppression. it was the hands of the indifferent that lit the faggots; it was the hands of the indifferent that turned the rack. there have come some persecutions out of the pain of a passionate certainty; but these produced, not bigotry, but fanaticism--a very different and a somewhat admirable thing. bigotry in the main has always been the pervading omnipotence of those who do not care crushing out those who care in darkness and blood. there are people, however, who dig somewhat deeper than this into the possible evils of dogma. it is felt by many that strong philosophical conviction, while it does not (as they perceive) produce that sluggish and fundamentally frivolous condition which we call bigotry, does produce a certain concentration, exaggeration, and moral impatience, which we may agree to call fanaticism. they say, in brief, that ideas are dangerous things. in politics, for example, it is commonly urged against a man like mr. balfour, or against a man like mr. john morley, that a wealth of ideas is dangerous. the true doctrine on this point, again, is surely not very difficult to state. ideas are dangerous, but the man to whom they are least dangerous is the man of ideas. he is acquainted with ideas, and moves among them like a lion-tamer. ideas are dangerous, but the man to whom they are most dangerous is the man of no ideas. the man of no ideas will find the first idea fly to his head like wine to the head of a teetotaller. it is a common error, i think, among the radical idealists of my own party and period to suggest that financiers and business men are a danger to the empire because they are so sordid or so materialistic. the truth is that financiers and business men are a danger to the empire because they can be sentimental about any sentiment, and idealistic about any ideal, any ideal that they find lying about. just as a boy who has not known much of women is apt too easily to take a woman for the woman, so these practical men, unaccustomed to causes, are always inclined to think that if a thing is proved to be an ideal it is proved to be the ideal. many, for example, avowedly followed cecil rhodes because he had a vision. they might as well have followed him because he had a nose; a man without some kind of dream of perfection is quite as much of a monstrosity as a noseless man. people say of such a figure, in almost feverish whispers, "he knows his own mind," which is exactly like saying in equally feverish whispers, "he blows his own nose." human nature simply cannot subsist without a hope and aim of some kind; as the sanity of the old testament truly said, where there is no vision the people perisheth. but it is precisely because an ideal is necessary to man that the man without ideals is in permanent danger of fanaticism. there is nothing which is so likely to leave a man open to the sudden and irresistible inroad of an unbalanced vision as the cultivation of business habits. all of us know angular business men who think that the earth is flat, or that mr. kruger was at the head of a great military despotism, or that men are graminivorous, or that bacon wrote shakespeare. religious and philosophical beliefs are, indeed, as dangerous as fire, and nothing can take from them that beauty of danger. but there is only one way of really guarding ourselves against the excessive danger of them, and that is to be steeped in philosophy and soaked in religion. briefly, then, we dismiss the two opposite dangers of bigotry and fanaticism, bigotry which is a too great vagueness and fanaticism which is a too great concentration. we say that the cure for the bigot is belief; we say that the cure for the idealist is ideas. to know the best theories of existence and to choose the best from them (that is, to the best of our own strong conviction) appears to us the proper way to be neither bigot nor fanatic, but something more firm than a bigot and more terrible than a fanatic, a man with a definite opinion. but that definite opinion must in this view begin with the basic matters of human thought, and these must not be dismissed as irrelevant, as religion, for instance, is too often in our days dismissed as irrelevant. even if we think religion insoluble, we cannot think it irrelevant. even if we ourselves have no view of the ultimate verities, we must feel that wherever such a view exists in a man it must be more important than anything else in him. the instant that the thing ceases to be the unknowable, it becomes the indispensable. there can be no doubt, i think, that the idea does exist in our time that there is something narrow or irrelevant or even mean about attacking a man's religion, or arguing from it in matters of politics or ethics. there can be quite as little doubt that such an accusation of narrowness is itself almost grotesquely narrow. to take an example from comparatively current events: we all know that it was not uncommon for a man to be considered a scarecrow of bigotry and obscurantism because he distrusted the japanese, or lamented the rise of the japanese, on the ground that the japanese were pagans. nobody would think that there was anything antiquated or fanatical about distrusting a people because of some difference between them and us in practice or political machinery. nobody would think it bigoted to say of a people, "i distrust their influence because they are protectionists." no one would think it narrow to say, "i lament their rise because they are socialists, or manchester individualists, or strong believers in militarism and conscription." a difference of opinion about the nature of parliaments matters very much; but a difference of opinion about the nature of sin does not matter at all. a difference of opinion about the object of taxation matters very much; but a difference of opinion about the object of human existence does not matter at all. we have a right to distrust a man who is in a different kind of municipality; but we have no right to mistrust a man who is in a different kind of cosmos. this sort of enlightenment is surely about the most unenlightened that it is possible to imagine. to recur to the phrase which i employed earlier, this is tantamount to saying that everything is important with the exception of everything. religion is exactly the thing which cannot be left out--because it includes everything. the most absent-minded person cannot well pack his gladstone-bag and leave out the bag. we have a general view of existence, whether we like it or not; it alters or, to speak more accurately, it creates and involves everything we say or do, whether we like it or not. if we regard the cosmos as a dream, we regard the fiscal question as a dream. if we regard the cosmos as a joke, we regard st. paul's cathedral as a joke. if everything is bad, then we must believe (if it be possible) that beer is bad; if everything be good, we are forced to the rather fantastic conclusion that scientific philanthropy is good. every man in the street must hold a metaphysical system, and hold it firmly. the possibility is that he may have held it so firmly and so long as to have forgotten all about its existence. this latter situation is certainly possible; in fact, it is the situation of the whole modern world. the modern world is filled with men who hold dogmas so strongly that they do not even know that they are dogmas. it may be said even that the modern world, as a corporate body, holds certain dogmas so strongly that it does not know that they are dogmas. it may be thought "dogmatic," for instance, in some circles accounted progressive, to assume the perfection or improvement of man in another world. but it is not thought "dogmatic" to assume the perfection or improvement of man in this world; though that idea of progress is quite as unproved as the idea of immortality, and from a rationalistic point of view quite as improbable. progress happens to be one of our dogmas, and a dogma means a thing which is not thought dogmatic. or, again, we see nothing "dogmatic" in the inspiring, but certainly most startling, theory of physical science, that we should collect facts for the sake of facts, even though they seem as useless as sticks and straws. this is a great and suggestive idea, and its utility may, if you will, be proving itself, but its utility is, in the abstract, quite as disputable as the utility of that calling on oracles or consulting shrines which is also said to prove itself. thus, because we are not in a civilization which believes strongly in oracles or sacred places, we see the full frenzy of those who killed themselves to find the sepulchre of christ. but being in a civilization which does believe in this dogma of fact for facts' sake, we do not see the full frenzy of those who kill themselves to find the north pole. i am not speaking of a tenable ultimate utility which is true both of the crusades and the polar explorations. i mean merely that we do see the superficial and aesthetic singularity, the startling quality, about the idea of men crossing a continent with armies to conquer the place where a man died. but we do not see the aesthetic singularity and startling quality of men dying in agonies to find a place where no man can live--a place only interesting because it is supposed to be the meeting-place of some lines that do not exist. let us, then, go upon a long journey and enter on a dreadful search. let us, at least, dig and seek till we have discovered our own opinions. the dogmas we really hold are far more fantastic, and, perhaps, far more beautiful than we think. in the course of these essays i fear that i have spoken from time to time of rationalists and rationalism, and that in a disparaging sense. being full of that kindliness which should come at the end of everything, even of a book, i apologize to the rationalists even for calling them rationalists. there are no rationalists. we all believe fairy-tales, and live in them. some, with a sumptuous literary turn, believe in the existence of the lady clothed with the sun. some, with a more rustic, elvish instinct, like mr. mccabe, believe merely in the impossible sun itself. some hold the undemonstrable dogma of the existence of god; some the equally undemonstrable dogma of the existence of the man next door. truths turn into dogmas the instant that they are disputed. thus every man who utters a doubt defines a religion. and the scepticism of our time does not really destroy the beliefs, rather it creates them; gives them their limits and their plain and defiant shape. we who are liberals once held liberalism lightly as a truism. now it has been disputed, and we hold it fiercely as a faith. we who believe in patriotism once thought patriotism to be reasonable, and thought little more about it. now we know it to be unreasonable, and know it to be right. we who are christians never knew the great philosophic common sense which inheres in that mystery until the anti-christian writers pointed it out to us. the great march of mental destruction will go on. everything will be denied. everything will become a creed. it is a reasonable position to deny the stones in the street; it will be a religious dogma to assert them. it is a rational thesis that we are all in a dream; it will be a mystical sanity to say that we are all awake. fires will be kindled to testify that two and two make four. swords will be drawn to prove that leaves are green in summer. we shall be left defending, not only the incredible virtues and sanities of human life, but something more incredible still, this huge impossible universe which stares us in the face. we shall fight for visible prodigies as if they were invisible. we shall look on the impossible grass and the skies with a strange courage. we shall be of those who have seen and yet have believed. the end evidences of christianity by william paley, d.d. a new edition london: printed by w. clowes and sons, stamford street the honourable and right reverend james york, d.d., lord bishop of ely my lord, when, five years ago, an important station in the university of cambridge awaited your lordship's disposal, you were pleased to offer it to me. the circumstances under which this offer was made demand a public acknowledgment. i had never seen your lordship; i possessed no connection which could possibly recommend me to your favour; i was known to you only by my endeavour, in common with many others, to discharge my duty as a tutor in the university; and by some very imperfect, but certainly well-intended, and, as you thought, useful publications since. in an age by no means wanting in examples of honourable patronage, although this deserve not to be mentioned in respect of the object of your lordship's choice, it is inferior to none in the purity and disinterestedness of the motives which suggested it. how the following work may be received, i pretend not to foretell. my first prayer concerning it is, that it may do good to any: my second hope, that it may assist, what it hath always been my earnest wish to promote, the religious part of an academical education. if in this latter view it might seem, in any degree, to excuse your lordship's judgment of its author, i shall be gratified by the reflection that, to a kindness flowing from public principles, i have made the best public return in my power. in the mean time, and in every event, i rejoice in the opportunity here afforded me of testifying the sense i entertain of your lordship's conduct, and of a notice which i regard as the most flattering distinction of my life. i am, my lord, with sentiments of gratitude and respect, your lordship's faithful and most obliged servant, william paley. contents preparatory considerations--of the antecedent credibility of miracles. part . of the direct historical evidence of christianity, and wherein it is distinguished from the evidence alleged for other miracles. proposition stated proposition i. that there is satisfactory evidence, that many professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. chapter i evidence of the suffering of the first propagators of christianity, from the nature of the case. chapter ii evidence of the sufferings of the first propagators of christianity, from profane testimony. chapter iii indirect evidence of the sufferings of the first propagators of christianity, from the scriptures and other ancient christian writings. chapter iv direct evidence of the same. chapter v observations upon the preceding evidence. chapter vi that the story for which the first propagators of christianity suffered was miraculous. chapter vii that it was, in the main, the story which we have now proved by indirect considerations. chapter viii the same proved from the authority of our historical scriptures. chapter ix of the authenticity of the historical scriptures, in eleven sections sect. quotations of the historical scriptures by ancient christian writers. sect. of the peculiar respect with which they were quoted. sect. the scriptures were in very early times collected into a distinct volume. sect. and distinguished by appropriate names and titles of respect. sect. were publicly read and expounded in the religious assemblies of the early christians. sect. commentaries, &c., were anciently written upon the scriptures. sect. they were received by ancient christians of different sects and persuasions. sect. the four gospels, the acts of the apostles, thirteen epistles of st. paul, the first epistle of john, and the first of peter, were received without doubt by those who doubted concerning the other books of our present canon. sect. our present gospels were considered by the adversaries of christianity as containing the accounts upon which the religion was founded. sect. formal catalogues of authentic scriptures were published, in all which our present gospels were included. sect. the above propositions cannot be predicated of those books which are commonly called apocryphal books of the new testament. recapitulation. chapter x. of the direct historical evidence of christianity, and wherein it is distinguished from the evidence alleged for other miracles. proposition ii. chapter i that there is not satisfactory evidence, that persons pretending to be original witnesses of any other similar miracles have acted in the same manner, in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of the truth of those accounts. chapter ii consideration of some specific instances part ii. of the auxiliary evidences of christianity, chapter i prophecy chapter ii the morality of the gospel chapter iii the candour of the writers of the new testament chapter iv identity of christ's character chapter v originality of our saviour's character chapter vi conformity of the facts occasionally mentioned or referred to in scripture with the state of things in these times, as represented by foreign and independent accounts. chapter vii undesigned coincidences. chapter viii of the history of the resurrection. chapter ix of the propagation of christianity. sect. reflections upon the preceding account. sect. of the religion of mahomet. part iii a brief consideration of some popular objections. chapter i the discrepancies between the several gospels. chapter ii erroneous opinions imputed to the apostles. chapter iii the connection of christianity with the jewish history. chapter iv rejection of christianity. chapter v that the christian miracles are not recited, or appealed to, by early christian writers themselves, so fully or frequently as might have been expected. chapter vi want of universality in the knowledge and reception of christianity, and of greater clearness in the evidence. chapter vii supposed effects of christianity. chapter viii conclusion. preparatory considerations. i deem it unnecessary to prove that mankind stood in need of a revelation because i have met with no serious person who thinks that, even under the christian revelation, we have too much light, or any degree of assurance which is superfluous. i desire, moreover, that in judging of christianity, it may be remembered that the question lies between this religion and none: for, if the christian religion be not credible, no one, with whom we have to do, will support the pretensions of any other. suppose, then, the world we live in to have had a creator; suppose it to appear, from the predominant aim and tendency of the provisions and contrivances observable in the universe, that the deity, when he formed it, consulted for the happiness of his sensitive creation; suppose the disposition which dictated this counsel to continue; suppose a part of the creation to have received faculties from their maker, by which they are capable of rendering a moral obedience to his will, and of voluntarily pursuing any end for which he has designed them; suppose the creator to intend for these, his rational and accountable agents, a second state of existence, in which their situation will be by their behaviour in the first state, by which suppose (and by no other) the objection to the divine government in not putting a difference between the good and the bad, and the inconsistency of this confusion with the care and benevolence discoverable in the works of the deity is done away; suppose it to be of the utmost importance to the subjects of this dispensation to know what is intended for them, that is, suppose the knowledge of it to be highly conducive to the happiness of the species, a purpose which so many provisions of nature are calculated to promote: suppose, nevertheless, almost the whole race, either by the imperfection of their faculties, the misfortune of their situation, or by the loss of some prior revelation, to want this knowledge, and not to be likely, without the aid of a new revelation, to attain it; under these circumstances, is it improbable that a revelation should be made? is it incredible that god should interpose for such a purpose? suppose him to design for mankind a future state; is it unlikely that he should acquaint him with it? now in what way can a revelation be made, but by miracles? in none which we are able to conceive. consequently, in whatever degree it is probable, or not very improbable, that a revelation should be communicated to mankind at all: in the same degree is it probable, or not very improbable, that miracles should be wrought. therefore, when miracles are related to have been wrought in the promulgating of a revelation manifestly wanted, and, if true, of inestimable value, the improbability which arises from the miraculous nature of the things related is not greater than the original improbability that such a revelation should be imparted by god. i wish it, however, to be correctly understood, in what manner, and to what extent, this argument is alleged. we do not assume the attributes of the deity, or the existence of a future state, in order to prove the reality of miracles. that reality always must be proved by evidence. we assert only, that in miracles adduced in support of revelation there is not any such antecedent improbability as no testimony can surmount. and for the purpose of maintaining this assertion, we contend, that the incredibility of miracles related to have been wrought in attestation of a message from god, conveying intelligence of a future state of rewards and punishments, and teaching mankind how to prepare themselves for that state, is not in itself greater than the event, call it either probable or improbable, of the two following propositions being true: namely, first, that a future state of existence should be destined by god for his human creation; and, secondly, that, being so destined, he should acquaint them with it. it is not necessary for our purpose, that these propositions be capable of proof, or even that, by arguments drawn from the light of nature, they can be made out to be probable; it is enough that we are able to say concerning them, that they are not so violently improbable, so contradictory to what we already believe of the divine power and character, that either the propositions themselves, or facts strictly connected with the propositions (and therefore no further improbable than they are improbable), ought to be rejected at first sight, and to be rejected by whatever strength or complication of evidence they be attested. this is the prejudication we would resist. for to this length does a modern objection to miracles go, viz., that no human testimony can in any case render them credible. i think the reflection above stated, that, if there be a revelation, there must be miracles, and that, under the circumstances in which the human species are placed, a revelation is not improbable, or not to any great degree, to be a fair answer to the whole objection. but since it is an objection which stands in the very threshold our argument, and, if admitted, is a bar to every proof, and to all future reasoning upon the subject, it may be necessary, before we proceed further, to examine the principle upon which it professes to be founded; which principle is concisely this, that it is contrary to experience that a miracle should be true, but not contrary to experience that testimony should be false. now there appears a small ambiguity in the term "experience," and in the phrases, "contrary to experience," or "contradicting experience," which it may be necessary to remove in the first place. strictly speaking, the narrative of a fact is then only contrary to experience, when the fact is related to have existed at a time and place, at which time and place we being present did not perceive it to exist; as if it should be asserted, that in a particular room, and at a particular hour of a certain day, a man was raised from the dead, in which room, and at the time specified, we, being present and looking on, perceived no such event to have taken place. here the assertion is contrary to experience properly so called; and this is a contrariety which no evidence can surmount. it matters nothing, whether the fact be of a miraculous nature, or not. but although this be the experience, and the contrariety, which archbishop tillotson alleged in the quotation with which mr. hume opens his essay, it is certainly not that experience, nor that contrariety, which mr. hume himself intended to object. and short of this i know no intelligible signification which can be affixed to the term "contrary to experience," but one, viz., that of not having ourselves experienced anything similar to the thing related, or such things not being generally experienced by others. i say "not generally" for to state concerning the fact in question, that no such thing was ever experienced, or that universal experience is against it, is to assume the subject of the controversy. now the improbability which arises from the want (for this properly is a want, not a contradiction) of experience, is only equal to the probability there is, that, if the thing were true, we should experience things similar to it, or that such things would be generally experienced. suppose it then to be true that miracles were wrought on the first promulgation of christianity, when nothing but miracles could decide its authority, is it certain that such miracles would be repeated so often, and in so many places, as to become objects of general experience? is it a probability approaching to certainty? is it a probability of any great strength or force? is it such as no evidence can encounter? and yet this probability is the exact converse, and therefore the exact measure, of the improbability which arises from the want of experience, and which mr. hume represents as invincible by human testimony. it is not like alleging a new law of nature, or a new experiment in natural philosophy; because, when these are related, it is expected that, under the same circumstances, the same effect will follow universally; and in proportion as this expectation is justly entertained, the want of a corresponding experience negatives the history. but to expect concerning a miracle, that it should succeed upon a repetition, is to expect that which would make it cease to be a miracle, which is contrary to its nature as such, and would totally destroy the use and purpose for which it was wrought. the force of experience as an objection to miracles is founded in the presumption, either that the course of nature is invariable, or that, if it be ever varied, variations will be frequent and general. has the necessity of this alternative been demonstrated? permit us to call the course of nature the agency of an intelligent being, and is there any good reason for judging this state of the case to be probable? ought we not rather to expect that such a being, on occasions of peculiar importance, may interrupt the order which he had appointed, yet, that such occasions should return seldom; that these interruptions consequently should be confined to the experience of a few; that the want of it, therefore, in many, should be matter neither of surprise nor objection? but, as a continuation of the argument from experience, it is said that, when we advance accounts of miracles, we assign effects without causes, or we attribute effects to causes inadequate to the purpose, or to causes of the operation of which we have no experience of what causes, we may ask, and of what effects, does the objection speak? if it be answered that, when we ascribe the cure of the palsy to a touch, of blindness to the anointing of the eyes with clay, or the raising of the dead to a word, we lay ourselves open to this imputation; we reply that we ascribe no such effects to such causes. we perceive no virtue or energy in these things more than in other things of the same kind. they are merely signs to connect the miracle with its end. the effect we ascribe simply to the volition of deity; of whose existence and power, not to say of whose presence and agency, we have previous and independent proof. we have, therefore, all we seek for in the works of rational agents--a sufficient power and an adequate motive. in a word, once believe that there is a god, and miracles are not incredible. mr. hume states the ease of miracles to be a contest of opposite improbabilities, that is to say, a question whether it be more improbable that the miracle should be true, or the testimony false: and this i think a fair account of the controversy. but herein i remark a want of argumentative justice, that, in describing the improbability of miracles, he suppresses all those circumstances of extenuation, which result from our knowledge of the existence, power, and disposition of the deity; his concern in the creation, the end answered by the miracle, the importance of that end, and its subserviency to the plan pursued in the work of nature. as mr. hume has represented the question, miracles are alike incredible to him who is previously assured of the constant agency of a divine being, and to him who believes that no such being exists in the universe. they are equally incredible, whether related to have been wrought upon occasion the most deserving, and for purposes the most beneficial, or for no assignable end whatever, or for an end confessedly trifling or pernicious. this surely cannot be a correct statement. in adjusting also the other side of the balance, the strength and weight of testimony, this author has provided an answer to every possible accumulation of historical proof by telling us that we are not obliged to explain how the story of the evidence arose. now i think that we are obliged; not, perhaps, to show by positive accounts how it did, but by a probable hypothesis how it might so happen. the existence of the testimony is a phenomenon; the truth of the fact solves the phenomenon. if we reject this solution, we ought to have some other to rest in; and none, even by our adversaries, can be admired, which is not inconsistent with the principles that regulate human affairs and human conduct at present, or which makes men then to have been a different kind of beings from what they are now. but the short consideration which, independently of every other, convinces me that there is no solid foundation in mr. hume's conclusion, is the following. when a theorem is proposed to a mathematician, the first thing he does with it is to try it upon a simple case, and if it produce a false result, he is sure that there must be some mistake in the demonstration. now to proceed in this way with what may be called mr. hume's theorem. if twelve men, whose probity and good sense i had long known, should seriously and circumstantially relate to me an account of a miracle wrought before their eyes, and in which it was impossible that they should be deceived: if the governor of the country, hearing a rumour of this account, should call these men into his presence, and offer them a short proposal, either to confess the imposture, or submit to be tied up to a gibbet; if they should refuse with one voice to acknowledge that there existed any falsehood or imposture in the case: if this threat were communicated to them separately, yet with no different effect; if it was at last executed; if i myself saw them, one after another, consenting to be racked, burnt, or strangled, rather than live up the truth of their account;--still if mr. hume's rule be my guide, i am not to believe them. now i undertake to say that there exists not a sceptic in the world who would not believe them, or who would defend such incredulity. instances of spurious miracles supported by strong apparent testimony undoubtedly demand examination; mr. hume has endeavoured to fortify his argument by some examples of this kind. i hope in a proper place to show that none of them reach the strength or circumstances of the christian evidence. in these, however, consists the weight of his objection; in the principle itself, i am persuaded, there is none. part i. of the direct historical evidence of christianity, and wherein it is distinguished from the evidence alleged for other miracles. the two propositions which i shall endeavour to establish are these: i. that there is satisfactory evidence that many professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. . that there is not satisfactory evidence that persons professing to be original witnesses of other miracles, in their nature as certain as these are, have ever acted in the same manner, in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and properly in consequence of their belief of those accounts. the first of these prepositions, as it forms the argument will stand at the head of the following nine chapters. chapter i there is satisfactory evidence that many, professing to be original witness of the christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their of belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. to support this proposition, two points are necessary to be made out: first, that the founder of the institution, his associates and immediate followers, acted the part which the proposition imputes to them: secondly, that they did so in attestation of the miraculous history recorded in our scriptures, and solely in consequence of their belief of the truth of this history. before we produce any particular testimony to the activity and sufferings which compose the subject of our first assertion, it will be proper to consider the degree of probability which the assertion derives from the nature of the case, that is, by inferences from those parts of the case which, in point of fact, are on all hands acknowledged. first, then, the christian religion exists, and, therefore, by some means or other, was established. now it either owes the principle of its establishment, i. e. its first publication, to the activity of the person who was the founder of the institution, and of those who were joined with him in the undertaking, or we are driven upon the strange supposition, that, although they might lie by, others would take it up; although they were quiet and silent, other persons busied themselves in the success and propagation of their story. this is perfectly incredible. to me it appears little less than certain, that, if the first announcing of the religion by the founder had not been followed up by the zeal and industry of his immediate disciples, the attempt must have expired in its birth. then as to the kind and degree of exertion which was employed, and the mode of life to which these persons submitted, we reasonably suppose it to be like that which we observe in all others who voluntarily become missionaries of a new faith. frequent, earnest, and laborious preaching, constantly conversing with religious persons upon religion, a sequestration from the common pleasures, engagements, and varieties of life, and an addiction to one serious object, compose the habits of such men. i do not say that this mode of life is without enjoyment, but i say that the enjoyment springs from sincerity. with a consciousness at the bottom of hollowness and falsehood, the fatigue and restraint would become insupportable. i am apt to believe that very few hypocrites engage in these undertakings; or, however, persist in them long. ordinarily speaking, nothing can overcome the indolence of mankind, the love which is natural to most tempers of cheerful society and cheerful scenes, or the desire, which is common to all, of personal ease and freedom, but conviction. secondly, it is also highly probable, from the nature of the case, that the propagation of the new religion was attended with difficulty and danger. as addressed to the jews, it was a system adverse, not only to their habitual opinions but to those opinions upon which their hopes, their partialities, their pride, their consolation, was founded. this people, with or without reason, had worked themselves into a persuasion, that some signal and greatly advantageous change was to be effected in the condition of their country, by the agency of a long-promised messenger from heaven.* the rulers of the jews, their leading sect, their priesthood, had been the authors of this persuasion to the common people. so that it was not merely the conjecture of theoretical divines, or the secret expectation of a few recluse devotees, but it was become the popular hope and passion, and, like all popular opinions, undoubting and impatient of contradiction. they clung to this hope under every misfortune of their country, and with more tenacity as their dangers and calamities increased. to find, therefore, that expectations so gratifying were to be worse than disappointed; that they were to end in the diffusion of a mild unambitious religion, which, instead of victories and triumphs, instead of exalting their nation and institution above the rest of the world, was to advance those whom they despised to an equality with themselves, in those very points of comparison in which they most valued their own distinction, could be no very pleasing discovery to a jewish mind; nor could the messengers of such intelligence expect to be well received or easily credited. the doctrine was equally harsh and novel. the extending of the kingdom of god to those who did not conform to the law of moses was a notion that had never before entered into the thoughts of a jew. _________ * "pererebuerat oriento toto vetus et contans opinio, esse in fatis, ut eo tempore judaea profecti rerum potirsatur." sueton. vespasian. cap. -- . "pluribus persuasio inerat, antiquis sacerdotum literis contineri, eo ipso tempore fore, ut valesecret oriens, profectique judaea rerum potirentur." tacit. hist. lib. v. cap. -- . _________ the character of the new institution was, in other respects also, ungrateful to jewish habits and principles. their own religion was in a high degree technical. even the enlightened jew placed a great deal of stress upon the ceremonies of his law, saw in them a great deal of virtue and efficacy; the gross and vulgar had scarcely anything else; and the hypocritical and ostentatious magnified them above measure, as being the instruments of their own reputation and influence. the christian scheme, without formally repealing the levitical code, lowered its estimation extremely. in the place of strictness and zeal in performing the observances which that code prescribed, or which tradition had added to it, the new sect preached up faith, well-regulated affections, inward purity, and moral rectitude of disposition, as the true ground, on the part of the worshipper, of merit and acceptance with god. this, however rational it may appear, or recommending to us at present, did not by any means facilitate the plan then. on the contrary, to disparage those qualities which the highest characters in the country valued themselves most upon, was a sure way of making powerful enemies. as if the frustration of the national hope was not enough, the long-esteemed merit of ritual zeal and punctuality was to be decried, and that by jews preaching to jews. the ruling party at jerusalem had just before crucified the founder of the religion. that is a fact which will not be disputed. they, therefore, who stood forth to preach the religion must necessarily reproach these rulers with an execution which they could not but represent as an unjust and cruel murder. this would not render their office more easy, or their situation more safe. with regard to the interference of the roman government which was then established in judea, i should not expect, that, despising as it did the religion of the country, it would, if left to itself, animadvert, either with much vigilance or much severity, upon the schisms and controversies which arose within it. yet there was that in christianity which might easily afford a handle of accusation with a jealous government. the christians avowed an unqualified obedience to a new master. they avowed also that he was the person who had been foretold to the jews under the suspected title of king. the spiritual nature of this kingdom, the consistency of this obedience with civil subjection, were distinctions too refined to be entertained by a roman president, who viewed the business at a great distance, or through the medium of very hostile representations. our histories accordingly inform us, that this was the turn which the enemies of jesus gave to his character and pretensions in their remonstrances with pontius pilate. and justin martyr, about a hundred years afterwards, complains that the same mistake prevailed in his time: "ye, having heard that we are waiting for a kingdom, suppose without distinguishing that we mean a human kingdom, when in truth we speak of that which is with god."* and it was undoubtedly a natural source of calumny and misconstruction. _________ * ap. ima p. . ed. thirl. _________ the preachers of christianity had, therefore, to contend with prejudice backed by power. they had to come forward to a disappointed people, to a priesthood possessing a considerable share of municipal authority, and actuated by strong motives of opposition and resentment; and they had to do this under a foreign government, to whose favour they made no pretensions, and which was constantly surrounded by their enemies. the well-known, because the experienced, fate of reformers, whenever the reformation subverts some reigning opinion, and does not proceed upon a change that has already taken place in the sentiments of a country, will not allow, much less lead us to suppose that the first propagators of christianity at jerusalem and in judea, under the difficulties and the enemies they had to contend with, and entirely destitute as they were of force, authority, or protection, could execute their mission with personal ease and safety. let us next inquire, what might reasonably be expected by the preachers of christianity when they turned themselves to the heathen public. now the first thing that strikes us is, that the religion they carried with them was exclusive. it denied without reserve the truth of every article of heathen mythology, the existence of every object of their worship. it accepted no compromise, it admitted no comprehension. it must prevail, if it prevailed at all, by the overthrow of every statue, altar, and temple in the world, it will not easily be credited, that a design, so bold as this was, could in any age be attempted to be carried into execution with impunity. for it ought to be considered, that this was not setting forth, or magnifying the character and worship of some new competitor for a place in the pantheon, whose pretensions might he discussed or asserted without questioning the reality of any others: it was pronouncing all other gods to be false, and all other worship vain. from the facility with which the polytheism of ancient nations admitted new objects of worship into the number of their acknowledged divinities, or the patience with which they might entertain proposals of this kind, we can argue nothing as to their toleration of a system, or of the publishers and active propagators of a system, which swept away the very foundation of the existing establishment. the one was nothing more than what it would be, in popish countries, to add a saint to the calendar; the other was to abolish and tread under foot the calendar itself. secondly, it ought also to be considered, that this was not the case of philosophers propounding in their books, or in their schools, doubts concerning the truth of the popular creed, or even avowing their disbelief of it. these philosophers did not go about from place to place to collect proselytes from amongst the common people; to form in the heart of the country societies professing their tenets; to provide for the order, instruction and permanency of these societies; nor did they enjoin their followers to withdraw themselves from the public worship of the temples, or refuse a compliance with rites instituted by the laws.* these things are what the christians did, and what the philosophers did not; and in these consisted the activity and danger of the enterprise. _________ * the best of the ancient philosophers, plato, cicero, and epictetus, allowed, or rather enjoined, men to worship the gods of the country, and in the established form. see passages to this purpose collected from their works by dr. clarke, nat. and rev. rel. p. . ed. v--except socrates, they all thought it wiser to comply with the laws than to contend. _________ thirdly, it ought also to be considered, that this danger proceeded not merely from solemn acts and public resolutions of the state, but from sudden bursts of violence at particular places, from the licence of the populace, the rashness of some magistrates and negligence of others; from the influence and instigation of interested adversaries, and, in general, from the variety and warmth of opinion which an errand so novel and extraordinary could not fail of exciting. i can conceive that the teachers of christianity might both fear and suffer much from these causes, without any general persecution being denounced against them by imperial authority. some length of time, i should suppose, might pass, before the vast machine of the roman empire would be put in motion, or its attention be obtained to religious controversy: but, during that time, a great deal of ill usage might be endured, by a set of friendless, unprotected travellers, telling men, wherever they came, that the religion of their ancestors, the religion in which they had been brought up, the religion of the state, and of the magistrate, the rites which they frequented, the pomp which they admired, was throughout a system of folly and delusion. nor do i think that the teachers of christianity would find protection in that general disbelief of the popular theology, which is supposed to have prevailed amongst the intelligent part of the heathen public. it is by no means true that unbelievers are usually tolerant. they are not disposed (and why should they?) to endanger the present state of things, by suffering a religion of which they believe nothing to be disturbed by another of which they believe as little. they are ready themselves to conform to anything; and are, oftentimes, amongst the foremost to procure conformity from others, by any method which they think likely to be efficacious. when was ever a change of religion patronized by infidels? how little, not withstanding the reigning scepticism, and the magnified liberality of that age, the true principles of toleration were understood by the wisest men amongst them, may be gathered from two eminent and uncontested examples. the younger pliny, polished as he was by all the literature of that soft and elegant period, could gravely pronounce this monstrous judgment:--"those who persisted in declaring themselves christians, i ordered to be led away to punishment, (i. e. to execution,) for i did not doubt, whatever it was that they confessed, that contumacy and inflexible obstinacy ought to be punished." his master trajan, a mild and accomplished prince, went, nevertheless, no further in his sentiments of moderation and equity than what appears in the following rescript:--"the christians are not to be sought for; but if any are brought before you, and convicted, they are to be punished." and this direction he gives, after it had been reported to him by his own president, that, by the most strict examination, nothing could be discovered in the principles of these persons, but "a bad and excessive superstition," accompanied, it seems, with an oath or mutual federation, "to allow themselves in no crime or immoral conduct whatever." the truth is, the ancient heathens considered religion entirely as an affair of state, as much under the tuition of the magistrate as any other part of the police. the religion of that age was not merely allied to the state; it was incorporated into it. many of its offices were administered by the magistrate. its titles of pontiffs, augurs, and flamens, were borne by senators, consuls, and generals. without discussing, therefore, the truth of the theology, they resented every affront put upon the established worship, as a direct opposition to the authority of government. add to which, that the religious systems of those times, however ill supported by evidence, had been long established. the ancient religion of a country has always many votaries, and sometimes not the fewer, because its origin is hidden in remoteness and obscurity. men have a natural veneration for antiquity, especially in matters of religion. what tacitus says of the jewish was more applicable to the heathen establishment: "hi ritus, quoquo modo inducti, antiquitate defenduntur." it was also a splendid and sumptuous worship. it had its priesthood, its endowments, its temples. statuary, painting, architecture, and music, contributed their effect to its ornament and magnificence. it abounded in festival shows and solemnities, to which the common people are greatly addicted, and which were of a nature to engage them much more than anything of that sort among us. these things would retain great numbers on its side by the fascination of spectacle and pomp, as well as interest many in its preservation by the advantage which they drew from it. "it was moreover interwoven," as mr. gibbon rightly represents it, "with every circumstance of business or pleasure, of public or private life, with all the offices and amusements of society." on the due celebration also of its rites, the people were taught to believe, and did believe, that the prosperity of their country in a great measure depended. i am willing to accept the account of the matter which is given by mr. gibbon: "the various modes of worship which prevailed in the roman world were all considered by the people as equally true, by the philosopher as equally false, and by the magistrate as equally useful:" and i would ask from which of these three classes of men were the christian missionaries to look for protection or impunity? could they expect it from the people, "whose acknowledged confidence in the public religion" they subverted from its foundation? from the philosopher, who, "considering all religious as equally false," would of course rank theirs among the number, with the addition of regarding them as busy and troublesome zealots? or from the magistrate, who, satisfied with the "utility" of the subsisting religion, would not be likely to countenance a spirit of proselytism and innovation:--a system which declared war against every other, and which, if it prevailed, must end in a total rupture of public opinion; an upstart religion, in a word, which was not content with its own authority, but must disgrace all the settled religions of the world? it was not to be imagined that he would endure with patience, that the religion of the emperor and of the state should be calumniated and borne down by a company of superstitious and despicable jews. lastly; the nature of the case affords a strong proof, that the original teachers of christianity, in consequence of their new profession, entered upon a new and singular course of life. we may be allowed to presume, that the institution which they preached to others, they conformed to in their own persons; because this is no more than what every teacher of a new religion both does, and must do, in order to obtain either proselytes or hearers. the change which this would produce was very considerable. it is a change which we do not easily estimate, because, ourselves and all about us being habituated to the institutions from our infancy, it is what we neither experience nor observe. after men became christians, much of their time was spent in prayer and devotion, in religious meetings, in celebrating the eucharist, in conferences, in exhortations, in preaching, in an affectionate intercourse with one another, and correspondence with other societies. perhaps their mode of life, in its form and habit, was not very unlike the unitas fratrum, or the modern methodists. think then what it was to become such at corinth, at ephesus, at antioch, or even at jerusalem. how new! how alien from all their former habits and ideas, and from those of everybody about them! what a revolution there must have been of opinions and prejudices to bring the matter to this! we know what the precepts of the religion are; how pure, how benevolent, how disinterested a conduct they enjoin; and that this purity and benevolence are extended to the very thoughts and affections. we are not, perhaps, at liberty to take for granted that the lives of the preachers of christianity were as perfect as their lessons; but we are entitled to contend, that the observable part of their behaviour must have agreed in a great measure with the duties which they taught. there was, therefore, (which is all that we assert,) a course of life pursued by them, different from that which they before led. and this is of great importance. men are brought to anything almost sooner than to change their habit of life, especially when the change is either inconvenient, or made against the force of natural inclination, or with the loss of accustomed indulgences. it is the most difficult of all things to convert men from vicious habits to virtuous ones, as every one may judge from what he feels in himself, as well as from what he sees in others.* it is almost like making men over again. _________ * hartley's essays on man, p. . _________ left then to myself, and without any more information than a knowledge of the existence of the religion, of the general story upon which it is founded, and that no act of power, force, and authority was concerned in its first success, i should conclude, from the very nature and exigency of the case, that the author of the religion, during his life, and his immediate disciples after his death, exerted themselves in spreading and publishing the institution throughout the country in which it began, and into which it was first carried; that, in the prosecution of this purpose, they underwent the labours and troubles which we observe the propagators of new sects to undergo; that the attempt must necessarily have also been in a high degree dangerous; that, from the subject of the mission, compared with the fixed opinions and prejudices of those to whom the missionaries were to address themselves, they could hardly fail of encountering strong and frequent opposition; that, by the hand of government, as well as from the sudden fury and unbridled licence of the people, they would oftentimes experience injurious and cruel treatment; that, at any rate, they must have always had so much to fear for their personal safety, as to have passed their lives in a state of constant peril and anxiety; and lastly, that their mode of life and conduct, visibly at least, corresponded with the institution which they delivered, and, so far, was both new, and required continual self-denial. chapter ii. there is satisfactory evidence that many, professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. after thus considering what was likely to happen, we are next to inquire how the transaction is represented in the several accounts that have come down to us. and this inquiry is properly preceded by the other, forasmuch as the reception of these accounts may depend in part on the credibility of what they contain. the obscure and distant view of christianity, which some of the heathen writers of that age had gained, and which a few passage in their remaining works incidentally discover to us, offers itself to our notice in the first place: because, so far as this evidence goes, it is the concession of adversaries; the source from which it is drawn is unsuspected. under this head, a quotation from tacitus, well known to every scholar, must be inserted, as deserving particular attention. the reader will bear in mind that this passage was written about seventy years after christ's death, and that it relates to transactions which took place about thirty years after that event--speaking of the fire which happened at rome in the time of nero, and of the suspicions which were entertained that the emperor himself was concerned in causing it, the historian proceeds in his narrative and observations thus:-- "but neither these exertions, nor his largesses to the people, nor his offerings to the gods, did away the infamous imputation under which nero lay, of having ordered the city to be set on fire. to put an end, therefore, to this report, he laid the guilt, and inflicted the most cruel punishments, upon a set of people, who were holden in abhorrence for their crimes, and called by the vulgar, christians. the founder of that name was christ, who suffered death in the reign of tiberius, under his procurator, pontius pilate--this pernicious superstition, thus checked for a while, broke out again; and spread not only over judea, where the evil originated, but through rome also, whither everything bad upon the earth finds its way and is practised. some who confessed their sect were first seized, and afterwards, by their information, a vast multitude were apprehended, who were convicted, not so much of the crime of burning rome, as of hatred to mankind. their sufferings at their execution were aggravated by insult and mockery; for some were disguised in the skins of wild beasts, and worried to death by dogs; some were crucified; and others were wrapped in pitched shirts,* and set on fire when the day closed, that they might serve as lights to illuminate the night. nero lent his own gardens for these executions, and exhibited at the same time a mock circensian entertainment; being a spectator of the whole, in the dress of a charioteer, sometimes mingling with the crowd on foot, and sometimes viewing the spectacle from his car. this conduct made the sufferers pitied; and though they were criminals, and deserving the severest punishments, yet they were considered as sacrificed, not so much out of a regard to the public good, as to gratify the cruelty of one man." _________ * this is rather a paraphrase, but is justified by what the scholiast upon juvenal says; "nero maleficos homines taeda et papyro et cera supervestiebat, et sic ad ignem admoveri jubebat." lard. jewish and heath. test. vol. i. p. . _________ our concern with this passage at present is only so far as it affords a presumption in support of the proposition which we maintain, concerning the activity and sufferings of the first teachers of christianity. now, considered in this view, it proves three things: st, that the founder of the institution was put to death; dly, that in the same country in which he was put to death, the religion, after a short check, broke out again and spread; dly, that it so spread as that, within thirty-four years from the author's death, a very great number of christians (ingens eorum multitudo) were found at rome. from which fact, the two following inferences may be fairly drawn: first, that if, in the space of thirty-four years from its commencement, the religion had spread throughout judea, had extended itself to rome, and there had numbered a great multitude of converts, the original teachers and missionaries of the institution could not have been idle; secondly, that when the author of the undertaking was put to death as a malefactor for his attempt, the endeavours of his followers to establish his religion in the same country, amongst the same people, and in the same age, could not but be attended with danger. suetonius, a writer contemporary with tacitus, describing the transactions of the same reign, uses these words: "affecti suppliciis christiani genus hominum superstitionis novae et maleficae." (suet. nero. cap. ) "the christians, a set of men of a new and mischievous (or magical) superstition, were punished." since it is not mentioned here that the burning of the city was the pretence of the punishment of the christians, or that they were the christians of rome who alone suffered, it is probable that suetonius refers to some more general persecution than the short and occasional one which tacitus describes. juvenal, a writer of the same age with the two former, and intending, it should seem, to commemorate the cruelties exercised under nero's government, has the following lines: (sat. i. ver. ) "pone tigellinum, taeda lucebis in illa, qua stantes ardent, qui fixo gutture fumant, et latum media sulcum deducit arena" (forsan "deducis.") "describe tigellinus (a creature of nero), and you shall suffer the same punishment with those who stand burning in their own flame and smoke, their head being held up by a stake fixed to their chin, till they make a long stream of blood and melted sulphur on the ground." if this passage were considered by itself, the subject of allusion might be doubtful; but, when connected with the testimony of suetonius, as to the actual punishment of the christians by nero, and with the account given by tacitus of the species of punishment which they were made to undergo, i think it sufficiently probable that these were the executions to which the poet refers. these things, as has already been observed, took place within thirty-one years after christ's death, that is, according to the course of nature, in the life-time, probably, of some of the apostles, and certainly in the life-time of those who were converted by the apostles, or who were converted in their time. if then the founder of the religion was put to death in the execution of his design; if the first race of converts to the religion, many of them, suffered the greatest extremities for their profession; it is hardly credible, that those who came between the two, who were companions of the author of the institution during his life, and the teachers and propagators of the institution after his death, could go about their undertaking with ease and safety. the testimony of the younger pliny belongs to a later period; for, although he was contemporary with tacitus and suetonius, yet his account does not, like theirs, go back to the transactions of nero's reign, but is confined to the affairs of his own time. his celebrated letter to trajan was written about seventy years after christ's death; and the information to be drawn from it, so far as it is connected with our argument, relates principally to two points: first, to the number of christians in bithynia and pontus, which was so considerable as to induce the governor of these provinces to speak of them in the following terms: "multi, omnis aetatis, utriusque sexus etiam;--neque enim civitates tantum, sed vicos etiam et agros, superstitionis istius contagio pervagata est." "there are many of every age and of both sexes;--nor has the contagion of this superstition seized cities only, but smaller towns also, and the open country." great exertions must have been used by the preachers of christianity to produce this state of things within this time. secondly, to a point which has been already noticed, and, which i think of importance to be observed, namely, the sufferings to which christians were exposed, without any public persecution being denounced against them by sovereign authority. for, from pliny's doubt how he was to act, his silence concerning any subsisting law on the subject, his requesting the emperor's rescript, and the emperor, agreeably to his request, propounding a rule for his direction without reference to any prior rule, it may be inferred that there was, at that time, no public edict in force against the christians. yet from this same epistle of pliny it appears "that accusations, trials, and examinations, were, and had been, going on against them in the provinces over which he presided; that schedules were delivered by anonymous informers, containing the names of persons who were suspected of holding or of favouring the religion; that, in consequence of these informations, many had been apprehended, of whom some boldly avowed their profession, and died in the cause; others denied that they were christians; others, acknowledging that they had once been christians, declared that they had long ceased to be such." all which demonstrates that the profession of christianity was at that time (in that country at least) attended with fear and danger: and yet this took place without any edict from the roman sovereign, commanding or authorizing the persecution of christians. this observation is further confirmed by a rescript of adrian to minucius fundanus, the proconsul of asia (lard. heath. test. vol. ii. p. ): from which rescript it appears that the custom of the people of asia was to proceed against the christians with tumult and uproar. this disorderly practice, i say, is recognised in the edict, because the emperor enjoins, that, for the future, if the christians were guilty, they should be legally brought to trial, and not be pursued by importunity and clamour. martial wrote a few years before the younger pliny: and, as his manner was, made the suffering of the christians the subject of his ridicule. in matutina nuper spectatus arena mucius, imposuit qui sua membra focis, si patiens fortisque tibi durusque videtur, abderitanae pectora plebis habes; nam cum dicatur, tunica praesente molesta, ure* manum: plus est dicere, non facio. *forsan "thure manum." nothing, however, could show the notoriety of the fact with more certainty than this does. martial's testimony, as well indeed as pliny's, goes also to another point, viz, that the deaths of these men were martyrdom in the strictest sense, that is to say, were so voluntary, that it was in their power, at the time of pronouncing the sentence, to have averted the execution, by consenting to join in heathen sacrifices. the constancy, and by consequence the sufferings, of the christians of this period, is also referred to by epictetus, who imputes their intrepidity to madness, or to a kind of fashion or habit; and about fifty years afterwards, by marcus aurelius, who ascribes it to obstinacy. "is it possible (epictetus asks) that a man may arrive at this temper, and become indifferent to those things from madness or from habit, as the galileans?" "let this preparation of the mind (to die) arise from its own judgment, and not from obstinacy like the christians." (epict. i. iv. c. .) (marc. aur. med. . xi. c. .) chapter iii. there is satisfactory evidence that many, professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles, passed there lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. of the primitive condition of christianity, a distant only and general view can be acquired from heathen writers. it is in our own books that the detail and interior of the transaction must be sought for. and this is nothing different from what might be expected. who would write a history of christianity, but a christian? who was likely to record the travels, sufferings, labours, or successes of the apostles, but one of their own number, or of their followers? now these books come up in their accounts to the full extent of the proposition which we maintain. we have four histories of jesus christ. we have a history taking up the narrative from his death, and carrying on an account of the propagation of the religion, and of some of the most eminent persons engaged in it, for a space of nearly thirty years. we have, what some may think still more original, a collection of letters, written by certain principal agents in the business upon the business, and in the midst of their concern and connection with it. and we have these writings severally attesting the point which we contend for, viz. the sufferings of the witnesses of the history, and attesting it in every variety of form in which it can be conceived to appear: directly and indirectly, expressly and incidentally, by assertion, recital, and allusion, by narratives of facts, and by arguments and discourses built upon these facts, either referring to them, or necessarily presupposing them. i remark this variety, because, in examining ancient records, or indeed any species of testimony, it is, in my opinion, of the greatest importance to attend to the information or grounds of argument which are casually and undesignedly disclosed; forasmuch as this species of proof is, of all others, the least liable to be corrupted by fraud or misrepresentation. i may be allowed therefore, in the inquiry which is now before us, to suggest some conclusions of this sort, as preparatory to more direct testimony. . our books relate, that jesus christ, the founder of the religion, was, in consequence of his undertaking, put to death, as a malefactor, at jerusalem. this point at least will be granted, because it is no more than what tacitus has recorded. they then proceed to tell us that the religion was, notwithstanding, set forth at this same city of jerusalem, propagated thence throughout judea, and afterwards preached in other parts of the roman empire. these points also are fully confirmed by tacitus, who informs us that the religion, after a short check, broke out again in the country where it took its rise; that it not only spread throughout judea, but had reached rome, and that it had there great multitudes of converts: and all this within thirty years after its commencement. now these facts afford a strong inference in behalf of the proposition which we maintain. what could the disciples of christ expect for themselves when they saw their master put to death? could they hope to escape the dangers in which he had perished? if they had persecuted me, they will also persecute you, was the warning of common sense. with this example before their eyes, they could not be without a full sense of the peril of their future enterprise. . secondly, all the histories agree in representing christ as foretelling the persecution of his followers:-- "then shall they deliver you up to be afflicted, and shall kill you, and ye shall be hated of all nations for my name's sake." (matt. xxiv. .) "when affliction or persecution ariseth for the word's sake, immediately they are offended." (mark iv. . see also chap. x. .) "they shall lay hands on you, and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues, and into prisons, being brought before kings and rulers for my name's sake:--and ye shall be betrayed both by parents and brethren, and kinsfolks and friends, and some of you shall they cause to be put to death." (luke xxi. -- . see also chap. xi. .) "the time cometh, that he that killed you will think that he doeth god service. and these things will they do unto you, because they have not known the father, nor me. but these things have i told you, that when the time shall come, ye may remember that i told you of them." (john xvi. . see also chap. xv. ; xvi. .) i am not entitled to argue from these passages, that christ actually did foretell these events, and that they did accordingly come to pass; because that would be at once to assume the truth of the religion: but i am entitled to contend that one side or other of the following disjunction is true; either that the evangelists have delivered what christ really spoke, and that the event corresponded with the prediction; or that they put the prediction into christ's mouth, because at the time of writing the history, the event had turned out so to be: for, the only two remaining suppositions appear in the highest degree incredible; which are, either that christ filled the minds of his followers with fears and apprehensions, without any reason or authority for what he said, and contrary to the truth of the case; or that, although christ had never foretold any such thing, and the event would have contradicted him if he had, yet historians who lived in the age when the event was known, falsely, as well as officiously, ascribed these words to him. . thirdly, these books abound with exhortations to patience, and with topics of comfort under distress. "who shall separate us from the love of christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us." (rom. viii. - .) "we are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; always bearing about in the body the dying of the lord jesus, that the life also of jesus might be made manifest in our body;--knowing that he which raised up the lord jesus shall raise us up also by jesus, and shall present us with you---for which cause we faint not; but, though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. for our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." ( cor. iv. , , , , , .) "take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name of the lord, for an example of suffering affliction, and of patience. behold, we count them happy which endure. ye have heard of the patience of job, and have seen the end of the lord; that the lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy." (james v. , .) "call to remembrance the former days, in which, after ye were illuminated, ye endured a great fight of afflictions partly whilst ye were made a gazing-stock both by reproaches and afflictions, and partly whilst ye became companions of them that were so used; for ye had compassion of me in my bonds, and took joyfully the spoiling of your goods, knowing in yourselves that ye have in heaven a better and an enduring substance. cast not away, therefore, your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward; for ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of god, ye might receive the promise." (heb. x. - .) "so that we ourselves glory in you in the churches of god, for your patience and faith in all your persecutions and tribulations that ye endure. which is a manifest token of the righteous judgment of god, that ye may be counted worthy of the kingdom for which ye also suffer." ( thess. i. , .) "we rejoice in hope of the glory of god; and not only so, but we glory in tribulations also; knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope." (rom. v. , .) "beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you; but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of christ's sufferings.--wherefore let them that suffer according to the will of god commit the keeping of their souls to him in well doing, as unto a faithful creator." ( pet. iv. , , .) what could all these texts mean, if there was nothing in the circumstances of the times which required patience,--which called for the exercise of constancy and resolution? or will it be pretended, that these exhortations (which, let it be observed, come not from one author, but from many) were put in merely to induce a belief in after-ages, that the christians were exposed to dangers which they were not exposed to, or underwent sufferings which they did not undergo? if these books belong to the age to which they lay claim, and in which age, whether genuine or spurious, they certainly did appear, this supposition cannot be maintained for a moment; because i think it impossible to believe that passages, which must be deemed not only unintelligible, but false, by the persons into whose hands the books upon their publication were to come, should nevertheless be inserted, for the purpose of producing an effect upon remote generations. in forgeries which do not appear till many ages after that to which they pretend to belong, it is possible that some contrivance of that sort may take place; but in no others can it be attempted. chapter iv. there is satisfactory evidence that many professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. the account of the treatment of the religion, and of the exertions of its first preachers, as stated in our scriptures (not in a professed history of persecutions, or in the connected manner in which i am about to recite it, but dispersedly and occasionally, in the course of a mixed general history, which circumstance, alone negatives the supposition of any fraudulent design), is the following: "that the founder of christianity, from the commencement of his ministry to the time of his violent death, employed himself wholly in publishing the institution in judea and galilee; that, in order to assist him in this purpose, he made choice, out of the number of his followers, of twelve persons, who might accompany him as he travelled from place to place; that, except a short absence upon a journey in which he sent them two by two to announce his mission, and one of a few days, when they went before him to jerusalem, these persons were steadily and constantly attending upon him; that they were with him at jerusalem when he was apprehended and put to death; and that they were commissioned by him, when his own ministry was concluded, to publish his gospel, and collect disciples to it from all countries of the world." the account then proceeds to state, "that a few days after his departure, these persons, with some of his relations, and some who had regularly frequented their society, assembled at jerusalem; that, considering the office of preaching the religion as now devolved upon them, and one of their number having deserted the cause, and, repenting of his perfidy, having destroyed himself, they proceeded to elect another into his place, and that they were careful to make their election out of the number of those who had accompanied their master from the first to the last, in order, as they alleged, that he might be a witness, together with themselves, of the principal facts which they were about to produce and relate concerning him; ( acts i. , .) that they began their work at jerusalem by publicly asserting that this jesus, whom the rulers and inhabitants of that place had so lately crucified, was, in truth, the person in whom all their prophecies and long expectations terminated; that he had been sent amongst them by god; and that he was appointed by god the future judge of the human species; that all who were solicitous to secure to themselves happiness after death, ought to receive him as such, and to make profession of their belief, by being baptised in his name." (acts xi.) the history goes on to relate, "that considerable numbers accepted this proposal, and that they who did so formed amongst themselves a strict union and society; (acts iv. .) that the attention of the jewish government being soon drawn upon them, two of the principal persons of the twelve, and who also had lived most intimately and constantly with the founder of the religion, were seized as they were discoursing to the people in the temple; that after being kept all night in prison, they were brought the next day before an assembly composed of the chief persons of the jewish magistracy and priesthood; that this assembly, after some consultation, found nothing, at that time, better to be done towards suppressing the growth of the sect, than to threaten their prisoners with punishment if they persisted; that these men, after expressing, in decent but firm language, the obligation under which they considered themselves to be, to declare what they knew, 'to speak the things which they had seen and heard,' returned from the council, and reported what had passed to their companions; that this report, whilst it apprized them of the danger of their situation and undertaking, had no other effect upon their conduct than to produce in them a general resolution to persevere, and an earnest prayer to god to furnish them with assistance, and to inspire them with fortitude, proportioned to the increasing exigency of the service." ( acts iv.) a very short time after this, we read "that all the twelve apostles were seized and cast into prison; ( acts v. .) that, being brought a second time before the jewish sanhedrim, they were upbraided with their disobedience to the injunction which had been laid upon them, and beaten for their contumacy; that, being charged once more to desist, they were suffered to depart; that however they neither quitted jerusalem, nor ceased from preaching, both daily in the temple, and from house to house (acts v. .) and that the twelve considered themselves as so entirely and exclusively devoted to this office, that they now transferred what may be called the temporal affairs of the society to other hands."* _________ * i do not know that it has ever been insinuated that the christian mission, in the hands of the apostles, was a scheme for making a fortune, or for getting money. but it may nevertheless be fit to remark upon this passage of their history, how perfectly free they appear to have been from any pecuniary or interested views whatever. the most tempting opportunity which occurred of making gain of their converts, was by the custody and management of the public funds, when some of the richer members, intending to contribute their fortunes to the common support of the society, sold their possessions, and laid down the prices at the apostles' feet. yet, so insensible or undesirous were they of the advantage which that confidence afforded, that we find they very soon disposed of the trust, by putting it into the hands, not of nominees of their own, but of stewards formally elected for the purpose by the society at large. we may add also, that this excess of generosity, which cast private property into the public stock, was so far from being required by the apostles, or imposed as a law of christianity, that peter reminds ananias that he had been guilty, in his behaviour, of an officious and voluntary prevarication; "for whilst," says he, "thy estate remained unsold, was it not thine own? and after it was sold, was it not in thine own power?" _________ hitherto the preachers of the new religion seem to have had the common people on their side; which is assigned as the reason why the jewish rulers did not, at this time, think it prudent to proceed to greater extremities. it was not long, however, before the enemies of the institution found means to represent it to the people as tending to subvert their law, degrade their lawgiver, and dishonour their temple. (acts vi. .) and these insinuations were dispersed with so much success as to induce the people to join with their superiors in the stoning of a very active member of the new community. the death of this man was the signal of a general persecution, the activity of which may be judged of from one anecdote of the time:--"as for saul, he made havoc of the church, entering into every house, and taking men and women committed them to prison." (acts viii. .) this persecution raged at jerusalem with so much fury as to drive most of the new converts out of the place,* except the twelve apostles. the converts thus "scattered abroad," preached the religion wherever they came; and their preaching was, in effect, the preaching of the twelve; for it was so far carried on in concert and correspondence with them, that when they heard of the success of their emissaries in a particular country, they sent two of their number to the place, to complete and confirm the mission. _________ *acts viii. i. "and they were all scattered abroad;" but the term "all" is not, i think, to be taken strictly as denoting more than the generality; in like manner as in acts ix. : "and all that dwelt at lydda and saron saw him, and turned to the lord." _________ an event now took place, of great importance in the future history of the religion. the persecution which had begun at jerusalem followed the christians to other cities, ( acts ix.) in which the authority of the jewish sanhedrim over those of their own nation was allowed to be exercised. a young man, who had signalized himself by his hostility to the profession, and had procured a commission from the council at jerusalem to seize any converted jews whom he might find at damascus, suddenly became a proselyte to the religion which he was going about to extirpate. the new convert not only shared, on this extraordinary change, the fate of his companions, but brought upon himself a double measure of enmity from the party which he had left. the jews at damascus, on his return to that city, watched the gates night and day, with so much diligence, that he escaped from their hands only by being let down in a basket by the wall. nor did he find himself in greater safety at jerusalem, whither he immediately repaired. attempts were there also soon set on foot to destroy him; from the danger of which he was preserved by being sent away to cilicia, his native country. for some reason not mentioned, perhaps not known, but probably connected with the civil history of the jews, or with some danger* which engrossed the public attention, an intermission about this time took place in the sufferings of the christians. this happened, at the most, only seven or eight, perhaps only three or four years after christ's death, within which period, and notwithstanding that the late persecution occupied part of it, churches, or societies of believers, had been formed in all judea, galilee, and samaria; for we read that the churches in these countries "had now rest and were edified, and, walking in the fear of the lord, and in the comfort of the holy ghost, were multiplied." (acts ix .) the original preachers of the religion did not remit their labours or activity during this season of quietness; for we find one, and he a very principal person among them, passing throughout all quarters. we find also those who had been before expelled from jerusalem by the persecution which raged there, travelling as far as poenice, cyprus, and antioch; (acts xi. .) and lastly, we find jerusalem again in the centre of the mission, the place whither the preachers returned from their several excursions, where they reported the conduct and effects of their ministry, where questions of public concern were canvassed and settled, whence directions were sought, and teachers sent forth. _________ * dr. lardner (in which he is followed also by dr. benson) ascribes the cessation of the persecution of the christians to the attempt of caligula to set up his own statue in the temple of jerusalem, and to the consternation thereby excited in the minds of the jewish people; which consternation for a season superseded every other contest. _________ the time of this tranquillity did not, however, continue long. herod agrippa, who had lately acceded to the government of judea, "stretched forth his hand to vex certain of the church." (acts xii. .) he began his cruelty by beheading one of the twelve original apostles, a kinsman and constant companion of the founder of the religion. perceiving that this execution gratified the jews, he proceeded to seize, in order to put to death, another of the number,--and him, like the former, associated with christ during his life, and eminently active in the service since his death. this man was, however, delivered from prison, as the account states miraculously, (acts xii. -- .) and made his escape from jerusalem. these things are related, not in the general terms under which, in giving the outlines of the history, we have here mentioned them, but with the utmost particularity of names, persons, places, and circumstances; and, what is deserving of notice, without the smallest discoverable propensity in the historian, to magnify the fortitude, or exaggerate the sufferings, of his party. when they fled for their lives, he tells us. when the churches had rest, he remarks it. when the people took their part, he does not leave it without notice. when the apostles were carried a second time before the sanhedrim, he is careful to observe that they were brought without violence. when milder counsels were suggested, he gives us the author of the advice and the speech which contained it. when, in consequence of this advice, the rulers contented themselves with threatening the apostles, and commanding them to be beaten with stripes, without urging at that time the persecution further, the historian candidly and distinctly records their forbearance. when, therefore, in other instances, he states heavier persecutions, or actual martyrdoms, it is reasonable to believe that he states them because they were true, and not from any wish to aggravate, in his account, the sufferings which christians sustained, or to extol, more than it deserved, their patience under them. our history now pursues a narrower path. leaving the rest of the apostles, and the original associates of christ, engaged in the propagation of the new faith, (and who there is not the least reason to believe abated in their diligence or courage,) the narrative proceeds with the separate memoirs of that eminent teacher, whose extraordinary and sudden conversion to the religion, and corresponding change of conduct, had before been circumstantially described. this person, in conjunction with another, who appeared among the earlier members of the society at jerusalem, and amongst the immediate adherents of the twelve apostles, (acts iv. .) set out from antioch upon the express business of carrying the new religion through the various provinces of the lesser asia. (acts xiii. .) during this expedition, we find that in almost every place to which they came, their persons were insulted, and their lives endangered. after being expelled from antioch in pisidia, they repaired to iconium. (acts xiii. .) at iconium, an attempt was made to stone them; at lystra, whither they fled from iconium, one of them actually was stoned and drawn out of the city for dead. (acts xiv. .) these two men, though not themselves original apostles, were acting in connection and conjunction with the original apostles; for, after the completion of their journey, being sent on a particular commission to jerusalem, they there related to the apostles (acts xv. -- .) and elders the events and success of their ministry, and were in return recommended by them to the churches, "as men who had hazarded their lives in the cause." the treatment which they had experienced in the first progress did not deter them from preparing for a second. upon a dispute, however, arising between them, but not connected with the common subject of their labours, they acted as wise and sincere men would act; they did not retire in disgust from the service in which they were engaged, but, each devoting his endeavours to the advancement of the religion, they parted from one another, and set forward upon separate routes. the history goes along with one of them; and the second enterprise to him was attended with the same dangers and persecutions as both had met with in the first. the apostle's travels hitherto had been confined to asia. he now crosses for the first time the aegean sea, and carries with him, amongst others, the person whose accounts supply the information we are stating. (acts xvi. .) the first place in greece at which he appears to have stopped, was philippi in macedonia. here himself and one of his companions were cruelly whipped, cast into prison, and kept there under the most rigorous custody, being thrust, whilst yet smarting with their wounds, into the inner dungeon, and their feet made fast in the stocks. (acts xvi. , , .) notwithstanding this unequivocal specimen of the usage which they had to look for in that country, they went forward in the execution of their errand. after passing through amphipolis and apollonia, they came to thessalonica; in which city the house in which they lodged was assailed by a party of their enemies, in order to bring them out to the populace. and when, fortunately for their preservation, they were not found at home, the master of the house was dragged before the magistrate for admitting them within his doors. (acts xvii. -- .) their reception at the next city was something better: but neither had they continued long before their turbulent adversaries the jews, excited against them such commotions amongst the inhabitants as obliged the apostle to make his escape by a private journey to athens. (acts xvii. .) the extremity of the progress was corinth. his abode in this city, for some time, seems to have been without molestation. at length, however, the jews found means to stir up an insurrection against him, and to bring him before the tribunal of the roman president. (acts xviii. .) it was to the contempt which that magistrate entertained for the jews and their controversies, of which he accounted christianity to be one, that our apostle owed his deliverance. (acts xviii. .) this indefatigable teacher, after leaving corinth, returned by ephesus into syria; and again visited jerusalem, and the society of christians in that city, which, as hath been repeatedly observed, still continued the centre of the mission. (acts xviii. .) it suited not, however, with the activity of his zeal to remain long at jerusalem. we find him going thence to antioch, and, after some stay there, traversing once more the northern provinces of asia minor. (acts xviii. .) this progress ended at ephesus: in which city, the apostle continued in the daily exercise of his ministry two years, and until his success, at length, excited the apprehensions of those who were interested in the support of the national worship. their clamour produced a tumult, in which he had nearly lost his life. (acts xix. , , .) undismayed, however, by the dangers to which he saw himself exposed, he was driven from ephesus only to renew his labours in greece. after passing over macedonia, he thence proceeded to his former station at corinth. (acts xx. , .) when he had formed his design of returning by a direct course from corinth into syria, he was compelled by a conspiracy of the jews, who were prepared to intercept him on his way, to trace back his steps through macedonia to philippi, and thence to take shipping into asia. along the coast of asia, he pursued his voyage with all the expedition he could command, in order to reach jerusalem against the feast of pentecost. (acts xx. .) his reception at jerusalem was of a piece with the usage he had experienced from the jews in other places. he had been only a few days in that city, when the populace, instigated by some of his old opponents in asia, who attended this feast, seized him in the temple, forced him out of it, and were ready immediately to have destroyed him, had not the sudden presence of the roman guard rescued him out of their hands. (acts xxi. -- .) the officer, however, who had thus seasonably interposed, acted from his care of the public peace, with the preservation of which he was charged, and not from any favour to the apostle, or indeed any disposition to exercise either justice or humanity towards him; for he had no sooner secured his person in the fortress, than he was proceeding to examine him by torture. (acts xxii .) from this time to the conclusion of the history, the apostle remains in public custody of the roman government. after escaping assassination by a fortunate discovery of the plot, and delivering himself from the influence of his enemies by an appeal to the audience of the emperor, (acts xxv. , .) he was sent, but not until he had suffered two years' imprisonment, to rome. (acts xxiv. .) he reached italy after a tedious voyage, and after encountering in his passage the perils of a desperate shipwreck. (acts xxvii.) but although still a prisoner, and his fate still depending, neither the various and long-continued sufferings which he had undergone, nor the danger of his present situation, deterred him from persisting in preaching the religion: for the historian closes the account by telling us that, for two years, he received all that came unto him in his own hired house, where he was permitted to dwell with a soldier that guarded him, "preaching the kingdom of god, and teaching those things which concern the lord jesus christ, with all confidence." now the historian, from whom we have drawn this account, in the part of his narrative which relates to saint paul, is supported by the strongest corroborating testimony that a history can receive. we are in possession of letters written by saint paul himself upon the subject of his ministry, and either written during the period which the history comprises, or, if written afterwards, reciting and referring to the transactions of that period. these letters, without borrowing from the history, or the history from them, unintentionally confirm the account which the history delivers, in a great variety of particulars. what belongs to our present purpose is the description exhibited of the apostle's sufferings: and the representation, given in our history, of the dangers and distresses which he underwent not only agrees in general with the language which he himself uses whenever he speaks of his life or ministry, but is also, in many instances, attested by a specific correspondency of time, place, and order of events. if the historian put down in his narrative, that at philippi the apostle "was beaten with many stripes, cast into prison, and there treated with rigour and indignity;" (acts xvi. , .) we find him, in a letter to a neighbouring church, (i thess. ii. .) reminding his converts that, "after he had suffered before, and was shamefully entreated at philippi, he was bold, nevertheless, to speak unto them (to whose city he next came) the gospel of god." if the history relates that, (acts xvii. .) at thessalonica, the house in which the apostle was lodged, when he first came to that place, was assaulted by the populace, and the master of it dragged before the magistrate for admitting such a guest within his doors; the apostle, in his letter to the christians of thessalonica, calls to their remembrance "how they had received the gospel in much affliction." ( thess. i. .) if the history deliver an account of an insurrection at ephesus, which had nearly cost the apostle his life, we have the apostle himself, in a letter written a short time after his departure from that city, describing his despair, and returning thanks for his deliverance. (acts xix. cor. i. -- .) if the history inform us, that the apostle was expelled from antioch in pisidia, attempted to be stoned at iconium, and actually stoned at lystra; there is preserved a letter from him to a favourite convert, whom, as the same history tells us, he first met with in these parts; in which letter he appeals to that disciple's knowledge "of the persecutions which befell him at antioch, at iconium, at lystra." (acts xiii. ; xiv. , . tim. , .) if the history make the apostle, in his speech to the ephesian elders, remind them, as one proof of the disinterestedness of his views, that, to their knowledge, he had supplied his own and the necessities of his companions by personal labour; (acts xx. .) we find the same apostle, in a letter written during his residence at ephesus, asserting of himself, "that even to that hour he laboured, working with his own hands." ( cor. iv , .) these coincidences, together with many relative to other parts of the apostle's history, and all drawn from independent sources, not only confirm the truth of the account, in the particular points as to which they are observed, but add much to the credit of the narrative in all its parts; and support the author's profession of being a contemporary of the person whose history he writes, and, throughout a material portion of his narrative, a companion. what the epistles of the apostles declare of the suffering state of christianity the writings which remain of their companions and immediate followers expressly confirm. clement, who is honourably mentioned by saint paul in his epistle to the philippians, (philipp. iv. .) hath left us his attestation to this point, in the following words: "let us take (says he) the examples of our own age. through zeal and envy, the most faithful and righteous pillars of the church have been persecuted even to the most grievous deaths. let us set before our eyes the holy apostles. peter, by unjust envy, underwent not one or two, but many sufferings; till at last, being martyred, he went to the place of glory that was due unto him. for the same cause did paul, in like manner, receive the reward of his patience. seven times he was in bonds; he was whipped, was stoned; he preached both in the east and in the west, leaving behind him the glorious report of his faith; and so having taught the whole world righteousness, and for that end travelled even unto the utmost bounds of the west, he at last suffered martyrdom by the command of the governors, and departed out of the world, and went unto his holy place, being become a most eminent pattern of patience unto all ages. to these holy apostles were joined a very great number of others, who, having through envy undergone, in like manner, many pains and torments, have left a glorious example to us. for this, not only men, but women, have been persecuted; and, having suffered very grievous and cruel punishments, have finished the course of their faith with firmness." (clem. ad cor. c. v. vi. abp. wake's trans.) hermas, saluted by saint paul in his epistle to the romans, in a piece very little connected with historical recitals, thus speaks: "such as have believed and suffered death for the name of christ, and have endured with a ready mind, and have given up their lives with all their hearts." (shepherd of hermas, c. xxviii.) polycarp, the disciple of john (though all that remains of his works be a very short epistle), has not left this subject unnoticed. "i exhort (says he) all of you, that ye obey the word of righteousness, and exercise all patience, which ye have seen set forth before your eyes, not only in the blessed ignatius, and lorimus, and rufus, but in others among yourselves, and in paul himself and the rest of the apostles; being confident in this, that all these have not run in vain, but in faith and righteousness; and are gone to the place that was due to them from the lord, with whom also they suffered. for they loved not this present world, but him who died, and was raised again by god for us." (pol. ad phil c. ix.) ignatius, the contemporary of polycarp, recognises the same topic, briefly indeed, but positively and precisely. "for this cause, (i. e. having felt and handled christ's body at his resurrection, and being convinced, as ignatius expresses it, both by his flesh and spirit,) they (i. e. peter, and those who were present with peter at christ's appearance) despised death, and were found to be above it." ( . ep. smyr. c. iii.) would the reader know what a persecution in those days was, i would refer him to a circular letter, written by the church of smyrna soon after the death of polycarp, who it will be remembered, had lived with saint john; and which letter is entitled a relation of that bishop's martyrdom. "the sufferings (say they) of all the other martyrs were blessed and generous, which they underwent according to the will of god. for so it becomes us, who are more religious than others, to ascribe the power and ordering of all things unto him. and, indeed, who can choose but admire the greatness of their minds, and that admirable patience and love of their master, which then appeared in them? who, when they were so flayed with whipping that the frame and structure of their bodies were laid open to their very inward veins and arteries, nevertheless endured it. in like manner, those who were condemned to the beasts, and kept a long time in prison, underwent many cruel torments, being forced to lie upon sharp spikes laid under their bodies, and tormented with divers other sorts of punishments; that so, if it were possible, the tyrant, by the length of their sufferings, might have brought them to deny christ." (rel. mor. pol. c. ii.) chapter v. there is satisfactory evidence that many, professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. on the history, of which the last chapter contains an abstract, there are a few observations which it may be proper to make, by way of applying its testimony to the particular propositions for which we contend. i. although our scripture history leaves the general account of the apostles in an early part of the narrative, and proceeds with the separate account of one particular apostle, yet the information which it delivers so far extends to the rest, as it shows the nature of the service. when we see one apostle suffering persecution in the discharge of this commission, we shall not believe, without evidence, that the same office could, at the same time, be attended with ease and safety to others. and this fair and reasonable inference is confirmed by the direct attestation of the letters, to which we have so often referred. the writer of these letters not only alludes, in numerous passages, to his own sufferings, but speaks of the rest of the apostles as enduring like sufferings with himself. "i think that god hath set forth us the apostles last, as it were, appointed to death; for we are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men; even unto this present hour, we both hunger and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no certain dwelling-place; and labour, working with our own hands: being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we suffer it; being defamed, we entreat: we are made as the filth of the earth, and as the offscouring of all things unto this day." (i cor. iv. , et seq.) add to which, that in the short account that is given of the other apostles in the former part of the history, and within the short period which that account comprises, we find, first, two of them seized, imprisoned, brought before the sanhedrim, and threatened with further punishment; (acts iv. , .) then, the whole number imprisoned and beaten; (acts v. , .) soon afterwards, one of their adherents stoned to death, and so hot a persecution raised against the sect as to drive most of them out of the place; a short time only succeeding, before one of the twelve was beheaded, and another sentenced to the same fate; and all this passing in the single city of jerusalem, and within ten years after the founder's death, and the commencement of the institution. ii. we take no credit at present for the miraculous part of the narrative, nor do we insist upon the correctness of single passages of it. if the whole story be not a novel, a romance; the whole action a dream; if peter, and james, and paul, and the rest of the apostles mentioned in the account, be not all imaginary persons; if their letters be not all forgeries, and, what is more, forgeries of names and characters which never existed; then is there evidence in our hands sufficient to support the only fact we contend for (and which, i repeat again, is, in itself, highly probable), that the original followers of jesus christ exerted great endeavours to propagate his religion, and underwent great labours, dangers, and sufferings, in consequence of their undertaking. iii. the general reality of the apostolic history is strongly confirmed by the consideration, that it, in truth, does no more than assign adequate causes for effects which certainly were produced; and describe consequences naturally resulting from situations which certainly existed. the effects were certainly there, of which this history sets forth the cause, and origin, and progress. it is acknowledged on all hands, because it is recorded by other testimony than that of the christians themselves, that the religion began to prevail at that time, and in that country. it is very difficult to conceive how it could begin without the exertions of the founder and his followers, in propagating the new persuasion. the history now in our hands describes these exertions, the persons employed, the means and endeavours made use of, and the labours undertaken in the prosecution of this purpose. again, the treatment which the history represents the first propagators of the religion to have experienced was no other than what naturally resulted from the situation in which they were confessedly placed. it is admitted that the religion was adverse, in great degree, to the reigning opinions, and to the hopes and wishes of the nation to which it was first introduced; and that it overthrew, so far as it was received, the established theology and worship of every other country. we cannot feel much reluctance in believing that when the messengers of such a system went about not only publishing their opinions, but collecting proselytes, and forming regular societies of proselytes, they should meet with opposition in their attempts, or that this opposition should sometimes proceed to fatal extremities. our history details examples of this opposition, and of the sufferings and dangers which the emissaries of the religion underwent, perfectly agreeable to what might reasonably be expected, from the nature of their undertaking, compared with the character of the age and country in which it was carried on. iv. the records before us supply evidence of what formed another member of our general proposition, and what, as hath already been observed, is highly probable, and almost a necessary consequence of their new profession, viz., that, together with activity and courage in propagating the religion, the primitive followers of jesus assumed, upon their conversion, a new and peculiar course of private life. immediately after their master was withdrawn from them, we hear of their "continuing with one accord in prayer and supplication;" (acts i. .) of their "continuing daily with one accord in the temple" (acts ii. .) of "many being gathered together praying." (acts xii. .) we know that strict instructions were laid upon the converts by their teachers. wherever they came, the first word of their preaching was, "repent!" we know that these injunctions obliged them to refrain from many species of licentiousness, which were not, at that time, reputed criminal. we know the rules of purity, and the maxims of benevolence, which christians read in their books; concerning which rules it is enough to observe, that, if they were, i will not say completely obeyed, but in any degree regarded, they could produce a system of conduct, and, what is more difficult to preserve, a disposition of mind, and a regulation of affections, different from anything to which they had hitherto been accustomed, and different from what they would see in others. the change and distinction of manners, which resulted from their new character, is perpetually referred to in the letters of their teachers. "and you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins, wherein in times past ye walked, according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience; among whom also we all had our conversation in times past, in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh, and of the mind, and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others." (eph. ii - . see also tit. iii. .)--"for the time past of our life may suffice us to have wrought the will of the gentiles, when we walked in lasciviousness, lusts, excess of wine, revellings, banquetings, and abominable idolatries; wherein they think it strange that ye run not with them to the same excess of riot." ( pet. iv. , .) saint paul, in his first letter to the corinthians, after enumerating, as his manner was, a catalogue of vicious characters, adds, "such were some of you; but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified." ( cor. vi. .) in like manner, and alluding to the same change of practices and sentiments, he asked the roman christians, "what fruit they had in those things, whereof they are now ashamed?" (rom. vi. .) the phrases which the same writer employs to describe the moral condition of christians, compared with their condition before they became christians, such as "newness of life," being "freed from sin," being "dead to sin;" "the destruction of the body of sin, that, for the future, they should not serve sin;" "children of light and of the day," as opposed to "children of darkness and of the night;" "not sleeping as others;" imply, at least, a new system of obligation, and, probably, a new series of conduct, commencing with their conversion. the testimony which pliny bears to the behaviour of the new sect in his time, and which testimony comes not more than fifty years after that of st. paul, is very applicable to the subject under consideration. the character which this writer gives of the christians of that age, and which was drawn from a pretty accurate inquiry, because he considered their moral principles as the point in which the magistrate was interested, is as follows:--he tells the emperor, "that some of those who had relinquished the society, or who, to save themselves, pretended that they had relinquished it, affirmed that they were wont to meet together on a stated day, before it was light, and sang among themselves alternately a hymn to christ as a god; and to bind themselves by an oath, not to the commission of any wickedness, but that they would not be guilty of theft, or robbery, or adultery; that they would never falsify their word, or deny a pledge committed to them, when called upon to return it." this proves that a morality, more pure and strict than was ordinary, prevailed at that time in christian societies. and to me it appears, that we are authorised to carry his testimony back to the age of the apostles; because it is not probable that the immediate hearers and disciples of christ were more relaxed than their successors in pliny's time, or the missionaries of the religion than those whom they taught. chapter vi. there is satisfactory evidence that many professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. when we consider, first, the prevalency of the religion at this hour; secondly, the only credible account which can be given of its origin, viz. the activity of the founder and his associates; thirdly, the opposition which that activity must naturally have excited; fourthly, the fate of the founder of the religion, attested by heathen writers, as well as our own; fifthly, the testimony of the same writers to the sufferings of christians, either contemporary with, or immediately succeeding, the original settlers of the institution; sixthly, predictions of the suffering of his followers ascribed to the founder of the religion, which ascription alone proves, either that such predictions were delivered and fulfilled, or that the writers of christ's life were induced by the event to attribute such predictions to him; seventhly, letters now in our possession, written by some of the principal agents in the transaction, referring expressly to extreme labours, dangers, and sufferings, sustained by themselves and their companions; lastly, a history purporting to be written by a fellow-traveller of one of the new teachers, and, by its unsophisticated correspondency with letters of that person still extant, proving itself to be written by some one well acquainted with the subject of the narrative, which history contains accounts of travels, persecutions, and martyrdoms, answering to what the former reasons lead us to expect: when we lay together these considerations, which taken separately are, i think correctly such as i have stated them in the preceding chapters, there cannot much doubt remain upon our minds but that a number of persons at that time appeared in the world, publicly advancing an extraordinary story, and for the sake of propagating the belief of that story, voluntarily incurring great personal dangers, traversing seas and kingdoms, exerting great industry, and sustaining great extremities of ill usage and persecution. it is also proved that the same persons, in consequence of their persuasion, or pretended persuasion, of the truth of what they asserted, entered upon a course of life in many respects new and singular. from the clear and acknowledged parts of the case, i think it to be likewise in the highest degree probable, that the story for which these persons voluntarily exposed themselves to the fatigues and hardships which they endured was a miraculous story; i mean, that they pretended to miraculous evidence of some kind or other. they had nothing else to stand upon. the designation of the person, that is to say, that jesus of nazareth, rather than any other person, was the messiah, and as such the subject of their ministry, could only be founded upon supernatural tokens attributed to him. here were no victories, no conquests, no revolutions, no surprising elevation of fortune, no achievements of valour, of strength, or of policy, to appeal to; no discoveries in any art or science, no great efforts of genius or learning to produce. a galilean peasant was announced to the world as a divine lawgiver. a young man of mean condition, of a private and simple life, and who had wrought no deliverance for the jewish nation, was declared to be their messiah. this, without ascribing to him at the same time some proofs of his mission, (and what other but supernatural proofs could there be?) was too absurd a claim to be either imagined, or attempted, or credited. in whatever degree, or in whatever part, the religion was argumentative, when it came to the question, "is the carpenter's son of nazareth the person whom we are to receive and obey?" there was nothing but the miracles attributed to him by which his pretensions could be maintained for a moment. every controversy and every question must presuppose these: for, however such controversies, when they did arise, might and naturally would, be discussed upon their own grounds of argumentation, without citing the miraculous evidence which had been asserted to attend the founder of the religion (which would have been to enter upon another, and a more general question), yet we are to bear in mind, that without previously supposing the existence or the pretence of such evidence, there could have been no place for the discussion of the argument at all. thus, for example, whether the prophecies, which the jews interpreted to belong to the messiah, were or were not applicable to the history of jesus of nazareth, was a natural subject of debate in those times; and the debate would proceed without recurring at every turn to his miracles, because it set out with supposing these; inasmuch as without miraculous marks and tokens (real or pretended), or without some such great change effected by his means in the public condition of the country, as might have satisfied the then received interpretation of these prophecies, i do not see how the question could ever have been entertained. apollos, we read, "mightily convinced the jews, showing by the scriptures that jesus was christ;" (acts xviii. .) but unless jesus had exhibited some distinction of his person, some proof of supernatural power, the argument from the old scriptures could have had no place. it had nothing to attach upon. a young man calling himself the son of god, gathering a crowd about him, and delivering to them lectures of morality, could not have excited so much as a doubt among the jews, whether he was the object in whom a long series of ancient prophecies terminated, from the completion of which they had formed such magnificent expectations, and expectations of a nature so opposite to what appeared; i mean no such doubt could exist when they had the whole case before them, when they saw him put to death for his officiousness, and when by his death the evidence concerning him was closed. again, the effect of the messiah's coming, supposing jesus to have been he, upon jews, upon gentiles, upon their relation to each other, upon their acceptance with god, upon their duties and their expectations; his nature, authority, office, and agency; were likely to become subjects of much consideration with the early votaries of the religion, and to occupy their attention and writings. i should not however expect, that in these disquisitions, whether preserved in the form of letters, speeches, or set treatises, frequent or very direct mention of his miracles would occur. still, miraculous evidence lay at the bottom of the argument. in the primary question, miraculous pretensions and miraculous pretensions alone, were what they had to rely upon. that the original story was miraculous, is very fairly also inferred from the miraculous powers which were laid claim to by the christians of succeeding ages. if the accounts of these miracles be true, it was a continuation of the same powers; if they be false, it was an imitation, i will not say of what had been wrought, but of what had been reported to have been wrought, by those who preceded them. that imitation should follow reality, fiction should be grafted upon truth; that, if miracles were performed at first, miracles should be pretended afterwards; agrees so well with the ordinary course of human affairs, that we can have no great difficulty in believing it. the contrary supposition is very improbable, namely, that miracles should be pretended to by the followers of the apostles and first emissaries of the religion, when none were pretended to, either in their own persons or that of their master, by these apostles and emissaries themselves. chapter vii. there is satisfactory evidence that many, professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. it being then once proved, that the first propagators of the christian institution did exert activity, and subject themselves to great dangers and sufferings, in consequence and for the sake of an extraordinary and, i think, we may say, of a miraculous story of some kind or other; the next great question is, whether the account, which our scriptures contain, be that story; that which these men delivered, and for which they acted and suffered as they did? this question is, in effect, no other than whether the story which christians have now be the story which christians had then? and of this the following proofs may be deduced from general considerations, and from considerations prior to any inquiry into the particular reasons and testimonies by which the authority of our histories is supported. in the first place, there exists no trace or vestige of any other story. it is not, like the death of cyrus the great, a competition between opposite accounts, or between the credit of different historians. there is not a document, or scrap of account, either contemporary with the commencement of christianity, or extant within many ages afar that commencement, which assigns a history substantially different from ours. the remote, brief, and incidental notices of the affair which are found in heathen writers, so far as they do go, go along with us. they bear testimony to these facts--that the institution originated from jesus; that the founder was put to death, as a malefactor, at jerusalem, by the authority of the roman governor, pontius pilate; that the religion nevertheless spread in that city, and throughout judea; and that it was propagated thence to distant countries; that the converts were numerous; that they suffered great hardships and injuries for their profession; and that all this took place in the age of the world which our books have assigned. they go on, further, to describe the manners of christians in terms perfectly conformable to the accounts extant in our books; that they were wont to assemble on a certain day; that they sang hymns to christ as to a god; that they bound themselves by an oath not to commit any crime, but to abstain from theft and adultery, to adhere strictly to their promises, and not to deny money deposited in their hands;* that they worshipped him who was crucified in palestine; that this their first lawgiver had taught them that they were all brethren; that they had a great contempt for the things of this world, and looked upon them as common; that they flew to one another's relief; that they cherished strong hopes of immortality; that they despised death, and surrendered themselves to sufferings.+ _________ * see pliny's letter--bonnet, in his lively way of expressing himself, says,--"comparing pliny's letter with the account of the acts, it seems to me that i had not taken up another author, but that i was still reading the historian of that extraordinary society." this is strong; but there is undoubtedly an affinity, and all the affinity that could be expected. + "it is incredible, what expedition they use when any of their friends are known to be in trouble. in a word, they spare nothing upon such an occasion;--for these miserable men have no doubt they shall be immortal and live for ever; therefore they contemn death, and many surrender themselves to sufferings. moreover, their first lawgiver has taught them that they are all brethren, when once they have turned and renounced the gods of the greeks, and worship this master of theirs who was crucified, and engage to live according to his laws. they have also a sovereign contempt for all the things of this world, and look upon them as common." lucian, de morte peregrini, t. i. p. , ed. graev. _________ this is the account of writers who viewed the subject at a great distance; who were uninformed and uninterested about it. it bears the characters of such an account upon the face of it, because it describes effects, namely the appearance in the world of a new religion, and the conversion of great multitudes to it, without descending, in the smallest degree, to the detail of the transaction upon which it was founded, the interior of the institution, the evidence or arguments offered by those who drew over others to it. yet still here is no contradiction of our story; no other or different story set up against it: but so far a confirmation of it as that, in the general points on which the heathen account touches, it agrees with that which we find in our own books. the same may be observed of the very few jewish writers of that and the adjoining period, which have come down to us. whatever they omit, or whatever difficulties we may find in explaining the omission, they advance no other history of the transaction than that which we acknowledge. josephus, who wrote his antiquities, or history of the jews, about sixty years after the commencement of christianity, in a passage generally admitted as genuine, makes mention of john under the name of john the baptist; that he was a preacher of virtue; that he baptized his proselytes; that he was well received by the people; that he was imprisoned and put to death by herod; and that herod lived in a criminal cohabitation with herodias, his brother's wife. (antiq. i. xviii. cap. v. sect. , .) in another passage allowed by many, although not without considerable question being moved about it, we hear of "james, the brother of him who was called jesus, and of his being put to death." (antiq. i. xx. cap. ix. sect. .) in a third passage, extant in every copy that remains of josephus's history, but the authenticity of which has nevertheless been long disputed, we have an explicit testimony to the substance of our history in these words:--"at that time lived jesus, a wise man, if he may be called a man, for he performed many wonderful works. he was a teacher of such men as received the truth with pleasure. he drew over to him many jews and gentiles. this was the christ; and when pilate, at the instigation of the chief men among us had condemned him to the cross, they who before had conceived an affection for him did not cease to adhere to him; for, on the third day, he appeared to them alive again, the divine prophets having foretold these and many wonderful things concerning him. and the sect of the christians, so called from him, subsists to this time." (antiq. i. xviii. cap. iii. sect .) whatever become of the controversy concerning the genuineness of this passage; whether josephus go the whole length of our history, which, if the passage be sincere, he does; or whether he proceed only a very little way with us, which, if the passage be rejected, we confess to be the case; still what we asserted is true, that he gives no other or different history of the subject from ours, no other or different account of the origin of the institution. and i think also that it may with great reason be contended, either that the passage is genuine, or that the silence of josephus was designed. for, although we should lay aside the authority of our own books entirely, yet when tacitus, who wrote not twenty, perhaps not ten, years after josephus, in his account of a period in which josephus was nearly thirty years of age, tells us, that a vast multitude of christians were condemned at rome; that they derived their denomination from christ, who, in the reign of tiberius, was put to death, as a criminal, by the procurator, pontius pilate; that the superstition had spread not only over judea, the source of the evil but it had reached rome also:--when suetonius, an historian contemporary with tacitus, relates that, in the time of claudius, the jews were making disturbances at rome, christus being their leader: and that, during the reign of nero, the christians were punished; under both which emperors josephus lived: when pliny, who wrote his celebrated epistle not more than thirty years after the publication of josephus's history, found the christians in such numbers in the province of bithynia as to draw from him a complaint that the contagion had seized cities, towns, and villages, and had so seized them as to produce a general desertion of the public rites; and when, as has already been observed, there is no reason for imagining that the christians were more numerous in bithynia than in many other parts of the roman empire; it cannot, i should suppose, after this, be believed, that the religion, and the transaction upon which it was founded, were too obscure to engage the attention of josephus, or to obtain a place in his history. perhaps he did not know how to represent the business, and disposed of his difficulties by passing it over in silence. eusebius wrote the life of constantine, yet omits entirely the most remarkable circumstance in that life, the death of his son crispus; undoubtedly for the reason here given. the reserve of josephus upon the subject of christianity appears also in his passing over the banishment of the jews by claudius, which suetonius, we have seen, has recorded with an express reference to christ. this is at least as remarkable as his silence about the infants of bethlehem.* be, however, the fact, or the cause of the omission in josephus,+ what it may, no other or different history on the subject has been given by him, or is pretended to have been given. _________ * michaelis has computed, and, as it should seem, fairly enough; that probably not more than twenty children perished by this cruel precaution. michaelis's introduction to the new testament, translated by marsh; vol. i. c. ii. sect. . + there is no notice taken of christianity in the mishna, a collection of jewish traditions compiled about the year ; although it contains a tract "de cultu peregrino," of strange or idolatrous worship; yet it cannot be disputed but that christianity was perfectly well known in the world at this time. there is extremely little notice of the subject in the jerusalem talmud, compiled about the year , and not much more in the babylonish talmud, of the year ; although both these works are of a religions nature, and although, when the first was compiled, christianity was on the point of becoming the religion of the state, and, when the latter was published, had been so for years. _________ but further; the whole series of christian writers, from the first age of the institution down to the present, in their discussions, apologies, arguments, and controversies, proceed upon the general story which our scriptures contain, and upon no other. the main facts, the principal agents, are alike in all. this argument will appear to be of great force, when it is known that we are able to trace back the series of writers to a contact with the historical books of the new testament, and to the age of the first emissaries of the religion, and to deduce it, by an unbroken continuation, from that end of the train to the present. the remaining letters of the apostles, (and what more original than their letters can we have?) though written without the remotest design of transmitting the history of christ, or of christianity, to future ages, or even of making it known to their contemporaries, incidentally disclose to us the following circumstances:--christ's descent and family; his innocence; the meekness and gentleness of his character (a recognition which goes to the whole gospel history); his exalted nature; his circumcision; his transfiguration; his life of opposition and suffering; his patience and resignation; the appointment of the eucharist, and the manner of it; his agony; his confession before pontius pilate; his stripes, crucifixion, and burial; his resurrection; his appearance after it, first to peter, then to the rest of the apostles; his ascension into heaven; and his designation to be the future judge of mankind; the stated residence of the apostles at jerusalem; the working of miracles by the first preachers of the gospel, who were also the hearers of christ;* the successful propagation of the religion; the persecution of its followers; the miraculous conversion of paul; miracles wrought by himself, and alleged in his controversies with his adversaries, and in letters to the persons amongst whom they were wrought; finally, that miracles were the signs of an apostle.+ _________ * heb. ii. . "how shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation, which, at the first, began to be spoken by the lord, and was confirmed unto us by them that heard him, god also be bearing them witness, both with signs and wonders, and with divers miracles, and gifts of the holy ghost?" i allege this epistle without hesitation; for, whatever doubts may have been raised about its author, there can be none concerning the age in which it was written. no epistle in the collection carries about it more indubitable marks of antiquity than this does. it speaks for instance, throughout, of the temple as then standing and of the worship of the temple as then subsisting.--heb. viii. : "for, if he were on earth, he should not be a priest, seeing there are priests that offer according to the law."--again, heb. xiii. : "we have an altar whereof they have no right to eat which serve the tabernacle." + truly the signs of as apostle were wraught among you in all patience, in signs, and wonders, and mighty deeds.' cor. xii. . _________ in an epistle bearing the name of barnabas, the companion of paul, probably genuine, certainly belonging to that age, we have the sufferings of christ, his choice of apostles and their number, his passion, the scarlet robe, the vinegar and gall, the mocking and piercing, the casting lots for his coat, (ep. bar. c. vii.) his resurrection on the eighth, (i. e. the first day of the week,[ep. bar. c. vi.]) and the commemorative distinction of that day, his manifestation after his resurrection, and, lastly, his ascension. we have also his miracles generally but positively referred to in the following words:--"finally, teaching the people of israel, and doing many wonders and signs among them, he preached to them, and showed the exceeding great love which he bare towards them." (ep. bar. c. v.) in an epistle of clement, a hearer of st. paul, although written for a purpose remotely connected with the christian history, we have the resurrection of christ, and the subsequent mission of the apostles, recorded in these satisfactory terms: "the apostles have preached to us from our lord jesus christ from god:--for, having received their command, and being thoroughly assured by the resurrection of our lord jesus christ, they went abroad, publishing that the kingdom of god was at hand." (ep. clem. rom. c. xlii.) we find noticed, also, the humility, yet the power of christ, (ep. clem. rom. c. xvi.) his descent from abraham--his crucifixion. we have peter and paul represented as faithful and righteous pillars of the church; the numerous sufferings of peter; the bonds, stripes, and stoning of paul, and more particularly his extensive and unwearied travels. in an epistle of polycarp, a disciple of st. john, though only a brief hortatory letter, we have the humility, patience, sufferings, resurrection, and ascension of christ, together with the apostolic character of st. paul, distinctly recognised. (pol. ep. ad phil. c. v. viii. ii. iii.) of this same father we are also assured, by irenaeus, that he (irenaeus) had heard him relate, "what he had received from eye-witnesses concerning the lord, both concerning his miracles and his doctrine." (ir. ad flor. ap. euseb. l. v. c. .) in the remaining works of ignatius, the contemporary of polycarp, larger than those of polycarp, (yet, like those of polycarp, treating of subjects in nowise leading to any recital of the christian history,) the occasional allusions are proportionably more numerous. the descent of christ from david, his mother mary, his miraculous conception, the star at his birth, his baptism by john, the reason assigned for it, his appeal to the prophets, the ointment poured on his head, his sufferings under pontius pilate and herod the tetrarch, his resurrection, the lord's day called and kept in commemoration of it, and the eucharist, in both its parts,--are unequivocally referred to. upon the resurrection, this writer is even circumstantial. he mentions the apostles' eating and drinking with christ after he had risen, their feeling and their handling him; from which last circumstance ignatius raises this just reflection;--"they believed, being convinced both by his flesh and spirit; for this cause, they despised death, and were found to be above it." (ad smyr. c. iii.) quadratus, of the same age with ignatius, has left us the following noble testimony:--"the works of our saviour were always conspicuous, for they were real; both those that were healed, and those that were raised from the dead; who were seen not only when they were healed or raised, but for a long time afterwards; not only whilst he dwelled on this earth, but also after his departure, and for a good while after it, insomuch that some of them have reached to our times." (ap. euseb. h. e. l. iv. c. .) justin martyr came little more than thirty years after quadratus. from justin's works, which are still extant, might be collected a tolerably complete account of christ's life, in all points agreeing with that which is delivered in our scriptures; taken indeed, in a great measure, from those scriptures, but still proving that this account, and no other, was the account known and extant in that age. the miracles in particular, which form the part of christ's history most material to be traced, stand fully and distinctly recognised in the following passage:--"he healed those who had been blind, and deaf, and lame from their birth; causing, by his word, one to leap, another to hear, and a third to see: and, by raising the dead, and making them to live, he induced, by his works, the men of that age to know him." (just. dial. cum tryph. p. , ed. thirl.) it is unnecessary to carry these citations lower, because the history, after this time, occurs in ancient christian writings as familiarly as it is wont to do in modern sermons;--occurs always the same in substance, and always that which our evangelists represent. this is not only true of those writings of christians which are genuine, and of acknowledged authority; but it is, in a great measure, true of all their ancient writings which remain; although some of these may have been erroneously ascribed to authors to whom they did not belong, or may contain false accounts, or may appear to be undeserving of credit, or never indeed to have obtained any. whatever fables they have mixed with the narrative, they preserve the material parts, the leading facts, as we have them; and, so far as they do this, although they be evidence of nothing else, they are evidence that these points were fixed, were received and acknowledged by all christians in the ages in which the books were written. at least, it may be asserted, that, in the places where we were most likely to meet with such things, if such things had existed, no reliques appear of any story substantially different from the present, as the cause, or as the pretence, of the institution. now that the original story, the story delivered by the first preachers of the institution, should have died away so entirely as to have left no record or memorial of its existence, although so many records and memorials of the time and transaction remain; and that another story should have stepped into its place, and gained exclusive possession of the belief of all who professed, themselves disciples of the institution, is beyond any example of the corruption of even oral tradition, and still less consistent with the experience of written history: and this improbability, which is very great, is rendered still greater by the reflection, that no such change as the oblivion of one story, and the substitution of another, took place in any future period of the christian aera. christianity hath travelled through dark and turbulent ages; nevertheless it came out of the cloud and the storm, such, in substance, as it entered in. many additions were made to the primitive history, and these entitled to different degrees of credit; many doctrinal errors also were from time to time grafted into the public creed; but still the original story remained, and remained the same. in all its principal parts, it has been fixed from the beginning. thirdly: the religious rites and usages that prevailed amongst the early disciples of christianity were such as belonged to, and sprung out of, the narrative now in our hands; which accordancy shows, that it was the narrative upon which these persons acted, and which they had received from their teachers. our account makes the founder of the religion direct that his disciples should be baptized: we know that the first christians were baptized, our account makes him direct that they should hold religious assemblies: we find that they did hold religious assemblies. our accounts make the apostles assemble upon a stated day of the week: we find, and that from information perfectly independent of our accounts, that the christians of the first century did observe stated days of assembling. our histories record the institution of the rite which we call the lord's supper, and a command to repeat it in perpetual succession: we find, amongst the early christians, the celebration of this rite universal. and, indeed, we find concurring in all the above-mentioned observances, christian societies of many different nations and languages, removed from one another by a great distance of place and dissimilitude of situation. it is also extremely material to remark, that there is no room for insinuating that our books were fabricated with a studious accommodation to the usages which obtained at the time they were written; that the authors of the books found the usages established, and framed the story to account for their original. the scripture accounts, especially of the lord's supper, are too short and cursory, not to say too obscure, and in this view, deficient, to allow a place for any such suspicion.* _________ * the reader who is conversant in these researches, by comparing the short scripture accounts of the christian rites above-mentioned with the minute and circumstantial directions contained in the pretended apostolical constitutions, will see the force of this observation; the difference between truth and forgery. _________ amongst the proofs of the truth of our proposition, viz. that the story which we have now is, in substance, the story which the christians had then, or, in other words, that the accounts in our gospels are, as to their principal parts, at least, the accounts which the apostles and original teachers of the religion delivered, one arises from observing, that it appears by the gospels themselves that the story was public at the time; that the christian community was already in possession of the substance and principal parts of the narrative. the gospels were not the original cause of the christian history being believed, but were themselves among the consequences of that belief. this is expressly affirmed by saint luke, in his brief, but, as i think, very important and instructive preface:--"forasmuch (says the evangelist) as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration of those things which are most surely believed amongst us, even as they delivered them unto us, which, from the beginning, were eye-witnesses and ministers of the word; it seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write unto thee in order, most excellent theophilus, that thou mightest know the certainty of those things wherein thou hast been instructed."--this short introduction testifies, that the substance of the history which the evangelist was about to write was already believed by christians; that it was believed upon the declarations of eye-witnesses and ministers of the word; that it formed the account of their religion in which christians were instructed; that the office which the historian proposed to himself was to trace each particular to its origin, and to fix the certainty of many things which the reader had before heard of. in saint john's gospel the same point appears hence, that there are some principal facts to which the historian refers, but which he does not relate. a remarkable instance of this kind is the ascension, which is not mentioned by st. john in its place, at the conclusion of his history, but which is plainly referred to in the following words of the sixth chapter; "what and if ye shall see the son of man ascend up where he was before?" (also john iii. ; and xvi. .) and still more positively in the words which christ, according to our evangelist, spoke to mary after his resurrection, "touch me not, for i am not yet ascended to my father: but go unto my brethren, and say unto them, i ascend unto my father and your father, unto my god and your god." (john xx. .) this can only be accounted for by the supposition that st. john wrote under a sense of the notoriety of christ's ascension, among those by whom his book was likely to be read. the same account must also be given of saint matthew's omission of the same important fact. the thing was very well known, and it did not occur to the historian that it was necessary to add any particulars concerning it. it agrees also with this solution, and with no other, that neither matthew nor john disposes of the person of our lord in any manner whatever. other intimations in st. john's gospel of the then general notoriety of the story are the following: his manner of introducing his narrative (ch. i. ver. .)--"john bare witness of him, and cried, saying" evidently presupposes that his readers knew who john was. his rapid parenthetical reference to john's imprisonment, "for john was not yet cast into prison," (john iii, .) could only come from a writer whose mind was in the habit of considering john's imprisonment as perfectly notorious. the description of andrew by the addition "simon peter's brother," (john i. .) takes it for granted, that simon peter was well known. his name had not been mentioned before. the evangelist's noticing the prevailing misconstruction of a discourse, (john xxi. .) which christ held with the beloved disciple, proves that the characters and the discourse were already public. and the observation which these instances afford is of equal validity for the purpose of the present argument, whoever were the authors of the histories. these four circumstances:--first, the recognition of the account in its principal parts by a series of succeeding writers; secondly, the total absence of any account of the origin of the religion substantially different from ours; thirdly, the early and extensive prevalence of rites and institutions, which resulted from our account; fourthly, our account bearing in its construction proof that it is an account of facts which were known and believed at the time, are sufficient, i conceive, to support an assurance, that the story which we have now is, in general, the story which christians had at the beginning. i say in general; by which term i mean, that it is the same in its texture, and in its principal facts. for instance, i make no doubt, for the reasons above stated, but that the resurrection of the founder of the religion was always a part of the christian story. nor can a doubt of this remain upon the mind of any one who reflects that the resurrection is, in some form or other, asserted, referred to, or assumed, in every christian writing, of every description which hath come down to us. and if our evidence stopped here, we should have a strong case to offer: for we should have to allege, that in the reign of tiberius caesar, a certain number of persons set about an attempt of establishing a new religion in the world: in the prosecution of which purpose, they voluntarily encountered great dangers, undertook great labours, sustained great sufferings, all for a miraculous story, which they published wherever they came; and that the resurrection of a dead man, whom during his life they had followed and accompanied, was a constant part of this story. i know nothing in the above statement which can, with any appearance of reason, be disputed; and i know nothing, in the history of the human species, similar to it. chapter viii. there is satisfactory evidence that many, professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. that the story which we have now is, in the main, the story which the apostles published, is, i think, nearly certain, from the considerations which have been proposed. but whether, when we come to the particulars, and the detail of the narrative, the historical books of the new testament be deserving of credit as histories, so that a fact ought to be accounted true, because it is found in them; or whether they are entitled to be considered as representing the accounts which, true or false, the apostles published; whether their authority, in either of these views, can be trusted to, is a point which necessarily depends upon what we know of the books, and of their authors. now, in treating of this part of our argument, the first and most material observation upon the subject is, that such was the situation of the authors to whom the four gospels are ascribed, that, if any one of the four be genuine, it is sufficient for our purpose. the received author of the first was an original apostle and emissary of the religion. the received author of the second was an inhabitant of jerusalem, at the time, to whose house the apostles were wont to resort, and himself an attendant upon one of the most eminent of that number. the received author of the third was a stated companion and fellow-traveller of the most active of all the teachers of the religion, and, in the course of his travels, frequently in the society of the original apostles. the received author of the fourth, as well as of the first, was one of these apostles. no stronger evidence of the truth of a history can arise from the situation of the historian than what is here offered. the authors of all the histories lived at the time and upon the spot. the authors of two of the histories were present at many of the scenes which they describe; eye-witnesses of the facts, ear-witnesses of the discourses; writing from personal knowledge and recollection; and, what strengthens their testimony, writing upon a subject in which their minds were deeply engaged, and in which, as they must have been very frequently repeating the accounts to others, the passages of the history would be kept continually alive in their memory. whoever reads the gospels (and they ought to be read for this particular purpose) will find in them not merely a general affirmation of miraculous powers, but detailed circumstantial accounts of miracles, with specifications of time, place, and persons; and these accounts many and various. in the gospels, therefore, which bear the names of matthew and john, these narratives, if they really proceeded from these men, must either be true as far as the fidelity of human recollection is usually to be depended upon, that is, must be true in substance and in their principal parts, (which is sufficient for the purpose of proving a supernatural agency,) or they must be wilful and mediated falsehoods. yet the writers who fabricated and uttered these falsehoods, if they be such, are of the number of those who, unless the whole contexture of the christian story be a dream, sacrificed their ease and safety in the cause, and for a purpose the most inconsistent that is possible with dishonest intentions. they were villains for no end but to teach honesty, and martyrs without the least prospect of honour or advantage. the gospels which bear the names of mark and luke, although not the narratives of eye-witnesses, are, if genuine, removed from that only by one degree. they are the narratives of contemporary writers, or writers themselves mixing with the business; one of the two probably living in the place which was the principal scene of action; both living in habits of society and correspondence with those who had been present at the transactions which they relate. the latter of them accordingly tells us (and with apparent sincerity, because he tells it without pretending to personal knowledge, and without claiming for his work greater authority than belonged to it) that the things which were believed amount christians came from those who from the beginning were eye-witnesses and ministers of the word; that he had traced accounts up to their source; and that he was prepared to instruct his reader in the certainty of the things which he related.* very few histories lie so close to their facts; very few historians are so nearly connected with the subject of their narrative, or possess such means of authentic information, as these. _________ * why should not the candid and modest preface of this historian be believed, as well as that which dion cassius prefixes to his life of commodus? "these things and the following i write, not from the report of others, but from my own knowledge and observation." i see no reason to doubt but that both passages describe truly enough the situation of the authors. _________ the situation of the writers applies to the truth of the facts which they record. but at present we use their testimony to a point somewhat short of this, namely, that the facts recorded in the gospels, whether true or false, are the facts, and the sort of facts which the original preachers of the religion allege. strictly speaking, i am concerned only to show, that what the gospels contain is the same as what the apostles preached. now, how stands the proof of this point? a set of men went about the world, publishing a story composed of miraculous accounts, (for miraculous from the very nature and exigency of the case they must have been,) and upon the strength of these accounts called upon mankind to quit the religions in which they had been educated, and to take up, thenceforth, a new system of opinions, and new rules of action. what is more in attestation of these accounts, that is, in support of an institution of which these accounts were the foundation, is, that the same men voluntarily exposed themselves to harassing and perpetual labours, dangers, and sufferings. we want to know what these accounts were. we have the particulars, i. e. many particulars, from two of their own number. we have them from an attendant of one of the number, and who, there is reason to believe, was an inhabitant of jerusalem at the time. we have them from a fourth writer, who accompanied the most laborious missionary of the institution in his travels; who, in the course of these travels, was frequently brought into the society of the rest; and who, let it be observed, begins his narrative by telling us that he is about to relate the things which had been delivered by those who were ministers of the word, and eye-witnesses of the facts. i do not know what information can be more satisfactory than this. we may, perhaps, perceive the force and value of it more sensibly if we reflect how requiring we should have been if we had wanted it. supposing it to be sufficiently proved, that the religion now professed among us owed its original to the preaching and ministry of a number of men, who, about eighteen centuries ago, set forth in the world a new system of religious opinions, founded upon certain extraordinary things which they related of a wonderful person who had appeared in judea; suppose it to be also sufficiently proved, that, in the course and prosecution of their ministry, these men had subjected themselves to extreme hardships, fatigue, and peril; but suppose the accounts which they published had not been committed to writing till some ages after their times, or at least that no histories but what had been composed some ages afterwards had reached our hands; we should have said, and with reason, that we were willing to believe these under the circumstances in which they delivered their testimony, but that we did not, at this day, know with sufficient evidence what their testimony was. had we received the particulars of it from any of their own number, from any of those who lived and conversed with them, from any of their hearers, or even from any of their contemporaries, we should have had something to rely upon. now, if our books be genuine, we have all these. we have the very species of information which, as it appears to me, our imagination would have carved out for us, if it had been wanting. but i have said that if any one of the four gospels be genuine, we have not only direct historical testimony to the point we contend for, but testimony which, so far as that point is concerned, cannot reasonably be rejected. if the first gospel was really written by matthew, we have the narrative of one of the number, from which to judge what were the miracles, and the kind of miracles, which the apostles attributed to jesus. although, for argument's sake, and only for argument's sake, we should allow that this gospel had been erroneously ascribed to matthew; yet, if the gospel of st. john be genuine, the observation holds with no less strength. again, although the gospels both of matthew and john could be supposed to be spurious, yet, if the gospel of saint luke were truly the composition of that person, or of any person, be his name what it might, who was actually in the situation in which the author of that gospel professes himself to have been, or if the gospel which bear the name of mark really proceeded from him; we still, even upon the lowest supposition, possess the accounts of one writer at least, who was not only contemporary with the apostles, but associated with them in their ministry; which authority seems sufficient, when the question is simply what it was which these apostles advanced. i think it material to have this well noticed. the new testament contains a great number of distinct writings, the genuineness of any one of which is almost sufficient to prove the truth of the religion: it contains, however, four distinct histories, the genuineness of any one of which is perfectly sufficient. if, therefore, we must be considered as encountering the risk of error in assigning the authors of our books, we are entitled to the advantage of so many separate probabilities. and although it should appear that some of the evangelists had seen and used each other's works, this discovery, whist it subtracts indeed from their characters as testimonies strictly independent, diminishes, i conceive, little either their separate authority, (by which i mean the authority of any one that is genuine,) or their mutual confirmation. for, let the most disadvantageous supposition possible be made concerning them; let it be allowed, what i should have no great difficulty in admitting, that mark compiled his history almost entirely from those of matthew and luke; and let it also for a moment be supposed that were not, in fact, written by matthew and luke; yet, if it be true that mark, a contemporary of the apostles, living, in habits of society with the apostles, a fellow-traveller and fellow-labourer with some of them; if, i say, it be true, that this person made the compilation, it follows, that the writings from which he made it existed in the time of the apostles, and not only so, but that they were then in such esteem and credit, that a companion of the apostles formed a history out of them. let the gospel of mark be called an epitome of that of matthew; if a person in the situation in which mark is described to have been actually made the epitome, it affords the strongest possible attestation to the character of the original. again, parallelisms in sentences, in word, and in the order of words, have been traced out between the gospel of matthew and that of luke; which concurrence cannot easily be explained, otherwise than by supposing, either that luke had consulted matthew's history, or, what appears to me in nowise incredible, that minutes of some of christ's discourses, as well as brief memoirs of some passages of his life, had been committed to writing at the time; and that such written accounts had by both authors been occasionally admitted into their histories. either supposition is perfectly consistent with the acknowledged formation of st. luke's narrative, who professes not to write as an eye-witness, but to have investigated the original of every account which he delivers: in other words, to have collected them from such documents and testimonies as he, who had the best opportunities of making inquiries, judged to be authentic. therefore, allowing that this writer also, in some instances, borrowed from the gospel which we call matthew's and once more allowing for the sake of stating the argument, that that gospel was not the production of the author to whom we ascribe it; yet still we have in st. luke's gospel a history given by a writer immediately connected with the transaction with the witnesses of it with the persons engaged in it, and composed from materials which that person, thus situated, deemed to be safe source of intelligence; in other words, whatever supposition be made concerning any or all the other gospels, if saint luke's gospel be genuine, we have in it a credible evidence of the point which we maintain. the gospel according to saint john appears to be, and is on all hands allowed to be, an independent testimony, strictly and properly so called. notwithstanding therefore, any connexion or supposed connexion, between one of the gospels, i again repeat what i before said, that if any one of the four be genuine, we have, in that one, strong reason, from the character and situation of the writer, to believe that we possess the accounts which the original emissaries of the religion delivered. secondly: in treating of the written evidences of christianity, next to their separate, we are to consider their aggregate authority. now, there is in the evangelic history a cumulation of testimony which belongs hardly to any other history, but which our habitual mode of reading the scriptures sometimes causes us to overlook. when a passage, in any wise relating to the history of christ is read to us out of the epistle of clemens romanus, the epistles of ignatius, of polycap, or from any other writing of that age, we are immediately sensible of the confirmation which it affords to the scripture account. here is a new witness. now, if we had been accustomed to read the gospel of matthew alone, and had known that of luke only as the generality of christians know the writings of the apostolical fathers, that is, had known that such a writing was extant and acknowledged; when we came, for the first time, to look into what it contained, and found many of the facts which matthew recorded, recorded also there, many other facts of a similar nature added, and throughout the whole work the same general series of transactions stated, and the same general character of the person who was the subject of the history preserved, i apprehend that we should feel our minds strongly impressed by this discovery of fresh evidence. we should feel a renewal of the same sentiment in first reading the gospel of saint john. that of saint mark perhaps would strike us as an abridgment of the history with which we were already acquainted; but we should naturally reflect, that if that history was abridged by such a person as mark, or by any person of so early an age, it afforded one of the highest possible attestations to the value of the work. this successive disclosure of proof would leave us assured, that there must have been at least some reality in a story which not one, but many, had taken in hand to commit to writing. the very existence of four separate histories would satisfy us that the subject had a foundation; and when, amidst the variety which the different information of the different writers had supplied to their accounts, or which their different choice and judgment in selecting their materials had produced, we observed many facts to stand the same in all; of these facts, at least, we should conclude, that they were fixed in their credit and publicity. if, after this, we should come to the knowledge of a distinct history, and that also of the same age with the rest, taking up the subject where the others had left it, and carrying on a narrative of the effects produced in the world by the extraordinary causes of which we had already been informed, and which effects subsist at this day, we should think the reality of the original story in no little degree established by this supplement. if subsequent inquiries should bring to our knowledge, one after another, letters written by some of the principal agents in the business, upon the business, and during the time of their activity and concern in it, assuming all along and recognising the original story, agitating the questions that arose out of it, pressing the obligations which resulted from it, giving advice and directions to these who acted upon it; i conceive that we should find, in every one of these, a still further support to the conclusion we had formed. at present, the weight of this successive confirmation is, in a great measure; unperceived by us. the evidence does not appear to us what it is; for, being from our infancy accustomed to regard the new testament as one book, we see in it only one testimony. the whole occurs to us as a single evidence; and its different parts not as distinct attestations, but as different portions only of the same. yet in this conception of the subject we are certainly mistaken; for the very discrepancies among the several documents which form our volume prove, if all other proof were wanting, that in their original composition they were separate, and most of them independent productions. if we dispose our ideas in a different order, the matter stands thus:--whilst the transaction was recent, and the original witnesses were at hand to relate it; and whilst the apostles were busied in preaching and travelling, in collecting disciples, in forming and regulating societies of converts, in supporting themselves against opposition; whilst they exercised their ministry under the harassings of frequent persecutions, and in a state of almost continual alarm, it is not probable that, in this engaged, anxious, and unsettled condition of life, they would think immediately of writing histories for the information of the public or of posterity.* but it is very probable, that emergencies might draw from some of them occasional letters upon the subject of their mission, to converts, or to societies of converts, with which they were connected; or that they might address written discourses and exhortations to the disciples of the institution at large, which would be received and read with a respect proportioned to the character of the writer. accounts in the mean time would get abroad of the extraordinary things that had been passing, written with different degrees of information and correctness. the extension of the christian society, which could no longer be instructed: by a personal intercourse with the apostles, and the possible circulation of imperfect or erroneous narratives, would soon teach some amongst them the expediency of sending forth authentic memoirs of the life and doctrine of their master. when accounts appeared authorised by the name, and credit, and situation of the writers, recommended or recognised by the apostles and first preachers of the religion, or found to coincide with what the apostles and first preachers of the religion had taught, other accounts would fall into disuse and neglect; whilst these, maintaining their reputation (as, if genuine and well founded, they would do) under the test of time, inquiry, and contradiction, might be expected to make their way into the hands of christians of all countries of the world. ________ * this thought occurred to eusebius: "nor were the apostles of christ greatly concerned about the writing of books, being engaged in a more excellent ministry which is above all human power." eccles. hist. . iii. c. .--the same consideration accounts also for the paucity of christian writings in the first century of its aera. _________ this seems the natural progress of the business; and with this the records in our possession, and the evidence concerning them correspond. we have remaining, in the first place, many letters of the kind above described, which have been preserved with a care and fidelity answering to the respect with which we may suppose that such letters would be received. but as these letters were not written to prove the truth of the christian religion, in the sense in which we regard that question; nor to convey information of facts, of which those to whom the letters were written had been previously informed; we are not to look in them for anything more than incidental allusions to the christian history. we are able, however, to gather from these documents various particular attestations which have been already enumerated; and this is a species of written evidence, as far as it goes, in the highest degree satisfactory, and in point of time perhaps the first. but for our more circumstantial information, we have, in the next place, five direct histories, bearing the names of persons acquainted, by their situation, with the truth of what they relate, and three of them purporting, in the very body of the narrative, to be written by such persons; of which books we know, that some were in the hands of those who were contemporaries of the apostles, and that, in the age immediately posterior to that, they were in the hands, we may say, of every one, and received by christians with so much respect and deference, as to be constantly quoted and referred to by them, without any doubt of the truth of their accounts. they were treated as such histories, proceeding from such authorities, might expect to be treated. in the preface to one of our histories, we have intimations left us of the existence of some ancient accounts which are now lost. there is nothing in this circumstance that can surprise us. it was to be expected, from the magnitude and novelty of the occasion, that such accounts would swarm. when better accounts came forth, these died away. our present histories superseded others. they soon acquired a character and established a reputation which does not appear to have belonged to any other: that, at least, can be proved concerning them which cannot be proved concerning any other. but to return to the point which led to these reflections. by considering our records in either of the two views in which we have represented them, we shall perceive that we possess a connection of proofs, and not a naked or solitary testimony; and that the written evidence is of such a kind, and comes to us in such a state, as the natural order and progress of things, in the infancy of the institution, might be expected to produce. thirdly: the genuineness of the historical books of the new testament is undoubtedly a point of importance, because the strength of their evidence is augmented by our knowledge of the situation of their authors, their relation to the subject, and the part which they sustained in the transaction; and the testimonies which we are able to produce compose a firm ground of persuasion, that the gospels were written by the persons whose names they bear. nevertheless, i must be allowed to state, that to the argument which i am endeavouring to maintain, this point is not essential; i mean, so essential as that the fate of the argument depends upon it. the question before us is, whether the gospels exhibit the story which the apostles and first emissaries of the religion published, and for which they acted and suffered in the manner in which, for some miraculous story or other, they did act and suffer. now let us suppose that we possess no other information concerning these books than that they were written by early disciples of christianity; that they were known and read during the time, or near the time, of the original apostles of the religion; that by christians whom the apostles instructed, by societies of christians which the apostles founded, these books were received, (by which term "received" i mean that they were believed to contain authentic accounts of the transactions upon which the religion rested, and accounts which were accordingly used, repeated, and relied upon,) this reception would be a valid proof that these books, whoever were the authors of them, must have accorded with what the apostles taught. a reception by the first race of christians, is evidence that they agreed with what the first teachers of the religion delivered. in particular, if they had not agreed with what the apostles themselves preached, how could they have gained credit in churches and societies which the apostles established? now the fact of their early existence, and not only of their existence, but their reputation, is made out by some ancient testimonies which do not happen to specify the names of the writers: add to which, what hath been already hinted, that two out of the four gospels contain averments in the body of the history, which, though they do not disclose the names, fix the time and situation of the authors, viz., that one was written by an eye-witness of the sufferings of christ, the other by a contemporary of the apostles. in the gospel of st. john (xix. ), describing the crucifixion, with the particular circumstance of piercing christ's side with a spear, the historian adds, as for himself, "and he that saw it bare record, and his record is true, and he knoweth that he saith true, that ye might believe." again (xxi. ), after relating a conversation which passed between peter and "the disciple," as it is there expressed, "whom jesus loved," it is added, "this is the disciple which testifieth of these things, and wrote these things." this testimony, let it be remarked, is not the less worthy of regard, because it is, in one view, imperfect. the name is not mentioned; which, if a fraudulent purpose had been intended, would have been done. the third of our present gospels purports to have been written by the person who wrote the acts of the apostles; in which latter history, or rather latter part of the same history, the author, by using in various places the first person plural, declares himself to have been a contemporary of all, and a companion of one, of the original preachers of the religion. chapter ix. there is satisfactory evidence that many, professing to be original witnesses of the christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. of the authenticity of the scriptures. not forgetting, therefore, what credit is due to the evangelical history, supposing even any one of the four gospels to be genuine; what credit is due to the gospels, even supposing nothing to be known concerning them but that they were written by early disciples of the religion, and received with deference by early christian churches; more especially not forgetting what credit is due to the new testament in its capacity of cumulative evidence; we now proceed to state the proper and distinct proofs, which show not only the general value of these records, but their specific authority, and the high probability there is that they actually came from the persons whose names they bear. there are, however, a few preliminary reflections, by which we may draw up with more regularity to the propositions upon which the close and particular discussion of the subject depends. of which nature are the following: i. we are able to produce a great number of ancient manuscripts, found in many different countries, and in countries widely distant from each other, all of them anterior to the art of printing, some certainly seven or eight hundred years old, and some which have been preserved probably above a thousand years.* we have also many ancient versions of these books, and some of them into languages which are not at present, nor for many ages have been, spoken in any part of the world. the existence of these manuscripts and versions proves that the scriptures were not the production of any modern contrivance. it does away also the uncertainty which hangs over such publications as the works, real or pretended, of ossian and rowley, in which the editors are challenged to produce their manuscripts and to show where they obtained their copies. the number of manuscripts, far exceeding those of any other book, and their wide dispersion, afford an argument, in some measure to the senses, that the scriptures anciently, in like manner as at this day, were more read and sought after than any other books, and that also in many different countries. the greatest part of spurious christian writings are utterly lost, the rest preserved by some single manuscript. there is weight also in dr. bentley's observation, that the new testament has suffered less injury by the errors of transcribers than the works of any profane author of the same size and antiquity; that is, there never was any writing, in the preservation and purity of which the world was so interested or so careful. _________ * the alexandrian manuscript, now in the british museum, was written probably in the fourth or fifth century. _________ ii. an argument of great weight with those who are judges of the proofs upon which it is founded, and capable, through their testimony, of being addressed to every understanding, is that which arises from the style and language of the new testament. it is just such a language as might be expected from the apostles, from persons of their age and in their situation, and from no other persons. it is the style neither of classic authors, nor of the ancient christian fathers, but greek coming from men of hebrew origin; abounding, that is, with hebraic and syriac idioms, such as would naturally be found in the writings of men who used a language spoken indeed where they lived, but not the common dialect of the country. this happy peculiarity is a strong proof of the genuineness of these writings: for who should forge them? the christian fathers were for the most part totally ignorant of hebrew, and therefore were not likely to insert hebraisms and syriasms into their writings. the few who had a knowledge of the hebrew, as justin martyr, origen, and epiphanius, wrote in a language which hears no resemblance to that of the new testament. the nazarenes, who understood hebrew, used chiefly, perhaps almost entirely, the gospel of saint matthew, and therefore cannot be suspected of forging the rest of the sacred writings. the argument, at any rate, proves the antiquity of these books; that they belonged to the age of the apostles; that they could be composed, indeed, in no other.* _________ * see this argument stated more at large in michaelis's introduction, (marsh's translation,) vol. i. c. ii. sect. , from which these observations are taken. _________ iii. why should we question the genuineness of these books? is it for that they contain accounts of supernatural events? i apprehend that this, at the bottom, is the real, though secret, cause of our hesitation about them: for had the writings inscribed with the names of matthew and john related nothing but ordinary history, there would have been no more doubt whether these writings were theirs than there is concerning the acknowledged works of josephus or philo; that is, there would have been no doubt at all. now it ought to be considered that this reason, however it may apply to the credit which is given to a writer's judgment or veracity, affects the question of genuineness very indirectly. the works of bede exhibit many wonderful relations: but who, for that reason, doubts that they were written by bede? the same of a multitude of other authors. to which may be added that we ask no more for our books than what we allow to other books in some sort similar to ours: we do not deny the genuineness of the koran; we admit that the history of apollonius tyanaeus, purporting to be written by philostratus, was really written by philostratus. iv. if it had been an easy thing in the early times of the institution to have forged christian writings, and to have obtained currency and reception to the forgeries, we should have had many appearing in the name of christ himself. no writings would have been received with so much avidity and respect as these: consequently none afforded so great a temptation to forgery. yet have we heard but of one attempt of this sort, deserving of the smallest notice, that in a piece of a very few lines, and so far from succeeding, i mean, from obtaining acceptance and reputation, or an acceptance an reputation in anywise similar to that which can be proved to have attended the books of the new testament, that it is not so much as mentioned by any writer of the first three centuries. the learned reader need not be informed that i mean the epistle of christ to abgarus, king of edessa, found at present in the work of eusebius,* as a piece acknowledged by him, though not without considerable doubt whether the whole passage be not an interpolation, as it is most certain, that, after the publication of eusebius's work, this epistle was universally rejected.+ _________ * hist. eccl. lib. i. c. . + augustin, a.d. (de consens. evan. c. ), had heard that the pagans pretended to be possessed of an epistle of christ to peter and paul; but he had never seen it, and appears to doubt of the existence of any such piece either genuine or spurious. no other ancient writer mentions it. he also, and he alone, notices, and that in order to condemn it, an epistle ascribed to christ by the manichees, a.d. , and a short hymn attributed to him by the priscillianists, a.d. (cont. faust. man. lib xxviii, c, ). the lateness of the writer who notices these things, the manner in which he notices them, and above all, the silence of every preceding writer, render them unworthy on of consideration. _________ v. if the ascription of the gospels to their respective authors had been arbitrary or conjectural, they would have been ascribed to more eminent men. this observation holds concerning the first three gospels, the reputed authors of which were enabled, by their situation, to obtain true intelligence, and were likely to deliver an honest account of what they knew, but were persons not distinguished in the history by extraordinary marks of notice or commendation. of the apostles, i hardly know any one of whom less is said than of matthew, or of whom the little that is said is less calculated to magnify his character. of mark, nothing is said in the gospels; and what is said of any person of that name in the acts, and in the epistles, in no part bestows praise or eminence upon him. the name of luke is mentioned only in st paul's epistles,* and that very transiently. the judgment, therefore, which assigned these writings to these authors proceeded, it may be presumed, upon proper knowledge and evidence, and not upon a voluntary choice of names. vi. christian writers and christian churches appear to have soon arrived at a very general agreement upon the subject, and that without the interposition of any public authority. when the diversity of opinion which prevailed, and prevails among christians in other points, is considered, their concurrence in the canon of scripture is remarkable, and of great weight, especially as it seems to have been the result of private and free inquiry. we have no knowledge of any interference of authority in the question before the council of laodicea in the year . probably the decree of this council rather declared than regulated the public judgment, or, more properly speaking, the judgment of some neighbouring churches; the council itself consisting of no more than thirty or forty bishops of lydia and the adjoining countries.+ nor does its authority seem to have extended further; for we find numerous christian writers, after this time, discussing the question, "what books were entitled to be received as scripture," with great freedom, upon proper grounds of evidence, and without any reference to the decision at laodicea. _________ * col. iv. . tim. iv. . philem. . + lardner, cred. vol. viii. p. , et seq. _________ these considerations are not to be neglected: but of an argument concerning the genuineness of ancient writings, the substance, undoubtedly, and strength, is ancient testimony. this testimony it is necessary to exhibit somewhat in detail; for when christian advocates merely tell us that we have the same reason for believing the gospels to be written by the evangelists whose names they bear as we have for believing the commentaries to be caesar's, the aeneid virgil's, or the orations cicero's, they content themselves with an imperfect representation. they state nothing more than what is true, but they do not state the truth correctly. in the number, variety, and early date of our testimonies, we far exceed all other ancient books. for one which the most celebrated work of the most celebrated greek or roman writer can allege, we produce many. but then it is more requisite in our books than in theirs to separate and distinguish them from spurious competitors. the result, i am convinced, will be satisfactory to every fair inquirer: but this circumstance renders an inquiry necessary. in a work, however, like the present, there is a difficulty in finding a place for evidence of this kind. to pursue the details of proof throughout, would be to transcribe a great part of dr. lardner's eleven octavo volumes: to leave the argument without proofs is to leave it without effect; for the persuasion produced by this species of evidence depends upon a view and induction of the particulars which compose it. the method which i propose to myself is, first, to place before the reader, in one view, the propositions which comprise the several heads of our testimony, and afterwards to repeat the same propositions in so many distinct sections, with the necessary authorities subjoined to each.* _________ * the reader, when he has the propositions before him, will observe that the argument, if he should omit the sections, proceeds connectedly from this point. _________ the following, then, are the allegations upon the subject which are capable of being established by proof:-- i. that the historical books of the new testament, meaning thereby the four gospels and the acts of the apostles, are quoted, or alluded to, by a series of christian writers, beginning with those who were contemporary with the apostles, or who immediately followed them, and proceeding in close and regular succession from their time to the present. ii. that when they are quoted, or alluded to, they are quoted or alluded to with peculiar respect, as books 'sui generis'; as possessing an authority which belonged to no other books, and as conclusive in all questions and controversies amongst christians. iii. that they were, in very early times, collected into a distinct volume. iv. that they were distinguished by appropriate names and titles of respect. v. that they were publicly read and expounded in the religious assemblies of the early christians. vi. that commentaries were written upon them, harmonies formed out of them, different copies carefully collated, and versions of them made into different languages. vii. that they were received by christians of different sects, by many heretics as well as catholics, and usually appealed to by both sides in the controversies which arose in those days. viii. that the four gospels, the acts of the apostles, thirteen epistles of saint paul, the first epistle of john, and the first of-peter, were received without doubt by those who doubted concerning the other books which are included in our present canon. ix. that the gospels were attacked by the early adversaries of christianity, as books containing the accounts upon which the religion was founded. x. that formal catalogues of authentic scriptures were published; in all which our present sacred histories were included. xi. that these propositions cannot be affirmed of any other books claiming to be books of scripture; by which are meant those books which are commonly called apocryphal books of the new testament. section i. the historical books of the new testament, meaning thereby the four gospels and the acts of the apostles, are quoted, or alluded to, by a series of christian writers, beginning with those who were contemporary with the apostles, or who immediately followed them, and proceeding in close and regular succession from their time to the present. the medium of proof stated in this proposition is, of all others, the most unquestionable, the least liable to any practices of fraud, and is not diminished by the lapse of ages. bishop burnet, in the history of his own times, inserts various extracts from lord clarendon's history. one such insertion is a proof that lord clarendon's history was extant at the time when bishop burnet wrote, that it had been read by bishop burnet, that it was received by bishop burnet as a work of lord clarendon, and also regarded by him as an authentic account of the transactions which it relates; and it will be a proof of these points a thousand years hence, or as long as the books exist. quintilian having quoted as cicero's, (quint, lib. xl. c. l.) that well known trait of dissembled vanity:--"si quid est in me ingenii, judices, quod sentio quam sit exiguum;"--the quotation would be strong evidence, were there any doubt, that the oration, which opens with this address, actually came from cicero's pen. these instances, however simple, may serve to point out to a reader who is little accustomed to such researches the nature and value of the argument. the testimonies which we have to bring forward under this proposition are the following:-- i. there is extant an epistle ascribed to barnabas,* the companion of paul. it is quoted as the epistle of barnabas, by clement of alexandria, a.d. cxciv; by origen, a.d. ccxxx. it is mentioned by eusebius, a.d. cccxv, and by jerome, a.d. cccxcii, as an ancient work in their time, bearing the name of barnabas, and as well known and read amongst christians, though not accounted a part of scripture. it purports to have been written soon after the destruction of jerusalem, during the calamities which followed that disaster; and it bears the character of the age to which it professes to belong. _________ * lardner, cred. edit. , vol. i. p. , et seq. the reader will observe from the references, that the materials of these sections are almost entirely extracted from dr. lardner's work; my office consisted in arrangement and selection. _________ in this epistle appears the following remarkable passage:--"let us, therefore, beware lest it come upon us, as it is written; there are many called, few chosen." from the expression, "as it is written," we infer with certainty, that at the time when the author of this epistle lived, there was a book extant, well known to christians, and of authority amongst them, containing these words:--"many are called, few chosen." such a book is our present gospel of saint matthew, in which this text is twice found, (matt xx. ; xxii. .) and is found in no other book now known. there is a further observation to be made upon the terms of the quotation. the writer of the epistle was a jew. the phrase "it is written" was the very form in which the jews quoted their scriptures. it is not probable, therefore, that he would have used this phrase, and without qualification, of any book but what had acquired a kind of scriptural authority. if the passage remarked in this ancient writing had been found in one of saint paul's epistles, it would have been esteemed by every one a high testimony to saint matthew's gospel. it ought, therefore, to be remembered, that the writing in which it is found was probably by very few years posterior to those of saint paul. beside this passage, there are also in the epistle before us several others, in which the sentiment is the same with what we meet with in saint matthew's gospel, and two or three in which we recognize the same words. in particular, the author of the epistle repeats the precept, "give to every one that asketh thee;" (matt. v. .) and saith that christ chose as his apostles, who were to preach the gospel, men who were great sinners, that he might show that he came "not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." (matt. ix. .) ii. we are in possession of an epistle written by clement, bishop of rome, (lardner, cred. vol. p. , et seq.) whom ancient writers, without any doubt or scruple, assert to have been the clement whom saint paul mentions, phil. iv. ; "with clement also, and other my fellow-labourers, whose names are in the book of life." this epistle is spoken of by the ancients as an epistle acknowledged by all; and, as irenaeus well represents its value, "written by clement, who had seen the blessed apostles, and conversed with them; who had the preaching of the apostles still sounding in his ears, and their traditions before his eyes." it is addressed to the church of corinth; and what alone may seem almost decisive of its authenticity, dionysius, bishop of corinth, about the year , i. e. about eighty or ninety years after the epistle was written, bears witness, "that it had been wont to be read in that church from ancient times." this epistle affords, amongst others, the following valuable passages:--"especially remembering the words of the lord jesus, which he spake teaching gentleness and long-suffering: for thus he said:* be ye merciful, that ye may obtain mercy; forgive, that it my be forgiven unto you; as you do, so shall it be done unto you; as you give, so shall it be given unto you; as ye judge, so shall ye be judged; as ye show kindness, so shall kindness be shown unto you; with what measure ye mete, with the same shall it be measured to you. by this command, and by these rules, let us establish ourselves, that we may always walk obediently to his holy words." _________ * "blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." matt. v. .--"forgive, and ye shall be forgiven; give, and it shall be given unto you." luke vi. , .--"judge not, that ye be not judged; for with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." matt. vii. , . _________ again; "remember the words of the lord jesus, for he said, woe to that man by whom offences come; it were better for him that he had not been born, than that he should offend one of my elect; it were better for him that a millstone should be tied about his neck, and that he should be drowned in the sea, than that he should offend one of my little ones."* _________ * matt. xviii. . "but whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a mill-stone were hanged about his neck, and that he were cast into the sea." the latter part of the passage in clement agrees exactly with luke xvii. ; "it were better for him that a mill-stone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones." _________ in both these passages we perceive the high respect paid to the words of christ as recorded by the evangelists; "remember the words of the lord jesus;--by this command, and by these rules, let us establish ourselves, that we may always walk obediently to his holy words." we perceive also in clement a total unconsciousness of doubt whether these were the real words of christ, which are read as such in the gospels. this observation indeed belongs to the whole series of testimony, and especially to the most ancient part of it. whenever anything now read in the gospels is met with in an early christian writing, it is always observed to stand there as acknowledged truth, i. e. to be introduced without hesitation, doubt, or apology. it is to be observed also, that, as this epistle was written in the name of the church of rome, and addressed to the church of corinth, it ought to be taken as exhibiting the judgment not only of clement, who drew up the letter, but of these churches themselves, at least as to the authority of the books referred to. it may be said that, as clement has not used words of quotation, it is not certain that he refers to any book whatever. the words of christ which he has put down, he might himself have heard from the apostles, or might have received through the ordinary medium of oral tradition. this has been said: but that no such inference can be drawn from the absence of words of quotation, is proved by the three following considerations:--first, that clement, in the very same manner, namely, without any mark of reference, uses a passage now found in the epistle to the romans; (rom. i. .) which passage, from the peculiarity of the words which compose it, and from their order, it is manifest that he must have taken from the book. the same remark may be repeated of some very singular sentiments in the epistle to the hebrews. secondly, that there are many sentences of saint paul's first epistle to the corinthians standing in clement's epistle without any sign of quotation, which yet certainly are quotations; because it appears that clement had saint paul's epistle before him, inasmuch as in one place he mentions it in terms too express to leave us in any doubt:--"take into your hands the epistle of the blessed apostle paul." thirdly, that this method of adopting words of scripture without reference or acknowledgment was, as will appear in the sequel, a method in general use amongst the most ancient christian writers.--these analogies not only repel the objection, but cast the presumption on the other side, and afford a considerable degree of positive proof, that the words in question have been borrowed from the places of scripture in which we now find them. but take it if you will the other way, that clement had heard these words from the apostles or first teachers of christianity; with respect to the precise point of our argument, viz. that the scriptures contain what the apostles taught, this supposition may serve almost as well. iii. near the conclusion of the epistle to the romans, saint paul, amongst others, sends the following salutation: "salute asyncritus, phlegon, hermas, patrobas, hermes, and the brethren which are with them." of hermas, who appears in this catalogue of roman christians as contemporary with saint paul, a book bearing the name, and it is most probably rightly, is still remaining. it is called the shepherd, (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) or pastor of hermas. its antiquity is incontestable, from the quotations of it in irenaeus, a.d. ; clement of alexandria, a.d. ; tertullian, a.d. ; origen, a.d. . the notes of time extant in the epistle itself agree with its title, and with the testimonies concerning it, for it purports to have been written during the life-time of clement. in this place are tacit allusions to saint matthew's, saint luke's, and saint john's gospels; that is to say, there are applications of thoughts and expressions found in these gospels, without citing the place or writer from which they were taken. in this form appear in hermas the confessing and denying of christ; (matt. x. :i , , or, luke xli. , .) the parable of the seed sown (matt. xiii. , or, luke viii. ); the comparison of christ's disciples to little children; the saying "he that putteth away his wife, and marrieth another, committeth adultery" (luke xvi. .); the singular expression, "having received all power from his father," in probable allusion to matt. xxviii. ; and christ being the "gate," or only way of coming "to god," in plain allusion to john xiv. ; x. , . there is also a probable allusion to acts v. . this piece is the representation of a vision, and has by many been accounted a weak and fanciful performance. i therefore observe, that the character of the writing has little to do with the purpose for which we adduce it. it is the age in which it was composed that gives the value to its testimony. iv. ignatius, as it is testified by ancient christian writers, became bishop of antioch about thirty-seven years after christ's ascension; and, therefore, from his time, and place, and station, it is probable that he had known and conversed with many of the apostles. epistles of ignatius are referred to by polycarp, his contemporary. passages found in the epistles now extant under his name are quoted by irenaeus, a.d. ; by origen, a.d. ; and the occasion of writing the epistles is given at large by eusebius and jerome. what are called the smaller epistles of ignatius are generally deemed to be those which were read by irenaeus, origen, and eusebius (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .). in these epistles are various undoubted allusions to the gospels of saint matthew and saint john; yet so far of the same form with those in the preceding articles, that, like them, they are not accompanied with marks of quotation. of these allusions the following are clear specimens: matt.*: "christ was baptized of john, that all righteousness might be fulfilled by him." "be ye wise as serpents in all things, and harmless as a dove." john+: "yet the spirit is not deceived, being from god: for it knows whence it comes and whither it goes." "he (christ) is the door of the father, by which enter in abraham and isaac, and jacob, and the apostles, and the church." _________ * chap. iii. . "for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness." chap. x. . "be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves." + chap. iii. . "the wind bloweth where it listeth and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth; so is everyone that is born of the spirit." chap. x. . "i am the door; by me if any man enter in he shall be saved." _________ as to the manner of quotation, this is observable;--ignatius, in one place, speaks of st. paul in terms of high respect, and quotes his epistle to the ephesians by name; yet, in several other places, he borrows words and sentiments from the same epistle without mentioning it; which shows that this was his general manner of using and applying writings then extant, and then of high authority. v. polycarp (lardner, cred. vol. i. .) had been taught by the apostles; had conversed with many who had seen christ; was also by the apostles appointed bishop of smyrna. this testimony concerning polycarp is given by irenaeus, who in his youth had seen him:--"i can tell the place," saith irenaeus, "in which the blessed polycarp sat and taught, and his going out and coming in, and the manner of his life, and the form of his person, and the discourses he made to the people, and how he related his conversation with john, and others who had seen the lord, and how he related their sayings, and what he had heard concerning the lord, both concerning his miracles and his doctrine, as he had received them from the eyewitnesses of the word of life: all which polycarp related agreeable to the scriptures." of polycarp, whose proximity to the age and country and persons of the apostles is thus attested, we have one undoubted epistle remaining. and this, though a short letter, contains nearly forty clear allusions to books of the new testament; which is strong evidence of the respect which christians of that age bore for these books. amongst these, although the writings of st. paul are more frequently used by polycarp than any other parts of scripture, there are copious allusions to the gospel of st. matthew, some to passages found in the gospels both of matthew and luke, and some which more nearly resemble the words in luke. i select the following as fixing the authority of the lord's prayer, and the use of it amongst the primitive christians: "if therefore we pray the lord, that he will forgive us, we ought also to forgive." "with supplication beseeching the all-seeing god not to lead us into temptation." and the following, for the sake of repeating an observation already made, that words of our lord found in our gospels were at this early day quoted as spoken by him; and not only so, but quoted with so little question or consciousness of doubt about their being really his words, as not even to mention, much less to canvass, the authority from which they were taken: "but remembering what the lord said, teaching, judge not, that ye be not judged; forgive, and ye shall be forgiven; be ye merciful, that ye may obtain mercy; with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." (matt. vii. , ; v. ; luke vi. , .) supposing polycarp to have had these words from the books in which we now find them, it is manifest that these books were considered by him, and, as he thought, considered by his readers, us authentic accounts of christ's discourses; and that that point was incontestible [sic]. the following is a decisive, though what we call a tacit reference to st. peter's speech in the acts of the apostles:--"whom god hath raised, having loosed the pains of death." (acts ii. .) vi. papias, (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) a hearer of john, and companion of polycarp, as irenaeus attests, and of that age, as all agree, in a passage quoted by eusebius, from a work now lost, expressly ascribes the respective gospels to matthew and mark; and in a manner which proves that these gospels must have publicly borne the names of these authors at that time, and probably long before; for papias does not say that one gospel was written by matthew, and another by mark; but, assuming this as perfectly well known, he tells us from what materials mark collected his account, viz. from peter's preaching, and in what language matthew wrote, viz. in hebrew. whether papias was well informed in this statement, or not; to the point for which i produce this testimony, namely, that these books bore these names at this time, his authority is complete. the writers hitherto alleged had all lived and conversed with some of the apostles. the works of theirs which remain are in general very short pieces, yet rendered extremely valuable by their antiquity; and none, short as they are, but what contain some important testimony to our historical scriptures.* _________ * that the quotations are more thinly strewn in these than in the writings of the next and of succeeding ages, is in a good measure accounted for by the observation, that the scriptures of the new testament had not yet, nor by their recency hardly could have, become a general part of christian education; read as the old testament was by jews and christians from their childhood, and thereby intimately mixing, as that had long done, with all their religious ideas, and with their language upon religious subjects. in process of time, and as soon perhaps as could be expected, this came to be the case. and then we perceive the effect, in a proportionably greater frequency, as well as copiousness of allusion.--mich. introd. c. ii. sect. vi. _________ vii. not long after these, that is, not much more than twenty years after the last, follows justin martyr (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .). his remaining works are much larger than any that have yet been noticed. although the nature of his two principal writings, one of which was addressed to heathens, and the other was a conference with a jew, did not lead him to such frequent appeals to christian books as would have appeared in a discourse intended for christian readers; we nevertheless reckon up in them between twenty and thirty quotations of the gospels and acts of the apostles, certain, distinct, and copious: if each verse be counted separately, a much greater number; if each expression, a very great one.* _________ * "he cites our present canon, and particularly our four gospels, continually, i dare say, above two hundred times." jones's new and full method. append. vol. i. p. , ed. . _________ we meet with quotations of three of the gospels within the compass of half a page: "and in other words he says, depart from me into outer darkness, which the father hath prepared for satan and his angels," (which is from matthew xxv. .) "and again he said, in other words, i give unto you power to tread upon serpents and scorpions, and venomous beasts, and upon all the power of the enemy." (this from luke x. .) "and before he was crucified, he said, the son of man must suffer many things, and be rejected of the scribes and pharisees, and be crucified, and rise again the third day." (this from mark viii. .) in another place justin quotes a passage in the history of christ's birth, as delivered by matthew and john, and fortifies his quotation by this remarkable testimony: "as they have taught, who have written the history of all things concerning our saviour jesus christ; and we believe them." quotations are also found from the gospel of saint john. what moreover seems extremely material to be observed is, that in all justin's works, from which might be extracted almost a complete life of christ, there are but two instances in which he refers to anything as said or done by christ, which is not related concerning him in our present gospels: which shows, that these gospels, and these, we may say, alone, were the authorities from which the christians of that day drew the information upon which they depended. one of these instances is of a saying of christ, not met with in any book now extant.+ _________ + "wherefore also our lord jesus christ has said, in whatsoever i shall find you, in the same i will also judge you." possibly justin designed not to quote any text, but to represent the sense of many of our lord's sayings. fabrieius has observed, that this saying has been quoted by many writers, and that justin is the only one who ascribes it to our lord, and that perhaps by a slip of his memory. words resembling these are read repeatedly in ezekiel; "i will judge them according to their ways;" (chap. vii. ; xxxiii. .) it is remarkable that justin had just before expressly quoted ezekiel. mr. jones upon this circumstance founded a conjecture, that justin wrote only "the lord hath said," intending to quote the words of god, or rather the sense of those words in ezekiel; and that some transcriber, imagining these to be the words of christ, inserted in his copy the addition "jesus christ." vol. . p. . _________ the other of a circumstance in christ's baptism, namely, a fiery or luminous appearance upon the water, which, according to epiphanius, is noticed in the gospel of the hebrews: and which might be true: but which, whether true or false, is mentioned by justin, with a plain mark of diminution when compared with what he quotes as resting upon scripture authority. the reader will advert to this distinction: "and then, when jesus came to the river jordan, where john was baptizing, as jesus descended into the water, a fire also was kindled in jordan: and when he came up out of the water, (the apostles of this our christ have written), that the holy ghost lighted upon him as a dove." all the references in justin are made without mentioning the author; which proves that these books were perfectly notorious, and that there were no other accounts of christ then extant, or, at least, no other so received and credited as to make it necessary to distinguish these from the rest. but although justin mentions not the author's name, he calls the books, "memoirs composed by the apostles;" "memoirs composed by the apostles and their companions;" which descriptions, the latter especially, exactly suit with the titles which the gospels and acts of the apostles now bear. viii. hegesippus (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) came about thirty years after justin. his testimony is remarkable only for this particular; that he relates of himself that, travelling from palestine to rome, he visited, on his journey, many bishops; and that, "in every succession, and in every city, the same doctrine is taught, which the law and the prophets, and the lord teacheth." this is an important attestation, from good authority, and of high antiquity. it is generally understood that by the word "lord," hegesippus intended some writing or writings, containing the teaching of christ; in which sense alone the term combines with the other term "law and prophets," which denote writings; and together with them admit of the verb "teacheth" in the present tense. then, that these writings were some or all of the books of the new testament, is rendered probable from hence, that in the fragments of his works, which are preserved in eusebius, and in a writer of the ninth century, enough, though it be little, is left to show, that hegesippus expressed divers thing in the style of the gospels, and of the acts of the apostles; that he referred to the history in the second chapter of matthew, and recited a text of that gospel as spoken by our lord. ix. at this time, viz. about the year , the churches of lyons and vienne, in france, sent a relation of the sufferings of their martyrs to the churches of asia and phrygia. (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) the epistle is preserved entire by eusebius. and what carries in some measure the testimony of these churches to a higher age, is, that they had now for their bishop, pothinus, who was ninety years old, and whose early life consequently must have immediately joined on with the times of the apostles. in this epistle are exact references to the gospels of luke and john, and to the acts of the apostles; the form of reference the same as in all the preceding articles. that from saint john is in these words: "then was fulfilled that which was spoken by the lord, that whosoever killeth you, will think that he doeth god service." (john xvi. .) x. the evidence now opens upon us full and clear. irenaeus (lardner, vol. i. p. .) succeeded pothinus as bishop of lyons. in his youth he had been a disciple of polycarp, who was a disciple of john. in the time in which he lived, he was distant not much more than a century from the publication of the gospels; in his instruction only by one step separated from the persons of the apostles. he asserts of himself and his contemporaries, that they were able to reckon up, in all the principal churches, the succession of bishops from the first. (adv. haeres. . iii. c. .) i remark these particulars concerning irenaeus with more formality than usual, because the testimony which this writer affords to the historical books of the new testament, to their authority, and to the titles which they bear, is express, positive, and exclusive. one principal passage, in which this testimony is contained, opens with a precise assertion of the point which we have laid down as the foundation of our argument, viz., that the story which the gospels exhibit is the story which the apostles told. "we have not received," saith irenaeus, "the knowledge of the way of our salvation by any others than those by whom the gospel has been brought to us. which gospel they first preached, and afterwards, by the will of god, committed to writing, that it might be for time to come the foundation and pillar of our faith.--for after that our lord arose from the dead, and they (the apostles) were endowed from above with the power of the holy ghost coming down upon them, they received a perfect knowledge of all things. they then went forth to all the ends of the earth, declaring to men the message of heavenly peace, having all of them, and every one, alike the gospel of god. matthew then, among the jews, wrote a gospel in their own language, while peter and paul were preaching the gospel at rome, and founding a church there: and after their exit, mark also, the disciple and interpreter of peter, delivered to us in writing the things that had been preached by peter and luke, the companion of paul, put down in a book the gospel preached by him (paul). afterwards john, the disciple of the lord, who also leaned upon his breast, he likewise published a gospel while he dwelt at ephesus in asia." if any modern divine should write a book upon the genuineness of the gospels, he could not assert it more expressly, or state their original more distinctly, than irenaeus hath done within little more than a hundred years after they were published. the correspondency, in the days of irenaeus, of the oral and written tradition, and the deduction of the oral tradition through various channels from the age of the apostles, which was then lately passed, and, by consequence, the probability that the books truly delivered what the apostles taught, is inferred also with strict regularity from another passage of his works. "the tradition of the apostles," this father saith, "hath spread itself over the whole universe; and all they who search after the sources of truth will find this tradition to be held sacred in every church, we might enumerate all those who have been appointed bishops to these churches by the apostles, and all their successors, up to our days. it is by this uninterrupted succession that we have received the tradition which actually exists in the church, as also the doctrines of truth, as it was preached by the apostles." (iren. in haer. i. iii. c. .) the reader will observe upon this, that the same irenaeus, who is now stating the strength and uniformity of the tradition, we have before seen recognizing, in the fullest manner, the authority of the written records; from which we are entitled to conclude, that they were then conformable to each other. i have said that the testimony of irenaeus in favour of our gospels is exclusive of all others. i allude to a remarkable passage in his works, in which, for some reasons sufficiently fanciful, he endeavours to show that there could he neither more nor fewer gospels than four. with his argument we have no concern. the position itself proves that four, and only four, gospels were at that time publicly read and acknowledged. that these were our gospels, and in the state in which we now have them, is shown from many other places of this writer beside that which we have already alleged. he mentions how matthew begins his gospel, bow mark begins and ends his, and their supposed reasons for so doing. he enumerates at length the several passages of christ's history in luke, which are not found in any of the other evangelists. he states the particular design with which saint john composed his gospel, and accounts for the doctrinal declarations which precede the narrative. to the book of the acts of the apostles, its author, and credit, the testimony of irenaeus is no less explicit. referring to the account of saint paul's conversion and vocation, in the ninth chapter of that book, "nor can they," says he, meaning the parties with whom he argues, "show that he is not to be credited, who has related to us the truth with the greatest exactness." in another place, he has actually collected the several texts, in which the writer of the history is represented as accompanying saint paul; which leads him to deliver a summary of almost the whole of the last twelve chapters of the book. in an author thus abounding with references and allusions to the scriptures, there is not one to any apocryphal christian writing whatever. this is a broad line of distinction between our sacred books and the pretensions of all others. the force of the testimony of the period which we have considered is greatly strengthened by the observation, that it is the testimony, and the concurring testimony, of writers who lived in countries remote from one another. clement flourished at rome, ignatius at antioch, polycarp at smyrna, justin martyr in syria, and irenaeus in france. xi. omitting athenagoras and theophilus, who lived about this time; (lardner, vol. i. p. & .) in the remaining works of the former of whom are clear references to mark and luke; and in the works of the latter, who was bishop of antioch, the sixth in succession from the apostles, evident allusions to matthew and john, and probable allusions to luke (which, considering the nature of the compositions, that they were addressed to heathen readers, is as much as could be expected); observing also, that the works of two learned christian writers of the same age, miltiades and pantaenus, (lardner, vol. i. p. , .) are now lost: of which miltiades eusebius records, that his writings "were monuments of zeal for the divine oracles;" and which pantaenus, as jerome testifies, was a man of prudence and learning, both in the divine scriptures and secular literature, and had left many commentaries upon the holy scriptures then extant. passing by these without further remark, we come to one of the most voluminous of ancient christian writers, clement of alexandria (lardner, vol. ii. p. .). clement followed irenaeus at the distance of only sixteen years, and therefore may be said to maintain the series of testimony in an uninterrupted continuation. in certain of clement's works, now lost, but of which various parts are recited by eusebius, there is given a distinct account of the order in which the four gospels were written. the gospels which contain the genealogies were (he says) written first; mark's next, at the instance of peter's followers; and john's the last; and this account he tells us that he had received from presbyters of more ancient times. this testimony proves the following points; that these gospels were the histories of christ then publicly received and relied upon; and that the dates, occasions, and circumstances, of their publication were at that time subjects of attention and inquiry amongst christians. in the works of clement which remain, the four gospels are repeatedly quoted by the names of their authors, and the acts of the apostles is expressly ascribed to luke. in one place, after mentioning a particular circumstance, he adds these remarkable words: "we have not this passage in the four gospels delivered to us, but in that according to the egyptians;" which puts a marked distinction between the four gospels and all other histories, or pretended histories, of christ. in another part of his works, the perfect confidence with which he received the gospels is signified by him in these words: "that this is true appears from hence, that it is written in the gospel according to saint luke;" and again, "i need not use many words, but only to allege the evangelic voice of the lord." his quotations are numerous. the sayings of christ, of which he alleges many, are all taken from our gospels; the single exception to this observation appearing to be a loose quotation of a passage in saint matthew's gospel.* _________ * "ask great things and the small shall be added unto you." clement rather chose to expound the words of matthew (chap. vi. ), than literally to cite them; and this is most undeniably proved by another place in the same clement, where he both produces the text and these words am an exposition:--"seek ye first the kingdom of heaven and its righteousness, for these are the great things; but the small things, and things relating to this life, shall be added unto you." jones's new and full method, vol. i. p. . _________ xii. in the age in which they lived, (lardner, vol. ii. p. .) tertullian joins on with clement. the number of the gospels then received, the names of the evangelists, and their proper descriptions, are exhibited by this writer in one short sentence:--"among the apostles john and matthew teach us the faith; among apostolical men, luke and mark refresh it." the next passage to be taken from tertullian affords as complete an attestation to the authenticity of our books as can be well imagined. after enumerating the churches which had been founded by paul at corinth, in galatia, at philippi, thessalonica, and ephesus; the church of rome established by peter and paul, and other churches derived from john; he proceeds thus:--"i say, then, that with them, but not with them only which are apostolical, but with all who have fellowship with them in the same faith, is that gospel of luke received from its first publication, which we so zealously maintain:" and presently afterwards adds, "the same authority of the apostolical churches will support the other gospels which we have from them and according to them, i mean john's and matthew's; although that likewise which mark published may be said to be peter's, whose interpreter mark was." in another place tertullian affirms, that the three other gospels were in the hands of the churches from the beginning, as well as luke's. this noble testimony fixes the universality with which the gospels were received and their antiquity; that they were in the hands of all, and had been so from the first. and this evidence appears not more than one hundred and fifty years after the publication of the books. the reader must be given to understand that, when tertullian speaks of maintaining or defending (tuendi) the gospel of saint luke, he only means maintaining or defending the integrity of the copies of luke received by christian churches, in opposition to certain curtailed copies used by marcion, against whom he writes. this author frequently cites the acts of the apostles under that title, once calls it luke's commentary, and observes how saint paul's epistles confirm it. after this general evidence, it is unnecessary to add particular quotations. these, however, are so numerous and ample as to have led dr. lardner to observe, "that there are more and larger quotations of the small volume of the new testament in this one christian author, than there are of all the works of cicero in writers of all characters for several ages." (lardner, vol ii. p. .) tertullian quotes no christian writing as of equal authority with the scriptures, and no spurious books at all; a broad line of distinction, we may once more observe, between our sacred books and all others. we may again likewise remark the wide extent through which the reputation of the gospels, and of the acts of the apostles had spread, and the perfect consent, in this point, of distant and independent societies. it is now only about one hundred and fifty years since christ was crucified; and within this period, to say nothing of the apostolical fathers who have been noticed already, we have justin martyr at neapolis, theophilus at antioch, irenaeus in france, clement at alexandria, tertullian at carthage, quoting the same books of historical scriptures, and i may say, quoting these alone. xiii. an interval of only thirty years, and that occupied by no small number of christian writers, (minucius felix, apollonius, caius, asterius urbanus alexander bishop of jerusalem, hippolytus, ammonius julius africanus) whose works only remain in fragments and quotations, and in every one of which is some reference or other to the gospels (and in one of them, hippolytus, as preserved in theodoret, is an abstract of the whole gospel history), brings us to a name of great celebrity in christian antiquity, origen (lardner, vol. iii. p. .) of alexandria, who in the quantity of his writings exceeded the most laborious of the greek and latin authors. nothing can be more peremptory upon the subject now under consideration, and, from a writer of his learning and information, more satisfactory, than the declaration of origen, preserved, in an extract from his works, by eusebius; "that the four gospels alone are received without dispute by the whole church of god under heaven:" to which declaration is immediately subjoined a brief history of the respective authors to whom they were then, as they are now, ascribed. the language holden concerning the gospels, throughout the works of origen which remain, entirely corresponds with the testimony here cited. his attestation to the acts of the apostles is no less positive: "and luke also once more sounds the trumpet, relating the acts of the apostles." the universality with which the scriptures were then read is well signified by this writer in a passage in which he has occasion to observe against celsus, "that it is not in any private books, or such as are read by a few only, and those studious persons, but in books read by everybody, that it is written, the invisible things of god from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by things that are made." it is to no purpose to single out quotations of scripture from such a writer as this. we might as well make a selection of the quotations of scripture in dr. clarke's sermons. they are so thickly sown in the works of origen, that dr. mill says, "if we had all his works remaining, we should have before us almost the whole text of the bible." (mill, proleg. esp. vi. p. .) origen notices, in order to censure, certain apocryphal gospels. he also uses four writings of this sort; that is, throughout his large works he once or twice, at the most, quotes each of the four; but always with some mark, either of direct reprobation or of caution to his readers, manifestly esteeming them of little or no authority. xiv. gregory, bishop of neocaesaea, and dionysius of alexandria, were scholars of origen. their testimony, therefore, though full and particular, may be reckoned a repetition only of his. the series, however, of evidence is continued by cyprian, bishop of carthage, who flourished within twenty years after origen. "the church," said this father, "is watered, like paradise, by four rivers, that is, by four gospels." the acts of the apostles is also frequently quoted by cyprian under that name, and under the name of the "divine scriptures." in his various writings are such constant and copious citations of scripture, as to place this part of the testimony beyond controversy. nor is there, in the works of this eminent african bishop, one quotation of a spurious or apocryphal christian writing. xv. passing over a crowd* of writers following cyprian at different distances, but all within forty years of his time; and who all, in the perfect remains of their works, either cite the historical scriptures of the new testament, or speak of them in terms of profound respect: i single out victorin, bishop of pettaw, in germany, merely on account of the remoteness of his situation from that of origen and cyprian, who were africans; by which circumstance his testimony, taken in conjunction with theirs, proves that the scripture histories, and the same histories, were known and received from one side of the christian world to the other. this bishop (lardner, vol. v. p. .) lived about the year : and in a commentary upon this text of the revelation, "the first was like a lion, the second was like a calf, the third like a man, and the fourth like a flying eagle," he makes out that by the four creatures are intended the four gospels; and, to show the propriety of the symbols, he recites the subject with which each evangelist opens his history. the explication is fanciful, but the testimony positive. he also expressly cites the acts of the apostles. _________ * novatus, rome, a.d. ; dionysius, rome, a.d. ; commodian, a.d. ; anatolius, laodicea, a.d. ; theognostus a.d. ; methodius lycia, a.d. ; phileas, egypt, a.d. . _________ xvi. arnobius and lactantius (lardner, vol. viii. p. , .), about the year , composed formal arguments upon the credibility of the christian religion. as these arguments were addressed to gentiles, the authors abstain from quoting christian books by name, one of them giving this very reason for his reserve; but when they came to state, for the information of their readers, the outlines of christ's history, it is apparent that they draw their accounts from our gospels, and from no other sources; for these statements exhibit a summary of almost everything which is related of christ's actions and miracles by the four evangelists. arnobius vindicates, without mentioning their names, the credit of these historians; observing that they were eye-witnesses of the facts which they relate, and that their ignorance of the arts of composition was rather a confirmation of their testimony, than an objection to it. lactantius also argues in defence of the religion, from the consistency, simplicity, disinterestedness, and sufferings of the christian historians, meaning by that term our evangelists. xvii. we close the series of testimonies with that of eusebius, (lardner, vol. viii. p. .) bishop of caesarea who flourished in the year , contemporary with, or posterior only by fifteen years to, the authors last cited. this voluminous writer, and most diligent collector of the writings of others, beside a variety of large works, composed a history of the affairs of christianity from its origin to his own time. his testimony to the scriptures is the testimony of a man much conversant in the works of christian authors, written during the first three centuries of its era, and who had read many which are now lost. in a passage of his evangelical demonstration, eusebius remarks, with great nicety, the delicacy of two of the evangelists, in their manner of noticing any circumstance which regarded themselves; and of mark, as writing under peter's direction, in the circumstances which regarded him. the illustration of this remark leads him to bring together long quotations from each of the evangelists: and the whole passage is a proof that eusebius, and the christians of those days, not only read the gospels, but studied them with attention and exactness. in a passage of his ecclesiastical history, he treats, in form, and at large, of the occasions of writing the four gospels, and of the order in which they were written. the title of the chapter is, "of the order of the gospels;" and it begins thus: "let us observe the writings of this apostle john, which are not contradicted by any: and, first of all, must be mentioned, as acknowledged by all, the gospel according to him, well-known to all the churches under heaven; and that it has been justly placed by the ancients the fourth in order, and after the other three, may be made evident in this manner."--eusebius then proceeds to show that john wrote the last of the four, and that his gospel was intended to supply the omissions of the others; especially in the part of our lord's ministry which took place before the imprisonment of john the baptist. he observes, "that the apostles of christ were not studious of the ornaments of composition, nor indeed forward to write at all, being wholly occupied with their ministry." this learned author makes no use at all of christian writings, forged with the names of christ's apostle, or their companions. we close this branch of our evidence here, because, after eusebius, there is no room for any question upon the subject; the works of christian writers being as full of texts of scripture, and of references to scripture, as the discourses of modern divines. future testimonies to the books of scripture could only prove that they never lost their character or authority. section ii. when the scriptures are quoted, or alluded to, they are quoted with peculiar respect, as books sui generis; as possessing an authority which belonged to no other books, and as conclusive in all questions and controversies amongst christians. beside the general strain of reference and quotation, which uniformly and strongly indicates this distinction, the following may be regarded as specific testimonies: i. theophilus, (lardner, cred. part ii. vol. i. p. .) bishop of antioch, the sixth in succession from the apostles, and who flourished little more than a century after the books of the new testament were written, having occasion to quote one of our gospels, writes thus: "these things the holy scriptures teach us, and all who were moved by the holy spirit, among whom john says, in the beginning was the word, and the word was with god." again: "concerning the righteousness which the law teaches, the like things are to be found in the prophets and the gospels, because that all, being inspired, spoke by one and the same spirit of god." (lardner, cred. part ii. vol. i. p. .) no words can testify more strongly than these do, the high and peculiar respect in which these books were holden. ii. a writer against artemon, (lardner, cred. part ii. vol. iii. p. .) who may be supposed to come about one hundred and fifty-eight years after the publication of the scripture, in a passage quoted by eusebius, uses these expressions: "possibly what they (our adversaries) say, might have been credited, if first of all the divine scriptures did not contradict them; and then the writings of certain brethren more ancient than the times of victor." the brethren mentioned by name are justin, miltiades, tatian, clement, irenaeus, melito, with a general appeal to many more not named. this passage proves, first, that there was at that time a collection called divine scriptures; secondly, that these scriptures were esteemed of higher authority than the writings of the most early and celebrated christians. iii. in a piece ascribed to hippolytus, (lardner, cred. vol. iii. p. .) who lived near the same time, the author professes, in giving his correspondent instruction in the things about which he inquires, "to draw out of the sacred-fountain, and to set before him from the sacred scriptures what may afford him satisfaction." he then quotes immediately paul's epistles to timothy, and afterwards many books of the new testament. this preface to the quotations carries in it a marked distinction between the scriptures and other books. iv. "our assertions and discourses," saith origen, (lardner, cred. vol. iii. pp. - .) "are unworthy of credit; we must receive the scriptures as witnesses." after treating of the duty of prayer, he proceeds with his argument thus: "what we have said, may be proved from the divine scriptures." in his books against celsus we find this passage: "that our religion teaches us to seek after wisdom, shall be shown, both out of the ancient jewish scriptures which we also use, and out of those written since jesus, which are believed in the churches to be divine." these expressions afford abundant evidence of the peculiar and exclusive authority which the scriptures possessed. v. cyprian, bishop of carthage, (lardner, cred. vol. vi. p. .) whose age lies close to that of origen, earnestly exhorts christian teachers, in all doubtful cases, "to go back to the fountain; and, if the truth has in any case been shaken, to recur to the gospels and apostolic writings."--"the precepts of the gospel," says he in another place, "are nothing less than authoritative divine lessons, the foundations of our hope, the supports of our faith, the guides of our way, the safeguards of our course to heaven." vi. novatus, (lardner, cred. vol. v. p. .) a roman contemporary with cyprian, appeals to the scriptures, as the authority by which all errors were to be repelled, and disputes decided. "that christ is not only man, but god also, is proved by the sacred authority of the divine writings."--"the divine scripture easily detects and confutes the frauds of heretics."--"it is not by the fault of the heavenly scriptures, which never deceive." stronger assertions than these could not be used. vii. at the distance of twenty years from the writer last cited, anatolius (lardner, cred. vol. v. p. .), a learned alexandrian, and bishop of laedicea, speaking of the rule for keeping easter, a question at that day agitated with much earnestness, says of those whom he opposed, "they can by no means prove their point by the authority of the divine scripture." viii. the arians, who sprung up about fifty years after this, argued strenuously against the use of the words consubstantial, and essence, and like phrases; "because they were not in scripture." (lardner, cred. vol. vii. pp. - .) and in the same strain one of their advocates opens a conference with augustine, after the following manner: "if you say what is reasonable, i must submit. if you allege anything from the divine scriptures which are common to both, i must hear. but unscriptural expressions (quae extra scripturam sunt) deserve no regard." athanasius, the great antagonist of arianism, after having enumerated the books of the old and new testament, adds, "these are the fountain of salvation, that he who thirsts may be satisfied with the oracles contained in them. in these alone the doctrine of salvation is proclaimed. let no man add to them, or take anything from them." (lardner, cred. vol. xii. p. .) ix. cyril, bishop of jerusalem (lardner, cred. vol. viii. p. .), who wrote about twenty years after the appearance of arianism, uses these remarkable words: "concerning the divine and holy mysteries of faith, not the least article ought to be delivered without the divine scriptures." we are assured that cyril's scriptures were the same as ours, for he has left us a catalogue of the books included under that name. x. epiphanius, (lardner, cred. vol. viii. p. .) twenty years after cyril, challenges the arians, and the followers of origen, "to produce any passage of the old and new testament favouring their sentiments." xi. poebadius, a gallic bishop, who lived about thirty years after the council of nice, testifies, that "the bishops of that council first consulted the sacred volumes, and then declared their faith." (lardner, cred. vol. ix. p. .) xii. basil, bishop of caesarea, in cappadocia, contemporary with epiphanius, says, that "hearers instructed in the scriptures ought to examine what is said by their teachers, and to embrace what is agreeable to the scriptures, and to reject what is otherwise." (lardner, cred. vol. ix. p. .) xiii. ephraim, the syrian, a celebrated writer of the same times, bears this conclusive testimony to the proposition which forms the subject of our present chapter: "the truth written in the sacred volume of the gospel is a perfect rule. nothing can be taken from it nor added to it, without great guilt." (lardner, cred. vol. ix. p. .) xiv. if we add jerome to these, it is only for the evidence which he affords of the judgment of preceding ages. jerome observes, concerning the quotations of ancient christian writers, that is, of writers who were ancient in the year , that they made a distinction between books; some they quoted as of authority, and others not: which observation relates to the books of scripture, compared with other writings, apocryphal or heathen. (lardner, cred. vol. x. pp. - .) section iii. the scriptures were in very early times collected into a distinct volume. ignatius, who was bishop of antioch within forty years after the ascension, and who had lived and conversed with the apostles, speaks of the gospel and of the apostles in terms which render it very probable that he meant by the gospel the book or volume of the gospels, and by the apostles the book or volume of their epistles. his words in one place are, (lardner, cred. part ii. vol. i. p. .) "fleeing to the gospel as the flesh of jesus, and to the apostles as the presbytery of the church;" that is, as le clere interprets them, "in order to understand the will of god, he fled to the gospels, which he believed no less than if christ in the flesh had been speaking to him; and to the writings of the apostles, whom he esteemed as the presbytery of the whole christian church." it must be observed, that about eighty years after this we have direct proof, in the writings of clement of alexandria, (lardner, cred. part ii. vol. ii. p. .) that these two names, "gospel," and "apostles," were the names by which the writings of the new testament, and the division of these writings, were usually expressed. another passage from ignatius is the following:--"but the gospel has somewhat in it more excellent, the appearance of our lord jesus christ, his passion and resurrection." (lardner, cred. part ii. vol. ii. p. .) and a third: "ye ought to hearken to the prophets, but especially to the gospel, in which the passion has been manifested to us, and the resurrection perfected." in this last passage, the prophets and the gospel are put in conjunction; and as ignatius undoubtedly meant by the prophets a collection of writings, it is probable that he meant the same by the gospel, the two terms standing in evident parallelism with each other. this interpretation of the word "gospel," in the passages above quoted from ignatius, is confirmed by a piece of nearly equal antiquity, the relation of the martyrdom of polycarp by the church of smyrna. "all things," say they, "that went before, were done, that the lord might show us a martyrdom according to the gospel, for he expected to be delivered up as the lord also did." (ignat. ep. c.i.) and in another place, "we do not commend those who offer themselves, forasmuch as the gospel, teaches us no such thing." (ignat. ep. c. iv.) in both these places, what is called the gospel seems to be the history of jesus christ, and of his doctrine. if this be the true sense of the passages, they are not only evidences of our proposition, by strong and very ancient proofs of the high esteem in which the books of the new testament were holden. ii. eusebius relates, that quadratus and some others, who were the immediate successors of the apostles, travelling abroad to preach christ, carried the gospels with them, and delivered them to their converts. the words of eusebius are: "then travelling abroad, they performed the work of evangelists, being ambitious to preach christ, and deliver the scripture of the divine gospels." (lardner, cred. part ii. vol. i. p. .) eusebius had before him the writings both of quadratus himself, and of many others of that age, which are now lost. it is reasonable, therefore to believe that he had good grounds for his assertion. what is thus recorded of the gospels took place within sixty, or at the most seventy, years after they were published: and it is evident that they must, before this time (and, it is probable, long before this time), have been in general use and in high esteem in the churches planted by the apostles, inasmuch as they were now, we find, collected into a volume: and the immediate successors of the apostles, they who preached the religion of christ to those who had not already heard it, carried the volume with them, and delivered it to their converts. iii. irenaeus, in the year , (lardner, cred. part ii. vol. i. p. .) puts the evangelic and apostolic writings in connexion with the law and the prophets, manifestly intending by the one a code or collection of christian sacred writings, as the other expressed the code or collection of jewish sacred writings. and, iv. melito, at this time bishop of sardis, writing to one onesimus, tells his correspondent, (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) that he had procured an accurate account of the books of the old testament. the occurrence in this message of the term old testament has been brought to prove, and it certainly does prove, that there was then a volume or collection of writings called the new testament. v. in the time of clement of alexandria, about fifteen years after the last quoted testimony, it is apparent that the christian scriptures were divided into two parts, under the general titles of the gospels and apostles; and that both these were regarded as of the highest authority. one out of many expressions of clement, alluding to this distribution, is the following: "there is a consent and harmony between the law and the prophets, the apostles and the gospel." (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) vi. the same division, "prophets, gospels, and apostles," appears in tertullian, the contemporary of clement. the collection of the gospels is likewise called by this writer the "evangelic instrument;" the whole volume the "new testament;" and the two parts, the "gospels and apostles." (lardner, cred. vol. ii. pp. , & .) vii. from many writers also of the third century, and especially from cyprian, who lived in the middle of it, it is collected that the christian scriptures were divided into two cedes or volumes, one called the "gospels or scriptures of the lord," the other the "apostles, or epistles of the apostles" (lardner, cred. vol. iv. p. .) viii. eusebius, as we have already seen, takes some pains to show that the gospel of saint john had been justly placed by the ancients, "the fourth in order, and after the other three." (lardner, cred. vol. viii. p. .) these are the terms of his proposition: and the very introduction of such an argument proves incontestably, that the four gospels had been collected into a volume, to the exclusion of every other: that their order in the volume had been adjusted with much consideration; and that this had been done by those who were called ancients in the time of eusebius. in the diocletian persecution, in the year , the scriptures were sought out and burnt:(lardner, cred. vol. vii. pp. et seq.) many suffered death rather than deliver them up; and those who betrayed them to the persecutors were accounted as lapsed and apostate. on the other hand, constantine, after his conversion, gave directions for multiplying copies of the divine oracles, and for magnificently adorning them at the expense of the imperial treasury. (lardner, cred. vol. vii. p. .) what the christians of that age so richly embellished in their prosperity, and, which is more, so tenaciously preserved under persecution, was the very volume of the new testament which we now read. section iv. our present sacred writings were soon distinguished by appropriate names and titles of respect. polycarp. "i trust that ye are well exercised in the holy scriptures;--as in these scriptures it is said, be ye angry and sin not, and let not the sun go down upon your wrath." (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) this passage is extremely important; because it proves that, in the time of polycarp, who had lived with the apostles, there were christian writings distinguished by the name of "holy scriptures," or sacred writings. moreover, the text quoted by polycarp is a text found in the collection at this day. what also the same polycarp hath elsewhere quoted in the same manner, may be considered as proved to belong to the collection; and this comprehends saint matthew's and, probably, saint luke's gospel, the acts of the apostles, ten epistles of paul, the first epistle of peter, and the first of john. (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) in another place, polycarp has these words: "whoever perverts the oracles of the lord to his own lusts, and says there is neither resurrection nor judgment, he is the first born of satan." (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .)--it does not appear what else polycarp could mean by the "oracles of the lord," but those same "holy scriptures," or sacred writings, of which he had spoken before. ii. justin martyr, whose apology was written about thirty years after polycarp's epistle, expressly cites some of our present histories under the title of gospel, and that not as a name by him first ascribed to them, but as the name by which they were generally known in his time. his words are these:--"for the apostles in the memoirs composed by them, which are called gospels, have thus delivered it, that jesus commanded them to take bread, and give thanks." (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) there exists no doubt, but that, by the memoirs above-mentioned, justin meant our present historical scriptures; for throughout his works he quotes these and no others. iii. dionysius, bishop of corinth, who came thirty years after justin, in a passage preserved in eusebius (for his works are lost), speaks "of the scriptures of the lord." (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) iv. and at the same time, or very nearly so, by irenaeus, bishop of lyons in france, (the reader will observe the remoteness of these two writers in country and situation) they are called "divine scriptures,"--"divine oracles,"--"scriptures of the lord,"--"evangelic and apostolic writings." (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. , et seq.) the quotations of irenaeus prove decidedly, that our present gospels, and these alone, together with the acts of the apostles, were the historical books comprehended by him under these appellations. v. saint matthew's gospel is quoted by theophilus, bishop of antioch, contemporary with irenaeus, under the title of the "evangelic voice;" (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) and the copious works of clement of alexandria, published within fifteen years of the same time, ascribe to the books of the new testament the various titles of "sacred books,"--"divine scriptures,"--"divinely inspired scriptures,"-- "scriptures of the lord,"--"the true evangelical canon." (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) vi. tertullian, who joins on with clement, beside adopting most of the names and epithets above noticed, calls the gospels "our digesta," in allusion, as it should seem, to some collection of roman laws then extant. (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) vii. by origen, who came thirty years after tertullian, the same, and other no less strong titles, are applied to the christian scriptures: and, in addition thereunto, this writer frequently speaks of the "old and new testament,"--"the ancient and new scriptures,"--"the ancient and new oracles." (lardner, cred. vol. iii. p. .) viii. in cyprian, who was not twenty years later, they are "books of the spirit,"--"divine fountains,"--"fountains of the divine fulness." (lardner, cred. vol. iv. p. .) the expressions we have thus quoted are evidences of high and peculiar respect. they all occur within two centuries from the publication of the books. some of them commence with the companions of the apostles; and they increase in number and variety, through a series of writers touching upon one another, and deduced from the first age of the religion. section v. our scriptures were publicly read and expounded in the religious assemblies of the early christians. justin martyr, who wrote in the year , which was seventy or eighty years after some, and less, probably, after others of the gospels were published, giving, in his first apology an account, to the emperor, of the christian worship has this remarkable passage: "the memoirs of the apostles, or the writings of the prophets, are read according as the time allows: and, when the reader has ended, the president makes a discourse, exhorting to the imitation of so excellent things." (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) a few short observations will show the value of this testimony. . the "memoirs of the apostles," justin in another place expressly tells us, are what are called "gospels:" and that they were the gospels which we now use, is made certain by justin's numerous quotations of them, and his silence about any others. . justin describes the general usage of the christian church. . justin does not speak of it as recent or newly instituted, but in the terms in which men speak of established customs. ii. tertullian, who followed justin at the distance of about fifty years, in his account of the religious assemblies of christians as they were conducted in his time, says, "we come together to recollect the divine scriptures; we nourish our faith, raise our hope, confirm our trust, by the sacred word." (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) iii. eusebius records of origen, and cites for his authority the letters of bishops contemporary with origen, that when he went into palestine about the year , which was only sixteen years after the date of tertullian's testimony, he was desired by the bishops of that country to discourse and expound the scriptures publicly in the church, though he was not yet ordained a presbyter. (lardner, cred. vol. iii. p. .) this anecdote recognises the usage, not only of reading, but of expounding the scriptures; and both as subsisting in full force. origen also himself bears witness to the same practice: "this," says he, "we do, when the scriptures are read in the church, and when the discourse for explication is delivered to the people." (lardner, cred. vol. iii. p. .) and what is a still more ample testimony, many homilies of his upon the scriptures of the new testament, delivered by him in the assemblies of the church, are still extant. iv. cyprian, whose age was not twenty years lower than that of origen, gives his people an account of having ordained two persons, who were before confessors, to be readers; and what they were to read appears by the reason which he gives for his choice; "nothing," says cyprian, "can be more fit than that he who has made a glorious confession of the lord should read publicly in the church; that he who has shown himself willing to die a martyr should read the gospel of christ by which martyrs are made." (lardner, cred. vol. iv. p. .) v. intimations of the same custom may be traced in a great number of writers in the beginning and throughout the whole of the fourth century. of these testimonies i will only use one, as being, of itself, express and full. augustine, who appeared near the conclusion of the century, displays the benefit of the christian religion on this very account, the public reading of the scriptures in the churches, "where," says he, "is a consequence of all sorts of people of both sexes; and where they hear how they ought to live well in this world, that they may deserve to live happily and eternally in another." and this custom he declares to be universal: "the canonical books of scripture being read every where, the miracles therein recorded are well known to all people." (lardner, cred. vol. x. p. , et seq.) it does not appear that any books, other than our present scriptures were thus publicly read, except that the epistle of clement was read in the church of corinth, to which it had been addressed, and in some others; and that the shepherd of hennas was read in many churches. nor does it subtract much from the value of the argument, that these two writings partly come within it, because we allow them to be the genuine writings of apostolical men. there is not the least evidence, that any other gospel than the four which we receive was ever admitted to this distinction. section vi. commentaries were anciently written upon the scriptures; harmonies formed out of them; different copies carefully collated; and versions made of them into different languages. no greater proof can be given of the esteem in which these books were holden by the ancient christians, or of the sense then entertained of their value and importance, than the industry bestowed upon them. and it ought to be observed that the value and importance of these books consisted entirely in their genuineness and truth. there was nothing in them, as works of taste or as compositions, which could have induced any one to have written a note upon them. moreover, it shows that they were even then considered as ancient books. men do not write comments upon publications of their own times: therefore the testimonies cited under this head afford an evidence which carries up the evangelic writings much beyond the age of the testimonies themselves, and to that of their reputed authors. i. tatian, a follower of justin martyr, and who flourished about the year , composed a harmony, or collation of the gospels, which he called diatessaron, of the four. the title, as well as the work, is remarkable; because it shows that then, as now, there were four, and only four, gospels in general use with christians. and this was little more than a hundred years after the publication of some of them. (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) ii. pantaenus, of the alexandrian school, a man of great reputation and learning, who came twenty years after tatian, wrote many commentaries upon the holy scriptures, which, as jerome testifies, were extant in his time. (lardner, cred. vol. i. p. .) iii. clement of alexandria wrote short explications of many books of the old and new testament. (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) iv. tertullian appeals from the authority of a later version, then in use, to the authentic greek. (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) v. an anonymous author, quoted by eusebius, and who appears to have written about the year , appeals to the ancient copies of the scriptures, in refutation of some corrupt readings alleged by the followers of artemon. (lardner, cred. vol. iii. p. .) vi. the same eusebius, mentioning by name several writers of the church who lived at this time, and concerning whom he says, "there still remain divers monuments of the laudable industry of those ancient and ecclesiastical men," (i. e. of christian writers who were considered as ancient in the year ,) adds, "there are, besides, treatises of many others, whose names we have not been able to learn, orthodox and ecclesiastical men, as the interpretations of the divine scriptures given by each of them show." (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) vii. the last five testimonies may be referred to the year ; immediately after which, a period of thirty years gives us julius africanus, who wrote an epistle upon the apparent difference in the genealogies in matthew and luke, which he endeavours to reconcile by the distinction of natural and legal descent, and conducts his hypothesis with great industry through the whole series of generations. (lardner, cred. vol. iii. p. .) ammonius, a learned alexandrian, who composed, as tatian had done, a harmony of the four gospels, which proves, as tatian's work did, that there were four gospels, and no more, at this time in use in the church. it affords also on instance of the zeal of christians for those writings, and of their solicitude about them. (lardner, cred. vol. iii. p. .) and, above both these, origen, who wrote commentaries, or homilies, upon most of the books included in the new testament, and upon no other books but these. in particular, he wrote upon saint john's gospel, very largely upon saint matthew's, and commentaries, or homilies, upon the acts of the apostles. (lardner, cred. vol. iii. pp. , , & .) viii. in addition to these, the third century likewise contains--dionysius of alexandria, a very learned man, who compared, with great accuracy, the accounts in the four gospels of the time of christ's resurrection, adding a reflection which showed his opinion of their authority: "let us not think that the evangelists disagree or contradict each other, although there be some small difference; but let us honestly and faithfully endeavour to reconcile what we read." (lardner, cred. vol. iv. p. .) victorin, bishop of pettaw, in germany, who wrote comments upon saint matthew's gospel. (lardner, cred. vol. iv. p. .) lucian, a presbyter of antioch; and hesychius, an egyptian bishop, who put forth editions of the new testament. ix. the fourth century supplies a catalogue* of fourteen writers, who expended their labours upon the books of the new testament, and whose works or names are come down to our times; amongst which number it may be sufficient, for the purpose of showing the sentiments and studies of learned christians of that age, to notice the following: _________ * eusebius ...... a.d. juvencus, spain ..... theodore, thrace .... hilary, poletiers .... fortunatus ..... apollinarius of loadicea damasus, rome ..... gregory, nyssen .... didimus of alex, . . . . ambrose of milan ..... diodore of tarsus ..... gaudent of brescia .... theodore of cilicia .... jerome ........ chrysostom ...... _________ eusebius, in the very beginning of the century, wrote expressly upon the discrepancies observable in the gospels, and likewise a treatise, in which he pointed out what things are related by four, what by three, what by two, and what by one evangelist. (lardner, cred. vol. viii. p. .) this author also testifies what is certainly a material piece of evidence, "that the writings of the apostles had obtained such an esteem as to be translated into every language both of greeks and barbarians, and to be diligently studied by all nations." (lardner, cred. vol. viii. p. .) this testimony was given about the year ; how long before that date these translations were made does not appear. damasus, bishop of rome, corresponded with saint jerome upon the exposition of difficult texts of scripture; and, in a letter still remaining, desires jerome to give him a clear explanation of the word hosanna, found in the new testament; "he (damasus) having met with very different interpretations of it in the greek and latin commentaries of catholic writers which he had read." (lardner, cred. vol. ix. p. ) this last clause shows the number and variety of commentaries then extant. gregory of nyssen, at one time, appeals to the most exact copies of saint mark's gospel; at another time, compares together, and proposes to reconcile, the several accounts of the resurrection given by the four evangelists; which limitation proves that there were no other histories of christ deemed authentic beside these, or included in the same character with these. this writer observes, acutely enough, that "the disposition of the clothes in the sepulchre, the napkin that was about our saviour's head, not lying with the linen clothes, but wrapped together in a place by itself, did not bespeak the terror and hurry of thieves, and therefore refutes the story of the body being stolen." (lardner, cred. vol. ix. p. .) ambrose, bishop of milan, remarked various readings in the latin copies of the new testament, and appeals to the original greek; and jerome, towards the conclusion of this century, put forth an edition of the new testament in latin, corrected, at least as to the gospels, by greek copies, and "those (he says) ancient." lastly, chrysostom, it is well known, delivered and published a great many homilies, or sermons, upon the gospels and the acts of the apostles. it is needless to bring down this article lower, but it is of importance to add, that there is no example of christian writers of the first three centuries composing comments upon any other books than those which are found in the new testament, except the single one of clement of alexandria commenting upon a book called the revelation of peter. of the ancient versions of the new testament, one of the most valuable is the syriac. syriac was the language of palestine when christianity was there first established. and although the books of scripture were written in greek, for the purpose of a more extended circulation than within the precincts of judea, yet it is probable that they would soon be translated into the vulgar language of the country where the religion first prevailed. accordingly, a syriac translation is now extant, all along, so far as it appears, used by the inhabitants of syria, bearing many internal marks of high antiquity, supported in its pretensions by the uniform tradition of the east, and confirmed by the discovery of many very ancient manuscripts in the libraries of europe, it is about years since a bishop of antioch sent a copy of this translation into europe to be printed; and this seems to be the first time that the translation became generally known to these parts of the world. the bishop of antioch's testament was found to contain all our books, except the second epistle of peter, the second and third of john, and the revelation; which books, however, have since been discovered in that language in some ancient manuscripts of europe. but in this collection, no other book, besides what is in ours, appears ever to have had a place. and, which is very worthy of observation, the text, though preserved in a remote country, and without communication with ours, differs from ours very little, and in nothing that is important (jones on the canon, vol. i. e. .). section vii. our scriptures were received by ancient christians of different sects and persuasions, but many heretics as well as catholics, and were usually appealed to by both sides in the controversies which arose in those days. the three most ancient topics of controversy amongst christians were, the authority of the jewish constitution, the origin of evil, and the nature of christ. upon the first of these we find, in very early times, one class of heretics rejecting the old testament entirely; another contending for the obligation of its law, in all its parts, throughout its whole extent, and over every one who sought acceptance with god. upon the two latter subjects, a natural, perhaps, and venial, but a fruitless, eager, and impatient curiosity, prompted by the philosophy and by the scholastic habits of the age, which carried men much into bold hypotheses and conjectural solutions, raised, amongst some who professed christianity, very wild and unfounded opinions. i think there is no reason to believe that the number of these bore any considerable proportion to the body of the christian church; and, amidst the disputes which such opinions necessarily occasioned, it is a great satisfaction to perceive what, in a vast plurality of instances, we do perceive, all sides recurring to the same scriptures. *i. basilides lived near the age of the apostles, about the year , or, perhaps, sooner. (lardner, vol. ix. p. .) he rejected the jewish institution, not as spurious, but as proceeding from a being inferior to the true god; and in other respects advanced a scheme of theology widely different from the general doctrine of the christian church, and which, as it gained over some disciples, was warmly opposed by christian writers of the second and third century. in these writings there is positive evidence that basilides received the gospel of matthew; and there is no sufficient proof that he rejected any of the other three: on the contrary, it appears that he wrote a commentary upon the gospel, so copious as to be divided into twenty-four books. (lardner, vol. ix. ed. , p. , .) _________ * the materials of the former part of this section are taken from dr. lardner's history of the heretics of the first two centuries, published since his death, with additions, by the rev. mr. hogg, of exeter, and inserted into the ninth volume of his works, of the edition of . _________ ii. the valentinians appeared about the same time. their heresy consisted in certain notions concerning angelic natures, which can hardly be rendered intelligible to a modern reader. they seem, however, to have acquired as much importance as any of the separatists of that early age. of this sect, irenaeus, who wrote a.d. , expressly records that they endeavoured to fetch arguments for their opinions from the evangelic and apostolic writings. heracleon, one of the most celebrated of the sect, and who lived probably so early as the year , wrote commentaries upon luke and john. some observations also of his upon matthew are preserved by origen. nor is there any reason to doubt that he received the whole new testament. (lardner, vol. ix. ed. , pp. - ; vol. i. p. ; vol. ix. ed. , p. - .) iii. the carpocratians were also an early heresy, little, if at all, later than the two preceding. some of their opinions resembled what we at this day mean by socinianism. with respect to the scriptures, they are specifically charged, by irenaeus and by epiphanius, with endeavouring to pervert a passage in matthew, which amounts to a positive proof that they received that gospel. negatively, they are not accused, by their adversaries, of rejecting any part of the new testament. (lardner, vol. ix. ed. , pp. & .) iv. the sethians, a.d. ; the montanists, a.d. ; the marcosigns, a.d. ; hermogenes, a.d. ; praxias, a.d. ; artemon, a.d. ; theodotus, a.d. ; all included under the denomination of heretics, and all engaged in controversies with catholic christians, received the scriptures of the new testament. (lardner, vol. ix. ed. , pp. , , , , , .) v. tatian, who lived in the year , went into many extravagant opinions, was the founder of a sect called encratites, and was deeply involved in disputes with the christians of that age; yet tatian so received the four gospels as to compose a harmony from them. vi. from a writer quoted by eusebius, of about the year , it is apparent that they who at that time contended for the mere humanity of christ, argued from the scriptures; for they are accused by this writer of making alterations in their copies in order to favour their opinions. (lardner, vol. iii. p. .) vii. origen's sentiments excited great controversies,--the bishops of rome and alexandria, and many others, condemning, the bishops of the east espousing them; yet there is not the smallest question but that both the advocates and adversaries of these opinions acknowledged the same authority of scripture. in his time, which the reader will remember was about one hundred and fifty years after the scriptures were published, many dissensions subsisted amongst christians, with which they were reproached by celsus; yet origen, who has recorded this accusation without contradicting it, nevertheless testifies, that the four gospels were received without dispute, by the whole church of god under heaven. (lardner, vol. iv. ed. , p. .) viii. paul of samosata, about thirty years after origen, so distinguished himself in the controversy concerning the nature of christ as to be the subject of two councils or synods, assembled at antioch, upon his opinions. yet he is not charged by his adversaries with rejecting any book of the new testament. on the contrary, epiphanius, who wrote a history of heretics a hundred years afterwards, says, that paul endeavoured to support his doctrine by texts of scripture. and vincentius lirinensis, a.d. , speaking of paul and other heretics of the same age, has these words: "here, perhaps, some one may ask whether heretics also urge the testimony of scripture. they urge it, indeed, explicitly and vehemently; for you may see them flying through every book of the sacred law." (lardner, vol. ix. p. .) ix. a controversy at the same time existed with the noetians or sabellians, who seem to have gone into the opposite extreme from that of paul of samosata and his followers. yet according to the express testimony of epiphanius, sabellius received all the scriptures. and with both sects catholic writers constantly allege the scriptures, and reply to the arguments which their opponents drew from particular texts. we have here, therefore, a proof, that parties who were the most opposite and irreconcilable to one another acknowledged the authority of scripture with equal deference. x. and as a general testimony to the same point, may be produced what was said by one of the bishops of the council of carthage, which was holden a little before this time:--"i am of opinion that blasphemous and wicked heretics, who pervert the sacred and adorable words of the scripture, should be execrated." undoubtedly, what they perverted they received. (lardner, vol. ix. p. .) xi. the millennium, novatianism, the baptism of heretics, the keeping of easter, engaged also the attention and divided the opinions of christians, at and before that time (and, by the way, it may be observed, that such disputes, though on some accounts to be blamed, showed how much men were in earnest upon the subject.); yet every one appealed for the grounds of his opinion to scripture authority. dionysius of alexandria, who flourished a.d. , describing a conference or public disputation, with the millennarians of egypt, confesses of them, though their adversary, "that they embrace whatever could be made out by good arguments, from the holy scriptures." (lardner, vol. iv. p. .) novatus, a.d. , distinguished by some rigid sentiments concerning the reception of those who had lapsed, and the founder of a numerous sect, in his few remaining works quotes the gospel with the same respect as other christians did; and concerning his followers, the testimony of socrates, who wrote about the year , is positive, viz. "that in the disputes between the catholics and them, each side endeavoured to support itself by the authority of the divine scriptures" (lardner, vol. v. p. .) xii. the donatists, who sprung up in the year , used the same scriptures as we do. "produce," saith augustine, "some proof from the scriptures, whose authority is common to us both" (lardner, vol. vii. p. .) xiii. it is perfectly notorious, that in the arian controversy, which arose soon after the year , both sides appealed to the same scriptures, and with equal professions of deference and regard. the arians, in their council of antioch, a.d. , pronounce that "if any one, contrary to the sound doctrine of the scriptures, say, that the son is a creature, as one of the creatures, let him be an anathema." (lardner, vol. vii. p. .) they and the athanasians mutually accuse each other of using unscriptural phrases; which was a mutual acknowledgment of the conclusive authority of scripture. xiv. the priscillianists, a.d. , the pelagians, a.d. received the same scriptures as we do. (lardner, vol. ix. p. ; vol. xi p. .) xv. the testimony of chrysostom, who lived near the year , is so positive in affirmation of the proposition which we maintain, that it may form a proper conclusion of the argument. "the general reception of the gospels is a proof that their history is true and consistent; for, since the writing of the gospels, many heresies have arisen, holding opinions contrary to what is contained in them, who yet receive the gospels either entire or in part." (lardner, vol. x. p. .) i am not moved by what may seem a deduction from chrysostom's testimony, the words, "entire or in part;" for if all the parts which were ever questioned in our gospels were given up, it would not affect the miraculous origin of the religion in the smallest degree: e.g. cerinthus is said by epiphanius to have received the gospel of matthew, but not entire. what the omissions were does not appear. the common opinion, that he rejected the first two chapters, seems to have been a mistake. (lardner, vol. ix. ed. , p. .) it is agreed, however, by all who have given any account of cerinthus, that he taught that the holy ghost (whether he meant by that name a person or a power) descended upon jesus at his baptism; that jesus from this time performed many miracles, and that he appeared after his death. he must have retained therefore the essential parts of the history. of all the ancient heretics, the most extraordinary was marcion. (lardner, vol. ix. sect. ii. c. x. also michael vol. i. c. i. sect. xviii.) one of his tenets was the rejection of the old testament, as proceeding from an inferior and imperfect deity; and in pursuance of this hypothesis, he erased from the new, and that, as it should seem, without entering into any critical reasons, every passage which recognised the jewish scriptures. he spared not a text which contradicted his opinion. it is reasonable to believe that marcion treated books as he treated texts: yet this rash and wild controversialist published a recension, or chastised edition of saint luke's gospel, containing the leading facts, and all which is necessary to authenticate the religion. this example affords proof that there were always some points, and those the main points, which neither wildness nor rashness, neither the fury of opposition nor the intemperance of controversy, would venture to call in question. there is no reason to believe that marcion, though full of resentment against the catholic christians, ever charged them with forging their books. "the gospel of saint matthew, the epistle to the hebrews, with those of saint peter and saint james, as well as the old testament in general" he said, "were writings not for christians but for jews." this declaration shows the ground upon which marcion proceeded in his mutilation of the scriptures, viz., his dislike of the passages or the books. marcion flourished about the year .* _________ * i have transcribed this sentence from michaelis (p. ), who has not, however, referred to the authority upon which he attributes these words to marcion. _________ dr. lardner, in his general review, sums up this head of evidence in the following words:--"noitus, paul of samosata, sabellius, marcelins, photinus, the novatiana, donatists, manicheans (this must be with an exception, however, of faustus, who lived so late us the year ), priscillianists, beside artemon, the audians, the arians, and divers others, all received most of all the same books of the new testament which the catholics received; and agreed in a like respect for them as written by apostles, or their disciples and companions." (lardner, vol. iii. p. .--dr. lardner's future inquiries supplied him with many other instances.) section viii. the four gospels, the acts of the apostles, thirteen epistles of saint paul the first epistle of john, and the first of peter, were received without doubt by those who doubted concerning the other books which are included in our present canon. i state this proposition, because, if made out, it shows that the authenticity of their books was a subject amongst the early christians of consideration and inquiry; and that, where there was cause of doubt, they did doubt; a circumstance which strengthens very much their testimony to such books as were received by them with full acquiescence. i. jerome, in his account of caius, who was probably a presbyter of rome, and who flourished near the year , records of him, that, reckoning up only thirteen epistles of paul, he says the fourteenth, which is inscribed to the hebrews, is not his: and then jerome adds, "with the romans to this day it is not looked upon as paul's." this agrees in the main with the account given by eusebius of the same ancient author and his work; except that eusebius delivers his own remark in more guarded terms: "and indeed to this very time, by some of the romans, this epistle is not thought to be the apostle's." (lardner, vol. iii. p. .) ii. origen, about twenty years after caius, quoting the epistle to the hebrews, observes that some might dispute the authority of that epistle; and therefore proceeds to quote to the same point, as undoubted books of scripture, the gospel of saint matthew, the acts of the apostles, and paul's first epistle to the thessalonians. (lardner, vol. iii. p. .) and in another place, this author speaks of the epistle to the hebrews thus: "the account come down to us is various; some saying that clement who was bishop of rome, wrote this epistle; others, that it was luke, the same who wrote the gospel and the acts." speaking also, in the same paragraph, of peter, "peter," says he, "has left one epistle, acknowledged; let it be granted likewise that he wrote a second, for it is doubted of." and of john, "he has also left one epistle, of a very few lines; grant also a second and a third, for all do not allow them to be genuine." now let it be noted, that origen, who thus discriminates, and thus confesses his own doubts and the doubts which subsisted in his time, expressly witnesses concerning the four gospels, "that they alone are received without dispute by the whole church of god under heaven." (lardner, vol. iii. p. .) iii. dionysius of alexandria, in the year , doubts concerning the book of revelation, whether it was written by saint john; states the grounds of his doubt, represents the diversity of opinion concerning it, in his own time, and before his time. (lardner, vol. iv. p. .) yet the same dionysius uses and collates the four gospels in a manner which shows that he entertained not the smallest suspicion of their authority, and in a manner also which shows that they, and they alone, were received as authentic histories of christ. (lardner, vol. iv. p. .) iv. but this section may be said to have been framed on purpose to introduce to the reader two remarkable passages extant in eusebius's ecclesiastical history. the first passage opens with these words:--"let us observe the writings of the apostle john which are uncontradicted: and first of all must be mentioned, as acknowledged of all, the gospel according to him, well known to all the churches under heaven." the author then proceeds to relate the occasions of writing the gospels, and the reasons for placing saint john's the last, manifestly speaking of all the four as parallel in their authority, and in the certainty of their original. (lardner, vol. viii. p. .) the second passage is taken from a chapter, the title of which is, "of the scriptures universally acknowledged, and of those that are not such." eusebius begins his enumeration in the following manner:--"in the first place are to be ranked the sacred four gospels; then the book of the acts of the apostles; after that are to be reckoned the epistles of paul. in the next place, that called the first epistle of john, and the epistle of peter, are to be esteemed authentic. after this is to be placed, if it be thought fit, the revelation of john, about which we shall observe the different opinions at proper seasons. of the controverted, but yet well known or approved by the most, are, that called the epistle of james, and that of jude, and the second of peter, and the second and third of john, whether they are written by the evangelist, or another of the same name." (lardner, vol. viii. p. .) he then proceeds to reckon up five others, not in our canon, which he calls in one place spurious, in another controverted, meaning, as appears to me, nearly the same thing by these two words.* _________ * that eusebius could not intend, by the word rendered 'spurious' what we at present mean by it, is evident from a clause in this very chapter where, speaking of the gospels of peter, and thomas and matthias, and some others, he says, "they the are not so much as to be reckoned among the spurious, but are altogether absurd and impious." (lardner, vol. viii. p. .) _________ it is manifest from this passage, that the four gospels, and the acts of the apostles (the parts of scripture with which our concern principally lies), were acknowledged without dispute, even by those who raised objections, or entertained doubts, about some other parts of the same collection. but the passage proves something more than this. the author was extremely conversant in the writings of christians which had been published from the commencement of the institution to his own time: and it was from these writings that he drew his knowledge of the character and reception of the books in question. that eusebius recurred to this medium of information, and that he had examined with attention this species of proof, is shown, first, by a passage in the very chapter we are quoting, in which, speaking of the books which he calls spurious, "none," he says, "of the ecclesiastical writers, in the succession of the apostles, have vouchsafed to make any mention of them in their writings;" and, secondly, by another passage of the same work, wherein, speaking of the first epistle of peter, "this," he says, "the presbyters of ancient times have quoted in their writings as undoubtedly genuine;" (lardner, vol. viii. p. .) and then, speaking of some other writings bearing the name of peter, "we know," he says, "that they have not been delivered down to us in the number of catholic writings, forasmuch as no ecclesiastical writer of the ancients, or of our times, has made use of testimonies out of them." "but in the progress of this history," the author proceeds, "we shall make it our business to show, together with the successions from the apostles, what ecclesiastical writers, in every age, have used such writings as these which are contradicted, and what they have said with regard to the scriptures received in the new testament, and acknowledged by all, and with regard to those which are not such." (lardner, vol. viii. p. ) after this it is reasonable to believe that when eusebius states the four gospels, and the acts of the apostles, as uncontradicted, uncontested, and acknowledged by all; and when he places them in opposition, not only to those which were spurious, in our sense of that term, but to those which were controverted, and even to those which were well known and approved by many, yet doubted of by some; he represents not only the sense of his own age, but the result of the evidence which the writings of prior ages, from the apostles' time to his own, had furnished to his inquiries. the opinion of eusebius and his contemporaries appears to have been founded upon the testimony of writers whom they then called ancient: and we may observe, that such of the works of these writers as have come down to our times entirely confirm the judgment, and support the distinction which eusebius proposes. the books which he calls "books universally acknowledged" are in fact used and quoted in time remaining works of christian writers, during the years between the apostles' time and that of eusebius, much more frequently than, and in a different manner from, those the authority of which, he tells us, was disputed. section ix. our historical scriptures were attacked by the early adversaries of christianity, as containing the accounts upon which the religion was founded. near the middle of the second century, celsus, a heathen philosopher, wrote a professed treatise against christianity. to this treatise origen, who came about fifty years after him, published an answer, in which he frequently recites his adversary's words and arguments. the work of celsus is lost; but that of origen remains. origen appears to have given us the words of celsus, where he professes to give them, very faithfully; and amongst other reasons for thinking so, this is one, that the objection, as stated by him from celsus, is sometimes stronger than his own answer. i think it also probable that origen, in his answer, has retailed a large portion of the work of celsus: "that it may not be suspected," he says, "that we pass by any chapters because we have no answers at hand, i have thought it best, according to my ability, to confute everything proposed by him, not so much observing the natural order of things, as the order which he has taken himself." (orig. cont. cels. i. i. sect. .) celsus wrote about one hundred years after the gospels were published; and therefore any notices of these books from him are extremely important for their antiquity. they are, however, rendered more so by the character of the author; for the reception, credit, and notoriety of these books must have been well established amongst christians, to have made them subjects of animadversion and opposition by strangers and by enemies. it evinces the truth of what chrysostom, two centuries afterwards, observed, that "the gospels, when written, were not hidden in a corner or buried in obscurity, but they were made known to all the world, before enemies as well as others, even as they are now." (in matt. hom. i. .) . celsus, or the jew whom he personates, uses these words:--"i could say many things concerning the affairs of jesus, and those, too, different from those written by the disciples of jesus; but i purposely omit them." (lardner, jewish and heathen test. vol. ii. p. .) upon this passage it has been rightly observed, that it is not easy to believe, that if celsus could have contradicted the disciples upon good evidence in any material point, he would have omitted to do so, and that the assertion is, what origen calls it, a mere oratorical flourish. it is sufficient, however, to prove that, in the time of celsus, there were books well known, and allowed to be written by the disciples of jesus, which books contained a history of him. by the term disciples, celsus does not mean the followers of jesus in general; for them he calls christians, or believers, or the like; but those who had been taught by jesus himself, i.e. his apostles and companions. . in another passage, celsus accuses the christians of altering the gospel. (lardner, jewish and heathen test. vol. ii. p. .) the accusation refers to some variations in the readings of particular passages: for celsus goes on to object, that when they are pressed hard, and one reading has been confuted, they disown that, and fly to another. we cannot perceive from origen, that celsus specified any particular instances, and without such specification the charge is of no value. but the true conclusion to be drawn from it is, that there were in the hands of the christians histories which were even then of some standing: for various readings and corruptions do not take place in recent productions. the former quotation, the reader will remember, proves that these books were composed by the disciples of jesus, strictly so called; the present quotation shows, that though objections were taken by the adversaries of the religion to the integrity of these books, none were made to their genuineness. . in a third passage, the jew whom celsus introduces shuts up an argument in this manner:--"these things then we have alleged to you out of your own writings, not needing any other weapons." (lardner, vol. ii. p. .) it is manifest that this boast proceeds upon the supposition that the books over which the writer affects to triumph possessed an authority by which christians confessed themselves to be bound. . that the books to which celsus refers were no other than our present gospels, is made out by his allusions to various passages still found in these gospels. celsus takes notice of the genealogies, which fixes two of these gospels; of the precepts, resist not him that injures you, and if a man strike thee on the one cheek, offer to him the other also; of the woes denounced by christ; of his predictions; of his saying, that it is impossible to serve two masters; ( lardner, vol. ii. pp. - .) of the purple robe, the crown of thorns, and the reed in his hand; of the blood that flowed from the body of jesus upon the cross, which circumstance is recorded by john alone; and (what is instar omnium for the purpose for which we produce it) of the difference in the accounts given of the resurrection by the evangelists, some mentioning two angels at the sepulchre, ethers only one. (lardner, vol. ii. pp. , , & .) it is extremely material to remark, that celsus not only perpetually referred to the accounts of christ contained in the four gospels, but that he referred to no other accounts; that he founded none of his objections to christianity upon any thing delivered in spurious gospels. (the particulars, of which the above are only a few, are well collected by mr. bryant, p. .) ii. what celsus was in the second century, porphyry became in the third. his work, which was a large and formal treatise against the christian religion, is not extant. we must be content, therefore, to gather his objections from christian writers, who have noticed in order to answer them; and enough remains of this species of information to prove completely, that porphyry's animadversions were directed against the contents of our present gospels, and of the acts of the apostles; porphyry considering that to overthrow them was to overthrow the religion. thus he objects to the repetition of a generation in saint matthew's genealogy; to matthew's call; to the quotation of a text from isaiah, which is found in a psalm ascribed to asaph; to the calling of the lake of tiberius a sea; to the expression of saint matthew, "the abomination of desolation;" to the variation in matthew and mark upon the text, "the voice of one crying in the wilderness," matthew citing it from isaias, mark from the prophets; to john's application of the term "word;" to christ's change of intention about going up to the feast of tabernacles (john vii. ); to the judgment denounced by saint peter upon ananias and sapphira, which he calls an "imprecation of death." (jewish and heathen test. vol. iii. p. , et seq.) the instances here alleged serve, in some measure, to show the nature of porphyry's objections, and prove that porphyry had read the gospels with that sort of attention which a writer would employ who regarded them as the depositaries of the religion which he attacked. besides these specifications, there exists, in the writings of ancient christians, general evidence that the places of scripture upon which porphyry had remarked were very numerous. in some of the above-cited examples, porphyry, speaking of saint matthew, calls him your evangelist; he also uses the term evangelists in the plural number. what was said of celsus is true likewise of porphyry, that it does not appear that he considered any history of christ except these as having authority with christians. iii. a third great writer against the christian religion was the emperor julian, whose work was composed about a century after that of porphyry. in various long extracts, transcribed from this work by cyril and jerome, it appears, (jewish and heathen test. vol. iv. p. , et seq.) that julian noticed by name matthew and luke, in the difference between their genealogies of christ that he objected to matthew's application of the prophecy, "out of egypt have i called my son" (ii. ), and to that of "a virgin shall conceive" (i. ); that he recited sayings of christ, and various passages of his history, in the very words of the evangelists; in particular, that jesus healed lame and blind people, and exorcised demoniacs in the villages of bethsaida and bethany; that he alleged that none of christ's disciples ascribed to him the creation of the world, except john; that neither paul, nor matthew, nor luke, nor mark, have dared to call jesus god; that john wrote later than the other evangelists, and at a time when a great number of men in the cities of greece and italy were converted; that he alludes to the conversion of cornelius and of sergius paulus, to peter's vision, to the circular letter sent by the apostles and elders at jerusalem, which are all recorded in the acts of the apostles: by which quoting of the four gospels and the acts of the apostles, and by quoting no other, julian shows that these were the historical books, and the only historical books, received by christians as of authority, and as the authentic memoirs of jesus christ, of his apostles, and of the doctrines taught by them. but julian's testimony does something more than represent the judgment of the christian church in his time. it discovers also his own. he himself expressly states the early date of these records; he calls them by the names which they now bear. he all along supposes, he nowhere attempts to question, their genuineness. the argument in favour of the books of the new testament, drawn from the notice taken of their contents by the early writers against the religion, is very considerable. it proves that the accounts which christians had then were the accounts which we have now; that our present scriptures were theirs. it proves, moreover, that neither celsus in the second, porphyry in the third, nor julian in the fourth century, suspected the authenticity of these books, or ever insinuated that christians were mistaken in the authors to whom they ascribed them. not one of them expressed an opinion upon this subject different from that which was holden by christians. and when we consider how much it would have availed them to have cast a doubt upon this point, if they could; and how ready they showed themselves to be to take every advantage in their power; and that they were all men of learning and inquiry: their concession, or rather their suffrage, upon the subject is extremely valuable. in the case of porphyry, it is made still stronger, by the consideration that he did in fact support himself by this species of objection when he saw any room for it, or when his acuteness could supply any pretence for alleging it. the prophecy of daniel he attacked upon this very ground of spuriousness, insisting that it was written after the time of antiochus epiphanes, and maintains his charge of forgery by some far-fetched indeed, but very subtle criticisms. concerning the writings of the new testament, no trace of this suspicion is anywhere to be found in him. (michaelis's introduction to the new testament, vol. i. p. . marsh's translation.) section x. formal catalogues of authentic scriptures were published, in all which our present sacred histories were included. this species of evidence comes later than the rest; as it was not natural that catalogues of any particular class of books should be put forth until christian writings became numerous; or until some writings showed themselves, claiming titles which did not belong to them, and thereby rendering it necessary to separate books of authority from others. but, when it does appear, it is extremely satisfactory; the catalogues, though numerous, and made in countries at a wide distance from one another, differing very little, differing in nothing which is material, and all containing the four gospels. to this last article there is no exception. i. in the writings of origen which remain, and in some extracts preserved by eusebius, from works of his which are now lost, there are enumerations of the books of scriptures, in which the four gospels and the acts of the apostles are distinctly and honourably specified, and in which no books appear beside what are now received. the reader, by this time, will easily recollect that the date of origen's works is a.d. . (lardner, cred. vol. iii. p. , et seq.; vol. viii. p. .) ii. athanasias, about a century afterwards, delivered a catalogue of the books of the new testament in form, containing our scriptures and no others; of which he says, "in these alone the doctrine of religion is taught; let no man add to them, or take anything from them." (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) iii. about twenty years after athanasius, cyril, bishop of jerusalem, set forth a catalogue of the books of scripture, publicly read at that time in the church of jerusalem, exactly the same as ours, except that the "revelation" is omitted. (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) iv. and fifteen years after cyril, the council of laodicea delivered an authoritative catalogue of canonical scripture, like cyril's, the same as ours with the omission of the "revelation." v. catalogues now became frequent. within thirty years after the last date, that is, from the year to near the conclusion of the fourth century, we have catalogues by epiphanius, (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) by gregory nazianzen, by philaster, bishop of breseia in italy, (lardner, cred. vol. ix. p. & .) by amphilochius, bishop of iconium; all, as they are sometimes called, clean catalogues (that is, they admit no books into the number beside what we now receive); and all, for every purpose of historic evidence, the same as ours. (epiphanius omits the acts of the apostles. this must have been an accidental mistake, either in him or in some copyist of his work; for he elsewhere expressly refers to this book, and ascribes it to luke.) vi. within the same period jerome, the most learned christian writer of his age, delivered a catalogue of the hooks of the new testament, recognising every book now received, with the intimation of a doubt concerning the epistle to the hebrews alone, and taking not the least notice of any book which is not now received. (lardner, cred. vol. x. p. .) vii. contemporary with jerome, who lived in palestine, was st. augustine, in africa, who published likewise a catalogue, without joining to the scriptures, as books of authority, any other ecclesiastical writing whatever, and without omitting one which we at this day acknowledge. (lardner, cred. vol. x. p. .) viii. and with these concurs another contemporary writer, rufen, presbyter of aquileia, whose catalogue, like theirs, is perfect and unmixed, and concludes with these remarkable words: "these are the volumes which the fathers have included in the canon, and out of which they would have us prove the doctrine of our faith." (lardner, cred. vol. x. p. .) section xi. these propositions cannot be predicated of any of those books which are commonly called apocryphal books of the new testament. i do not know that the objection taken from apocryphal writings is at present much relied upon by scholars. but there are many, who, hearing that various gospels existed in ancient times under the names of the apostles, may have taken up a notion, that the selection of our present gospels from the rest was rather an arbitrary or accidental choice, than founded in any clear and certain cause of preference. to these it may be very useful to know the truth of the case. i observe, therefore:-- i. that, beside our gospels and the acts of the apostles, no christian history, claiming to be written by an apostle or apostolical man, is quoted within three hundred years after the birth of christ, by any writer now extant or known; or, if quoted, is not quoted but with marks of censure and rejection. i have not advanced this assertion without inquiry; and i doubt not but that the passages cited by mr. jones and dr. lardner, under the several titles which the apocryphal books bear; or a reference to the places where they are mentioned as collected in a very accurate table, published in the year , by the rev. j. atkinson, will make out the truth of the proposition to the satisfaction of every fair and competent judgment. if there be any book which may seem to form an exception to the observation, it is a hebrew gospel, which was circulated under the various titles of, the gospel according to the hebrews, the gospel of the nazarenes, of the ebionites, sometimes called of the twelve, by some ascribed to st matthew. this gospel is once, and only once, cited by clemeus alexandrinus, who lived, the reader will remember, in the latter part of the second century, and which same clement quotes one or other of our four gospels in almost every page of his work. it is also twice mentioned by origen, a.d. ; and both times with marks of diminution and discredit. and this is the ground upon which the exception stands. but what is still more material to observe is, that this gospel, in the main, agreed with our present gospel of saint matthew. (in applying to this gospel what jerome in the latter end of the fourth century has mentioned of a hebrew gospel, i think it probable that we sometimes confound it with a hebrew copy of st. matthew's gospel, whether an original or version, which was then extant.) now if, with this account of the apocryphal gospels, we compare what we have read concerning the canonical scriptures in the preceding sections; or even recollect that general but well-founded assertion of dr. lardner, "that in the remaining works of irenaeus, clement of alexandria, and tertullian, who all lived in the first two centuries, there are more and larger quotations of the small volume of the new testament than of all the works of cicero, by writers of all characters, for several ages;" (lardner, cred. vol. xii. p. .) and if to this we add that, notwithstanding the loss of many works of the primitive times of christianity, we have, within the above-mentioned period, the remains of christian writers who lived in palestine, syria, asia minor, egypt, the part of africa that used the latin tongue, in crete, greece, italy, and gaul, in all which remains references are found to our evangelists; i apprehend that we shall perceive a clear and broad line of division between those writings and all others pretending to similar authority. ii. but beside certain histories which assumed the names of apostles, and which were forgeries properly so called, there were some other christian writings, in the whole or in part of an historical nature, which, though not forgeries, are denominated apocryphal, as being of uncertain or of no authority. of this second class of writings, i have found only two which are noticed by any author of the first three centuries without express terms of condemnation: and these are, the one a book entitled the preaching of peter, quoted repeatedly by clemens alexandrinus, a.d. ; the other a book entitled the revelation of peter, upon which the above-mentioned clemens alexandrinus is said by eusebius to have written notes; and which is twice cited in a work still extant, ascribed to the same author. i conceive, therefore, that the proposition we have before advanced, even after it hath been subjected to every exception of every kind that can be alleged, separates, by a wide interval, our historical scriptures from all other writings which profess to give an account of the same subject. we may be permitted however to add,-- . that there is no evidence that any spurious or apocryphal books whatever existed in the first century of the christian era, in which century all our historical books are proved to have been extant. "there are no quotations of any such books in the apostolical fathers, by whom i mean barnabas, clement of rome, hermas, ignatius, and polycarp, whose writings reach from about the year of our lord to the year (and some of whom have quoted each and every one of our historical scriptures): i say this," adds dr. lardner, "because i think it has been proved." (lardner, cred. vol. xii. p. .) . these apocryphal writings were not read in the churches of christians; . were not admitted into their volume; . do not appear in their catalogues; . were not noticed by their adversaries; . were not alleged by different parties, as of authority in their controversies; . were not the subjects, amongst them, of commentaries, versions, collections, expositions. finally; beside the silence of three centuries, or evidence within that time of their rejection, they were, with a consent nearly universal, reprobated by christian writers of succeeding ages. although it be made out by these observations that the books in question never obtained any degree of credit and notoriety which can place them in competition with our scriptures; yet it appears from the writings of the fourth century, that many such existed in that century, and in the century preceding it. it may be difficult at this distance of time to account for their origin. perhaps the most probable explication is, that they were in general composed with a design of making a profit by the sale. whatever treated of the subject would find purchasers. it was an advantage taken of the pious curiosity of unlearned christians. with a view to the same purpose, there were many of them adapted to the particular opinions of particular sects, which would naturally promote their circulation amongst the favourers of those opinions. after all, they were probably much more obscure than we imagine. except the gospel according to the hebrews, there is none of which we hear more than the gospel of the egyptians; yet there is good reason to believe that clement, a presbyter of alexandria in egypt, a.d. , and a man of almost universal reading, had never seen it. (jones, vol. i. p. .) a gospel according to peter was another of the most ancient books of this kind; yet serapion, bishop of antioch, a.d. , had not read it, when he heard of such a book being in the hands of the christians of rhossus in cillcia; and speaks of obtaining a sight of this gospel from some sectaries who used it. (lardner, cred. vol. ii. p. .) even of the gospel of the hebrews, which confessedly stands at the head of the catalogue, jerome, at the end of the fourth century, was glad to procure a copy by the favour of the nazarenes of berea. nothing of this sort ever happened, or could have happened, concerning our gospels. one thing is observable of all the apocryphal christian writings, viz. that they proceed upon the same fundamental history of christ and his apostles as that which is disclosed in our scriptures. the mission of christ, his power of working miracles, his communication of that power to the apostles, his passion, death, and resurrection, are assumed or asserted by every one of them. the names under which some of them came forth are the names of men of eminence in our histories. what these books give are not contradictions, but unauthorised additions. the principal facts are supposed, the principal agents the same; which shows that these points were too much fixed to be altered or disputed. if there be any book of this description which appears to have imposed upon some considerable number of learned christians, it is the sibylline oracles; but when we reflect upon the circumstances which facilitated that imposture, we shall cease to wonder either at the attempt or its success. it was at that time universally understood that such a prophetic writing existed. its contents were kept secret. this situation afforded to some one a hint, as well as an opportunity, to give out a writing under this name, favourable to the already established persuasion of christians, and which writing, by the aid and recommendation of these circumstances, would in some degree, it is probable, be received. of the ancient forgery we know but little; what is now produced could not, in my opinion, have imposed upon any one. it is nothing else than the gospel history woven into verse; perhaps was at first rather a fiction than a forgery; an exercise of ingenuity, more than an attempt to deceive. chapter x. recapitulation. the reader will now be pleased to recollect, that the two points which form the subject of our present discussion are, first, that the founder of christianity, his associates, and immediate followers, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings; secondly, that they did so in attestation of the miraculous history recorded in our scriptures, and solely in consequence of their belief of the truth of that history. the argument, by which these two propositions have been maintained by us, stands thus: no historical fact, i apprehend, is more certain, than that the original propagators of christianity voluntarily subjected themselves to lives of fatigue, danger, and suffering, in the prosecution of their undertaking. the nature of the undertaking; the character of the persons employed in it; the opposition of their tenets to the fixed opinions and expectations of the country in which they first advanced them; their undissembled condemnation of the religion of all other countries; their total want of power, authority, or force--render it in the highest degree probable that this must have been the case. the probability is increased by what we know of the fate of the founder of the institution, who was put to death for his attempt; and by what we also know of the cruel treatment of the converts to the institution, within thirty years after its commencement: both which points are attested by heathen writers, and, being once admitted, leave it very incredible that the primitive emissaries of the religion, who exercised their ministry, first, amongst the people who had destroyed their master, and, afterwards, amongst those who persecuted their converts, should themselves escape with impunity, or pursue their purpose in ease and safety. this probability, thus sustained by foreign testimony, is advanced, i think, to historical certainty, by the evidence of our own books; by the accounts of a writer who was the companion of the persons whose sufferings he relates; by the letters of the persons themselves by predictions of persecutions ascribed to the founder of the religion, which predictions would not have been inserted in his history, much less have been studiously dwelt upon, if they had not accorded with the event, and which, even if falsely ascribed to him, could only have been so ascribed, because the event suggested them; lastly, by incessant exhortations to fortitude and patience, and by an earnestness, repetition, and urgency upon the subject, which were unlikely to have appeared if there had not been, at the time, some extraordinary call for the exercise of these virtues. it is made out also, i think, with sufficient evidence, that both the teachers and converts of the religion, in consequence of their new profession, took up a new course of life and behaviour. the next great question is, what they did this for. that it was for a miraculous story of some kind or other, is to my apprehension extremely manifest; because, as to the fundamental article, the designation of the person, viz. that this particular person, jesus of nazareth, ought to be received as the messiah, or as a messenger from god, they neither had, nor could have, anything but miracles to stand upon. that the exertions and sufferings of the apostles were for the story which we have now, is proved by the consideration that this story is transmitted to us by two of their own number, and by two others personally connected with them; that the particularity of the narrative proves that the writers claimed to possess circumstantial information, that from their situation they had full opportunity of acquiring such information, that they certainly, at least, knew what their colleagues, their companions, their masters taught; that each of these books contains enough to prove the truth of the religion; that if any one of them therefore be genuine, it is sufficient; that the genuineness, however, of all of them is made out, as well by the general arguments which evince the genuineness of the most undisputed remains of antiquity, as also by peculiar and specific proofs, viz. by citations from them in writings belonging to a period immediately contiguous to that in which they were published; by the distinguished regard paid by early christians to the authority of these books; (which regard was manifested by their collecting of them into a volume, appropriating to that volume titles of peculiar respect, translating them into various languages, digesting them into harmonies, writing commentaries upon them, and, still more conspicuously, by the reading of them in their public assemblies in all parts of the world) by an universal agreement with respect to these books, whilst doubts were entertained concerning some others; by contending sects appealing to them; by the early adversaries of the religion not disputing their genuineness, but, on the contrary, treating them as the depositaries of the history upon which the religion was founded; by many formal catalogues of these, as of certain and authoritative writings, published in different and distant parts of the christian world; lastly, by the absence or defect of the above-cited topics of evidence, when applied to any other histories of the same subject. these are strong arguments to prove that the books actually proceeded from the authors whose names they bear (and have always borne, for there is not a particle of evidence to show that they ever went under any other); but the strict genuineness of the books is perhaps more than is necessary to the support of our proposition. for even supposing that, by reason of the silence of antiquity, or the loss of records, we knew not who were the writers of the four gospels, yet the fact that they were received as authentic accounts of the transaction upon which the religion rested, and were received as such by christians at or near the age of the apostles, by those whom the apostles had taught, and by societies which the apostles had founded; this fact, i say, connected with the consideration that they are corroborative of each other's testimony, and that they are further corroborated by another contemporary history taking up the story where they had left it, and, in a narrative built upon that story, accounting for the rise and production of changes in the world, the effects of which subsist at this day; connected, moreover, with the confirmation which they receive from letters written by the apostles themselves, which both assume the same general story, and, as often as occasions lead them to do so, allude to particular parts of it; and connected also with the reflection, that if the apostles delivered any different story it is lost; (the present and no other being referred to by a series of christian writers, down from their age to our own; being like-wise recognised in a variety of institutions, which prevailed early and universally, amongst the disciples of the religion;) and that so great a change as the oblivion of one story and the substitution of another, under such circumstances, could not have taken place: this evidence would be deemed, i apprehend, sufficient to prove concerning these books, that, whoever were the authors of them, they exhibit the story which the apostles told, and for which, consequently, they acted and they suffered. if it be so, the religion must be true. these men could not be deceivers. by only not bearing testimony, they might have avoided all these sufferings, and have lived quietly. would men in such circumstances pretend to have seen what they never saw; assert facts which they had no knowledge of; go about lying to teach virtue; and, though not only convinced of christ's being an impostor, but having seen the success of his imposture in his crucifixion, yet persist in carrying it on; and so persist, as to bring upon themselves for nothing, and with a full knowledge of the consequence, enmity and hatred, danger and death? ========================================= of the direct historical evidence of christianity. proposition ii. chapter i. our first proposition was, that there is satisfactory evidence that many pretending to be original witnesses of the christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undertaken and undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of the truth of those accounts; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. our second proposition, and which now remains to be treated of, is, that there is not satisfactory evidence, that persons pretending to be original witnesses of any other similar miracles have acted in the same manner, in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of the truth of those accounts. i enter upon this part of my argument, by declaring how far my belief in miraculous accounts goes. if the reformers in the time of wickliffe, or of luther; or those of england in the time of henry the eighth, or of queen mary; or the founders of our religious sects since, such as were mr. whitfield and mr. wesley in our times--had undergone the life of toil and exertion, of danger and sufferings, which we know that many of them did undergo, for a miraculous story; that is to say, if they had founded their public ministry upon the allegation of miracles wrought within their own knowledge, and upon narratives which could not be resolved into delusion or mistake; and if it had appeared that their conduct really had its origin in these accounts, i should have believed them. or, to borrow an instance which will be familiar to every one of my readers, if the late mr. howard had undertaken his labours and journeys in attestation, and in consequence of a clear and sensible miracle, i should have believed him also. or, to represent the same thing under a third supposition; if socrates had professed to perform public miracles at athens; if the friends of socrates, phaedo, cebes, crito, and simmias, together with plato, and many of his followers, relying upon the attestations which these miracles afforded to his pretensions, had, at the hazard of their lives, and the certain expense of their ease and tranquillity, gone about greece, after his death, to publish and propagate his doctrines: and if these things had come to our knowledge, in the same way as that in which the life of socrates is now transmitted to us through the hands of his companions and disciples, that is, by writings received without doubt as theirs, from the age in which they were published to the present, i should have believed this likewise. and my belief would, in each case, be much strengthened, if the subject of the mission were of importance to the conduct and happiness of human life; if it testified anything which it behoved mankind to know from such authority; if the nature of what it delivered required the sort of proof which it alleged; if the occasion was adequate to the interposition, the end worthy of the means. in the last ease, my faith would be much confirmed if the effects of the transaction remained; more especially if a change had been wrought, at the time, in the opinion and conduct of such numbers as to lay the foundation of an institution, and of a system of doctrines, which had since overspread the greatest part of the civilized world. i should have believed, i say, the testimony in these cases; yet none of them do more than come up to the apostolic history. if any one choose to call assent to its evidence credulity, it is at least incumbent upon him to produce examples in which the same evidence hath turned out to be fallacious. and this contains the precise question which we are now to agitate. in stating the comparison between our evidence, and what our adversaries may bring into competition with ours, we will divide the distinctions which we wish to propose into two kinds,--those which relate to the proof, and those which relate to the miracles. under the former head we may lay out of the case:-- i. such accounts of supernatural events as are found only in histories by some ages posterior to the transaction; and of which it is evident that the historian could know little more than his reader. ours is contemporary history. this difference alone removes out of our way the miraculous history of pythagoras, who lived five hundred years before the christian era, written by porphyry and jamblicus, who lived three hundred years after that era; the prodigies of livy's history; the fables of the heroic ages; the whole of the greek and roman, as well as of the gothic mythology; a great part of the legendary history of popish saints, the very best attested of which is extracted from the certificates that are exhibited during the process of their canonization, a ceremony which seldom takes place till a century after their deaths. it applies also with considerable force to the miracles of apollonius tyaneus, which are contained in a solitary history of his life, published by philostratus above a hundred years after his death; and in which, whether philostratus had any prior account to guide him, depends upon his single unsupported assertion. also to some of the miracles of the third century, especially to one extraordinary instance, the account of gregory, bishop of neocesarea, called thaumaturgus, delivered in the writings of gregory of nyssen, who lived one hundred and thirty years after the subject of his panegyric. the value of this circumstance is shown to have been accurately exemplified in the history of ignatius loyola, founder of the order of jesuits. (douglas's criterion of miracles, p. .) his life, written by a companion of his, and by one of the order, was published about fifteen years after his death. in which life, the author, so far from ascribing any miracles to ignatius, industriously states the reasons why he was not invested with any such power. the life was republished fifteen years afterwards, with the addition of many circumstances which were the fruit, the author says, of further inquiry, and of diligent examination; but still with a total silence about miracles. when ignatius had been dead nearly sixty years, the jesuits, conceiving a wish to have the founder of their order placed in the roman calendar, began, as it should seem, for the first time, to attribute to him a catalogue of miracles which could not then be distinctly disproved; and which there was, in those who governed the church, a strong disposition to admit upon the slenderest proofs. ii. we may lay out of the case accounts published in one country, of what passed in a distant country, without any proof that such accounts were known or received at home. in the case of christianity, judea, which was the scene of the transaction, was the centre of the mission. the story was published in the place in which it was acted. the church of christ was first planted at jerusalem itself. with that church others corresponded. from thence the primitive teachers of the institution went forth; thither they assembled. the church of jerusalem, and the several churches of judea, subsisted from the beginning, and for many ages; received also the same books and the same accounts as other churches did. (the succession of many eminent bishops of jerusalem in the first three centuries is distinctly preserved; as alexander, a.d. , who succeeded narcissus, then years old.) this distinction disposes, amongst others, of the above-mentioned miracles of apollonius tyaneus, most of which are related to have been performed in india; no evidence remaining that either the miracles ascribed to him, or the history of those miracles, were ever heard of in india. those of francis xavier, the indian missionary, with many others of the romish breviary, are liable to the same objection, viz. that the accounts of them were published at a vast distance from the supposed scene of the wonders. (douglas's crit. p. .) iii. we lay out of the case transient rumours. upon the first publication of an extraordinary account, or even of an article of ordinary intelligence, no one who is not personally acquainted with the transaction can know whether it be true or false, because any man may publish any story. it is in the future confirmation, or contradiction, of the account; in its permanency, or its disappearance; its dying away into silence, or its increasing in notoriety; its being followed up by subsequent accounts, and being repeated in different and independent accounts--that solid truth is distinguished from fugitive lies. this distinction is altogether on the side of christianity. the story did not drop. on the contrary, it was succeeded by a train of action and events dependent upon it. the accounts which we have in our hands were composed after the first reports must have subsided. they were followed by a train of writings upon the subject. the historical testimonies of the transaction were many and various, and connected with letters, discourses, controversies, apologies, successively produced by the same transaction. iv. we may lay out of the case what i call naked history. it has been said, that if the prodigies of the jewish history had been found only in fragments of manetho, or berosus, we should have paid no regard to them: and i am willing to admit this. if we knew nothing of the fact, but from the fragment; if we possessed no proof that these accounts had been credited and acted upon, from times, probably, as ancient as the accounts themselves; if we had no visible effects connected with the history, no subsequent or collateral testimony to confirm it; under these circumstances i think that it would be undeserving of credit. but this certainly is not our case. in appreciating the evidence of christianity, the books are to be combined with the institution; with the prevalency of the religion at this day; with the time and place of its origin, which are acknowledged points; with the circumstances of its rise and progress, as collected from external history; with the fact of our present books being received by the votaries of the institution from the beginning; with that of other books coming after these, filled with accounts of effects and consequences resulting from the transaction, or referring to the transaction, or built upon it; lastly, with the consideration of the number and variety of the books themselves, the different writers from which they proceed, the different views with which they were written, so disagreeing as to repel the suspicion of confederacy, so agreeing as to show that they were founded in a common original, i. e. in a story substantially the same. whether this proof be satisfactory or not, it is properly a cumulation of evidence, by no means a naked or solitary record. v. a mark of historical truth, although only a certain way, and to a certain degree, is particularity in names, dates, places, circumstances, and in the order of events preceding or following the transaction: of which kind, for instance, is the particularity in the description of st. paul's voyage and shipwreck, in the th chapter of the acts, which no man, i think, can read without being convinced that the writer was there; and also in the account of the cure and examination of the blind man in the th chapter of st. john's gospel, which bears every mark of personal knowledge on the part of the historian. (both these chapters ought to be read for the sake of this very observation.) i do not deny that fiction has often the particularity of truth; but then it is of studied and elaborate fiction, or of a formal attempt to deceive, that we observe this. since, however, experience proves that particularity is not confined to truth, i have stated that it is a proof of truth only to a certain extent, i. e. it reduces the question to this, whether we can depend or not upon the probity of the relater? which is a considerable advance in our present argument; for an express attempt to deceive, in which case alone particularity can appear without truth, is charged upon the evangelists by few. if the historian acknowledge himself to have received his intelligence from others, the particularity of the narrative shows, prima facie, the accuracy of his inquiries, and the fulness of his information. this remark belongs to st. luke's history. of the particularity which we allege, many examples may be found in all the gospels. and it is very difficult to conceive that such numerous particularities as are almost everywhere to be met with in the scriptures should be raised out of nothing, or be spun out of the imagination without any fact to go upon.* _________ * "there is always some truth where there are considerable particularities related, and they always seem to bear some proportion to one another. thus, there is a great want of the particulars of time, place, and persons in manetho's account of the egyptian dynasties, etesias's of the assyrian kings, and those which the technical chronologers have given of the ancient kingdoms of greece; and, agreeably thereto, the accounts have much fiction and falsehood, with some truth: whereas thucydides's history of the peloponnesian war, and caesar's of the war in gaul, in both which the particulars of time, place, and persons are mentioned, are universally esteemed true to a great degree of exactness." hartley, vol. ii. p. . _________ it is to be remarked, however, that this particularity is only to be looked for in direct history. it is not natural in references or allusions, which yet, in other respects, often afford, as far as they go, the most unsuspicious evidence. vi. we lay out of the case such stories of supernatural events as require, on the part of the hearer, nothing more than an otiose assent; stories upon which nothing depends, in which no interest is involved, nothing is to be done or changed in consequence of believing them. such stories are credited, if the careless assent that is given to them deserve that name, more by the indolence of the hearer, than by his judgment: or, though not much credited, are passed from one to another without inquiry or resistance. to this case, and to this case alone, belongs what is called the love of the marvellous. i have never known it carry men further. men do not suffer persecution from the love of the marvellous. of the indifferent nature we are speaking of are most vulgar errors and popular superstition: most, for instance, of the current reports of apparitions. nothing depends upon their being true or false. but not, surely, of this kind were the alleged miracles of christ and his apostles. they decided, if true, the most important question upon which the human mind can fix its anxiety. they claimed to regulate the opinions of mankind upon subjects in which they are not only deeply concerned, but usually refractory and obstinate. men could not be utterly careless in such a case as this. if a jew took up the story, he found his darling partiality to his own nation and law wounded; if a gentile, he found his idolatry and polytheism reprobated and condemned. whoever entertained the account, whether jew or gentile, could not avoid the following reflection:--"if these things be true, i must give up the opinions and principles in which i have been brought up, the religion in which my fathers lived and died." it is not conceivable that a man should do this upon any idle report or frivolous account, or, indeed, without being fully satisfied and convinced of the truth and credibility of the narrative to which he trusted. but it did not stop at opinions. they who believed christianity acted upon it. many made it the express business of their lives to publish the intelligence. it was required of those who admitted that intelligence to change forthwith their conduct and their principles, to take up a different course of life, to part with their habits and gratifications, and begin a new set of rules and system of behaviour. the apostles, at least, were interested not to sacrifice their ease, their fortunes, and their lives for an idle tale; multitudes beside them were induced, by the same tale, to encounter opposition, danger, and sufferings. if it be said, that the mere promise of a future state would do all this; i answer, that the mere promise of a future state, without any evidence to give credit or assurance to it, would do nothing. a few wandering fishermen talking of a resurrection of the dead could produce no effect. if it be further said that men easily believe what they anxiously desire; i again answer that in my opinion, the very contrary of this is nearer to the truth. anxiety of desire, earnestness of expectation, the vastness of an event, rather causes men to disbelieve, to doubt, to dread a fallacy, to distrust, and to examine. when our lord's resurrection was first reported to the apostles, they did not believe, we are told, for joy. this was natural, and is agreeable to experience. vii. we have laid out of the case those accounts which require no more than a simple assent; and we now also lay out of the case those which come merely in affirmance of opinions already formed. this last circumstance is of the utmost importance to notice well. it has long been observed, that popish miracles happen in popish countries; that they make no converts; which proves that stories are accepted when they fall in with principles already fixed, with the public sentiments, or with the sentiments of a party already engaged on the side the miracle supports, which would not be attempted to be produced in the face of enemies, in opposition to reigning tenets or favourite prejudices, or when, if they be believed, the belief must draw men away from their preconceived and habitual opinions, from their modes of life and rules of action. in the former case, men may not only receive a miraculous account, but may both act and suffer on the side, and, in the cause, which the miracle supports, yet not act or suffer for the miracle, but in pursuance of a prior persuasion. the miracle, like any other argument which only confirms what was before believed, is admitted with little examination. in the moral, as in the natural world, it is change which requires a cause. men are easily fortified in their old opinions, driven from them with great difficulty. now how does this apply to the christian history? the miracles there recorded were wrought in the midst of enemies, under a government, a priesthood, and a magistracy decidedly and vehemently adverse to them, and to the pretensions which they supported. they were protestant miracles in a popish country; they were popish miracles in the midst of protestants. they produced a change; they established a society upon the spot, adhering to the belief of them; they made converts; and those who were converted gave up to the testimony their most fixed opinions and most favourite prejudices. they who acted and suffered in the cause acted and suffered for the miracles: for there was no anterior persuasion to induce them, no prior reverence, prejudice, or partiality to take hold of jesus had not one follower when he set up his claim. his miracles gave birth to his sect. no part of this description belongs to the ordinary evidence of heathen or popish miracles. even most of the miracles alleged to have been performed by christians, in the second and third century of its era, want this confirmation. it constitutes indeed a line of partition between the origin and the progress of christianity. frauds and fallacies might mix themselves with the progress, which could not possibly take place in the commencement of the religion; at least, according to any laws of human conduct that we are acquainted with. what should suggest to the first propagators of christianity, especially to fishermen, tax-gatherers, and husbandmen, such a thought as that of changing the religion of the world; what could bear them through the difficulties in which the attempt engaged them; what could procure any degree of success to the attempt? are questions which apply, with great force, to the setting out of the institution--with less, to every future stage of it. to hear some men talk, one would suppose the setting up a religion by miracles to be a thing of every day's experience: whereas the whole current of history is against it. hath any founder of a new sect amongst christians pretended to miraculous powers, and succeeded by his pretensions? "were these powers claimed or exercised by the founders of the sects of the waldenses and albigenses? did wickliffe in england pretend to it? did huss or jerome in bohemia? did luther in germany, zuinglius in switzerland, calvin in france, or any of the reformers advance this plea?" (campbell on miracles, p. , ed. .) the french prophets, in the beginning of the present century, (the eighteenth) ventured to allege miraculous evidence, and immediately ruined their cause by their temerity. "concerning the religion of ancient rome, of turkey, of siam, of china, a single miracle cannot be named that was ever offered as a test of any of those religions before their establishment." (adams on mir. p. .) we may add to what has been observed of the distinction which we are considering, that, where miracles are alleged merely in affirmance of a prior opinion, they who believe the doctrine may sometimes propagate a belief of the miracles which they do not themselves entertain. this is the case of what are called pious frauds; but it is a case, i apprehend, which takes place solely in support of a persuasion already established. at least it does not hold of the apostolical history. if the apostles did not believe the miracles, they did not believe the religion; and without this belief, where was the piety, what place was there for anything which could bear the name or colour of piety, in publishing and attesting miracles in its behalf? if it be said that many promote the belief of revelation, and of any accounts which favour that belief, because they think them, whether well or ill founded, of public and political utility; i answer, that if a character exist which can with less justice than another be ascribed to the founders of the christian religion, it is that of politicians, or of men capable of entertaining political views. the truth is, that there is no assignable character which will account for the conduct of the apostles, supposing their story to be false. if bad men, what could have induced them to take such pains to promote virtue? if good men, they would not have gone about the country with a string of lies in their mouths. in appreciating the credit of any miraculous story, these are distinctions which relate to the evidence. there are other distinctions, of great moment in the question, which relate to the miracles themselves. of which latter kind the following ought carefully to be retained. i. it is not necessary to admit as a miracle what can be resolved into a false perception. of this nature was the demon of socrates; the visions of saint anthony, and of many others; the vision which lord herbert of cherbury describes himself to have seen; colonel gardiner's vision, as related in his life, written by dr. doddridge. all these may be accounted for by a momentary insanity; for the characteristic symptom of human madness is the rising up in the mind of images not distinguishable by the patient from impressions upon the senses. (batty on lunacy.) the cases, however, in which the possibility of this delusion exists are divided from the cases in which it does not exist by many, and those not obscure marks. they are, for the most part, cases of visions or voices. the object is hardly ever touched. the vision submits not to be handled. one sense does not confirm another. they are likewise almost always cases of a solitary witness. it is in the highest degree improbable, and i know not, indeed, whether it hath ever been the fact, that the same derangement of the mental organs should seize different persons at the same time; a derangement, i mean, so much the same, as to represent to their imagination the same objects. lastly, these are always cases of momentary miracles; by which term i mean to denote miracles of which the whole existence is of short duration, in contradistinction to miracles which are attended with permanent effects. the appearance of a spectre, the hearing of a supernatural sound, is a momentary miracle. the sensible proof is gone when the apparition or sound is over. but if a person born blind be restored to sight, a notorious cripple to the use of his limbs, or a dead man to life, here is a permanent effect produced by supernatural means. the change indeed was instantaneous, but the proof continues. the subject of the miracle remains. the man cured or restored is there: his former condition was known, and his present condition may be examined. this can by no possibility be resolved into false perception: and of this kind are by far the greater part of the miracles recorded in the new testament. when lazarus was raised from the dead, he did not merely move, and speak, and die again; or come out of the grave, and vanish away. he returned to his home and family, and there continued; for we find him some time afterwards in the same town, sitting at table with jesus and his sisters; visited by great multitudes of the jews as a subject of curiosity; giving, by his presence, so much uneasiness to the jewish rulers as to beget in them a design of destroying him. (john xii. , , , .) no delusion can account for this. the french prophets in england, some time since, gave out that one of their teachers would come to life again; but their enthusiasm never made them believe that they actually saw him alive. the blind man whose restoration to sight at jerusalem is recorded in the ninth chapter of saint john's gospel did not quit the place or conceal himself from inquiry. on the contrary, he was forthcoming, to answer the call, to satisfy the scrutiny, and to sustain the browbeating of christ's angry and powerful enemies. when the cripple at the gate of the temple was suddenly cured by peter, (acts iii. .) he did not immediately relapse into his former lameness, or disappear out of the city; but boldly and honestly produced himself along with the apostles, when they were brought the next day before the jewish council. (acts iv. .) here, though the miracle was sudden, the proof was permanent. the lameness had been notorious, the cure continued. this, therefore, could not be the effect of any momentary delirium, either in the subject or in the witnesses of the transaction. it is the same with the greatest number of the scripture miracles. there are other cases of a mixed nature, in which, although the principal miracle be momentary, some circumstance combined with it is permanent. of this kind is the history of saint paul's conversion. (acts ix.) the sudden light and sound, the vision and the voice upon the road to damascus, were momentary: but paul's blindness for three days in consequence of what had happened; the communication made to ananias in another place, and by a vision independent of the former; ananias finding out paul in consequence of intelligence so received, and finding him in the condition described, and paul's recovery of his sight upon ananias laying his hands upon him; are circumstances which take the transaction, and the principal miracle as included in it, entirely out of the case of momentary miracles, or of such as may be accounted for by false perceptions. exactly the same thing may be observed of peter's vision preparatory to the call of cornelius, and of its connexion with what was imparted in a distant place to cornelius himself, and with the message despatched by cornelius to peter. the vision might be a dream; the message could not. either communication taken separately, might be a delusion; the concurrence of the two was impossible to happen without a supernatural cause. beside the risk of delusion which attaches upon momentary miracles, there is also much more room for imposture. the account cannot be examined at the moment: and when that is also a moment of hurry and confusion, it may not be difficult for men of influence to gain credit to any story which they may wish to have believed. this is precisely the case of one of the best attested of the miracles of old rome, the appearance of castor and pollux in the battle fought by posthumius with the latins at the lake regillus. there is no doubt but that posthumius, after the battle, spread the report of such an appearance. no person could deny it whilst it was said to last. no person, perhaps, had any inclination to dispute it afterwards; or, if they had, could say with positiveness what was or what was not seen by some or other of the army, in the dismay and amidst the tumult of a battle. in assigning false perceptions as the origin to which some miraculous accounts may be referred, i have not mentioned claims to inspiration, illuminations, secret notices or directions, internal sensations, or consciousnesses of being acted upon by spiritual influences, good or bad, because these, appealing to no external proof, however convincing they may be to the persons themselves, form no part of what can be accounted miraculous evidence. their own credibility stands upon their alliance with other miracles. the discussion, therefore, of all such pretensions may be omitted. ii. it is not necessary to bring into the comparison what may be called tentative miracles; that is, where, out of a great number of trials, some succeed; and in the accounts of which, although the narrative of the successful cases be alone preserved, and that of the unsuccessful cases sunk, yet enough is stated to show that the cases produced are only a few out of many in which the same means have been employed. this observation bears with considerable force upon the ancient oracles and auguries, in which a single coincidence of the event with the prediction is talked of and magnified, whilst failures are forgotten, or suppressed, or accounted for. it is also applicable to the cures wrought by relics, and at the tombs of saints. the boasted efficacy of the king's touch, upon which mr. hume lays some stress, falls under the same description. nothing is alleged concerning it which is not alleged of various nostrums, namely, out of many thousands who have used them, certified proofs of a few who have recovered after them. no solution of this sort is applicable to the miracles of the gospel. there is nothing in the narrative which can induce, or even allow, us to believe, that christ attempted cures in many instances, and succeeded in a few; or that he ever made the attempt in vain. he did not profess to heal everywhere all that were sick; on the contrary, he told the jews, evidently meaning to represent his own case, that, "although many widows were in israel in the days of elias, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, when great famine was throughout all the land, yet unto none of them was elias sent, save unto sarepta, a city of sidon, unto a woman that was a widow:" and that "many lepers were in israel in the time of eliseus the prophet, and none of them was cleansed saving naaman the syrian." (luke iv. .) by which examples he gave them to understand, that it was not the nature of a divine interposition, or necessary to its purpose, to be general; still less to answer every challenge that might be made, which would teach men to put their faith upon these experiments. christ never pronounced the word, but the effect followed.* _________ *one, and only one, instance may be produced in which the disciples of christ do seem to have attempted a cure, and not to have been able to perform it. the story is very ingenuously related by three of the evangelists. (matt. xvii. . mark ix. . luke ix. .) the patient was afterwards healed by christ himself; and the whole transaction seems to have been intended, as it was well suited, to display the superiority of christ above all who performed miracles in his name, a distinction which, during his presence in the world, it might be necessary to inculcate by some such proof as this. _________ it was not a thousand sick that received his benediction, and a few that were benefited; a single paralytic is let down in his bed at jesus's feet, in the midst of a surrounding multitude; jesus bid him walk, and he did so. (mark ii. .) a man with a withered hand is in the synagogue; jesus bid him stretch forth his hand in the presence of the assembly, and it was "restored whole like the other." (matt. xii. .) there was nothing tentative in these cures; nothing that can be explained by the power of accident. we may observe, also, that many of the cures which christ wrought, such as that of a person blind from his birth; also many miracles besides cures, as raising the dead, walking upon the sea, feeding a great multitude with a few loaves and fishes, are of a nature which does not in anywise admit of the supposition of a fortunate experiment. iii. we may dismiss from the question all accounts in which, allowing the phenomenon to be real, the fact to be true, it still remains doubtful whether a miracle were wrought. this is the case with the ancient history of what is called the thundering legion, of the extraordinary circumstances which obstructed the rebuilding of the temple at jerusalem by julian; the circling of the flames and fragrant smell at the martyrdom of polycarp; the sudden shower that extinguished the fire into which the scriptures were thrown in the diocletian persecution; constantine's dream; his inscribing in consequence of it the cross upon his standard and the shields of his soldiers; his victory, and the escape of the standard-bearer; perhaps, also, the imagined appearance of the cross in the heavens, though this last circumstance is very deficient in historical evidence. it is also the case with the modern annual exhibition of the liquefaction of the blood of saint januarius at naples. it is a doubt, likewise, which ought to be excluded by very special circumstances from those narratives which relate to the supernatural cure of hypochondriacal and nervous complaints, and of all diseases which are much affected by the imagination. the miracles of the second and third century are, usually, healing the sick and casting out evil spirits, miracles in which there is room for some error and deception. we hear nothing of causing the blind to see, the lame to walk, the deaf to hear, the lepers to be cleansed. (jortin's remarks, vol. ii. p. .) there are also instances in christian writers of reputed miracles, which were natural operations, though not known to be such at the time; as that of articulate speech after the loss of a great part of the tongue. iv. to the same head of objection, nearly, may also be referred accounts in which the variation of a small circumstance may have transformed some extraordinary appearance, or some critical coincidence of events, into a miracle; stories, in a word, which may be resolved into exaggeration. the miracles of the gospel can by no possibility be explained away in this manner. total fiction will account for anything; but no stretch of exaggeration that has any parallel in other histories, no force of fancy upon real circumstances, could produce the narratives which we now have. the feeding of the five thousand with a few loaves and fishes surpasses all bounds of exaggeration. the raising of lazarus, of the widow's son at nain, as well as many of the cures which christ wrought, come not within the compass of misrepresentation. i mean that it is impossible to assign any position of circumstances however peculiar, any accidental effects however extraordinary, any natural singularity, which could supply an origin or foundation to these accounts. having thus enumerated several exceptions which may justly be taken to relations of miracles, it is necessary, when we read the scriptures, to bear in our minds this general remark; that although there be miracles recorded in the new testament, which fall within some or other of the exceptions here assigned, yet that they are united with others, to which none of the same exceptions extend, and that their credibility stands upon this union. thus the visions and revelations which saint paul asserts to have been imparted to him may not, in their separate evidence, be distinguishable from the visions and revelations which many others have alleged. but here is the difference. saint paul's pretensions were attested by external miracles wrought by himself, and by miracles wrought in the cause to which these visions relate; or, to speak more properly, the same historical authority which informs us of one informs us of the other. this is not ordinarily true of the visions of enthusiasts, or even of the accounts in which they are contained. again, some of christ's own miracles were momentary; as the transfiguration, the appearance and voice from heaven at his baptism, a voice from the clouds on one occasion afterwards (john xii. ), and some others. it is not denied, that the distinction which we have proposed concerning miracles of this species applies, in diminution of the force of the evidence, as much to these instances as to others. but this is the case not with all the miracles ascribed to christ, nor with the greatest part, nor with many. whatever force therefore there may be in the objection, we have numerous miracles which are free from it; and even those to which it is applicable are little affected by it in their credit, because there are few who, admitting the rest, will reject them. if there be miracles of the new testament which come within any of the other heads into which we have distributed the objections, the same remark must be repeated. and this is one way in which the unexampled number and variety of the miracles ascribed to christ strengthen the credibility of christianity. for it precludes any solution, or conjecture about a solution, which imagination, or even which experience might suggest, concerning some particular miracles, if considered independently of others. the miracles of christ were of various kinds,* and performed in great varieties of situation, form, and manner; at jerusalem, the metropolis of the jewish nation and religion; in different parts of judea and galilee; in cities and villages; in synagogues, in private houses; in the street, in highways; with preparation, as in the case of lazarus; by accident, as in the case of the widow's son of nain; when attended by multitudes, and when alone with the patient; in the midst of his disciples, and in the presence of his enemies; with the common people around him, and before scribes and pharisees, and rulers of the synagogues. _________ * not only healing every species of disease, but turning water into wine (john ii.); feeding multitudes with a few loaves and fishes (matt. xiv. ; mark vi. ; luke ix. ; john vi. ); walking on the sea (matt. xiv. ); calming a storm (matt. viii. ; luke viii. ); a celestial voice at his baptism, and miraculous appearance (matt. iii. ; afterwards john xii. ); his transfiguration (matt. xvii. ; mark ix. ; luke ix. ; peter i. , ); raising the dead in three distinct instances (matt. ix. ; mark v. ; luke vii. ; viii. ; john xi.). _________ i apprehend that, when we remove from the comparison the cases which are fairly disposed of by the observations that have been stated, many cases will not remain. to those which do remain, we apply this final distinction; "that there is not satisfactory evidence that persons pretending to be original witnesses of the miracles passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undertaken and undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and properly in consequence of their belief of the truth of those accounts." chapter ii. but they with whom we argue have undoubtedly a right to select their own examples. the instances with which mr. hume has chosen to confront the miracles of the new testament, and which, therefore, we are entitled to regard as the strongest which the history of the world could supply to the inquiries of a very acute and learned adversary, are the three following: i. the cure of a blind and of a lame man of alexandria, by the emperor vespasian, as related by tacitus; ii. the restoration of the limb of an attendant in a spanish church, as told by cardinal de retz; and, iii. the cures said to be performed at the tomb of the abbe paris in the early part of the eighteenth century. i. the narrative of tacitus is delivered in these terms: "one of the common people of alexandria, known to be diseased in his eyes, by the admonition of the god serapis, whom that superstitious nation worship above all other gods, prostrated himself before the emperor, earnestly imploring from him a remedy for his blindness, and entreating that he would deign to anoint with his spittle his cheeks and the balls of his eyes. another, diseased in his hand, requested, by the admonition of the same god, that he might be touched by the foot of the emperor. vespasian at first derided and despised their application; afterwards, when they continued to urge their petitions, he sometimes appeared to dread the imputation of vanity; at other times, by the earnest supplication of the patients, and the persuasion of his flatterers, to be induced to hope for success. at length he commanded an inquiry to be made by the physicians, whether such a blindness and debility were vincible by human aid. the report of the physicians contained various points: that in the one, the power of vision was not destroyed, but would return if the obstacles were removed; that in the other, the diseased joints might be restored, if a healing power were applied; that it was, perhaps, agreeable to the gods to do this; that the emperor was elected by divine assistance; lastly, that the credit of the success would be the emperor's, the ridicule of the disappointment would fall upon the patients. vespasian believing that everything was in the power of his fortune, and that nothing was any longer incredible, whilst the multitude which stood by eagerly expected the event, with a countenance expressive of joy, executed what he was desired to do. immediately the hand was restored to its use, and light returned to the blind man. they who were present relate both these cures, even at this time, when there is nothing to be gained by lying." (tacit. hist. lib. iv.) now, though tacitus wrote this account twenty-seven years after the miracle is said to have been performed, and wrote at rome of what passed at alexandria, and wrote also from report; and although it does not appear that he had examined the story or that he believed it, (but rather the contrary,) yet i think his testimony sufficient to prove that such a transaction took place: by which i mean, that the two men in question did apply to vespasian; that vespasian did touch the diseased in the manner related; and that a cure was reported to have followed the operation. but the affair labours under a strong and just suspicion, that the whole of it was a concerted imposture brought about by collusion between the patients, the physician, and the emperor. this solution is probable, because there was everything to suggest, and everything to facilitate such a scheme. the miracle was calculated to confer honour upon the emperor, and upon the god serapis. it was achieved in the midst of the emperor's flatterers and followers; in a city and amongst a populace before-hand devoted to his interest, and to the worship of the god: where it would have been treason and blasphemy together to have contradicted the fame of the cure, or even to have questioned it. and what is very observable in the account is, that the report of the physicians is just such a report as would have been made of a case in which no external marks of the disease existed, and which, consequently, was capable of being easily counterfeited; viz. that in the first of the patients the organs of vision were not destroyed, that the weakness of the second was in his joints. the strongest circumstance in tacitus's narration is, that the first patient was "notus tabe oculorum," remarked or notorious for the disease in his eyes. but this was a circumstance which might have found its way into the story in its progress from a distant country, and during an interval of thirty years; or it might be true that the malady of the eyes was notorious, yet that the nature and degree of the disease had never been ascertained; a case by no means uncommon. the emperor's reserve was easily affected: or it is possible he might not be in the secret. there does not seem to be much weight in the observation of tacitus, that they who were present continued even then to relate the story when there was nothing to be gained by the lie. it only proves that those who had told the story for many years persisted in it. the state of mind of the witnesses and spectators at the time is the point to be attended to. still less is there of pertinency in mr. hume's eulogium on the cautious and penetrating genius of the historian; for it does not appear that the historian believed it. the terms in which he speaks of serapis, the deity to whose interposition the miracle was attributed, scarcely suffer us to suppose that tacitus thought the miracle to be real: "by the admonition of the god serapis, whom that superstitious nation (dedita superstitionibus gens) worship above all other gods." to have brought this supposed miracle within the limits of comparison with the miracles of christ, it ought to have appeared that a person of a low and private station, in the midst of enemies, with the whole power of the country opposing him, with every one around him prejudiced or interested against his claims and character, pretended to perform these cures, and required the spectators, upon the strength of what they saw, to give up their firmest hopes and opinions, and follow him through a life of trial and danger; that many were so moved as to obey his call, at the expense both of every notion in which they had been brought up, and of their ease, safety, and reputation; and that by these beginnings a change was produced in the world, the effects of which remain to this day: a case, both in its circumstances and consequences, very unlike anything we find in tacitus's relation. ii. the story taken from the memoirs of cardinal de retz, which is the second example alleged by mr. hume, is this: "in the church of saragossa in spain, the canons showed me a man whose business it was to light the lamps; telling me, that he had been several years at the gate with one leg only. i saw him with two." (liv. iv. a.d. .) it is stated by mr. hume, that the cardinal who relates this story did not believe it; and it nowhere appears that he either examined the limb, or asked the patient, or indeed any one, a single question about the matter. an artificial leg, wrought with art, would be sufficient, in a place where no such contrivance had ever before been heard of, to give origin and currency to the report. the ecclesiastics of the place would, it is probable, favour the story, inasmuch as it advanced the honour of their image and church. and if they patronized it, no other person at saragossa, in the middle of the last century, would care to dispute it. the story likewise coincided not less with the wishes and preconceptions of the people than with the interests of their ecclesiastical rulers: so that there was prejudice backed by authority, and both operating upon extreme ignorance, to account for the success of the imposture. if, as i have suggested, the contrivance of an artificial limb was then new, it would not occur to the cardinal himself to suspect it; especially under the carelessness of mind with which he heard the tale, and the little inclination he felt to scrutinize or expose its fallacy. iii. the miracles related to have been wrought at the tomb of the abbe paris admit in general of this solution. the patients who frequented the tomb were so affected by their devotion, their expectation, the place, the solemnity, and, above all, by the sympathy of the surrounding multitude, that many of them were thrown into violent convulsions, which convulsions, in certain instances, produced a removal of disorder, depending upon obstruction. we shall, at this day, have the less difficulty in admitting the above account, because it is the very same thing as hath lately been experienced in the operations of animal magnetism: and the report of the french physicians upon that mysterious remedy is very applicable to the present consideration, viz. that the pretenders to the art, by working upon the imaginations of their patients, were frequently able to produce convulsions; that convulsions so produced are amongst the most powerful, but, at the same time, most uncertain and unmanageable applications to the human frame which can be employed. circumstances which indicate this explication, in the case of the parisian miracles, are the following: . they were tentative. out of many thousand sick, infirm, and diseased persons who resorted to the tomb, the professed history of the miracles contains only nine cures. . the convulsions at the tomb are admitted. . the diseases were, for the most part, of that sort which depends upon inaction and obstruction, as dropsies, palsies, and some tumours. . the cures were gradual; some patients attending many days, some several weeks, and some several months. . the cures were many of them incomplete. . others were temporary. (the reader will find these particulars verified in the detail, by the accurate inquiries of the present bishop of sarum, in his criterion of miracles, p. , et seq.) so that all the wonder we are called upon to account for is, that out of an almost innumerable multitude which resorted to the tomb for the cure of their complaints, and many of whom were there agitated by strong convulsions, a very small proportion experienced a beneficial change in their constitution, especially in the action of the nerves and glands. some of the cases alleged do not require that we should have recourse to this solution. the first case in the catalogue is scarcely distinguishable from the progress of a natural recovery. it was that of a young man who laboured under an inflammation of one eye, and had lost the sight of the other. the inflamed eye was relieved, but the blindness of the other remained. the inflammation had before been abated by medicine; and the young man, at the time of his attendance at the tomb, was using a lotion of laudanum. and, what is a still more material part of the case, the inflammation, after some interval, returned. another case was that of a young man who had lost his sight by the puncture of an awl, and the discharge of the aqueous humour through the wound. the sight, which had been gradually returning, was much improved during his visit to the tomb, that is, probably in the same degree in which the discharged humour was replaced by fresh secretions. and it is observable, that these two are the only cases which, from their nature, should seem unlikely to be affected by convulsions. in one material respect i allow that the parisian miracles were different from those related by tacitus, and from the spanish miracle of the cardinal de retz. they had not, like them, all the power and all the prejudice of the country on their side to begin with. they were alleged by one party against another, by the jansenists against the jesuits. these were of course opposed and examined by their adversaries. the consequence of which examination was that many falsehoods were detected, that with something really extraordinary much fraud appeared to be mixed. and if some of the cases upon which designed misrepresentation could not be charged were not at the time satisfactorily accounted for, it was because the efficacy of strong spasmodic affections was not then sufficiently known. finally, the cause of jansenism did not rise by the miracles, but sunk, although the miracles had the anterior persuasion of all the numerous adherents of that cause to set out with. these, let us remember, are the strongest examples which the history of ages supplies. in none of them was the miracle unequivocal; by none of them were established prejudices and persuasions overthrown; of none of them did the credit make its way, in opposition to authority and power; by none of them were many induced to commit themselves, and that in contradiction to prior opinions, to a life of mortification, danger, and sufferings; none were called upon to attest them at the expense of their fortunes and safety.* _________ * it may be thought that the historian of the parisian miracles, m. montgeron, forms an exception to this last assertion. he presented his book (with a suspicion, as it should seem, of the danger of what he was doing) to the king; and was shortly afterwards committed to prison; from which he never came out. had the miracles been unequivocal, and had m. montgeron been originally convinced by them, i should have allowed this exception. it would have stood, i think, alone in the argument of our adversaries. but, beside what has been observed of the dubious nature of the miracles, the account which m. montgeron has himself left of his conversion shows both the state of his mind and that his persuasion was not built upon external miracles.--"scarcely had he entered the churchyard when he was struck," he tells us, "with awe and reverence, having never before heard prayers pronounced with so much ardour and transport as he observed amongst the supplicants at the tomb. upon this, throwing himself on his knees, resting his elbows on the tombstone and covering his face with his hands, he spake the following prayer. o thou, by whose intercession so many miracles are said to be performed, if it be true that a part of thee surviveth the grave, and that thou hast influence with the almighty, have pity on the darkness of my understanding, and through his mercy obtain the removal of it." having prayed thus, "many thoughts," as he sayeth, "began to open themselves to his mind; and so profound was his attention that he continued on his knees four hours, not in the least disturbed by the vast crowd of surrounding supplicants. during this time, all the arguments which he ever heard or read in favour of christianity occurred to him with so much force, and seemed so strong and convincing, that he went home fully satisfied of the truth of religion in general, and of the holiness and power of that person who," as he supposed, "had engaged the divine goodness to enlighten his understanding so suddenly." (douglas's crit of mir. p. .) _________ part ii. of the auxiliary evidences of christianity chapter i. prophecy. isaiah iii. ; liii. "behold, my servant shall deal prudently; he shall be exalted and extolled, and be very high. as many were astonished at thee; his visage was so marred more than any man, and his form more than the sons of men: so shall he sprinkle many nations; the kings shall shut their mouths at him: for that which had not been told them shall they see; and that which they had not heard shall they consider. who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the lord revealed? for he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. he is despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid, as it were, our faces from him: he was despised, and we esteemed him not. surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of god, and afflicted. but he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. all we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. he was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. he was taken from prison and from judgment; and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken. and he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth. yet it pleased the lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief. when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the lord shall prosper in his hand. he shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities. therefore will i divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death; and he was numbered with the transgressors, and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors." these words are extant in a book purporting to contain the predictions of a writer who lived seven centuries before the christian era. that material part of every argument from prophecy, namely, that the words alleged were actually spoken or written before the fact to which they are applied took place, or could by any natural means be foreseen, is, in the present instance, incontestable. the record comes out of the custody of adversaries. the jews, as an ancient father well observed, are our librarians. the passage is in their copies as well as in ours. with many attempts to explain it away, none has ever been made by them to discredit its authenticity. and what adds to the force of the quotation is, that it is taken from a writing declaredly prophetic; a writing professing to describe such future transactions and changes in the world as were connected with the fate and interests of the jewish nation. it is not a passage in an historical or devotional composition, which, because it turns out to be applicable to some future events, or to some future situation of affairs, is presumed to have been oracular. the words of isaiah were delivered by him in a prophetic character, with the solemnity belonging to that character: and what he so delivered was all along understood by the jewish reader to refer to something that was to take place after the time of the author. the public sentiments of the jews concerning the design of isaiah's writings are set forth in the book of ecclesiasticus:* "he saw by an excellent spirit what should come to pass at the last, and he comforted them that mourned in sion. he showed what should come to pass for ever, and secret things or ever they came." _________ * chap. xlviii. ver. . _________ it is also an advantage which this prophecy possesses, that it is intermixed with no other subject. it is entire, separate, and uninterruptedly directed to one scene of things. the application of the prophecy to the evangelic history is plain and appropriate. here is no double sense; no figurative language but what is sufficiently intelligible to every reader of every country. the obscurities (by which i mean the expressions that require a knowledge of local diction, and of local allusion) are few, and not of great importance. nor have i found that varieties of reading, or a different construing of the original, produce any material alteration in the sense of the prophecy. compare the common translation with that of bishop lowth, and the difference is not considerable. so far as they do differ, bishop lowth's corrections, which are the faithful result of an accurate examination, bring the description nearer to the new testament history than it was before. in the fourth verse of the fifty-third chapter, what our bible renders "stricken" he translates "judicially stricken:" and in the eighth verse, the clause "he was taken from prison and from judgment," the bishop gives "by an oppressive judgment he was taken off." the next words to these, "who shall declare his generation?" are much cleared up in their meaning by the bishop's version; "his manner of life who would declare?" i. e. who would stand forth in his defence? the former part of the ninth verse, "and he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death," which inverts the circumstances of christ's passion, the bishop brings out in an order perfectly agreeable to the event; "and his grave was appointed with the wicked, but with the rich man was his tomb." the words in the eleventh verse, "by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many," are, in the bishop's version, "by the knowledge of him shall my righteous servant justify many." it is natural to inquire what turn the jews themselves give to this prophecy.* there is good proof that the ancient rabbins explained it of their expected messiah:+ but their modern expositors concur, i think, in representing it as a description of the calamitous state, and intended restoration, of the jewish people, who are here, as they say, exhibited under the character of a single person. i have not discovered that their exposition rests upon any critical arguments, or upon these in any other than in a very minute degree. _________ * "vaticinium hoc esaiae est carnificina rabbinorum, de quo aliqui judaei mihi confessi sunt, rabbinos suos ex propheticis scripturis facile se extricare potuisse, modo; esaias tacuisset." hulse, theol. jud. p. , quoted by poole, in loc. + hulse, theol. jud. p. . _________ the clause in the ninth verse, which we render "for the transgression of my people was he stricken," and in the margin, "was the stroke upon him," the jews read "for the transgression of my people was the stroke upon them." and what they allege in support of the alteration amounts only to this, that the hebrew pronoun is capable of a plural as well as of a singular signification; that is to say, is capable of their construction as well as ours.* and this is all the variation contended for; the rest of the prophecy they read as we do. the probability, therefore, of their exposition is a subject of which we are as capable of judging as themselves. this judgment is open indeed to the good sense of every attentive reader. the application which the jews contend for appears to me to labour under insuperable difficulties; in particular, it may be demanded of them to explain in whose name or person, if the jewish people he the sufferer, does the prophet speak, when he says, "he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows, yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of god, and afflicted; but he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed." again, the description in the seventh verse, "he was oppressed and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth," quadrates with no part of the jewish history with which we are acquainted. the mention of the "grave" and the "tomb," in the ninth verse, is not very applicable to the fortunes of a nation; and still less so is the conclusion of the prophecy in the twelfth verse, which expressly represents the sufferings as voluntary, and the sufferer as interceding for the offenders; "because he hath poured out his soul unto death, and he was numbered with the transgressors, and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors." _________ * bishop lowth adopts in this place the reading of the seventy, which gives smitten to death, "for the transgression of my people was he smitten to death." the addition of the words "to death" makes an end of the jewish interpretation of the clause. and the authority upon which this reading (though not given by the present hebrew text) is adopted, dr. kennicot has set forth by an argument not only so cogent, but so clear and popular, that i beg leave to transcribe the substance of it into this note:--"origen, after having quoted at large this prophecy concerning the messiah, tells us that, having once made use of this passage, in a dispute against some that were accounted wise amongst the jews, one of them replied that the words did not mean one man, but one people, the jews, who were smitten of god, and dispersed among the gentiles for their conversion; that he then urged many parts of this prophecy to show the absurdity of this interpretation, and that he seemed to press them the hardest by this sentence,--'for the transgression of my people was he smitten to death.'" now as origen, the author of the hexapla, must have understood hebrew, we cannot suppose that he would have urged this last text as so decisive, if the greek version had not agreed here with the hebrew text; nor that these wise jews would have been at all distressed by this quotation, unless the hebrew text had read agreeably to the words "to death," on which the argument principally depended; for by quoting it immediately, they would have triumphed over him, and reprobated his greek version. this, whenever they could do it was their constant practice in their disputes with the christians. origen himself, who laboriously compared the hebrew text with the septuagint, has recorded the necessity of arguing with the jews from such passages only as were in the septuagint agreeable to the hebrew. wherefore, as origen had carefully compared the greek version of the septuagint with the hebrew text; and as he puzzled and confounded the learned jews, by urging upon them the reading "to death" in this place; it seems almost impossible not to conclude, both from origen's argument and the silence of his jewish adversaries, that the hebrew text at that time actually had the word agreeably to the version of the seventy. lowth's isaiah, p. . _________ there are other prophecies of the old testament, interpreted by christians to relate to the gospel history, which are deserving both of great regard and of a very attentive consideration: but i content myself with stating the above, as well because i think it the clearest and the strongest of all, as because most of the rest, in order that their value might be represented with any tolerable degree of fidelity, require a discussion unsuitable to the limits and nature of this work. the reader will find them disposed in order, and distinctly explained, in bishop chandler's treatise on the subject; and he will bear in mind, what has been often, and, i think, truly, urged by the advocates of christianity, that there is no other eminent person to the history of whose life so many circumstances can be made to apply. they who object that much has been done by the power of chance, the ingenuity of accommodation, and the industry of research, ought to try whether the same, or anything like it, could be done, if mahomet, or any other person, were proposed as the subject of jewish prophecy. ii. a second head of argument from prophecy is founded upon our lord's predictions concerning the destruction of jerusalem, recorded by three out of the four evangelists. luke xxi. - . "and as some spake of the temple, how it was adorned with goodly stones and gifts, he said, as for these things which ye behold, the days will come in which there shall not be left one stone upon another, that shall not be thrown down. and they asked him, saying, master, but when shall these things be? and what sign will there be when these things shall come to pass? and he said, take heed that ye be not deceived; for many shall come in my name, saying, i am christ; and the time draweth near; go ye not therefore after them. but when ye shall hear of wars and commotions, be not terrified: for these things must first come to pass; but the end is not by-and-by. then said he unto them, nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; and great earth-quakes shall be in divers places, and famines and pestilences; and fearful sights, and great signs shall there be from heaven. but before all these, they shall lay their hands on you, and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues, and into prisons, being brought before kings and rulers for my name's sake. and it shall turn to you for a testimony. settle it therefore in your hearts not to meditate before what ye shall answer: for i will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all your adversaries shall not be able to gainsay nor resist. and ye shall be betrayed both by parents, and brethren, and kinsfolk, and friends; and some of you shall they cause to be put to death. and ye shall be hated of all men for my name's sake. but there shall not an hair of your head perish. in your patience possess ye your souls. and when ye shall see jerusalem compassed with armies, then know that the desolation thereof is nigh. then let them which are in judea flee to the mountains; and let them which are in the midst of it depart out; and let not them that are in the countries enter thereinto. for these be the days of vengeance, that all things which are written may be fulfilled. but woe unto them that are with child and to them that give suck in those days: for there shall be great distress in the land, and wrath upon this people. and they shall fall by the edge of the sword, and shall be led away captive into all nations: and jerusalem shall be trodden down by the gentiles, until the times of the gentiles be fulfilled." in terms nearly similar, this discourse is related in the twenty-fourth chapter of matthew and the thirteenth of mark. the prospect of the same evils drew from our saviour, on another occasion, the following affecting expressions of concern, which are preserved by st. luke (xix. -- ): "and when he was come near, he beheld the city and wept over it, saying, if thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes. for the day shall come upon thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round and keep thee in on every side, and shall lay thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee; and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon another; because thou knowest not the time of thy visitation"--these passages are direct and explicit predictions. references to the same event, some plain, some parabolical, or otherwise figurative, are found in divers other discourses of our lord. (matt. xxi. - ; xxii. - . mark xii. - . luke xiii. - ; xx. - ; xxi. - .) the general agreement of the description with the event, viz. with the ruin of the jewish nation, and the capture of jerusalem under vespasian, thirty-six years after christ's death, is most evident; and the accordancy in various articles of detail and circumstances has been shown by many learned writers. it is also an advantage to the inquiry, and to the argument built upon it, that we have received a copious account of the transaction from josephus, a jewish and contemporary historian. this part of the case is perfectly free from doubt. the only question which, in my opinion, can be raised upon the subject is, whether the prophecy was really delivered before the event? i shall apply, therefore, my observations to this point solely. . the judgment of antiquity, though varying in the precise year of the publication of the three gospels, concurs in assigning them a date prior to the destruction of jerusalem. (lardner, vol. xiii.) . this judgment is confirmed by a strong probability arising from the course of human life. the destruction of jerusalem took place in the seventieth year after the birth of christ. the three evangelists, one of whom was his immediate companion, and the other two associated with his companions, were, it is probable, not much younger than he was. they must, consequently, have been far advanced in life when jerusalem was taken; and no reason has been given why they should defer writing their histories so long. . (le clerc, diss. iii. de quat. evang. num. vii. p. .) if the evangelists, at the time of writing the gospels, had known of the destruction of jerusalem, by which catastrophe the prophecies were plainly fulfilled, it is most probable that, in recording the predictions, they would have dropped some word or other about the completion; in like manner as luke, after relating the denunciation of a dearth by agabus, adds, "which came to pass in the days of claudius caesar;" (acts xi. .) whereas the prophecies are given distinctly in one chapter of each of the first three gospels, and referred to in several different passages of each, and in none of all these places does there appear the smallest intimation that the things spoken of had come to pass. i do admit that it would have been the part of an impostor, who wished his readers to believe that this book was written before the event, when in truth it was written after it, to have suppressed any such intimation carefully. but this was not the character of the authors of the gospel. cunning was no quality of theirs. of all writers in the world, they thought the least of providing against objections. moreover, there is no clause in any one of them that makes a profession of their having written prior to the jewish wars, which a fraudulent purpose would have led them to pretend. they have done neither one thing nor the other; they have neither inserted any words which might signify to the reader that their accounts were written before the destruction of jerusalem, which a sophist would have done; nor have they dropped a hint of the completion of the prophecies recorded by them, which an undesigning writer, writing after the event, could hardly, on some or other of the many occasions that presented themselves, have missed of doing. . the admonitions* which christ is represented to have given to his followers to save themselves by flight are not easily accounted for on the supposition of the prophecy being fabricated after the event. either the christians, when the siege approached, did make their escape from jerusalem, or they did not: if they did, they must have had the prophecy amongst them: if they did not know of any such prediction at the time of the siege, if they did not take notice of any such warning, it was an improbable fiction, in a writer publishing his work near to that time (which, on any, even the lowest and most disadvantageous supposition, was the case with the gospels now in our hands), and addressing his work to jews and to jewish converts (which matthew certainly did), to state that the followers of christ had received admonition of which they made no use when the occasion arrived, and of which experience then recent proved that those who were most concerned to know and regard them were ignorant or negligent. even if the prophecies came to the hands of the evangelists through no better vehicle than tradition, it must have been by a tradition which subsisted prior to the event. and to suppose that without any authority whatever, without so much as even any tradition to guide them, they had forged these passages, is to impute to them a degree of fraud and imposture from every appearance of which their compositions are as far removed as possible. _________ * "when ye shall see jerusalem compassed with armies, then know that the desolation thereof is nigh; then let them which are in judea flee to the mountains; then let them which are in the midst of it depart out, and let not them that are in the countries enter thereinto."--luke xxi. , . "when ye shall see jerusalem compassed with armies, then let them which be in judea flee unto the mountains; let him which is on the house-top not come down to take anything out of his house; neither let him which is in the field return back to take his clothes."--matt. xiv. . _________ . i think that, if the prophecies had been composed after the event, there would have been more specification. the names or descriptions of the enemy, the general, the emperor, would have been found in them. the designation of the time would have been more determinate. and i am fortified in this opinion by observing that the counterfeited prophecies of the sibylline oracles, of the twelve patriarchs, and, i am inclined to believe, most others of the kind, are mere transcripts of the history, moulded into a prophetic form. it is objected that the prophecy of the destruction of jerusalem is mixed or connected with expressions which relate to the final judgment of the world; and so connected as to lead an ordinary reader to expect that these two events would not be far distant from each other. to which i answer, that the objection does not concern our present argument. if our saviour actually foretold the destruction of jerusalem, it is sufficient; even although we should allow that the narration of the prophecy had combined what had been said by him on kindred subjects, without accurately preserving the order, or always noticing the transition of the discourse. chapter ii. the morality of the gospel. is stating the morality of the gospel as an argument of its truth, i am willing to admit two points; first, that the teaching of morality was not the primary design of the mission; secondly, that morality, neither in the gospel, nor in any other book, can be a subject, properly speaking, of discovery. if i were to describe in a very few words the scope of christianity as a revelation,* i should say that it was to influence the conduct of human life, by establishing the proof of a future state of reward and punishment,--"to bring life and immortality to light." the direct object, therefore, of the design is, to supply motives, and not rules; sanctions, and not precepts. and these were what mankind stood most in need of. the members of civilised society can, in all ordinary cases, judge tolerably well how they ought to act: but without a future state, or, which is the same thing, without credited evidence of that state, they want a motive to their duty; they want at least strength of motive sufficient to bear up against the force of passion, and the temptation of present advantage. their rules want authority. the most important service that can be rendered to human life, and that consequently which one might expect beforehand would be the great end and office of a revelation from god, is to convey to the world authorised assurances of the reality of a future existence. and although in doing this, or by the ministry of the same person by whom this is done, moral precepts or examples, or illustrations of moral precepts, may be occasionally given and be highly valuable, yet still they do not form the original purpose of the mission. _________ * great and inestimably beneficial effects may accrue from the mission of christ, and especially from his death, which do not belong to christianity as a revelation: that is, they might have existed, and they might have been accomplished, though we had never, in this life, been made acquainted with them. these effects may be very extensive; they may be interesting even to other orders of intelligent beings. i think it is a general opinion, and one to which i have long come, that the beneficial effects of christ's death extend to the whole human species. it was the redemption of the world. "he is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but for the whole world;" john ii. . probably the future happiness, perhaps the future existence of the species, and more gracious terms of acceptance extended to all, might depend upon it or be procured by it. now these effects, whatever they be, do not belong to christianity as a revelation; because they exist with respect to those to whom it is not revealed. _________ secondly; morality, neither in the gospel nor in any other book, can be a subject of discovery, properly so called. by which proposition i mean that there cannot, in morality, be anything similar to what are called discoveries in natural philosophy, in the arts of life, and in some sciences; as the system of the universe, the circulation of the blood, the polarity of the magnet, the laws of gravitation, alphabetical writing, decimal arithmetic, and some other things of the same sort; facts, or proofs, or contrivances, before totally unknown and unthought of. whoever, therefore, expects in reading the new testament to be struck with discoveries in morals in the manner in which his mind was affected when he first came to the knowledge of the discoveries above mentioned: or rather in the manner in which the world was affected by them, when they were first published; expects what, as i apprehend, the nature of the subject renders it impossible that he should meet with. and the foundation of my opinion is this, that the qualities of actions depend entirely upon their effects, which effects must all along have been the subject of human experience. when it is once settled, no matter upon what principle, that to do good is virtue, the rest is calculation. but since the calculation cannot be instituted concerning each particular action, we establish intermediate rules; by which proceeding, the business of morality is much facilitated, for then it is concerning our rules alone that we need inquire, whether in their tendency they be beneficial; concerning our actions, we have only to ask whether they be agreeable to the rules. we refer actions to rules, and rules to public happiness. now, in the formation of these rules, there is no place for discovery, properly so called, but there is ample room for the exercise of wisdom, judgment, and prudence. as i wish to deliver argument rather than panegyric, i shall treat of the morality of the gospel in subjection to these observations. and after all, i think it such a morality as, considering from whom it came, is most extraordinary; and such as, without allowing some degree of reality to the character and pretensions of the religion, it is difficult to account for: or, to place the argument a little lower in the scale, it is such a morality as completely repels the supposition of its being the tradition of a barbarous age or of a barbarous people, of the religion being founded in folly, or of its being the production of craft; and it repels also, in a great degree, the supposition of its having been the effusion of an enthusiastic mind. the division under which the subject may be most conveniently treated is that of the things taught, and the manner of teaching. under the first head, i should willingly, if the limits and nature of my work admitted of it, transcribe into this chapter the whole of what has been said upon the morality of the gospel by the author of the internal evidence of christianity; because it perfectly agrees with my own opinion, and because it is impossible to say the same things so well. this acute observer of human nature, and, as i believe, sincere convert to christianity, appears to me to have made out satisfactorily the two following positions, viz.-- i. that the gospel omits some qualifies which have usually engaged the praises and admiration of mankind, but which, in reality, and in their general effects, have been prejudicial to human happiness. ii. that the gospel has brought forward some virtues which possess the highest intrinsic value, but which have commonly been overlooked and contemned. the first of these propositions he exemplifies in the instances of friendship, patriotism, active courage; in the sense in which these qualities are usually understood, and in the conduct which they often produce. the second, in the instances of passive courage or endurance of sufferings, patience under affronts and injuries, humility, irresistance, placability. the truth is, there are two opposite descriptions of character under which mankind may generally be classed. the one possesses rigour, firmness, resolution; is daring and active, quick in its sensibilities, jealous of its fame, eager in its attachments, inflexible in its purpose, violent in its resentments. the other meek, yielding, complying, forgiving; not prompt to act, but willing to suffer; silent and gentle under rudeness and insult, suing for reconciliation where others would demand satisfaction, giving way to the pushes of impudence, conceding and indulgent to the prejudices, the wrong-headedness, the intractability of those with whom it has to deal. the former of these characters is, and ever hath been, the favourite of the world. it is the character of great men. there is a dignity in it which universally commands respect. the latter is poor-spirited, tame, and abject. yet so it hath happened, that with the founder of christianity this latter is the subject of his commendation, his precepts, his example; and that the former is so in no part of its composition. this, and nothing else, is the character designed in the following remarkable passages: "resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also: and whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain: love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you." this certainly is not commonplace morality. it is very original. it shows at least (and it is for this purpose we produce it) that no two things can be more different than the heroic and the christian characters. now the author to whom i refer has not only marked this difference more strongly than any preceding writer, but has proved, in contradiction to first impressions, to popular opinion, to the encomiums of orators and poets, and even to the suffrages of historians and moralists, that the latter character possesses the most of true worth, both as being most difficult either to be acquired or sustained, and as contributing most to the happiness and tranquillity of social life. the state of his argument is as follows: i. if this disposition were universal, the case is clear; the world would be a society of friends. whereas, if the other disposition were universal, it would produce a scene of universal contention. the world could not hold a generation of such men. ii. if, what is the fact, the disposition be partial; if a few be actuated by it, amongst a multitude who are not; in whatever degree it does prevail, in the same proportion it prevents, allays, and terminates quarrels, the great disturbers of human happiness, and the great sources of human misery, so far as man's happiness and misery depend upon man. without this disposition enmities must not only be frequent, but, once begun, must be eternal: for, each retaliation being a fresh injury, and consequently requiring a fresh satisfaction, no period can be assigned to the reciprocation of affronts, and to the progress of hatred, but that which closes the lives, or at least the intercourse, of the parties. i would only add to these observations, that although the former of the two characters above described may be occasionally useful; although, perhaps, a great general, or a great statesman, may be formed by it, and these may be instruments of important benefits to mankind, yet is this nothing more than what is true of many qualities which are acknowledged to be vicious. envy is a quality of this sort: i know not a stronger stimulus to exertion; many a scholar, many an artist, many a soldier, has been produced by it; nevertheless, since in its general effects it is noxious, it is properly condemned, certainly is not praised, by sober moralists. it was a portion of the same character as that we are defending, or rather of his love of the same character, which our saviour displayed in his repeated correction of the ambition of his disciples; his frequent admonitions that greatness with them was to consist in humility; his censure of that love of distinction and greediness of superiority which the chief persons amongst his countrymen were wont, on all occasions, great and little, to betray. "they (the scribes and pharisees) love the uppermost rooms at feasts, and the chief seats in the synagogues, and greetings in the markets, and to be called of men rabbi, rabbi. but be not ye called rabbi, for one is your master, even christ, and all ye are brethren: and call no man your father upon the earth, for one is your father, which is in heaven; neither be ye called master, for one is your master, even christ; but he that is greatest among you shall be your servant; and whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased, and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted." (matt. xxiii. . see also mark xii. ; luke xx. ; xiv. .) i make no further remark upon these passages (because they are, in truth, only a repetition of the doctrine, different expressions of the principle, which we have already stated), except that some of the passages, especially our lord's advice to the guests at an entertainment, (luke iv. .) seem to extend the rule to what we call manners; which was both regular in point of consistency, and not so much beneath the dignity of our lord's mission as may at first sight be supposed, for bad manners are bad morals. it is sufficiently apparent that the precepts we have tired, or rather the disposition which these precepts inculcate, relate to personal conduct from personal motives; to cases in which men act from impulse, for themselves and from themselves. when it comes to be considered what is necessary to be done for the sake of the public, and out of a regard to the general welfare (which consideration, for the most part, ought exclusively to govern the duties of men in public stations), it comes to a case to which the rules do not belong. this distinction is plain; and if it were less so the consequence would not be much felt: for it is very seldom that in time intercourse of private life men act with public views. the personal motives from which they do act the rule regulates. the preference of time patient to the heroic cheer, which we have here noticed, and which the reader will find explained at large in the work to which we have referred him, is a peculiarity in the christian institution, which i propose as an argument of wisdom, very much beyond the situation and natural character of the person who delivered it. ii. a second argument, drawn from the morality of the new testament, is the stress which is laid by our saviour upon the regulation of the thoughts; and i place this consideration next to the other because they are connected. the other related to the malicious passions; this to the voluptuous. together, they comprehend the whole character. "out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications," &c. "these are the things which defile a man." (matt. xv. .) "wo unto you, scribes and pharisees, hypocrites! for ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of extortion and excess.--ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness; even so ye also outwardly appear righteous unto men, but within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity" (matt. xxiii. , ) and more particularly that strong expression, (matt. v. .) "whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart." there can be no doubt with any reflecting mind but that the propensities of our nature must be subject to regulation; but the question is, where the check ought to be placed, upon the thought, or only upon the action? in this question our saviour, in the texts here quoted, has pronounced a decisive judgment. he makes the control of thought essential. internal purity with him is everything. now i contend that this is the only discipline which can succeed; in other words, that a moral system which prohibits actions, but leaves the thoughts at liberty, will be ineffectual, and is therefore unwise. i know not how to go about the proof of a point which depends upon experience, and upon a knowledge of the human constitution, better than by citing the judgment of persons who appear to have given great attention to the subject, and to be well qualified to form a true opinion about it. boerhaave, speaking of this very declaration of our saviour, "whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath already committed adultery with her in his heart," and understanding it, as we do, to contain an injunction to lay the check upon the thoughts, was wont to say that "our saviour knew mankind better than socrates." hailer, who has recorded this saying of boerhaave, adds to it the following remarks of his own:--(letters to his daughter.) "it did not escape the observation of our saviour that the rejection of any evil thoughts was the best defence against vice: for when a debauched person fills his imagination with impure pictures, the licentious ideas which he recalls fail not to stimulate his desires with a degree of violence which he cannot resist. this will be followed by gratification, unless some external obstacle should prevent him from the commission of a sin which he had internally resolved on." "every moment of time," says our author, "that is spent in meditations upon sin increases the power of the dangerous object which has possessed our imagination." i suppose these reflections will be generally assented to. iii. thirdly, had a teacher of morality been asked concerning a general principle of conduct, and for a short rule of life; and had he instructed the person who consulted him, "constantly to refer his actions to what he believed to be the will of his creator, and constantly to have in view not his own interest and gratification alone, but the happiness and comfort of those about him," he would have been thought, i doubt not, in any age of the world, and in any, even the most improved state of morals, to have delivered a judicious answer; because, by the first direction, he suggested the only motive which acts steadily and uniformly, in sight and out of sight, in familiar occurrences and under pressing temptations; and in the second he corrected what of all tendencies in the human character stands most in need of correction, selfishness, or a contempt of other men's conveniency and satisfaction. in estimating the value of a moral rule, we are to have regard not only to the particular duty, but the general spirit; not only to what it directs us to do, but to the character which a compliance with its direction is likely to form in us. so, in the present instance, the rule here recited will never fail to make him who obeys it considerate not only of the rights, but of the feelings of other men, bodily and mental, in great matters and in small; of the ease, the accommodation, the self-complacency of all with whom he has any concern, especially of all who are in his power, or dependent upon his will. now what, in the most applauded philosopher of the most enlightened age of the world, would have been deemed worthy of his wisdom, and of his character, to say, our saviour hath said, and upon just such an occasion as that which we have feigned. "then one of them, which was a lawyer, asked him a question, tempting him, and saying, master, which is the great commandment in the law? jesus said unto him, thou shalt love the lord thy god with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind; this is the first and great commandment: and the second is like unto it, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: on these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." (matt. xxii. - .) the second precept occurs in st. matthew (xix. ), on another occasion similar to this; and both of them, on a third similar occasion, in luke (x. ). in these two latter instances the question proposed was, "what shall i do to inherit eternal life?" upon all these occasions i consider the words of our saviour as expressing precisely the same thing as what i have put into the mouth of the moral philosopher. nor do i think that it detracts much from the merit of the answer, that these precepts are extant in the mosaic code: for his laying his finger, if i may so say, upon these precepts; his drawing them out from the rest of that voluminous institution; his stating of them, not simply amongst the number, but as the greatest and the sum of all the others; in a word, his proposing of them to his hearers for their rule and principle, was our saviour's own. and what our saviour had said upon the subject appears to me to have fixed the sentiment amongst his followers. saint paul has it expressly, "if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself;" (rom. xiii. .) and again, "for all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." (gal. v. .) saint john, in like manner, "this commandment have we from him, that he who loveth god love his brother also." ( john iv. .) saint peter, not very differently: "seeing that ye have purified your souls in obeying the truth through the spirit, unto unfeigned love of the brethren, see that ye love one another with a pure heart fervently." (i peter i, .) and it is so well known as to require no citations to verify it, that this love, or charity, or, in other words, regard to the welfare of others, runs in various forms through all the preceptive parts of the apostolic writings. it is the theme of all their exhortations, that with which their morality begins and ends, from which all their details and enumerations set out, and into which they return. and that this temper, for some time at least, descended in its purity to succeeding christians, is attested by one of the earliest and best of the remaining writings of the apostolical fathers, the epistle of the roman clement. the meekness of the christian character reigns throughout the whole of that excellent piece. the occasion called for it. it was to compose the dissensions of the church of corinth. and the venerable hearer of the apostles does not fall short, in the display of this principle, of the finest passages of their writings. he calls to the remembrance of the corinthian church its former character in which "ye were all of you," he tells them, "humble-minded, not boasting of anything, desiring rather to be subject than to govern, to give than to receive, being content with the portion god had dispensed to you and hearkening diligently to his word; ye were enlarged in your bowels, having his sufferings always before your eyes. ye contended day and night for the whole brotherhood, that with compassion and a good conscience the number of his elect might be saved. ye were sincere, and without offence towards each other. ye bewailed every one his neighbour's sins, esteeming their defects your own." his prayer for them was for the "return of peace, long-suffering, and patience." (ep. clem. rom. c. & ; abp. wake's translation.) and his advice to those who might have been the occasion of difference in the society is conceived in the true spirit, and with a perfect knowledge of the christian character: "who is there among you that is generous? who that is compassionate? who that has any charity? let him say, if this sedition, this contention, and these schisms be upon my account, i am ready to depart, to go away whithersoever ye please, and do whatsoever ye shall command me; only let the flock of christ be in peace with the elders who are set over it. he that shall do this shall get to himself a very great honour in the lord; and there is no place but what will he ready to receive him; for the earth is the lord's and the fullness thereof. these things they who have their conversation towards god, not to be repented of, both have done, and will always be ready to do." (ep. clem. rom. c. ; abp. wake's translation.) this sacred principle, this earnest recommendation of forbearance, lenity, and forgiveness, mixes with all the writings of that age. there are more quotations in the apostolical fathers of texts which relate to these points than of any other. christ's sayings had struck them. "not rendering," said polycarp, the disciple of john, "evil for evil, or railing for railing, or striking for striking, or cursing for cursing." again, speaking of some whose behaviour had given great offence, "be ye moderate," says he, "on this occasion, and look not upon such as enemies, but call them back as suffering and erring members, that ye save your whole body." (pol. ep. ad phil. c. & .) "be ye mild at their anger," saith ignatius, the companion of polycarp, "humble at their boastings, to their blasphemies return your prayers, to their error your firmness in the faith; when they are cruel, be ye gentle; not endeavouring to imitate their ways, let us be their brethren in all kindness and moderation: but let us be followers of the lord; for who was ever more unjustly used, more destitute, more despised?" iv. a fourth quality by which the morality of the gospel is distinguished is the exclusion of regard to fame and reputation. "take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them, otherwise ye have no reward of your father which is in heaven." "when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut the door, pray to thy father which is in secret; and thy father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." (matt. vi. & .) and the rule, by parity of reason, is extended to all other virtues. i do not think that either in these or in any other passage of the new testament, the pursuit of fame is stated as a vice; it is only said that an action, to be virtuous, must be independent of it. i would also observe that it is not publicity, but ostentation, which is prohibited; not the mode, but the motive of the action, which is regulated. a good man will prefer that mode, as well as those objects of his beneficence, by which he can produce the greatest effect; and the view of this purpose may dictate sometimes publication, and sometimes concealment. either the one or the other may be the mode of the action, according as the end to be promoted by it appears to require. but from the motive, the reputation of the deed, and the fruits and advantage of that reputation to ourselves, must be shut out, or, in whatever proportion they are not so, the action in that proportion fails of being virtuous. this exclusion of regard to human opinion is a difference not so much in the duties to which the teachers of virtue would persuade mankind, as in the manner and topics of persuasion. and in this view the difference is great. when we set about to give advice, our lectures are full of the advantages of character, of the regard that is due to appearances and to opinion; of what the world, especially of what the good or great, will think and say; of the value of public esteem, and of the qualities by which men acquire it. widely different from this was our saviour's instruction; and the difference was founded upon the best reasons. for, however the care of reputation, the authority of public opinion, or even of the opinion of good men, the satisfaction of being well received and well thought of, the benefit of being known and distinguished, are topics to which we are fain to have recourse in our exhortations; the true virtue is that which discards these considerations absolutely, and which retires from them all to the single internal purpose of pleasing god. this at least was the virtue which our saviour taught. and in teaching this, he not only confined the views of his followers to the proper measure and principle of human duty, but acted in consistency with his office as a monitor from heaven. next to what our saviour taught, may be considered the manner of his teaching; which was extremely peculiar, yet, i think, precisely adapted to the peculiarity of his character and situation. his lessons did not consist of disquisitions; of anything like moral essays, or like sermons, or like set treatises upon the several points which he mentioned. when he delivered a precept, it was seldom that he added any proof or argument; still more seldom that he accompanied it with what all precepts require, limitations and distinctions. his instructions were conceived in short, emphatic, sententious rules, in occasional reflections, or in round maxims. i do not think that this was a natural, or would have been a proper method for a philosopher or a moralist; or that it is a method which can be successfully imitated by us. but i contend that it was suitable to the character which christ assumed, and to the situation in which, as a teacher, he was placed. he produced himself as a messenger from god. he put the truth of what he taught upon authority. (i say unto you, swear not at all; i say auto you, resist not evil; i say unto you, love your enemies.--matt. v. , , .) in the choice, therefore, of his mode of teaching, the purpose by him to be consulted was impression: because conviction, which forms the principal end of our discourses, was to arise in the minds of his followers from a different source, from their respect to his person and authority. now, for the purpose of impression singly and exclusively, (i repeat again, that we are not here to consider the convincing of the understanding,) i know nothing which would have so great force as strong ponderous maxims, frequently urged and frequently brought back to the thoughts of the hearers. i know nothing that could in this view be said better, than "do unto others as ye would that others should do unto you:" "the first and great commandment is, thou shalt love the lord thy god: and the second is like unto it, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." it must also be remembered, that our lord's ministry, upon the supposition either of one year or three, compared with his work, was of short duration; that, within this time, he had many places to visit, various audiences to address; that his person was generally besieged by crowds of followers; that he was, sometimes, driven away from the place where he was teaching by persecution, and at other times thought fit to withdraw himself from the commotions of the populace. under these circumstances, nothing appears to have been so practicable, or likely to be so efficacious, as leaving, wherever he came, concise lessons of duty. these circumstances at least show the necessity he was under of comprising what he delivered within a small compass. in particular, his sermon upon the mount ought always to be considered with a view to these observations. the question is not, whether a fuller, a more accurate, a more systematic, or a more argumentative discourse upon morals might not have been pronounced; but whether more could have been said in the same room better adapted to the exigencies of the hearers, or better calculated for the purpose of impression? seen in this light, it has always appeared to me to be admirable. dr. lardner thought that this discourse was made up of what christ had said at different times, and on different occasions, several of which occasions are noticed in st luke's narrative. i can perceive no reason for this opinion. i believe that our lord delivered this discourse at one time and place, in the manner related by saint matthew, and that he repeated the same rules and maxims at different times, as opportunity or occasion suggested; that they were often in his mouth, and were repeated to different audiences, and in various conversations. it is incidental to this mode of moral instruction, which proceeds not by proof but upon authority, not by disquisition but by precept, that the rules will be conceived in absolute terms, leaving the application and the distinctions that attend it to the reason of the hearer. it is likewise to be expected that they will be delivered in terms by so much the more forcible and energetic, as they have to encounter natural or general propensities. it is further also to be remarked, that many of those strong instances which appear in our lord's sermon, such as, "if any man will smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also:" "if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also:" "whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain:" though they appear in the form of specific precepts, are intended as descriptive of disposition and character. a specific compliance with the precepts would be of little value, but the disposition which they inculcate is of the highest. he who should content himself with waiting for the occasion, and with literally observing the rule when the occasion offered, would do nothing, or worse than nothing: but he who considers the character and disposition which is hereby inculcated, and places that disposition before him as the model to which he should bring his own, takes, perhaps, the best possible method of improving the benevolence, and of calming and rectifying the vices of his temper. if it be said that this disposition is unattainable, i answer, so is all perfection: ought therefore a moralist to recommend imperfections? one excellency, however, of our saviour's rules is, that they are either never mistaken, or never so mistaken as to do harm. i could feign a hundred cases in which the literal application of the rule, "of doing to others as we would that others should do unto us," might mislead us; but i never yet met with the man who was actually misled by it. notwithstanding that our lord bade his followers, "not to resist evil," and to "forgive the enemy who should trespass against them, not till seven times, but till seventy times seven," the christian world has hitherto suffered little by too much placability or forbearance. i would repeat once more, what has already been twice remarked, that these rules were designed to regulate personal conduct from personal motives, and for this purpose alone. i think that these observations will assist us greatly in placing our saviour's conduct as a moral teacher in a proper point of view; especially when it is considered, that to deliver moral disquisitions was no part of his design,--to teach morality at all was only a subordinate part of it; his great business being to supply what was much more wanting than lessons of morality, stronger moral sanctions, and clearer assurances of a future judgment.* _________ * some appear to require in a religious system, or in the books which profess to deliver that system, minute directions for every case and occurrence that may arise. this, say they, is necessary to render a revelation perfect, especially one which has for its object the regulation of human conduct. now, how prolix, and yet how incomplete and unavailing, such an attempt must have been, is proved by one notable example: "the indoo and mussulman religions are institutes of civil law, regulating the minutest questions, both of property and of all questions which come under the cognizance of the magistrate. and to what length details of this kind are necessarily carried when once begun, may be understood from an anecdote of the mussulman code, which we have received from the most respectable authority, that not less than seventy-five thousand traditional precepts have been promulgated." (hamilton's translation of hedays, or guide.) _________ the parables of the new testament are, many of them, such as would have done honour to any book in the world: i do not mean in style and diction, but in the choice of the subjects, in the structure of the narratives, in the aptness, propriety, and force of the circumstances woven into them; and in some, as that of the good samaritan, the prodigal son, the pharisee and the publican, in an union of pathos and simplicity, which in the best productions of human genius is the fruit only of a much exercised and well cultivated judgment. the lord's prayer, for a succession of solemn thoughts, for fixing the attention upon a few great points, for suitableness to every condition, for sufficiency, for conciseness without obscurity, for the weight and real importance of its petitions, is without an equal or a rival. from whence did these come? whence had this man his wisdom? was our saviour, in fact, a well instructed philosopher, whilst he is represented to us as an illiterate peasant? or shall we say that some early christians of taste and education composed these pieces and ascribed them to christ? beside all other incredibilities in this account, i answer, with dr. jortin, that they could not do it. no specimens of composition which the christians of the first century have left us authorise us to believe that they were equal to the task. and how little qualified the jews, the countrymen and companions of christ, were to assist him in the undertaking, may be judged of from the traditions and writings of theirs which were the nearest to that age. the whole collection of the talmud is one continued proof into what follies they fell whenever they left their bible; and how little capable they were of furnishing out such lessons as christ delivered. but there is still another view in which our lord's discourses deserve to be considered; and that is, in their negative character,--not in what they did, but in what they did not, contain. under this head the following reflections appear to me to possess some weight. i. they exhibit no particular description of the invisible world. the future happiness of the good, and the misery of the bad, which is all we want to be assured of, is directly and positively affirmed, and is represented by metaphors and comparisons, which were plainly intended as metaphors and comparisons, and as nothing more. as to the rest, a solemn reserve is maintained. the question concerning the woman who had been married to seven brothers, "whose shall she be on the resurrection?" was of a nature calculated to have drawn from christ a more circumstantial account of the state of the human species in their future existence. he cuts short, however, the inquiry by an answer, which at once rebuked intruding curiosity, and was agreeable to the best apprehensions we are able to form upon the subject, viz. "that they who are accounted worthy of that resurrection, shall be as the angels of god in heaven." i lay a stress upon this reserve, because it repels the suspicion of enthusiasm: for enthusiasm is wont to expatiate upon the condition of the departed, above all other subjects, and with a wild particularity. it is moreover a topic which is always listened to with greediness. the teacher, therefore, whose principal purpose is to draw upon himself attention, is sure to be full of it. the koran of mahomet is half made up of it. ii. our lord enjoined no austerities. he not only enjoined none as absolute duties, but he recommended none as carrying men to a higher degree of divine favour. place christianity, in this respect, by the side of all institutions which have been founded in the fanaticism either of their author or of his first followers: or, rather, compare in this respect christianity, as it came from christ, with the same religion after it fell into other hands--with the extravagant merit very soon ascribed to celibacy, solitude, voluntary poverty; with the rigours of an ascetic, and the vows of a monastic life; the hair-shirt, the watchings, the midnight prayers, the obmutescence, the gloom and mortification of religious orders, and of those who aspired to religious perfection. iii. our saviour uttered no impassioned devotion. there was no heat in his piety, or in the language in which he expressed it; no vehement or rapturous ejaculations, no violent urgency, in his prayers. the lord's prayer is a model of calm devotion. his words in the garden are unaffected expressions of a deep, indeed, but sober piety. he never appears to have been worked up into anything like that elation, or that emotion of spirits which is occasionally observed in most of those to whom the name of enthusiast can in any degree be applied. i feel a respect for methodists, because i believe that there is to be found amongst them much sincere piety, and availing though not always well-informed christianity: yet i never attended a meeting of theirs but i came away with the reflection, how different what i heard was from what i read! i do not mean in doctrine, with which at present i have no concern, but in manner how different from the calmness, the sobriety, the good sense, and i may add, the strength and authority of our lord's discourses! iv. it is very usual with the human mind to substitute forwardness and fervency in a particular cause for the merit of general and regular morality; and it is natural, and politic also, in the leader of a sect or party, to encourage such a disposition in his followers. christ did not overlook this turn of thought; yet, though avowedly placing himself at the head of a new institution, he notices it only to condemn it. "not every one that saith unto me, lord, lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my father which is in heaven. many will say unto me in that day, lord, lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works? and then will i profess unto you, i never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity." (matt. vii. , .) so far was the author of christianity from courting the attachment of his followers by any sacrifice of principle, or by a condescension to the errors which even zeal in his service might have inspired. this was a proof both of sincerity and judgment. v. nor, fifthly, did he fall in with any of the depraved fashions of his country, or with the natural bias of his own education. bred up a jew, under a religion extremely technical, in an age and amongst a people more tenacious of the ceremonies than of any other part of that religion, he delivered an institution containing less of ritual, and that more simple, than is to be found in any religion which ever prevailed amongst mankind. we have known, i do allow, examples of an enthusiasm which has swept away all external ordinances before it. but this spirit certainly did not dictate our saviour's conduct, either in his treatment of the religion of his country, or in the formation of his own institution. in both he displayed the soundness and moderation of his judgment. he censured an overstrained scrupulousness, or perhaps an affectation of scrupulousness, about the sabbath: but how did he censure it? not by contemning or decrying the institution itself, but by declaring that "the sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath;" that is to say, that the sabbath was to be subordinate to its purpose, and that that purpose was the real good of those who were the subjects of the law. the same concerning the nicety of some of the pharisees, in paying tithes of the most trifling articles, accompanied with a neglect of justice, fidelity, and mercy. he finds fault with them for misplacing their anxiety. he does not speak disrespectfully of the law of tithes, nor of their observance of it; but he assigns to each class of duties its proper station in the scale of moral importance. all this might be expected perhaps from a well-instructed, cool, and judicious philosopher, but was not to be looked for from an illiterate jew; certainly not from an impetuous enthusiast. vi. nothing could be more quibbling than were the comments and expositions of the jewish doctors at that time; nothing so puerile as their distinctions. their evasion of the fifth commandment, their exposition of the law of oaths, are specimens of the bad taste in morals which then prevailed. whereas, in a numerous collection of our saviour's apophthegms, many of them referring to sundry precepts of the jewish law, there is not to be found one example of sophistry, or of false subtlety, or of anything approaching thereunto. vii. the national temper of the jews was intolerant, narrow-minded, and excluding. in jesus, on the contrary, whether we regard his lessons or his example, we see not only benevolence, but benevolence the most enlarged and comprehensive. in the parable of the good samaritan, the very point of the story is, that the person relieved by him was the national and religious enemy of his benefactor. our lord declared the equity of the divine administration, when he told the jews, (what, probably, they were surprised to hear,) "that many should come from the east and west, and should sit down with abraham, isaac, and jacob, in the kingdom of heaven; but that the children of the kingdom should be cast into outer darkness." (matt. viii. .) his reproof of the hasty zeal of his disciples, who would needs call down fire from heaven to revenge an affront put upon their master, shows the lenity of his character, and of his religion: and his opinion of the manner in which the most unreasonable opponents ought to be treated, or at least of the manner in which they ought not to be treated. the terms in which his rebuke was conveyed deserve to be noticed:--"ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of." (luke ix. .) viii. lastly, amongst the negative qualities of our religion, as it came out of the hands of its founder and his apostles, we may reckon its complete abstraction from all views either of ecclesiastical or civil policy; or, to meet a language much in fashion with some men, from the politics either of priests or statesmen. christ's declaration, that "his kingdom was not of this world," recorded by saint john; his evasion of the question, whether it was lawful or not to give tribute unto caesar, mentioned by the three other evangelists; his reply to an application that was made to him, to interpose his authority in a question of property; "man, who made me a ruler or a judge over you?" ascribed to him by st. luke; his declining to exercise the office of a criminal judge in the case of the woman taken in adultery, as related by john, are all intelligible significations of our saviour's sentiments upon this head. and with respect to politics, in the usual sense of that word, or discussions concerning different forms of government, christianity declines every question upon the subject. whilst politicians are disputing about monarchies, aristocracies, and republics, the gospel is alike applicable, useful, and friendly to them all; inasmuch, as, stly, it tends to make men virtuous, and as it is easier to govern good men than bad men under any constitution; as, ndly, it states obedience to government, in ordinary cases, to be not merely a submission to force, but a duty of conscience; as, rdly, it induces dispositions favourable to public tranquillity, a christian's chief care being to pass quietly through this world to a better; as, thly, it prays for communities, and, for the governors of communities, of whatever description or denomination they be, with a solicitude and fervency proportioned to the influence which they possess upon human happiness. all which, in my opinion, is just as it should be. had there been more to be found in scripture of a political nature, or convertible to political purposes, the worst use would have been made of it, on whichever side it seemed to lie. when, therefore, we consider christ as a moral teacher (remembering that this was only a secondary part of his office; and that morality, by the nature of the subject, does not admit of discovery, properly so called)--when we consider either what he taught, or what he did not teach, either the substance or the manner of his instruction; his preference of solid to popular virtues, of a character which is commonly despised to a character which is universally extolled; his placing, in our licentious vices, the check in the right place, viz. upon the thoughts; his collecting of human duty into two well-devised rules, his repetition of these rules, the stress he laid upon them, especially in comparison with positive duties, and his fixing thereby the sentiments of his followers; his exclusion of all regard to reputation in our devotion and alms, and by parity of reason in our other virtues;--when we consider that his instructions were delivered in a form calculated for impression, the precise purpose in his situation to be consulted; and that they were illustrated by parables, the choice and structure of which would have been admired in any composition whatever;--when we observe him free from the usual symptoms of enthusiasm, heat and vehemence in devotion, austerity in institutions, and a wild particularity in the description of a future state; free also from the depravities of his age and country; without superstition amongst the most superstitious of men, yet not decrying positive distinctions or external observances, but soberly calling them to the principle of their establishment, and to their place in the scale of human duties; without sophistry or trifling, amidst teachers remarkable for nothing so much as frivolous subtleties and quibbling expositions; candid and liberal in his judgment of the rest of mankind, although belonging to a people who affected a separate claim to divine favour, and in consequence of that opinion prone to uncharitableness, partiality, and restriction;--when we find in his religion no scheme of building up a hierarchy, or of ministering to the views of human governments;--in a word, when we compare christianity, as it came from its author, either with other religions, or with itself in other hands, the most reluctant understanding will be induced to acknowledge the probity, i think also the good sense, of those to whom it owes its origin; and that some regard is due to the testimony of such men, when they declare their knowledge that the religion proceeded from god; and when they appeal for the truth of their assertion, to miracles which they wrought, or which they saw. perhaps the qualities which we observe in the religion may be thought to prove something more. they would have been extraordinary had the religion come from any person; from the person from whom it did come, they are exceedingly so. what was jesus in external appearance? a jewish peasant, the son of a carpenter, living with his father and mother in a remote province of palestine, until the time that he produced himself in his public character. he had no master to instruct or prompt him; he had read no books but the works of moses and the prophets; he had visited no polished cities; he had received no lessons from socrates or plato,--nothing to form in him a taste or judgment different from that of the rest of his countrymen, and of persons of the same rank of life with himself. supposing it to be true, which it is not, that all his points of morality might be picked out of greek and roman writings, they were writings which he had never seen. supposing them to be no more than what some or other had taught in various times and places, he could not collect them together. who were his coadjutors in the undertaking,--the persons into whose hands the religion came after his death? a few fishermen upon the lake of tiberias, persons just as uneducated, and, for the purpose of framing rules of morality, as unpromising as himself. suppose the mission to be real, all this is accounted for; the unsuitableness of the authors to the production, of the characters to the undertaking, no longer surprises us: but without reality, it is very difficult to explain how such a system should proceed from such persons. christ was not like any other carpenter; the apostles were not like any other fishermen. but the subject is not exhausted by these observations. that portion of it which is most reducible to points of argument has been stated, and, i trust, truly. there are, however, some topics of a more diffuse nature, which yet deserve to be proposed to the reader's attention. the character of christ is a part of the morality of the gospel: one strong observation upon which is, that, neither as represented by his followers, nor as attacked by his enemies, is he charged with any personal vice. this remark is as old as origen: "though innumerable lies and calumnies had been forged against the venerable jesus, none had dared to charge him with an intemperance." (or. ep. cels. . , num. , ed. bened.) not a reflection upon his moral character, not an imputation or suspicion of any offence against purity and chastity, appears for five hundred years after his birth. this faultlessness is more peculiar than we are apt to imagine. some stain pollutes the morals or the morality of almost every other teacher, and of every other lawgiver.* zeno the stoic, and diogenes the cynic, fell into the foulest impurities; of which also socrates himself was more than suspected. solon forbade unnatural crimes to slaves. lycurgus tolerated theft as a part of education. plato recommended a community of women. aristotle maintained the general right of making war upon barbarians. the elder cato was remarkable for the ill usage of his slaves; the younger gave up the person of his wife. one loose principle is found in almost all the pagan moralists; is distinctly, however, perceived in the writings of plato, xenophon, cicero, seneca, epictetus; and that is, the allowing, and even the recommending to their disciples, a compliance with the religion, and with the religious rites, of every country into which they came. in speaking of the founders of new institutions we cannot forget mahomet. his licentious transgressions of his own licentious rules; his abuse of the character which he assumed, and of the power which he had acquired, for the purposes of personal and privileged indulgence; his avowed claim of a special permission from heaven of unlimited sensuality, is known to every reader, as it is confessed by every writer of the moslem story. _________ * see many instances collected by grotius, de veritate christianae religionis, in the notes to his second book, p. . pocock's edition. _________ secondly, in the histories which are left us of jesus christ, although very short, and although dealing in narrative, and not in observation or panegyric, we perceive, beside the absence of every appearance of vice, traces of devotion, humility, benignity, mildness, patience, prudence. i speak of traces of these qualities, because the qualities themselves are to be collected from incidents; inasmuch as the terms are never used of christ in the gospels, nor is any formal character of him drawn in any part of the new testament. thus we see the devoutness of his mind in his frequent retirement to solitary prayer; (matt. xiv. . luke ix. . matt. xxvi. .) in his habitual giving of thanks; (matt. xi. . mark viii. . john vi. . luke xxii. .) in his reference of the beauties and operations of nature to the bounty of providence; (matt. vi, -- .) in his earnest addresses to his father, more particularly that short but solemn one before the raising of lazarus from the dead; (john xi. .) and in the deep piety of his behaviour in the garden on the last evening of his life:(matt. xxvi. -- .) his humility in his constant reproof of contentions for superiority:(mark ix. .) the benignity and affectionateness of his temper in his kindness to children; (mark x. .) in the tears which he shed over his falling country, (luke xix. .) and upon the death of his friend; (john xi. .) in his noticing of the widow's mite; (mark xii. .) in his parables of the good samaritan, of the ungrateful servant, and of the pharisee and publican, of which parables no one but a man of humanity could have been the author: the mildness and lenity of his character is discovered in his rebuke of the forward zeal of his disciples at the samaritan village; (luke ix. .) in his expostulation with pilate; (john xix. .) in his prayer for his enemies at the moment of his suffering, (luke xxiii. .) which, though it has been since very properly and frequently imitated, was then, i apprehend, new. his prudence is discerned, where prudence is most wanted, in his conduct on trying occasions, and in answers to artful questions. of these the following are examples:--his withdrawing in various instances from the first symptoms of tumult, (matt. xiv. . luke v. , . john v. ; vi. .) and with the express care, as appears from saint matthew, (chap. xii. .) of carrying on his ministry in quietness; his declining of every species of interference with the civil affairs of the country, which disposition is manifested by his behaviour in the case of the woman caught in adultery, (john viii. .) and in his repulse of the application which was made to him to interpose his decision about a disputed inheritance:(luke xii. .) his judicious, yet, as it should seem, unprepared answers, will be confessed in the case of the roman tribute (matt. xxii. .) in the difficulty concerning the interfering relations of a future state, as proposed to him in the instance of a woman who had married seven brethren; (matt. xxii. .) and more especially in his reply to those who demanded from him an explanation of the authority by which he acted, which reply consisted in propounding a question to them, situated between the very difficulties into which they were insidiously endeavouring to draw him. (matt. xxi. , et seq.) our saviour's lessons, beside what has already been remarked in them, touch, and that oftentimes by very affecting representations, upon some of the most interesting topics of human duty, and of human meditation; upon the principles by which the decisions of the last day will be regulated; (matt. xxv. , et seq.) upon the superior, or rather the supreme importance of religion; ( mark viii. . matt. vi. -- . luke xii. , , -- .) upon penitence, by the most pressing calls, and the most encouraging invitations; (luke xv.) upon self-denial, (matt. v. .) watchfulhess, (mark xiii. . matt. xxiv. ; xxv. .) placability, (luke xvii. . matt. xviii. , et seq.) confidence in god, (matt. vi. -- .) the value of spiritual, that is, of mental worship, (john iv. , .) the necessity of moral obedience, and the directing of that obedience to the spirit and principle of the law, instead of seeking for evasions in a technical construction of its terms. (matt. v. .) if we extend our argument to other parts of the new testament, we may offer, as amongst the best and shortest rules of life, or, which is the same thing, descriptions of virtue, that have ever been delivered, the following passages:-- "pure religion, and undefiled, before god and the father, is this; to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." (james i. .) "now the end of the commandment is charity, out of a pure heart and a good conscience, and faith unfeigned." (i tim. i. .) "for the grace of god that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world." (tit. ii. , .) enumerations of virtues and vices, and those sufficiently accurate and unquestionably just, are given by st. paul to his converts in three several epistles. (gal. v. . col. iii. . cor. xiii.) the relative duties of husbands and wives, of parents and children, of masters and servants, of christian teachers and their flocks, of governors and their subjects, are set forth by the same writer, (eph. v. ; vi. -- . cor. vi. , . rom. xiii.) not indeed with the copiousness, the detail, or the distinctness of a moralist who should in these days sit down to write chapters upon the subject, but with the leading rules and principles in each; and, above all, with truth and with authority. lastly, the whole volume of the new testament is replete with piety; with what were almost unknown to heathen moralists, devotional virtues, the most profound veneration of the deity, an habitual sense of his bounty and protection, a firm confidence in the final result of his counsels and dispensations, a disposition to resort upon all occasions to his mercy for the supply of human wants, for assistance in danger, for relief from pain, for the pardon of sin. chapter iii. the candour of the writers of the new testament. i make this candour to consist in their putting down many passages, and noticing many circumstances, which no writer whatever was likely to have forged; and which no writer would have chosen to appear in his book who had been careful to present the story in the most unexceptionable form, or who had thought himself at liberty to carve and mould the particulars of that story according to his choice, or according to his judgment of the effect. a strong and well-known example of the fairness of the evangelists offers itself in their account of christ's resurrection, namely, in their unanimously stating that after he was risen he appeared to his disciples alone. i do not mean that they have used the exclusive word alone; but that all the instances which they have recorded of his appearance are instances of appearance to his disciples; that their reasonings upon it, and allusions to it, are confined to this supposition; and that by one of them peter is made to say, "him god raised up the third day, and showed him openly, not to all the people, but to witnesses chosen before of god, even to us who did eat and drink with him after he rose from the dead." (acts x. , .) the most common understanding must have perceived that the history of the resurrection would have come with more advantage if they had related that jesus appeared, after he was risen, to his foes as well as his friends, to the scribes and pharisees, the jewish council, and the roman governor: or even if they had asserted the public appearance of christ in general unqualified terms, without noticing, as they have done, the presence of his disciples on each occasion, and noticing it in such a manner as to lead their readers to suppose that none but disciples were present. they could have represented in one way as well as the other. and if their point had been to have their religion believed, whether true or false; if they had fabricated the story ab initio; or if they had been disposed either to have delivered their testimony as witnesses, or to have worked up their materials and information as historians, in such a manner as to render their narrative as specious and unobjectionable as they could; in a word, if they had thought of anything but of the truth of the case, as they understood and believed it; they would in their account of christ's several appearances after his resurrection, at least have omitted this restriction. at this distance of time, the account as we have it is perhaps more credible than it would have been the other way; because this manifestation of the historians' candour is of more advantage to their testimony than the difference in the circumstances of the account would have been to the nature of the evidence. but this is an effect which the evangelists would not foresee: and i think that it was by no means the case at the time when the books were composed. mr. gibbon has argued for the genuineness of the koran, from the confessions which it contains, to the apparent disadvantage of the mahometan cause. (vol. ix. c. , note .) the same defence vindicates the genuineness of our gospels, and without prejudice to the cause at all. there are some other instances in which the evangelists honestly relate what they must have perceived would make against them. of this kind is john the baptist's message preserved by saint matthew (xi. ) and saint luke (vii. ): "now when john had heard in the prison the works of christ, he sent two of his disciples, and said unto him, art thou he that should come, or look we for another?" to confess, still more to state, that john the baptist had his doubts concerning the character of jesus, could not but afford a handle to cavil and objection. but truth, like honesty, neglects appearances. the same observation, perhaps, holds concerning the apostacy of judas.* _________ * i had once placed amongst these examples of fair concession the remarkable words of saint matthew in his account of christ's appearance upon the galilean mountain: "and when they saw him they worshipped him; but some doubted." (chap. xxviii. .) i have since, however, been convinced, by what is observed concerning this passage in dr. townshend's discourse (page .) upon the resurrection, that the transaction, as related by saint matthew, was really this: "christ appeared first at a distance; the greater part of the company, the moment they saw him, worshipped, but some as yet, i.e. upon this first distant view of his person, doubted; whereupon christ came up to them, and spake to them,"+ &c.: that the doubt, therefore, was a doubt only at first for a moment, and upon his being seen at a distance, and was afterwards dispelled by his nearer approach, and by his entering into conversation with them. + saint matthew's words are: kai proselthon o iesous elalesen autois [and having come toward them, jesus spoke]. this intimates that when he first appeared it was at a distance, at least from many of the spectators. ib. p. . _________ john vi. . "from that time, many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him." was it the part of a writer who dealt in suppression and disguise to put down this anecdote? or this, which matthew has preserved (xii. )? "he did not many mighty works there, because of their unbelief." again, in the same evangelist (v. , ): "think not that i am come to destroy the law or the prophets: i am not come to destroy, but to fulfil; for, verily, i say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot, or one tittle, shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled." at the time the gospels were written, the apparent tendency of christ's mission was to diminish the authority of the mosaic code, and it was so considered by the jews themselves. it is very improbable, therefore, that, without the constraint of truth, matthew should have ascribed a saying to christ, which, primo intuitu, militated with the judgment of the age in which his gospel was written. marcion thought this text so objectionable, that he altered the words, so as to invert the sense. (lardner, cred., vol. xv. p. .) once more (acts xxv. ): "they brought none accusation against him of such things as i supposed; but had certain questions against him of their own superstition, and of one jesus which was dead, whom paul affirmed to be alive." nothing could be more in the character of a roman governor than these words. but that is not precisely the point i am concerned with. a mere panegyrist, or a dishonest narrator, would not have represented his cause, or have made a great magistrate represent it, in this manner, i.e. in terms not a little disparaging, and bespeaking, on his part, much unconcern and indifference about the matter. the same observation may be repeated of the speech which is ascribed to gallio (acts xviii. ): "if it be a question of words and names, and of your law, look ye to it; for i will be no judge of such matters." lastly, where do we discern a stronger mark of candour, or less disposition to extol and magnify, than in the conclusion of the same history? in which the evangelist, after relating that paul, on his first arrival at rome, preached to the jews from morning until evening, adds, "and some believed the things which were spoken, and some believed not." the following, i think, are passages which were very unlikely to have presented themselves to the mind of a forger or a fabulist. matt. xxi. . "jesus answered and said unto them, verily i say unto you, if ye have faith, and doubt not, ye shall not only do this which is done unto the fig-tree, but also, if ye shall say unto this mountain, be thou removed, and be thou east into the sea, it shall be done; all things whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, it shall be done." (see also chap. xvii. . luke xvii. .) it appears to me very improbable that these words should have been put into christ's mouth, if he had not actually spoken them. the term "faith," as here used, is perhaps rightly interpreted of confidence in that internal notice by which the apostles were admonished of their power to perform any particular miracle. and this exposition renders the sense of the text more easy. but the words undoubtedly, in their obvious construction, carry with them a difficulty which no writer would have brought upon himself officiously. luke ix. . "and he said unto another, follow me: but he said, lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father. jesus said unto him, let the dead bury their dead, but go thou and preach the kingdom of god." (see also matt. viii. .) this answer, though very expressive of the transcendent importance of religious concerns, was apparently harsh and repulsive; and such as would not have been made for christ if he had not really used it. at least some other instance would bare been chosen. the following passage, i, for the same reason, think impossible to have been the production of artifice, or of a cold forgery:--"but i say unto you, that whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment; and whosoever shall say to his brother, raca, shall be in danger of the council; but whosoever shall say, thou fool, shall be in danger of hell-fire (gehennae)." matt. v. . it is emphatic, cogent, and well calculated for the purpose of impression; but is inconsistent with the supposition of art or wariness on the part of the relator. the short reply of our lord to mary magdalen, after his resurrection (john xx. , ), "touch me not, for i am not yet ascended unto my father," in my opinion must have been founded in a reference or allusion to some prior conversation, for the want of knowing which his meaning is hidden from us. this very obscurity, however, is a proof of genuineness. no one would have forged such an answer. john vi. the whole of the conversation recorded in this chapter is in the highest degree unlikely to be fabricated, especially the part of our saviour's reply between the fiftieth and the fifty-eighth verse. i need only put down the first sentence: "i am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread he shall live for ever: and the bread that i will give him is my flesh, which i will give for the life of the world." without calling in question the expositions that have been given of this passage, we may be permitted to say, that it labours under an obscurity, in which it is impossible to believe that any one, who made speeches for the persons of his narrative, would have voluntarily involved them. that this discourse was obscure, even at the time, is confessed by the writer who had preserved it, when he tells us, at the conclusion, that many of our lord's disciples, when they had heard this, said, "this is a hard saying; who can hear it?" christ's taking of a young child, and placing it in the midst of his contentious disciples (matt. xviii. ), though as decisive a proof as any could be of the benignity of his temper, and very expressive of the character of the religion which he wished to inculcate, was not by any means an obvious thought. nor am i acquainted with anything in any ancient writing which resembles it. the account of the institution of the eucharist bears strong internal marks of genuineness. if it had been feigned, it would have been more full; it would have come nearer to the actual mode of celebrating the rite as that mode obtained very early in the christian churches; and it would have been more formal than it is. in the forged piece called the apostolic constitutions, the apostles are made to enjoin many parts of the ritual which was in use in the second and third centuries, with as much particularity as a modern rubric could have done. whereas, in the history of the lord's supper, as we read it in saint matthew's gospel, there is not so much as the command to repeat it. this, surely, looks like undesignedness. i think also that the difficulty arising from the conciseness of christ's expression, "this is my body," would have been avoided in a made-up story. i allow that the explication of these words given by protestants is satisfactory; but it is deduced from a diligent comparison of the words in question with forms of expression used in scripture, and especially by christ upon other occasions. no writer would arbitrarily and unnecessarily have thus cast in his reader's way a difficulty which, to say the least, it required research and erudition to clear up. now it ought to be observed that the argument which is built upon these examples extends both to the authenticity of the books, and to the truth of the narrative; for it is improbable that the forger of a history in the name of another should have inserted such passages into it: and it is improbable, also, that the persons whose names the books hear should have fabricated such passages; or even have allowed them a place in their work, if they had not believed them to express the truth. the following observation, therefore, of dr. lardner, the most candid of all advocates, and the most cautious of all inquirers, seems to be well founded:--"christians are induced to believe the writers of the gospel by observing the evidences of piety and probity that appear in their writings, in which there is no deceit, or artifice, or cunning, or design." "no remarks," as dr. beattie hath properly said, "are thrown in to anticipate objections; nothing of that caution which never fails to distinguish the testimony of those who are conscious of imposture; no endeavour to reconcile the reader's mind to what may be extraordinary in the narrative." i beg leave to cite also another author, (duchal, pp. , .) who has well expressed the reflection which the examples now brought forward were intended to suggest. "it doth not appear that ever it came into the mind of these writers to consider how this or the other action would appear to mankind, or what objections might be raised upon them. but without at all attending to this, they lay the facts before you, at no pains to think whether they would appear credible or not. if the reader will not believe their testimony, there is no help for it: they tell the truth and attend to nothing else. surely this looks like sincerity, and that they published nothing to the world but that they believed themselves." as no improper supplement to this chapter, i crave a place here for observing the extreme naturalness of some of the things related in the new testament. mark ix. . "jesus said unto him, if thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth. and straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, lord, i believe; help thou mine unbelief." this struggle in the father's heart, between solicitude for the preservation of his child, and a kind of involuntary distrust of christ's power to heal him, is here expressed with an air of reality which could hardly be counterfeited. again (matt. xxi. ), the eagerness of the people to introduce christ into jerusalem, and their demand, a short time afterwards, of his crucifixion, when he did not turn out what they expected him to be, so far from affording matter of objection, represents popular favour in exact agreement with nature and with experience, as the flux and reflux of a wave. the rulers and pharisees rejecting christ, whilst many of the common people received him, was the effect which, in the then state of jewish prejudices, i should have expected. and the reason with which they who rejected christ's mission kept themselves in countenance, and with which also they answered the arguments of those who favoured it, is precisely the reason which such men usually give:--"have any of the scribes or pharisees believed on him?" (john vii. .) in our lord's conversation at the well (john iv. ), christ had surprised the samaritan woman with an allusion to a single particular in her domestic situation, "thou hast had five husbands; and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband." the woman, soon after this, ran back to the city, and called out to her neighbours, "come, see a man which told me all things that ever i did." this exaggeration appears to me very natural; especially in the hurried state of spirits into which the woman may be supposed to have been thrown. the lawyer's subtilty in running a distinction upon the word neighbour, in the precept, "thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," was no less natural than our saviour's answer was decisive and satisfactory. (luke x. .) the lawyer of the new testament, it must be observed, was a jewish divine. the behaviour of gallio (acts xviii. - ), and of festus (xxv. , ), have been observed upon already. the consistency of saint paul's character throughout the whole of his history (viz. the warmth and activity of his zeal, first against, and then for, christianity) carries with it very much of the appearance of truth. there are also some properties, as they may be called, observable in the gospels; that is, circumstances separately suiting with the situation, character, and intention of their respective authors. saint matthew, who was an inhabitant of galilee, and did not join christ's society until some time after christ had come into galilee to preach, has given us very little of his history prior to that period. saint john, who had been converted before, and who wrote to supply omissions in the other gospels, relates some remarkable particulars which had taken place before christ left judea, to go into galilee. (hartley's observations, vol. ii. p. .) saint matthew (xv. ) has recorded the cavil of the pharisees against the disciples of jesus, for eating "with unclean hands." saint mark has also (vii. ) recorded the same transaction (taken probably from saint matthew), but with this addition: "for the pharisees, and all the jews, except they wash their hands often, eat not, holding the tradition of the elders: and when they come from the market, except they wash, they eat not: and many other things there be which they have received to hold, as the washing of cups and pots, brazen vessels, and of tables." now saint matthew was not only a jew himself, but it is evident, from the whole structure of his gospel, especially from his numerous references to the old testament, that he wrote for jewish readers. the above explanation, therefore, in him, would have been unnatural, as not being wanted by the readers whom he addressed. but in mark, who, whatever use he might make of matthew's gospel, intended his own narrative for a general circulation, and who himself travelled to distant countries in the service of the religion, it was properly added. chapter iv. identity of christ's character. the argument expressed by this title i apply principally to the comparison of the first three gospels with that of saint john. it is known to every reader of scripture that the passages of christ's history preserved by saint john are, except his passion and resurrection, for the most part different from those which are delivered by the other evangelists. and i think the ancient account of this difference to be the true one, viz., that saint john wrote after the rest, and to supply what he thought omissions in their narratives, of which the principal were our saviour's conferences with the jews of jerusalem, and his discourses to his apostles at his last supper. but what i observe in the comparison of these several accounts is, that, although actions and discourses are ascribed to christ by saint john in general different from what are given to him by the other evangelists, yet, under this diversity, there is a similitude of manner, which indicates that the actions and discourses proceeded from the same person. i should have laid little stress upon the repetition of actions substantially alike, or of discourses containing many of the same expressions, because that is a species of resemblance which would either belong to a true history, or might easily be imitate in a false one. nor do i deny that a dramatic writer is able to sustain propriety and distinction of character through a great variety of separate incidents and situations. but the evangelists were not dramatic writers; nor possessed the talents of dramatic writers; nor will it, i believe, be suspected that they studied uniformity of character, or ever thought of any such thing in the person who was the subject of their histories. such uniformity, if it exist, is on their part casual; and if there be, as i contend there is, a perceptible resemblance of manner, in passages, and between discourses, which are in themselves extremely distinct, and are delivered by historians writing without any imitation of, or reference to, one another, it affords a just presumption that these are what they profess to be, the actions and the discourses of the same real person; that the evangelists wrote from fact, and not from imagination. the article in which i find this agreement most strong is in our saviour's mode of teaching, and in that particular property of it which consists in his drawing of his doctrine from the occasion; or, which is nearly the same thing, raising reflections from the objects and incidents before him, or turning a particular discourse then passing into an opportunity of general instruction. it will be my business to point out this manner in the first three evangelists; and then to inquire whether it do not appear also in several examples of christ's discourses preserved by saint john. the reader will observe in the following quotations that the italic letter contains the reflection; the common letter the incident or occasion from which it springs. matt. xii. -- . "then they said unto him, behold, thy mother and thy brethren stand without, desiring to speak with thee. but he answered and said unto him that told him, who is my mother; and who are my brethren? and he stretched forth his hand towards his disciples, and said, behold my mother and my brethren: for whosoever shall do the will of my father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother." matt. xvi. . "and when his disciples were come to the other side, they had forgotten to take bread; then jesus said unto them, take heed, and beware of the leaven of the pharisees and of the sadducees. and they reasoned among themselves, saying, it is because we have taken no bread.--how is it that ye do not understand, that i speak it not to you concerning bread, that ye shall beware of the leaven of the pharisees and of the sadducees? then understood they how that he bade them not beware of the leaven of bread, but of the doctrine of the pharisees and of the sadducees." matt. xv. , ; , ; -- . "then came to jesus scribes and pharisees, which were of jerusalem, saying, why do thy disciples transgress the traditions of the elders? for they wash not their hands when they eat bread.--and he called the multitude, and said unto them, hear and understand: not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man, but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth the man.--then answered peter, and said unto him, declare unto us this parable. and jesus said, are ye also yet without understanding? do ye not understand that whatsoever entereth in at the mouth goeth into the belly, and is cast out into the draught? but those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart, and they defile the man: for out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemies; these are the things which defile a man: but to eat with unwashen hands defileth not a man." our saviour, on this occasion, expatiates rather more at large than usual, and his discourse also is more divided; but the concluding sentence brings back the whole train of thought to the incident in the first verse, viz. the objurgatory question of the pharisees, and renders it evident that the whole sprang from that circumstance. mark x. , , . "and they brought young children to him, that he should touch them; and his disciples rebuked those that brought them: but when jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of god: verily i say unto you, whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of god as a little child, he shall not enter therein." mark i. , . "now as he walked by the sea of galilee, he saw simon and andrew his brother casting a net into the sea, for they were fishers: and jesus said unto them, come ye after me, and i will make you fishers of men." luke xi. . "and it came to pass as he spake these things, a certain woman of the company lifted up her voice, and said unto him, blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked: but he said, yea, rather, blessed are they that hear the word of god and keep it." luke xiii. -- . "there were present at that season some that told him of the galileans, whose blood pilate had mingled with their sacrifices; and jesus answering said unto them, suppose ye, that these galileans were sinners above all the galileans, because they suffered such things? i tell you, nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." luke xiv. . "and when one of them that sat at meat with him heard these things, he said unto him, blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of god. then said he unto him, a certain man made a great supper, and bade many," &c. the parable is rather too long for insertion, but affords a striking instance of christ's manner of raising a discourse from the occasion. observe also in the same chapter two other examples of advice, drawn from the circumstances of the entertainment and the behaviour of the guests. we will now see how this manner discovers itself in saint john's history of christ. john vi. . "and when they had found him on the other side of the sea, they said unto him, rabbi, when camest thou hither? jesus answered them and said, verily i say unto you, ye seek me not because ye saw the miracles, but because ye did eat of the loaves and were filled. labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the son of man shall give unto you." john iv. . "art thou greater than our father abraham, who gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle? jesus answered, and said unto her (the woman of samaria), whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but whosoever drinketh of the water that i shall give him, shall never thirst; but the water that i shall give him shall be in him a well of water, springing up into everlasting life." john iv. . "in the mean while, his disciples prayed him, saying, master, eat; but he said unto them, i have meat to eat that ye know not of. therefore said the disciples one to another, hath any man brought him aught to eat? jesus saith unto them, my meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work." john ix. -- . "and as jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth: and his disciples asked him, saying, who did sin, this man or his parents, that he was born blind? jesus answered, neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents, but that the works of god should be made manifest in him. i must work the works of him that sent me while it is day; the night cometh when no man can work. as long as i am in the world, i am the light of the world." john ix. -- . "jesus heard that they had cast him (the blind man above mentioned) out: and when he had found him, he said unto him, dost thou believe on the son of god? and he answered and said, who is he, lord, that i might believe on him? and jesus said unto him, thou hast both seen him, and it is he that talketh with thee. and he said, lord, i believe; and he worshipped him. and jesus said. for judgment i am come into this world, that they which see not might see; and that they which see might be made blind." all that the reader has now to do, is to compare the series of examples taken from saint john with the series of examples taken from the other evangelists, and to judge whether there be not a visible agreement of manner between them. in the above-quoted passages, the occasion is stated, as well as the reflection. they seem, therefore, the most proper for the purpose of our argument. a large, however, and curious collection has been made by different writers, (newton on daniel, p. , note a. jottin, dis., p. . bishop law's life of christ.) of instances in which it is extremely probable that christ spoke in allusion to some object, or some occasion then before him, though the mention of the occasion, or of the object, be omitted in the history. i only observe that these instances are common to saint john's gospel with the other three. i conclude this article by remarking, that nothing of this manner is perceptible in the speeches recorded in the acts, or in any other but those which are attributed to christ, and that, in truth, it was a very unlikely manner for a forger or fabulist to attempt; and a manner very difficult for any writer to execute, if he had to supply all the materials, both the incidents and the observations upon them, out of his own head. a forger or a fabulist would have made for christ, discourses exhorting to virtue and dissuading from vice in general terms. it would never have entered into the thoughts of either, to have crowded together such a number of allusions to time, place, and other little circumstances, as occur, for instance, in the sermon on the mount, and which nothing but the actual presence of the objects could have suggested (see bishop law's life of christ). ii. there appears to me to exist an affinity between the history of christ's placing a little child in the midst of his disciples, as related by the first three evangelists, (matt. xviii. . mark ix. . luke ix. .) and the history of christ's washing his disciples' feet, as given by saint john. (chap. xiii. .) in the stories themselves there is no resemblance. but the affinity which i would point out consists in these two articles: first, that both stories denote the emulation which prevailed amongst christ's disciples, and his own care and desire to correct it; the moral of both is the same. secondly, that both stories are specimens of the same manner of teaching, viz., by action; a mode of emblematic instruction extremely peculiar, and, in these passages, ascribed, we see, to our saviour by the first three evangelists, and by saint john, in instances totally unlike, and without the smallest suspicion of their borrowing from each other. iii. a singularity in christ's language which runs through all the evangelists, and which is found in those discourses of saint john that have nothing similar to them in the other gospels, is the appellation of "the son of man;" and it is in all the evangelists found under the peculiar circumstance of being applied by christ to himself, but of never being used of him, or towards him, by any other person. it occurs seventeen times in matthew's gospel, twenty times in mark's, twenty-one times in luke's and eleven times in john's, and always with this restriction. iv. a point of agreement in the conduct of christ, as represented by his different historians, is that of his withdrawing himself out of the way whenever the behaviour of the multitude indicated a disposition to tumult. matt. xiv. . "and straightway jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him unto the other side, while he sent the multitude away. and when he had sent the multitude away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray." luke v. , . "but so much the more went there a fame abroad of him, and great multitudes came together to hear, and to be healed by him of their infirmities; and he withdrew himself into the wilderness and prayed." with these quotations compare the following from saint john: chap. v. . "and he that was healed wist not who it was, for jesus had conveyed himself away, a multitude being in that place." chap. vi. . "when jesus therefore perceived that they would come and take him by force, to make him a king, he departed again into a mountain himself alone." in this last instance, saint john gives the motive of christ's conduct, which is left unexplained by the other evangelists, who have related the conduct itself. v. another, and a more singular circumstance in christ's ministry, was the reserve which, for some time, and upon some occasions at least, he used in declaring his own character, and his leaving it to be collected from his works rather than his professions. just reasons for this reserve have been assigned. (see locke's reasonableness of christianity.) but it is not what one would have expected. we meet with it in saint matthew's gospel (chap. xvi. ): "then charged he his disciples that they should tell no man that he was jesus the christ." again, and upon a different occasion, in saint mark's (chap. iii. ): "and unclean spirits, when they saw him, fell down before him, and cried, saying, thou art the son of god: and he straitly charged them that they should not make him known." another instance similar to this last is recorded by saint luke (chap. iv. ). what we thus find in the three evangelists, appears also in a passage of saint john (chap. x. , ): "then came the jews round about him, and said unto him, how long dost thou make us to doubt: if thou be the christ, tell us plainly." the occasion here was different from any of the rest; and it was indirect. we only discover christ's conduct through the upbraidings of his adversaries. but all this strengthens the argument. i had rather at any time surprise a coincidence in some oblique allusion than read it in broad assertions. vi. in our lord's commerce with his disciples, one very observable particular is the difficulty which they found in understanding him when he spoke to them of the future part of his history, especially of what related to his passion or resurrection. this difficulty produced, as was natural, a wish in them to ask for further explanation: from which, however, they appear to have been sometimes kept back by the fear of giving offence. all these circumstances are distinctly noticed by mark and luke, upon the occasion of his informing them (probably for the first time) that the son of man should be delivered into the hands of men. "they understood not," the evangelists tell us, "this saying, and it was hid from them, that they perceived it not; and they feared to ask him of that saying." luke ix. ; mark ix. . in saint john's gospel we have, on a different occasion, and in a different instance, the same difficulty of apprehension, the same curiosity, and the same restraint:--"a little while and ye shall not see me; and again, a little while and ye shall see me, because i go to the father. then said some of his disciples among themselves, what is this that he saith unto us? a little while and ye shall not see me: and again, a little while and ye shall see me: and, because i go to the father? they said, therefore, what is this that he saith? a little while? we cannot tell what he saith. now jesus knew that they were desirous to ask him, and said unto them,--" &c. john xvi. , et seq. vii. the meekness of christ during his last sufferings, which is conspicuous in the narratives of the first three evangelists, is preserved in that of saint john under separate examples. the answer given by him, in saint john, (chap. xviii. , .) when the high priest asked him of his disciples and his doctrine; "i spake openly to the world: i ever taught in the synagogue, and in the temple, whither the jews always resort; and in secret have i said nothing. why askest thou me? ask them which heard me what i have said unto them," is very much of a piece with his reply to the armed party which seized him, as we read it in saint mark's gospel, and in saint luke's:(mark xiv. . luke xxii. .) "are you come out as against a thief, with swords and with staves to take me? i was daily with you in the temple teaching, and ye took me not." in both answers we discern the same tranquillity, the same reference to his public teaching. his mild expostulation with pilate, on two several occasions, as related by saint john, (chap. xviii. ; xix. .) is delivered with the same unruffled temper as that which conducted him through the last scene of his life, as described by his other evangelists. his answer, in saint john's gospel, to the officer who struck him with the palm of his hand, "if i have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smitest thou me?" (chap. xviii. .) was such an answer as might have been looked for from the person who, as he proceeded to the place of execution, bid his companions (as we are told by saint luke; chap. xxiii. .) weep not for him, but for themselves, their posterity, and their country; and who, whilst he was suspended upon the cross, prayed for his murderers, "for they know not," said he, "what they do." the urgency also of his judges and his prosecutors to extort from him a defence to the accusation, and his unwillingness to make any (which was a peculiar circumstance), appears in saint john's account, as well as in that of the other evangelists. (see john xix. . matt. xxvii. . luke xxiii. .) there are, moreover, two other correspondencies between saint john's history of the transaction and theirs, of a kind somewhat different from those which we have been now mentioning. the first three evangelists record what is called our saviour's agony, i.e. his devotion in the garden immediately before he was apprehended; in which narrative they all make him pray "that the cup might pass from him." this is the particular metaphor which they all ascribe to him. saint matthew adds, "o, my father, if this cup may not pass away from me, except i drink it, thy will be done." (chap, xxvi. .) now saint john does not give the scene in the garden: but when jesus was seized, and some resistance was attempted to be made by peter, jesus, according to his account, checked the attempt, with this reply: "put up thy sword into the sheath; the cup which my father hath given me, shall i not drink it?" (chap. xviii. .) this is something more than consistency---it is coincidence; because it is extremely natural that jesus, who, before he was apprehended, had been praying his father that "that cup might pass from him," yet with such a pious retraction of his request as to have added, "if this cup may not pass from me, thy will be done;" it was natural, i say, for the same person, when he actually was apprehended, to express the resignation to which he had already made up his thoughts, and to express it in the form of speech which he had before used, "the cup which my father hath given me, shall i not drink it?" this is a coincidence between writers in whose narratives there is no imitation, but great diversity. a second similar correspondency is the following: matthew and mark make the charge upon which our lord was condemned to be a threat of destroying the temple; "we heard him say, i will destroy this temple made with hands, and within three days i will build another made without hands:" (mark xiv. .) but they neither of them inform us upon what circumstance this calumny was founded. saint john, in the early part of the history, (chap. ii. .) supplies us with this information; for he relates, that on our lord's first journey to jerusalem, when the jews asked him "what sign showest thou unto us, seeing that thou doest these things? he answered, destroy this temple, and in three days i will raise it up." this agreement could hardly arise from anything but the truth of the case. from any care or design in saint john to make his narrative tally with the narratives of other evangelists, it certainly did not arise, for no such design appears, but the absence of it. a strong and more general instance of agreement is the following.--the first three evangelists have related the appointment of the twelve apostles; (matt. x. . mark iii. . luke vi. .) and have given a catalogue of their names in form. john, without ever mentioning the appointment, or giving the catalogue, supposes, throughout his whole narrative, christ to be accompanied by a select party of disciples; the number of these to be twelve; (chap. vi. .) and whenever he happens to notice any one as of that number, (chap. xx, ; vi. .) it is one included in the catalogue of the other evangelists: and the names principally occurring in the course of his history of christ are the names extant in their list. this last agreement, which is of considerable moment, runs through every gospel, and through every chapter of each. all this bespeaks reality. chapter v. originality of our saviour's character. the jews, whether right or wrong, had understood their prophecies to foretell the advent of a person who by some supernatural assistance should advance their nation to independence, and to a supreme degree of splendour and prosperity. this was the reigning opinion and expectation of the times. now, had jesus been an enthusiast, it is probable that his enthusiasm would have fallen in with the popular delusion, and that, while he gave himself out to be the person intended by these predictions, he would have assumed the character to which they were universally supposed to relate. had he been an impostor, it was his business to have flattered the prevailing hopes, because these hopes were to be the instruments of his attraction and success. but what is better than conjectures is the fact, that all the pretended messiahs actually did so. we learn from josephus that there were many of these. some of them, it is probable, might be impostors, who thought that an advantage was to be taken of the state of public opinion. others, perhaps, were enthusiasts, whose imagination had been drawn to this particular object by the language and sentiments which prevailed around them. but whether impostors or enthusiasts, they concurred in producing themselves in the character which their countrymen looked for, that is to say, as the restorers and deliverers of the nation, in that sense in which restoration and deliverance were expected by the jews. why therefore jesus, if he was, like them, either an enthusiast or impostor, did not pursue the same conduct as they did, in framing his character and pretensions, it will be found difficult to explain. a mission, the operation and benefit of which was to take place in another life, was a thing unthought of as the subject of these prophecies. that jesus, coming to them as their messiah, should come under a character totally different from that in which they expected him; should deviate from the general persuasion, and deviate into pretensions absolutely singular and original--appears to be inconsistent with the imputation of enthusiasm or imposture, both which by their nature i should expect would, and both which, throughout the experience which this very subject furnishes, in fact, have followed the opinions that obtained at the time. if it be said that jesus, having tried the other plan, turned at length to this; i answer, that the thing is said without evidence; against evidence; that it was competent to the rest to have done the same, yet that nothing of this sort was thought of by any. chapter vi. one argument which has been much relied upon (but not more than its just weight deserves) is the conformity of the facts occasionally mentioned or referred to in scripture with the state of things in those times, as represented by foreign and independent accounts; which conformity proves, that the writers of the new testament possessed a species of local knowledge which could belong only to an inhabitant of that country and to one living in that age. this argument, if well made out by examples, is very little short of proving the absolute genuineness of the writings. it carries them up to the age of the reputed authors, to an age in which it must have been difficult to impose upon the christian public forgeries in the names of those authors, and in which there is no evidence that any forgeries were attempted. it proves, at least, that the books, whoever were the authors of them, were composed by persons living in the time and country in which these things were transacted; and consequently capable, by their situation, of being well informed of the facts which they relate. and the argument is stronger when applied to the new testament, than it is in the case of almost any other writings, by reason of the mixed nature of the allusions which this book contains. the scene of action is not confined to a single country, but displayed in the greatest cities of the roman empire. allusions are made to the manners and principles of the greeks, the romans, and the jews. this variety renders a forgery proportionably more difficult, especially to writers of a posterior age. a greek or roman christian who lived in the second or third century would have been wanting in jewish literature; a jewish convert in those ages would have been equally deficient in the knowledge of greece and rome. (michaelis's introduction to the new testament [marsh's translation], c. ii. sect. xi.) this, however, is an argument which depends entirely upon an induction of particulars; and as, consequently, it carries with it little force without a view of the instances upon which it is built, i have to request the reader's attention to a detail of examples, distinctly and articulately proposed. in collecting these examples i have done no more than epitomise the first volume of the first part of dr. lardner's credibility of the gospel history. and i have brought the argument within its present compass, first, by passing over some of his sections in which the accordancy appeared to me less certain, or upon subjects not sufficiently appropriate or circumstantial; secondly, by contracting every section into the fewest words possible, contenting myself for the most part with a mere apposition of passages; and, thirdly, by omitting many disquisitions, which, though learned and accurate, are not absolutely necessary to the understanding or verification of the argument. the writer principally made use of in the inquiry is josephus. josephus was born at jerusalem four years after christ's ascension. he wrote his history of the jewish war some time after the destruction of jerusalem, which happened in the year of our lord lxx, that is, thirty-seven years after the ascension; and his history of the jews he finished in the year xciii, that is, sixty years after the ascension. at the head of each article i have referred, by figures included in brackets, to the page of dr. lardner's volume where the section from which the abridgment is made begins. the edition used is that of . i. [p. .] matt. ii. . "when he (joseph) heard that archclaus did reign in judea in the room of his father herod, he was afraid to go thither: notwithstanding, being warned of god in a dream, he turned aside into the parts of galilee." ii. in this passage it is asserted that archclaus succeeded herod in judea; and it is implied that his power did not extend to galilee. now we learn from josephus that herod the great, whose dominion included all the land of israel, appointed archelaus his successor in judea, and assigned the rest of his dominions to other sons; and that this disposition was ratified, as to the main parts of it, by the roman emperor (ant. lib. xvi. c. , sect. .). saint matthew says that archclaus reigned, was king, in judea. agreeably to this, we are informed by josephus, not only that herod appointed archclaus his successor in judea, but that he also appointed him with the title of king; and the greek verb basileuei, which the evangelist uses to denote the government and rank of archclaus, is used likewise by josephus (de bell. lib. i. c. , , sect. .). the cruelty of archelaus's character, which is not obscurely intimated by the evangelist, agrees with divers particulars in his history preserved by josephus:--"in the tenth year of his government, the chief of the jews and samaritans, not being able to endure his cruelty and tyranny, presented complaints against him to caesar." (ant, lib. xii. , sect. .) ii. [p. .] luke iii. . "in the fifteenth year of the reign of tiberius caesar--herod being tetrarch of galilee, and his brother philip tetrarch of iturea, and of the region of trachonitis--the word of god came unto john." by the will of herod the great, and the decree of augustus thereupon, his two sons were appointed, one (herod antipus) tetrarch of galilee and peraea, and the other (philip) tetrarch of trachonitis and the neighbouring countries. (ant. lib. xvii. c. , sect. .) we have, therefore, these two persons in the situations in which saint luke places them; and also, that they were in these situations in the fifteenth year of tiberius; in other words, that they continued in possession of their territories and titles until that time, and afterwards, appears from a passage of josephus, which relates of herod, "that he was removed by caligula, the successor of tiberius;" (ant. lib. xviii. c. , sect. .) and of philip, that he died in the twentieth year of tiberius, when he had governed trachonitis and batanea and gaulanitis thirty-seven years. (ant. lib. xviii. c. , sect. .) iii. [p. .] mark vi. . "herod had sent forth, and laid hold upon john, and bound him in prison, for heredias' sake, his brother philip's wife: for he had married her." (see also matt. xiv. -- ; luke iii. .) with this compare joseph. antiq. . xviii. c. , sect. :--"he (herod the tetrareh) made a visit to herod his brother.--here, failing in love with herodias, the wife of the said herod, he ventured to make her proposals of marriage."* _________ * the affinity of the two accounts is unquestionable; but there is a difference in the name of herodias's first husband, which in the evangelist is philip; in josephus, herod. the difficulty, however, will not appear considerable when we recollect how common it was in those times for the same persons to bear two names. "simon, which is called peter; lebbeus, whose surname is thaddeus; thomas, which is called didymus; simeon, who was called niger; saul, who was also called paul." the solution is rendered likewise easier in the present case by the consideration that herod the great had children by seven or eight wives; that josephus mentions three of his sons under the name of herod; that it is nevertheless highly probable that the brothers bore some additional name by which they were distinguished from one another. lardner, vol. ii. p. . _________ again, mark vi. . "and when the daughter of the said herodias came in and danced." with this also compare joseph. antiq. . xviii. c. , sect. . "herodias was married to herod, son of herod the great. they had a daughter, whose name was salome; after whose birth herodias, in utter violation of the laws of her country, left her husband, then living, and married herod the tetrarch of galilee, her husband's brother by the father's side." iv. [p. .] acts xii. . "now, about that time, herod the king stretched forth his hands, to vex certain of the church." in the conclusion of the same chapter, herod's death is represented to have taken place soon after this persecution. the accuracy of our historian, or, rather, the unmeditated coincidence which truth of its own accord produces, is in this instance remarkable. there was no portion of time for thirty years before, nor ever afterwards, in which there was a king at jerusalem, a person exercising that authority in judea, or to whom that title could be applied, except the last three years of this herod's life, within which period the transaction recorded in the acts is stated to have taken place. this prince was the grandson of herod the great. in the acts he appears under his family-name of herod; by josephus he was called agrippa. for proof that he was a king, properly so called, we have the testimony of josephus, in full and direct terms:--"sending for him to his palace, caligula put a crown upon his head, and appointed him king of the tetrarchie of philip, intending also to give him the tetrarchie of lysanias." (antiq. xviii. c. , sect. .) and that judea was at last, but not until the last, included in his dominions, appears by a subsequent passage of the same josephus, wherein he tells us that claudius, by a decree, confirmed to agrippa the dominion which caligula had given him; adding also judea and samaria, in the utmost extent, as possessed by his grandfather herod (antiq. xix. c. , sect. .). v. [p. .] acts xii. -- . "and he (herod) went down from judea to cesarea, and there abode. and on a set day herod, arrayed in royal apparel, sat upon his throne, and made an oration unto them: and the people gave a shout, saying, it is the voice of a god, and not of a man; and immediately the angel of the lord smote him, because he gave not god the glory: and he was eaten of worms, and gave up the ghost." joseph. antiq. lib. xix. c. , sect. . "he went to the city of cesarea. here he celebrated shows in honour of caesar. on the second day of the shows, early in the morning, he came into the theatre, dressed in a robe of silver, of most curious workmanship. the rays of the rising sun, reflected from such a splendid garb, gave him a majestic and awful appearance. they called him a god; and intreated him to be propitious to them, saying, hitherto we have respected you as a man; but now we acknowledge you to be more than mortal. the king neither reproved these persons, nor rejected the impious flattery. immediately after this he was seized with pains in his bowels, extremely violent at the very first. he was carried therefore with all haste to his palace. these pains continually tormenting him, he expired in five days' time." the reader will perceive the accordancy of these accounts in various particulars. the place (cesarea), the set day, the gorgeous dress, the acclamations of the assembly, the peculiar turn of the flattery, the reception of it, the sudden and critical incursion of the disease, are circumstances noticed in both narratives. the worms mentioned by saint luke are not remarked by josephus; but the appearance of these is a symptom not unusually, i believe, attending the disease which josephus describes, viz., violent affections of the bowels. vi. [p. .] acts xxiv. . "and after certain days, when felix came with his wife drusilla, which was a jewess, he sent for paul." joseph. antiq. lib. xx. c. , sect. , . "agrippa gave his sister drusilla in marriage to azizus, king of the emesenes, when he had consented to be circumcised.--but this marriage of drusilla with azizus was dissolved in a short time after, in this manner:--when felix was procurator of judea, having had a sight of her, he was mightily taken with her.--she was induced to transgress the laws of her country, and marry felix." here the public station of felix, the name of his wife, and the singular circumstance of her religion, all appear in perfect conformity with the evangelist. vii. [p. .] acts xxv. . "and after certain days king agrippa and berenice came to cesarea to salute festus." by this passage we are in effect told that agrippa was a king, but not of judea; for he came to salute festus, who at this time administered the government of that country at cesarea. now, how does the history of the age correspond with this account? the agrippa here spoken of was the son of herod agrippa, mentioned in the last article; but that he did not succeed to his father's kingdom, nor ever recovered judea, which had been a part of it, we learn by the information of josephus, who relates of him that when his father was dead claudius intended at first to have put him immediately in possession of his father's dominions; but that, agrippa being then but seventeen years of age, the emperor was persuaded to alter his mind, and appointed cuspius fadus prefect of judea and the whole kingdom; (antiq. xi. c. ad fin.) which fadus was succeeded by tiberius alexander, cumanus, felix, festus. (antiq. xx. de bell. lib. ii.) but that, though disappointed of his father's kingdom, in which was included judea, he was, nevertheless, rightly styled king agrippa, and that he was in possession of considerable territories, bordering upon judea, we gather from the same authority: for, after several successive donations of country, "claudius, at the same time that he sent felix to be procurator of judea, promoted agrippa from chalcis to a greater kingdom, giving to him the tetrarchie which had been philip's; and he added, moreover, the kingdom of lysanias, and the province that had belonged to varus." (de bell. lib. li. c. ad fin.) saint paul addresses this person as a jew: "king agrippa, believest thou the prophets? i know that thou believest." as the son of herod agrippa, who is described by josephus to have been a zealous jew, it is reasonable to suppose that he maintained the same profession. but what is more material to remark, because it is more close and circumstantial, is, that saint luke, speaking of the father (acts xii. -- ), calls him herod the, king, and gives an example of the exercise of his authority at jerusalem: speaking of the son (xxv. ), he calls him king, but not of judea; which distinction agrees correctly with the history. viii. [p. .] acts xiii. . "and when they had gone through the isle (cyprus) to paphos, they found a certain sorcerer, a false prophet, a jew, whose name was bar-jesus, which was with the deputy of the country, sergius paulus, a prudent man." the word which is here translated deputy, signifies and upon this word our observation is founded. the provinces of the roman empire were of two kinds; those belonging the emperor, in which the governor was called proprietor; those belonging to the senate, in which the governor was proconsul. and this was a regular distinction. now it appears from dio cassius, (lib. liv. ad a. u. .) that the province of cyprus, which, in original distribution, was assigned to the emperor, had transferred to the senate, in exchange for some others; and after this exchange, the appropriate title of the roman was proconsul. ib. xviii. . [p. .] "and when gallio was deputy (proconsul) of achaia." the propriety of the title "proconsul" is in this still more critical. for the province of achaia, after passing from the senate to the emperor, had been restored again by the emperor claudius to the senate (and consequently its government had become proconsular) only six or seven years before the time in which this transaction is said to have taken place. (suet. in claud. c. xxv. dio, lib. lxi.) and what confines with strictness the appellation to the time is, that achaia under the following reign ceased to be a roman province at all. ix. [p. .] it appears, as well from the general constitution of a roman province, as from what josephus delivers concerning the state of judea in particular, (antiq. lib. xx. c. , sect. ; c. , sect. .) that the power of life and death resided exclusively in the roman governor; but that the jews, nevertheless, had magistrates and a council, invested with a subordinate and municipal authority. this economy is discerned in every part of the gospel narrative of our saviour's crucifixion. x. [p. .] acts ix. . "then had the churches rest throughout all judea and galilee and samaria." this rest synchronises with the attempt of caligula to place his statue in the temple of jerusalem; the threat of which outrage produced amongst the jews a consternation that, for a season, diverted their attention from every other object. (joseph. de bell lib. xi. c. , sect. , , .) xi. [p. .] acts xxi. . "and they took paul, and drew him out of the temple; and forthwith the doors were shut. and as they went about to kill him, tidings came to the chief captain of the band that all jerusalem was in an uproar. then the chief captain came near, and took him and commanded him to be bound with two chains, and demanded who he was, and what he had done; and some cried one thing, and some another, among the multitude: and, when he could not know the certainty for the tumult, he commanded him to be carried into the castle. and when he came upon the stairs, so it was, that he was borne of the soldiers for the violence of the people." in this quotation we have the band of roman soldiers at jerusalem, their office (to suppress tumults), the castle, the stairs, both, as it should seem, adjoining to the temple. let us inquire whether we can find these particulars in any other record of that age and place. joseph. de. ball. lib. v. e. , sect. . "antonia was situated at the angle of the western and northern porticoes of the outer temple. it was built upon a rock fifty cubits high, steep on all sides.--on that side where it joined to the porticoes of the temple, there were stairs reaching to each portico, by which the guard descended; for there was always lodged here a roman legion; and posting themselves in their armour in several places in the porticoes, they kept a watch on the people on the feast-days to prevent all disorders; for as the temple was a guard to the city, so was antonia to the temple." xii. [p. .] acts iv. . "and as they spake unto the people, the priests, and the captain of the temple, and the sadducees, came upon them." here we have a public officer, under the title of captain of the temple, and he probably a jew, as he accompanied the priests and sadducees in apprehending the apostles. joseph. de bell. lib. ii. c. , sect. . "and at the temple, eleazer, the son of ananias the high priest, a young man of a bold and resolute disposition, then captain, persuaded those who performed the sacred ministrations not to receive the gift or sacrifice of any stranger." xiii. [p. .] acts xxv. . "then festus, when he had conferred with the council, answered, hast thou appealed unto caesar? unto caesar shalt thou go." that it was usual for the roman presidents to have a council consisting of their friends, and other chief romans in the province, appears expressly in the following passage of cicero's oration against verres:--"illud negare posses, aut nunc negabis, te, concilio tuo dimisso, viris primariis, qui in consilio c. sacerdotis fuerant, tibique esse volebant, remotis, de re judicata judicasse?" xiv. [p. .] acts xvi. . "and (at philippi) on the sabbath we went out of the city by a river-side, where prayer was wont to be made," or where a proseuche, oratory, or place of prayer was allowed. the particularity to be remarked is, the situation of the place where prayer was wont to be made, viz. by a river-side. philo, describing the conduct of the jews of alexandria, on a certain public occasion, relates of them, that, "early in the morning, flocking out of the gates of the city, they go to the neighbouring shores, (for the proseuchai were destroyed,) and, standing in a most pure place, they lift up their voices with one accord." (philo in flacc. p. .) josephus gives us a decree of the city of halicarnassus, permitting the jews to build oratories; a part of which decree runs thus:--"we ordain that the jews, who are willing, men and women, do observe the sabbaths, and perform sacred rites, according to the jewish laws, and build oratories by the sea-side." (joseph. antiq. lib. xiv. c. , sect, .) tertullian, among other jewish rites and customs, such as feasts, sabbaths, fasts, and unleavened bread, mentions "orationes literales," that is, prayers by the river-side. (tertull. ad nat, lib. i. c. .) xv. [p. .] acts xxvi. . "after the most straitest sect of our religion, i lived a pharisee." joseph. de bell. lib. i. c. , sect. . "the pharisees were reckoned the most religious of any of the jews, and to be the most exact and skilful in explaining the laws." in the original, there is an agreement not only in the sense but in the expression, it being the same greek adjective which is rendered "strait" in the acts, and "exact" in josephus. xvi. [p. .] mark vii. , . "the pharisees and all the jews, except they wash, eat not, holding the tradition of the elders; and many other things there be which they have received to hold." joseph. antiq. lib. xiii. c. , sect. . "the pharisees have delivered up to the people many institutions, as received from the fathers, which are not written in the law of moses." xvii. [p. .] acts xxiii. . "for the sadducees say, that there is no resurrection, neither angel, nor spirit; but the pharisees confess both." joseph. de bell. lib. ii. c. , sect. . "they (the pharisees) believe every soul to be immortal, but that the soul of the good only passes into another body, and that the soul of the wicked is punished with eternal punishment." on the other hand (antiq. lib. xviii. e. , sect. ), "it is the opinion of the sadducees that souls perish with the bodies." xviii. [p. .] acts v. . "then the high priest rose up, and all they that were with him (which is the sect of the sadducees), and were filled with indignation." saint luke here intimates that the high priest was a sadducee; which is a character one would not have expected to meet with in that station. this circumstance, remarkable as it is, was not however without examples. joseph. antiq. lib. xiii. c. , sect. , . "john hyreanus, high priest of the jews, forsook the pharisees upon a disgust, and joined himself to the party of the sadducees." this high priest died one hundred and seven years before the christian era. again (antiq. lib. xx. e. , sect. ), "this ananus the younger, who, as we have said just now, had received the high priesthood, was fierce and haughty in his behaviour, and, above all men, hold and daring, and, moreover, was of the sect of the sadducees." this high priest lived little more than twenty years after the transaction in the acts. xix. [p. .] luke ix. . "and it came to pass, when the time was come that he should be received up, he steadfastly set his face to go to jerusalem, and sent messengers before his face. and they went, and entered into a village of the samaritans, to make ready for him. and they did not receive him, because his face was as though he would go to jerusalem." joseph. antiq. lib. xx. c. , sect. . "it was the custom of the galileans, who went up to the holy city at the feasts, to travel through the country of samaria. as they were in their journey, some inhabitants of the village called ginaea, which lies on the borders of samaria and the great plain, falling upon them, killed a great many of them." xx. [p. .] john iv. . "our fathers," said the samaritan woman, "worshipped in this mountain; and ye say, that jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship." joseph. antiq. lib. xviii. c. , sect. . "commanding them to meet him at mount gerizzim, which is by them (the samaritans) esteemed the most sacred of all mountains." xxi. [p. .] matt. xxvi. . "then assembled together the chief priests, and the elders of the people, unto the palace of the high priest, who was called caiaphas." that caiaphas was high priest, and high priest throughout the presidentship of pontius pilate, and consequently at this time, appears from the following account:--he was made high priest by valerius gratus, predecessor of pontius pilate, and was removed from his office by vitellius, president of syria, after pilate was sent away out of the province of judea. josephus relates the advancement of caiaphas to the high priesthood in this manner: "gratus gave the high priesthood to simon, the son of camithus. he, having enjoyed this honour not above a year, was succeeded by joseph, who is also called caiaphas." (antiq. lib. xviii. c. , sect. .) after this, gratus went away for rome, having been eleven years in judea; and pontius pilate came thither as his successor. of the removal of caiaphas from his office, josephus likewise afterwards informs us: and connects it with a circumstance which fixes the time to a date subsequent to the determination of pilate's government--"vitellius," he tells us; "ordered pilate to repair to rome: and after that, went up himself to jerusalem, and then gave directions concerning several matters. and having done these things he took away the priesthood from the high priest joseph, who is called caiaphas." (antiq. lib. xvii. c. , sect .) xxii. (michaelis, c. xi. sect. .) acts xxiii. . "and they that stood by said, revilest thou god's high priest? then said paul, i wist not, brethren, that he was the high priest?" now, upon inquiry into the history of the age, it turns out that ananias, of whom this is spoken, was, in truth, not the high priest, though he was sitting in judgment in that assumed capacity. the case was, that he had formerly holden the office, and had been deposed; that the person who succeeded him had been murdered; that another was not yet appointed to the station; and that during the vacancy, he had, of his own authority, taken upon himself the discharge of the office. (joseph. antiq. . xx. c. , sect. ; c. , sect. ; c. , sect. .) this singular situation of the high priesthood took place during the interval between the death of jonathan, who was murdered by order of felix, and the accession of ismael, who was invested with the high priesthood by agrippa; and precisely in this interval it happened that saint paul was apprehended, and brought before the jewish council. xxiii. [p. .] matt. xxvi. . "now the chief priests and elders, and all the council, sought false witness against him." joseph. antiq. lib. xviii. e. , sect. , . "then might be seen the high priests themselves with ashes on their heads and their breasts naked." the agreement here consists in speaking of the high priests or chief priests (for the name in the original is the same) in the plural number, when in strictness there was only one high priest: which may be considered as a proof that the evangelists were habituated to the manner of speaking then in use, because they retain it when it is neither accurate nor just. for the sake of brevity, i have put down from josephus only a single example of the application of this title in the plural number; but it is his usual style. ib. [p. .] luke ill. . "now in the fifteenth year of the reign of tiberius caesar, pontius pilate being governor of juries, and herod being tetrarch of galilee, annas and caiaphas being the high priests, the word of god came unto john." there is a passage in josephus very nearly parallel to this, and which may at least serve to vindicate the evangelist from objection, with respect to his giving the title of high priest specifically to two persons at the same time: "quadratus sent two others of the most powerful men of the jews, as also the high priests jonathan and ananias." (de bell. lib. ix. c. , sect. .) that annas was a person in an eminent station, and possessed an authority coordinate with, or next to, that of the high print properly so called, may he inferred from saint john's gospel, which in the history of christ's crucifixion relates that "the soldiers led him away to annas first." (xviii. .) and this might be noticed as an example of undesigned coincidence in the two evangelists. again, [p. .] acts iv. . annas is called the high priest, though caiaphas was in the office of the high priesthood. in like manner in josephus, (lib. ii. c. , sect. .) "joseph the son of gorion, and the high priest ananus, were chosen to be supreme governors of all things in the city." yet ananus, though here called the high priest ananus, was not then in the office of the high priesthood. the truth is, there is an indeterminateness in the use of this title in the gospel:(mark xiv. .) sometimes it is applied exclusively to the person who held the office at the time; sometimes to one or two more, who probably shared with him some of the powers or functions of the office; and sometimes to such of the priests as were eminent by their station or character; and there is the very same indeterminateness in josephus. xxiv. [p. .] john xix. , . "and pilate wrote a title, and put it on the cross." that such was the custom of the romans on these occasions appears from passages of suetonius and dio cassius: "pattrem familias--canibus objecit, cure hoc titulo, impie locutus parmularius." suet. domit. cap. x. and in dio cassius we have the following: "having led him through the midst of the court or assembly, with a writing signifying the cause of his death, and afterwards crucifying him." book liv. ib. "and it was written in hebrew, greek, and latin." that it was also usual about this time in jerusalem to set up advertisements in different languages, is gathered from the account which josephus gives of an expostulatory message from titus to the jews when the city was almost in his hands; in which he says, did ye not erect pillars with inscriptions on them, in the greek and in our language, "let no one pass beyond these bounds"? xxv. [p. .] matt. xxvii. . "when he had scourged jesus, he delivered him to be crucified." the following passages occur in josephus: "being beaten, they were crucified opposite to the citadel." (p. , edit. huds.) "whom, having first scourged with whips, he crucified." (p. , edit. .) "he was burnt alive, having been first beaten." (p. , edit. .) to which may he added one from livy, lib. xi. c. . "pro ductique omnes, virgisqus caesi, ac securi percussi." a modern example may illustrate the use we make of this instance. the preceding of a capital execution by the corporal punishment of the sufferer is a practice unknown in england, but retained, in some instances at least, as appears by the late execution of a regicide in sweden. this circumstance, therefore, in the account of an english execution, purporting to come from an english writer, would not only bring a suspicion upon the truth of the account, but would in a considerable degree impeach its pretensions of having been written by the author whose name it bore. whereas, the same circumstance in the account of a swedish execution would verify the account, and support the authenticity of the book in which it was found, or, at least, would prove that the author, whoever he was, possessed the information and the knowledge which he ought to possess. xxvi. [p. .] john xix. . "and they took jesus, and led him away; and he bearing his cross went forth." plutarch, de iis qui sero puniuntur, p. ; a paris, . "every kind of wickedness produces its own particular torment; just as every malefactor, when he is brought forth to execution, carries his own cross." xxvii. john xix. . "then came the soldiers and brake the legs of the first, and of the other which was crucified with him." constantine abolished the punishment of the cross: in commending which edict, a heathen writer notices this very circumstance of breaking the legs: "eo pius, ut etiam vetus veterrimumque supplicium, patibulum, et cruribus suffringendis, primus removerit." aur. vict ces. cap. xli. xxviii. [p. .] acts iii. . "now peter and john went up together into the temple, at the hour of prayer, being the ninth hour." joseph. antiq. lib xv. e. , sect. . "twice every day, in the morning and at the ninth hour, the priests perform their, duty at the altar." xxix. [p. .] acts xv. . "for moses of old time hath, in every city, them that preach him, being read in the synagogues every sabbath-day." joseph. contra ap. . ii. "he (moses) gave us the law, the most excellent of all institutions; nor did he appoint that it should be heard once only, or twice, or often, but that, laying aside all other works, we should meet together every week to hear it read, and gain a perfect understanding of it." xxx. [p. .] acts xxi. . "we have four men which have a vow on them; them take, and purify thyself with them that they may shave their heads." joseph. de bell. . xi. c. . "it is customary for those who have been afflicted with some distemper, or have laboured under any other difficulties, to make a vow thirty days before they offer sacrifices, to abstain from wine, and shave the hair of their heads." ib. v. . "them take, and purify thyself with them, and be at charges with them, that they may shave their heads." joseph. antiq. . xix. c. . "he (herod agrippa) coming to jerusalem, offered up sacrifices of thanksgiving, and omitted nothing that was prescribed by the law. for which reason he also ordered a good number of nazarites to be shaved." we here find that it was an act of piety amongst the jews to defray for those who were under the nazaritic vow the expenses which attended its completion; and that the phrase was, "that they might be saved." the custom and the expression are both remarkable, and both in close conformity with the scripture account. xxxi. [p. .] cor. xi. . "of the jews, five times received i forty stripes save one." joseph. antiq. iv. c. , sect. . "he that acts contrary hereto let him receive forty stripes, wanting one, from the officer." the coincidence here is singular, because the law allowed forty stripes:--"forty stripes he may give him and not exceed." deut. xxv. . it proves that the author of the epistle to the corinthians was guided not by books, but by facts; because his statement agrees with the actual custom, even when that custom deviated from the written law, and from what he must have learnt by consulting the jewish code, as set forth in the old testament. xxxii. [p. .] luke iii. . "then came also publicans to be baptized." from this quotation, as well as from the history of levi or matthew (luke v. ), and of zaccheus (luke xix. ), it appears that the publicans or tax-gatherers were, frequently at least, if not always, jews: which, as the country was then under a roman government, and the taxes were paid to the romans, was a circumstance not to be expected. that it was the truth, however, of the case appears from a short passage of josephus. de bell. lib. ii. c. , sect. . "but florus not restraining these practices by his authority, the chief men of the jews, among whom was john the publican, not knowing well what course to take, wait upon florus and give him eight talents of silver to stop the building." xxxiii. [p. .] acts xxii. . "and as they bound him with thongs, paul said unto the centurion that stood by, is it lawful for you to scourge a man that is a roman and uncondemned?" "facinus est vinciri civem romanum; scelus verberari." cic. in verr. "caedebatur virgis, in medio foro messanae, civis romanus, judices: cum interea nullus gemitus, nulla vox alia, istius miseri inter dolorem crepitumque plagarum audiebatur, nisi haec, civis romanus sum." xxxiv. [p. ] acts xxii. . "then the chief captain came, and said unto him (paul), tell me, art thou a roman? he said yea." the circumstance to be here noticed is, that a jew was a roman citizen. joseph. antiq. lib. xiv. c. , sect. . "lucius lentulna, the consul, declared, i have dismissed from the service the jewish roman citizens, who observe the rites of the jewish religion at ephesus." ib. ver. . "and the chief captain answered, with a great sum obtained i this freedom." dio cassius, lib. lx. "this privilege, which had been bought formerly at a great price, became so cheap, that it was commonly said a man might be made a roman citizen for a few pieces of broken glass." xxxv. [p. .] acts xxviii. . "and when we came to rome the centurion delivered the prisoners to the captain of the guard; but paul was suffered to dwell by himself, with a soldier that kept him." with which join vet. . "for the hope of israel, i am bound with this chain." "quemadmedum cadem catean et custodiam et militem copulat; sic ista, quae tam dissimilia sunt, pariter incedunt." seneca, ep. v. "proconsul estimare solet, utrum in carcerera recipienda sit persona, an militi tradenda." ulpian. l. i. sect. de custod. et exhib. reor. in the confinement of agrippa by the order of tiberius, antonia managed that the centurion who presided over the guards, and the soldier to whom agrippa was to be bound, might be men of mild character. (joseph. antiq. lib. xviii. c. , sect. .) after the accession of caligula, agrippa also, like paul, was suffered to dwell, yet as a prisoner, in his own house. xxxvi. [p. .] acts xxvii. . "and when it was determined that we should sail into italy, they delivered paul, and certain other prisoners, unto one named julius." since not only paul, but certain other prisoners were sent by the same ship into italy, the text must be considered as carrying with it an intimation that the sending of persons from judea to be tried at rome was an ordinary practice. that in truth it was so, is made out by a variety of examples which the writings of josephus furnish: and, amongst others, by the following, which comes near both to the time and the subject of the instance in the acts. "felix, for some slight offence, bound and sent to rome several priests of his acquaintance, and very good and honest men, to answer for themselves to caesar." joseph. in vit. sect. . xxxvii. [p. .] acts xi. . "and in these days came prophets from jerusalem unto antioch; and there stood up one of them, named agabus, and signified by the spirit that there should be a great dearth throughout all the world (or all the country); which came to pass in the days of claudius caesar." joseph. antiq. . xx. c. , sect. . "in their time (i. e. about the fifth or sixth year of claudius) a great dearth happened in judea." xxxviii. [p. .] acts xviii. , . "because that claudius had commanded all jews to depart from rome." suet. gland. c. xxv. "judeos, impulsero chresto assidue tumultuantes, roma expulit." xxxix. [p. .] acts v. . "after this man, rose up judas of galilee, in the days of the taxing, and drew away much people after him." joseph. de bell. . vii. "he (viz. the person who in another place is called, by josephus, judas the galilean, or judas of galilee) persuaded not a few to enrol themselves when cyrenius the censor was sent into judea." xl. [p. .] acts xxi. . "art not thou that egyptian which, before these days, madest an uproar, and leddest out into the wilderness four thousand men that were murderers?" joseph. de bell. . ii. c. , sect. . "but the egyptian false prophet brought a yet heavier disaster upon the jews; for this impostor, coming into the country, and gaining the reputation of a prophet, gathered together thirty thousand men, who were deceived by him. having brought them round out of the wilderness, up to the mount of olives, he intended from thence to make his attack upon jerusalem; but felix, coming suddenly upon him with the roman soldiers, prevented the attack.--a great number, or (as it should rather be rendered) the greatest part, of those that were with him were either slain or taken prisoners." in these two passages, the designation of this impostor, an "egyptian," without the proper name, "the wilderness ;" his escape, though his followers were destroyed; the time of the transaction, in the presidentship of felix, which could not be any long time before the words in luke are supposed to have been spoken; are circumstances of close correspondency. there is one, and only one, point of disagreement, and that is, in the number of his followers, which in the acts are called four thousand, and by josephus thirty thousand: but, beside that the names of numbers, more than any other words, are liable to the errors of transcribers, we are in the present instance under the less concern to reconcile the evangelist with josephus, as josephus is not, in this point, consistent with himself. for whereas, in the passage here quoted, he calls the number thirty thousand, and tells us that the greatest part, or a great number (according as his words are rendered) of those that were with him were destroyed; in his antiquities he represents four hundred to have been killed upon this occasion, and two hundred taken prisoners:(lib. xx. c. , sect. .) which certainly was not the "greatest part," nor "a great part," nor "a great number," out of thirty thousand. it is probable, also, that lysias and josephus spoke of the expedition in its different stages: lysias, of those who followed the egyptian out of jerusalem; josephus, of all who were collected about him afterwards, from different quarters. xli. (lardner's jewish and heathen testimonies, vol. iii p. .) acts xvii. . "then paul stood in the midst of marshill, and said, ye men of athens, i perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious; for, as i passed by and beheld your devotions, i found an altar with this inscription, to the unknown god. whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, him declare i unto you." diogenes laertius, who wrote about the year , in his history of epimenides, who is supposed to have flourished nearly six hundred years before christ, relates of him the following story: that, being invited to athens for the purpose, he delivered the city from a pestilence in this manner;--"taking several sheep, some black, others white, he had them up to the areopagus, and then let them go where they would, and gave orders to those who followed them, wherever any of them should lie down, to sacrifice it to the god to whom it belonged; and so the plague ceased.--hence," says the historian, "it has come to pass, that to this present time may be found in the boroughs of the athenians anonymous altars: a memorial of the expiation then made." (in epimenide, l. i. segm. .) these altars, it may be presumed, were called anonymous because there was not the name of any particular deity inscribed upon them. pausanias, who wrote before the end of the second century, in his description of athens, having mentioned an altar of jupiter olympius, adds, "and nigh unto it is an altar of unknown gods." (paus. l. v. p. .) and in another place, he speaks "of altars of gods called unknown." (paus. l. i. p. .) philostratus, who wrote in the beginning of the third century; records it as an observation of apollonius tyanseus, "that it was wise to speak well of all the gods, especially at athens, where altars of unknown demons were erected." (philos. apoll. tyan. l. vi. c. .) the author of the dialogue philoparis by many supposed to have been lucian, who wrote about the year , by others some anonymous heathen writer of the fourth century, makes critias swear by the unknown god of athens; and, near time end of the dialogue, has these words, "but let us find out the unknown god at athens, and, stretching our hands to heaven, offer to him our praises and thanksgivings." (lucian. in philop. tom. ii. graev. pp. , .) this is a very curious and a very important coincidence. it appears beyond controversy, that altars with this inscription were existing at athens at the time when saint paul is alleged to have been there. it seems also (which is very worthy of observation) that this inscription was peculiar to the athenians. there is no evidence that there were altars inscribed "to the unknown god" in any other country. supposing the history of saint paul to have been a fable, how is it possible that such a writer as the author of the acts of the apostles was should hit upon a circumstance so extraordinary, and introduce it by an allusion so suitable to saint paul's office and character? the examples here collected will be sufficient, i hope, to satisfy us that the writers of the christian history knew something of what they were writing about. the argument is also strengthened by the following considerations: i. that these agreements appear not only in articles of public history, but sometimes in minute, recondite, and very peculiar circumstances, in which, of all others, a forger is most likely to have been found tripping. ii. that the destruction of jerusalem, which took place forty years after the commencement of the christian institution, produced such a change in the state of the country, and the condition of the jews, that a writer who was unacquainted with the circumstances of the nation before that event would find it difficult to avoid mistakes, in endeavouring to give detailed accounts of transactions connected with those circumstances, forasmuch as he could no longer have a living exemplar to copy from. iii. that there appears, in the writers of the new testament, a knowledge of the affairs of those times which we do not find in authors of later ages. in particular, "many of the christian writers of the second and third centuries, and of the following ages, had false notions concerning the state of judea between the nativity of jesus and the destruction of jerusalem." (lardner, part i. vol. ii. p. .) therefore they could not have composed our histories. amidst so many conformities we are not to wonder that we meet with some difficulties. the principal of these i will put down, together with the solutions which they have received. but in doing this i must be contented with a brevity better suited to the limits of my volume than to the nature of a controversial argument. for the historical proofs of my assertions, and for the greek criticisms upon which some of them are founded, i refer the reader to the second volume of the first part of dr. lardner's large work. i. the taxing during which jesus was born was "first made," as we read, according to our translation, in saint luke, "whilst cyrenius was governor of syria." (chap. ii. ver. .) now it turns out that cyrenius was not governor of syria until twelve, or at the soonest, ten years after the birth of christ; and that a taxing census, or assessment, was made in judea, in the beginning of his government, the charge, therefore, brought against the evangelist is, that, intending to refer to this taxing, he has misplaced the date of it by an error of ten or twelve years. the answer to the accusation is founded in his using the word "first:"--"and this taxing was first made:" for, according to the mistake imputed to the evangelist, this word could have no signification whatever; it could have had no place in his narrative; because, let it relate to what it will, taxing, census, enrolment, or assessment, it imports that the writer had more than one of those in contemplation. it acquits him therefore of the charge: it is inconsistent with the supposition of his knowing only of the taxing in the beginning of cyrenius's government. and if the evangelist knew (which this word proves that he did) of some other taxing beside that, it is too much, for the sake of convicting him of a mistake, to lay it down as certain that he intended to refer to that. the sentence in saint luke may be construed thus: "this was the first assessment (or enrolment) of cyrenius, governor of syria;"* the words "governor of syria" being used after the name of cyrenius as his addition or title. and this title, belonging to him at the time of writing the account, was naturally enough subjoined to his name, though acquired after the transaction which the account describes. a modern writer who was not very exact in the choice of his expressions, in relating the affairs of the east indies, might easily say that such a thing was done by governor hastings; though, in truth, the thing had been done by him before his advancement to the station from which he received the name of governor. and this, as we contend, is precisely the inaccuracy which has produced the difficulty in saint luke. _________ * if the word which we render "first" be rendered "before," which it has been strongly contended that the greek idiom shows of, the whole difficulty vanishes: for then the passage would be,--"now this taxing was made before cyreulus was governor of syria;" which corresponds with the chronology. but i rather choose to argue, that however the word "first" be rendered, to give it a meaning at all, it militates with the objection. in this i think there can be no mistake. _________ at any rate it appears from the form of the expression that he had two taxings or enrolments in contemplation. and if cyrenius had been sent upon this business into judea before he became governor of syria (against which supposition there is no proof, but rather external evidence of an enrolment going on about this time under some person or other +), then the census on all hands acknowledged to have been made by him in the beginning of his government would form a second, so as to occasion the other to be called the first. _________ + josephus (antiq. xvii. c. , sect. .) has this remarkable message: "when therefore the whole jewish nation took an oath to be faithful to caesar, and the interests of the king." this transaction corresponds in the course of the history with the time of christ's birth. what is called a census, and which we render taxing, was delivering upon oath an account of their property. this might be accompanied with an oath of fidelity, or might be mistaken by josephus for it. _________ ii. another chronological objection arises upon a date assigned in the beginning of the third chapter of saint luke. (lardner, part i. vol. ii. p. .) "now in the fifteenth year of the reign of tiberius caesar,--jesus began to be about thirty years of age:" for, supposing jesus to have been born as saint matthew and saint luke also himself relate, in the time of herod, he must, according to the dates given in josephus and by the roman historians, have been at least thirty-one years of age in the fifteenth year of tiberius. if he was born, as saint matthew's narrative intimates, one or two years before herod's death, he would have been thirty-two or thirty-three years old at that time. this is the difficulty: the solution turns upon an alteration in the construction of the greek. saint luke's words in the original are allowed, by the general opinion of learned men, to signify, not "that jesus began to be about thirty years of age," but "that he was about thirty years of age when he began his ministry." this construction being admitted, the adverb "about" gives us all the latitude we want, and more especially when applied, as it is in the present instance, to a decimal number; for such numbers, even without this qualifying addition, are often used in a laxer sense than is here contended for.* _________ * livy, speaking of the peace which the conduct of romulus had procured to the state, during the whole reign of his successor (numa), has these words: "ab illo enim profectis viribus datis tautum valuit, ut, in quaaraginta deiade annos, tutam proem haberet:" yet afterwards in the same chapter, "romulus," he says, "septera et triginta regnavit annos. numa tres et quadraginta." (liv. hist. c. i. sect. .) _________ iii. acts v. . "for before these days rose up theudas, boasting himself to be somebody; to whom a number of men, about four hundred, joined themselves: who were slain; and all, as many as obeyed him, were scattered and brought to nought." josephus has preserved the account of an impostor of the name of theudas, who created some disturbances, and was slain; but according to the date assigned to this man's appearance (in which, however, it is very possible that josephus may have been mistaken), (michaelis's introduction to the new testament [marsh's translation], vol. i. p. .) it must have been, at the least, seven years after gamaliel's speech, of which this text is a part, was delivered. it has been replied to the objection, (lardner, part i. vol. ii. p. .) that there might be two impostors of this name: and it has been observed, in order to give a general probability to the solution, that the same thing appears to have happened in other instances of the same kind. it is proved from josephus, that there were not fewer than four persons of the name of simon within forty years, and not fewer than three of the name of judas within ten years, who were all leaders of insurrections: and it is likewise recorded by this historian, that upon the death of herod the great (which agrees very well with the time of the commotion referred to by gamaliel, and with his manner of stating that time, "before these days") there were innumerable disturbances in judea. (antiq. . , c. . sect. .) archbishop usher was of opinion, that one of the three judases above mentioned was gamaliel's theudas; (annals, p. .) and that with a less variation of the name than we actually find in the gospel, where one of the twelve apostles is called, by luke, judas; and by mark, thaddeus. (luke vi. . mark iii. .) origen, however he came at his information, appears to have believed that there was an impostor of the name of theudas before the nativity of christ. (orig. cont cels. p. .) iv. matt. xxiii. . "wherefore, behold i send unto you prophets, and wise men, and scribes, and some of them ye shall kill and crucify; and some of them shall ye scourge in your synagogues, and persecute them from city to city; that upon you may come all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from the blood of righteous abel unto the blood of zacharias, son of barachias, whom ye slew between the temple and the altar." there is a zacharias whose death is related in the second book of chronicles,* in a manner which perfectly supports our saviour's allusion. but this zacharias was the son of jehoiada. _________ * "and the spirit of god came upon zacharias, the son of jehoiada the priest, which stood above the people, and mid unto them, thus saith god, why transgress ye the commandments of the lord that ye cannot prosper? because ye hive forsaken the lord, he hath also forsaken you. and they conspired against him, and stoned him with stones, at the commandment of the king, in the court of the house of the lord." chron. xxiv. , . _________ there is also zacharias the prophet; who was the son of barachiah, and is so described in the superscription of his prophecy, but of whose death we have no account. i have little doubt but that the first zacharias was the person spoken of by our saviour; and that the name of the father has been since added or changed, by some one who took it from the title of the prophecy, which happened to be better known to him than the history in the chronicles. there is likewise a zacharias, the son of baruch, related by josephus to have been slain in the temple a few years before the destruction of jerusalem. it has been insinuated that the words put into our saviour's mouth contain a reference to this transaction, and were composed by some writer who either confounded the time of the transaction with our saviour's age, or inadvertently overlooked the anachronism. now, suppose it to have been so; suppose these words to have been suggested by the transaction related in josephus, and to have been falsely ascribed to christ; and observe what extraordinary coincidences (accidentally as it must in that case have been) attend the forger's mistake. first, that we have a zacharias in the book of chronicles, whose death, and the manner of it, corresponds with the allusion. secondly, that although the name of this person's father be erroneously put down in the gospel, yet we have a way of accounting for the error by showing another zacharias in the jewish scriptures much better known than the former, whose patronymic was actually that which appears in the text. every one who thinks upon the subject will find these to be circumstances which could not have met together in a mistake which did not proceed from the circumstances themselves. i have noticed, i think, all the difficulties of this kind. they are few: some of them admit of a clear, others of a probable solution. the reader will compare them with the number, the variety, the closeness, and the satisfactoriness, of the instances which are to be set against them; and he will remember the scantiness, in many cases, of our intelligence, and that difficulties always attend imperfect information. chapter vii. undesigned coincidences. between the letters which bear the name of saint paul in our collection and his history in the acts of the apostles there exist many notes of correspondency. the simple perusal of the writings is sufficient to prove that neither the history was taken from the letters, nor the letters from the history. and the undesignedness of the agreements (which undesignedness is gathered from their latency, their minuteness, their obliquity, the suitableness of the circumstances in which they consist to the places in which those circumstances occur, and the circuitous references by which they are traced out) demonstrates that they have not been produced by meditation, or by any fraudulent contrivance. but coincidences, from which these causes are excluded, and which are too close and numerous to be accounted for by accidental concurrences of fiction, must necessarily have truth for their foundation. this argument appeared to my mind of so much value (especially for its assuming nothing beside the existence of the books), that i have pursued it through saint paul's thirteen epistles, in a work published by me four years ago, under the title of horae paulinae. i am sensible how feebly any argument which depends upon an induction of particulars is represented without examples. on which account i wished to have abridged my own volume, in the manner in which i have treated dr. lardner's in the preceding chapter. but, upon making the attempt, i did not find it in my power to render the articles intelligible by fewer words than i have there used. i must be content, therefore, to refer the reader to the work itself. and i would particularly invite his attention to the observations which are made in it upon the first three epistles. i persuade myself that he will find the proofs, both of agreement, and undesignedness, supplied by these epistles, sufficient to support the conclusion which is there maintained, in favour both of the genuineness of the writings and the truth of the narrative. it remains only, in this place, to point out how the argument bears upon the general question of the christian history. first, saint paul in these letters affirms, in unequivocal terms, his own performance of miracles, and, what ought particularly to be remembered, "that miracles were the signs of an apostle." (rom. xv. , . cor. xii. .) if this testimony come from saint paul's own hand, it is invaluable. and that it does so, the argument before us fixes in my mind a firm assurance. secondly, it shows that the series of action represented in the epistles of saint paul was real; which alone lays a foundation for the proposition which forms the subject of the first part of our present work, viz. that the original witnesses of the christian history devoted themselves to lives of toil, suffering, and danger, in consequence of their belief of the truth of that history, and for the sake of communicating the knowledge of it to others. thirdly, it proves that luke, or whoever was the author of the acts of the apostles (for the argument does not depend upon the name of the author, though i know no reason for questioning it), was well acquainted with saint paul's history; and that he probably was, what he professes himself to be, a companion of saint paul's travels; which, if true, establishes, in a considerable degree, the credit even of his gospel, because it shows that the writer, from his time, situation, and connexions, possessed opportunities of informing himself truly concerning the transactions which he relates. i have little difficulty in applying to the gospel of saint luke what is proved concerning the acts of the apostles, considering them as two parts of the same history; for though there are instances of second parts being forgeries, i know none where the second part is genuine, and the first not so. i will only observe, as a sequel of the argument, though not noticed in my work, the remarkable similitude between the style of saint john's gospel and of saint john's epistle. the style of saint john's is not at all the style of saint paul's epistles, though both are very singular; nor is it the style of saint james's or of saint peter's epistles: but it bears a resemblance to the style of the gospel inscribed with saint john's name, so far as that resemblance can be expected to appear, which is not in simple narrative, so much as in reflections, and in the representation of discourses. writings so circumstanced prove themselves, and one another, to be genuine. this correspondency is the more valuable, as the epistle itself asserts, in saint john's manner, indeed, but in terms sufficiently explicit, the writer's personal knowledge of christ's history: "that which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled, of the word of life; that which we have seen and heard, declare we unto you." (ch. i. ver. -- .)who would not desire, who perceives not the value of an account delivered by a writer so well informed as this? chapter viii. of the history of the resurrection. the history of the resurrection of christ is a part of the evidence of christianity: but i do not know whether the proper strength of this passage of the christian history, or wherein its peculiar value, as a head of evidence, consists, be generally understood. it is not that, as a miracle, the resurrection ought to be accounted a more decisive proof of supernatural agency than other miracles are; it is not that, as it stands in the gospels, it is better attested than some others; it is not, for either of these reasons, that more weight belongs to it than to other miracles, but for the following, viz., that it is completely certain that the apostles of christ, and the first teachers of christianity, asserted the fact. and this would have been certain, if the four gospels had been lost, or never written. every piece of scripture recognizes the resurrection. every epistle of every apostle, every author contemporary with the apostles, of the age immediately succeeding the apostles, every writing from that age to the present genuine or spurious, on the side of christianity or against it, concur in representing the resurrection of christ as an article of his history, received without doubt or disagreement by all who called themselves christians, as alleged from the beginning by the propagators of the institution, and alleged as the centre of their testimony. nothing, i apprehend, which a man does not himself see or hear can be more certain to him than this point. i do not mean that nothing can be more certain than that christ rose from the dead; but that nothing can be more certain than that his apostles, and the first teachers of christianity, gave out that he did so. in the other parts of the gospel narrative, a question may be made, whether the things related of christ be the very things which the apostles and first teachers of the religion delivered concerning him? and this question depends a good deal upon the evidence we possess of the genuineness, or rather perhaps of the antiquity, credit, and reception of the books. on the subject of the resurrection, no such discussion is necessary, because no such doubt can be entertained. the only points which can enter into our consideration are, whether the apostles knowingly published a falsehood, or whether they were themselves deceived; whether either of these suppositions be possible. the first, i think, is pretty generally given up. the nature of the undertaking, and of the men; the extreme unlikelihood that such men should engage in such a measure as a scheme; their personal toils, and dangers and sufferings in the cause; their appropriation of their whole time to the object; the warm and seemingly unaffected zeal and earnestness with which they profess their sincerity exempt their memory from the suspicion of imposture. the solution more deserving of notice is that which would resolve the conduct of the apostles into enthusiasm; which would class the evidence of christ's resurrection with the numerous stories that are extant of the apparitions of dead men. there are circumstances in the narrative, as it is preserved in our histories, which destroy this comparison entirely. it was not one person but many, who saw him; they saw him not only separately but together, not only by night but by day, not at a distance but near, not once but several times; they not only saw him, but touched him, conversed with him, ate with him, examined his person to satisfy their doubts. these particulars are decisive: but they stand, i do admit, upon the credit of our records. i would answer, therefore, the insinuation of enthusiasm, by a circumstance which arises out of the nature of the thing; and the reality of which must be confessed by all who allow, what i believe is not denied, that the resurrection of christ, whether true or false, was asserted by his disciples from the beginning; and that circumstance is, the non-production of the dead body. it is related in the history, what indeed the story of the resurrection necessarily implies, that the corpse was missing out of the sepulchre: it is related also in the history, that the jews reported that the followers of christ had stolen it away.* and this account, though loaded with great improbabilities, such as the situation of the disciples, their fears for their own safety at the time, the unlikelihood of their expecting to succeed, the difficulty of actual success,+ and the inevitable consequence of detection and failure, was, nevertheless, the most credible account that could be given of the matter. but it proceeds entirely upon the supposition of fraud, as all the old objections did. what account can be given of the body, upon the supposition of enthusiasm? it is impossible our lord's followers could believe that he was risen from the dead, if his corpse was lying before them. no enthusiasm ever reached to such a pitch of extravagancy as that: a spirit may be an illusion; a body is a real thing, an object of sense, in which there can be no mistake. all accounts of spectres leave the body in the grave. and although the body of christ might be removed by fraud, and for the purposes of fraud, yet without any such intention, and by sincere but deluded men (which is the representation of the apostolic character we are now examining), no such attempt could be made. the presence and the absence of the dead body are alike inconsistent with the hypothesis of enthusiasm: for if present, it must have cured their enthusiasm at once; if absent, fraud, not enthusiasm, must have carried it away. _________ * "and this saying," saint matthew writes, "is commonly reported amongst the jews until this day" (chap. xxviii. ). the evangelist may be thought good authority as to this point, even by those who do not admit his evidence in every other point: and this point is sufficient to prove that the body was missing. it has been rightly, i think, observed by dr. townshend (dis. upon the res. p. ), that the story of the guards carried collusion upon the face of it:--"his disciples came by night, and stole him away while we slept." men in their circumstances would not have made such an acknowledgment of their negligence without previous assurances of protection and impunity. + "especially at the full moon, the city full of people, many probably passing the whole night, as jesus and his disciples had done, in the open air, the sepulchre so near the city as to be now enclosed within the walls." priestley on the resurr. p. . _________ but further, if we admit, upon the concurrent testimony of all the histories, so much of the account as states that the religion of jesus was set up at jerusalem, and set up with asserting, in the very place in which he had been buried, and a few days after he had been buried, his resurrection out of the grave, it is evident that, if his body could have been found, the jews would have produced it, as the shortest and completest answer possible to the whole story. the attempt of the apostles could not have survived this refutation a moment. if we also admit, upon the authority of saint matthew, that the jews were advertised of the expectation of christ's followers, and that they had taken due precaution in consequence of this notice, and that the body was in marked and public custody, the observation receives more force still. for notwithstanding their precaution and although thus prepared and forewarned; when the story of the resurrection of christ came forth, as it immediately did; when it was publicly asserted by his disciples, and made the ground and basis of their preaching in his name, and collecting followers to his religion, the jews had not the body to produce; but were obliged to meet the testimony of the apostles by an answer not containing indeed any impossibility in itself, but absolutely inconsistent with the supposition of their integrity; that is, in other words, inconsistent with the supposition which would resolve their conduct into enthusiasm. chapter ix. the propagation of christianity. in this argument, the first consideration is the fact--in what degree, within what time, and to what extent, christianity actually was propagated. the accounts of the matter which can be collected from our books are as follow: a few days after christ's disappearance out of the world, we find an assembly of disciples at jerusalem, to the number of "about one hundred and twenty;" (acts i. .) which hundred and twenty were probably a little association of believers, met together not merely as believers in christ, but as personally connected with the apostles, and with one another. whatever was the number of believers then in jerusalem, we have no reason to be surprised that so small a company should assemble: for there is no proof that the followers of christ were yet formed into a society; that the society was reduced into any order; that it was at this time even understood that a new religion (in the sense which that term conveys to us) was to be set up in the world, or how the professors of that religion were to be distinguished from the rest of mankind. the death of christ had left, we may suppose, the generality of his disciples in great doubt, both as to what they were to do, and concerning what was to follow. this meeting was holden, as we have already said, a few days after christ's ascension: for ten days after that event was the day of pentecost, when, as our history relates, (acts ii. .) upon a signal display of divine agency attending the persons of the apostles, there were added to the society "about three thousand souls." (acts ii. .) but here, it is not, i think, to be taken, that these three thousand were all converted by this single miracle; but rather that many who before were believers in christ became now professors of christianity; that is to say, when they found that a religion was to be established, a society formed and set up in the name of christ, governed by his laws, avowing their belief in his mission, united amongst themselves, and separated from the rest of the world by visible distinctions; in pursuance of their former conviction, and by virtue of what they had heard and seen, and known of christ's history, they publicly became members of it. we read in the fourth chapter (verse ) of the acts, that soon after this, "the number of the men," i. e. the society openly professing their belief in christ, "was about five thousand." so that here is an increase of two thousand within a very short time. and it is probable that there were many, both now and afterwards, who, although they believed in christ, did not think it necessary to join themselves to this society; or who waited to see what was likely to become of it. gamaliel, whose advice to the jewish council is recorded acts v. , appears to have been of this description; perhaps nicodemus, and perhaps also joseph of arimathea. this class of men, their character and their rank, are likewise pointed out by saint john, in the twelfth chapter of his gospel: "nevertheless, among the chief rulers also many believed on him, but because of the pharisees they did not confess him, lest they should be put out of the synagogue, for they loved the praise of men more than the praise of god." persons such as these might admit the miracles of christ, without being immediately convinced that they were under obligation to make a public profession of christianity at the risk of all that was dear to them in life, and even of life itself.* _________ * "beside those who professed, and those who rejected and opposed, christianity, there were in all probability multitudes between both, neither perfect christians nor yet unbelievers. they had a favourable opinion of the gospel, but worldly considerations made them unwilling to own it. there were many circumstances which inclined them to think that christianity was a divine revelation, but there were many inconveniences which attended the open profession of it; and they could not find in themselves courage enough to bear them to disoblige their friends and family, to ruin their fortunes, to lose their reputation, their liberty, and their life, for the sake of the new religion. therefore they were willing to hope, that if they endeavoured to observe the great principles of morality which christ had represented as the principal part, the sum and substance of religion; if they thought honourably of the gospel; if they offered no injury to the christians; if they did them all the services that they could safely perform, they were willing to hope that god would accept this, and that he would excuse and forgive the rest." jortin's dis. on the christ. rel. p. , ed. . _________ christianity, however, proceeded to increase in jerusalem by a progress equally rapid with its first success; for in the next chapter of our history, we read that "believers were the more added to the lord, multitudes both of men and women." and this enlargement of the new society appears in the first verse of the succeeding chapter, wherein we are told, that "when the number of the disciples was multiplied, there arose a murmuring of the grecians against the hebrews because their widows were neglected;" (acts v. ; vi. ) and afterwards, in the same chapter, it is declared expressly, that "the number of the disciples multiplied in jerusalem greatly, and that a great company of the priests were obedient to the faith." this i call the first period in the propagation of christianity. it commences with the ascension of christ, and extends, as may be collected from incidental notes of time, (vide pearson's antiq. . xviii. c. . benson's history of christ, b. i. p. .) to something more than one year after that event. during which term, the preaching of christianity, so far as our documents inform us, was confined to the single city of jerusalem. and how did it succeed there? the first assembly which we meet with of christ's disciples, and that a few days after his removal from the world, consisted of "one hundred and twenty." about a week after this, "three thousand were added in one day;" and the number of christians publicly baptized, and publicly associating together, was very soon increased to "five thousand." "multitudes both of men and women continued to be added;" "disciples multiplied greatly," and "many of the jewish priesthood as well as others, became obedient to the faith;" and this within a space of less than two years from the commencement of the institution. by reason of a persecution raised against the church at jerusalem, the converts were driven from that city, and dispersed throughout the regions of judea and samaria. (acts viii. l.) wherever they came, they brought their religion with them: for our historian informs us, (acts viii. .) that "they that were scattered abroad went everywhere preaching the word." the effect of this preaching comes afterwards to be noticed, where the historian is led, in the course of his narrative, to observe that then (i. e. about three years posterior to this, [benson, b. i. p. .]) the churches had rest throughout all judea and galilee and samaria, and were edified, and walking in the fear of the lord, and in the comfort of the holy ghost, were multiplied. this was the work of the second period, which comprises about four years. hitherto the preaching of the gospel had been confined to jews, to jewish proselytes, and to samaritans. and i cannot forbear from setting down in this place an observation of mr. bryant, which appears to me to be perfectly well founded;--"the jews still remain: but how seldom is it that we can make a single proselyte! there is reason to think, that there were more converted by the apostles in one day than have since been won over in the last thousand years." (bryant on the truth of the christian religion, p. .) it was not yet known to the apostles that they were at liberty to propose the religion to mankind at large. that "mystery," as saint paul calls it, (eph. iii. -- .) and as it then was, was revealed to peter by an especial miracle. it appears to have been (benson, book ii. p. .) about seven years after christ's ascension that the gospel was preached to the gentiles of cesarea. a year after this a great multitude of gentiles were converted at antioch in syria. the expressions employed by the historian are these:--"a great number believed, and turned to the lord;" "much people was added unto the lord;" "the apostles barnabas and paul taught much people." (acts xi. , , .) upon herod's death, which happened in the next year, (benson, book ii, p. .) it is observed, that "the word of god grew and multiplied." (acts xii. .) three years from this time, upon the preaching of paul at iconium, the metropolis of lycaonia, "a great multitude both of jews and greeks believed:" (acts xiv. .) and afterwards, in the course of this very progress, he is represented as "making many disciples" at derbe, a principal city in the same district. three years (benson's history of christ, book iii. p. .) after this, which brings us to sixteen after the ascension, the apostles wrote a public letter from jerusalem to the gentile converts in antioch, syria, and cilicia, with which letter paul travelled through these countries, and found the churches "established in the faith, and increasing in number daily." (acts xvi. .) from asia the apostle proceeded into greece, where, soon after his arrival in macedonia, we find him at thessalonica: in which city, "some of the jews believed, and of the devout greeks a great multitude." (acts xvii. .) we meet also here with an accidental hint of the general progress of the christian mission, in the exclamation of the tumultuous jews of thessalonica, "that they who had turned the world upside down were come thither also." (acts xvii. .) at berea, the next city at which saint paul arrives, the historian, who was present, inform us that "many of the jews believed." (acts xvii. .) the next year and a half of saint paul's ministry was spent at corinth. of his success in that city we receive the following intimations; "that many of the corinthians believed and were baptized;" and "that it was revealed to the apostle by christ, that be had much people in that city." (acts xviii, -- .) within less than a year after his departure from corinth, and twenty-five (benson, book iii. p, .) years after the ascension, saint paul fixed his station at ephesus for the space of two years (acts xix. .) and something more. the effect of his ministry in that city and neighbourhood drew from the historian a reflection how "mightily grew the word of god and prevailed." (acts xix. .) and at the conclusion of this period we find demetrius at the head of a party, who were alarmed by the progress of the religion, complaining, that "not only at ephesus, but also throughout all asia (i. e. the province of lydia, and the country adjoining to ephesus), this paul hath persuaded and turned away much people." (acts xix. .) beside these accounts, there occurs, incidentally, mention of converts at rome, alexandria, athens, cyprus, cyrene, macedonia, philippi. this is the third period in the propagation of christianity, setting off in the seventh year after the ascension, and ending at the twenty-eighth. now, lay these three periods together, and observe how the progress of the religion by these accounts is represented. the institution, which properly began only after its author's removal from the world, before the end of thirty years, had spread itself through judea, galilee, and samaria, almost all the numerous districts of the lesser asia, through greece, and the islands of the aegean sea, the seacoast of africa, and had extended itself to rome, and into italy. at antioch, in syria, at joppa, ephesus, corinth, thessalonica, berea, iconium, derbe, antioch in pisidia, at lydda, saron, the number of converts is intimated by the expressions, "a great number," "great multitudes," "much people." converts are mentioned, without any designation of their number,* at tyre, cesarea, troas, athens, philippi, lystra, damascus. during all this time jerusalem continued not only the centre of the mission, but a principal seat of the religion; for when saint paul returned thither at the conclusion of the period of which we are now considering the accounts, the other apostles pointed out to him, as a reason for his compliance with their advice, "how many thousands (myriads, ten thousands) there were in that city who believed."+ _________ * considering the extreme conciseness of many parts of the history, the silence about the number of converts is no proof of their paucity; for at philippi, no mention whatever is made of the number, yet saint paul addressed an epistle to that church. the churches of galatia, and the affairs of those churches, were considerable enough to be the subject of another letter, and of much of saint paul's solicitude; yet no account is preserved in the history of his success, or even of his preaching in that country, except the slight notice which these words convey:--"when they had gone throughout phrygia, and the region of galatia, they assayed to go into bithynia." acts xvi. . + acts xxi. . _________ upon this abstract, and the writing from which it is drawn, the following observations seem material to be made: i. that the account comes from a person who was himself concerned in a portion of what he relates, and was contemporary with the whole of it; who visited jerusalem, and frequented the society of those who had acted, and were acting the chief parts in the transaction. i lay down this point positively; for had the ancient attestations to this valuable record been less satisfactory than they are, the unaffectedness and simplicity with which the author notes his presence upon certain occasions, and the entire absence of art and design from these notices, would have been sufficient to persuade my mind that, whoever he was, he actually lived in the times, and occupied the situation, in which he represents himself to be. when i say, "whoever he was," i do not mean to cast a doubt upon the name to which antiquity hath ascribed the acts of the apostles (for there is no cause, that i am acquainted with, for questioning it), but to observe that, in such a case as this, the time and situation of the author are of more importance than his name; and that these appear from the work itself, and in the most unsuspicious form. ii. that this account is a very incomplete account of the preaching and propagation of christianity; i mean, that if what we read in the history be true, much more than what the history contains must be true also. for, although the narrative from which our information is derived has been entitled the acts of the apostles, it is, in fact, a history of the twelve apostles only during a short time of their continuing together at jerusalem; and even of this period the account is very concise. the work afterwards consists of a few important passages of peter's ministry, of the speech and death of stephen, of the preaching of philip the deacon; and the sequel of the volume, that is, two thirds of the whole, is taken up with the conversion, the travels, the discourses, and history of the new apostle, paul; in which history, also, large portions of time are often passed over with very scanty notice. iii. that the account, so far as it goes, is for this very reason more credible. had it been the author's design to have displayed the early progress of christianity, he would undoubtedly have collected, or at least have set forth, accounts of the preaching of the rest of the apostles, who cannot without extreme improbability be supposed to have remained silent and inactive, or not to have met with a share of that success which attended their colleagues. to which may be added, as an observation of the same kind, iv. that the intimations of the number of converts, and of the success of the preaching of the apostles, come out for the most part incidentally: are drawn from the historian by the occasion, such as the murmuring of the grecian converts; the rest from persecution; herod's death; the sending of barnabas to antioch, and barnabas calling paul to his assistance; paul coming to a place and finding there disciples; the clamour of the jews; the complaint of artificers interested in the support of the popular religion; the reason assigned to induce paul to give satisfaction to the christians of jerusalem. had it not been for these occasions it is probable that no notice whatever would have been taken of the number of converts in several of the passages in which that notice now appears. all this tends to remove the suspicion of a design to exaggerate or deceive. parallel testimonies with the history are the letters of saint paul, and of the other apostles, which have come down to us. those of saint paul are addressed to the churches of corinth, philippi, thessalonica, the church of galatia, and, if the inscription be right, of ephesus; his ministry at all which places is recorded in the history: to the church of colosse, or rather to the churches of colosse and laodicea jointly, which he had not then visited. they recognise by reference the churches of judea, the churches of asia, and "all the churches of the gentiles." (thess ii. .) in the epistle to the romans (rom. xv. , .) the author is led to deliver a remarkable declaration concerning the extent of his preaching, its efficacy, and the cause to which he ascribes it,--"to make the gentiles obedient by word and deed, through mighty signs and wonders, by the power of the spirit of god; so that from jerusalem, and round about unto illyricum, i have fully preached the gospel of christ." in the epistle to the colossians, (col. i. .) we find an oblique but very strong signification of the then general state of the christian mission, at least as it appeared to saint paul:--"if ye continue in the faith, grounded and settled, and be not moved away from the hope of the gospel, which ye have heard, and which was preached to every creature which is under heaven;" which gospel, he had reminded them near the beginning of his letter (col. i. .), "was present with them, as it was in all the world." the expressions are hyperbolical; but they are hyperboles which could only be used by a writer who entertained a strong sense of the subject. the first epistle of peter accosts the christians dispersed throughout pontus, galatia, cappadocia, asia, and bithynia. it comes next to be considered how far these accounts are confirmed or followed up by other evidence. tacitus, in delivering a relation, which has already been laid before the reader, of the fire which happened at rome in the tenth year of nero (which coincides with the thirtieth year after christ's ascension), asserts that the emperor, in order to suppress the rumours of having been himself the author of the mischief, procured the christians to be accused. of which christians, thus brought into his narrative, the following is so much of the historian's account as belongs to our present purpose: "they had their denomination from christus, who, in the reign of tiberius, was put to death as a criminal by the procurator pontius pilate. this pernicious superstition, though checked for a while, broke out again, and spread not only over judea, but reached the city also. at first they only were apprehended who confessed themselves of that sect; afterwards vast multitude were discovered by them." this testimony to the early propagation of christianity is extremely material. it is from an historian of great reputation, living near the time; from a stranger and an enemy to the religion; and it joins immediately with the period through which the scripture accounts extend. it establishes these points: that the religion began at jerusalem; that it spread throughout judea; that it had reached rome, and not only so, but that it had there obtained a great number of converts. this was about six years after the time that saint paul wrote his epistle to the romans, and something more than two years after he arrived there himself. the converts to the religion were then so numerous at rome, that of those who were betrayed by the information of the persons first persecuted, a great multitude (multitudo ingens) were discovered and seized. it seems probable, that the temporary check which tacitus represents christianity to have received (repressa in praesens) referred to the persecution of jerusalem which followed the death of stephen (acts viii.); and which, by dispersing the converts, caused the institution, in some measure, to disappear. its second eruption at the same place, and within a short time, has much in it of the character of truth. it was the firmness and perseverance of men who knew what they relied upon. next in order of time, and perhaps superior in importance is the testimony of pliny the younger. pliny was the roman governor of pontus and bithynia, two considerable districts in the northern part of asia minor. the situation in which he found his province led him to apply to the emperor (trajan) for his direction as to the conduct he was to hold towards the christians. the letter in which this application is contained was written not quite eighty years after christ's ascension. the president, in this letter, states the measures he had already pursued, and then adds, as his reason for resorting to the emperor's counsel and authority, the following words:--"suspending all judicial proceedings, i have recourse to you for advice; for it has appeared to me a matter highly deserving consideration, especially on account of the great number of persons who are in danger of suffering: for many of all ages, and of every rank, of both sexes likewise, are accused, and will be accused. nor has the contagion of this superstition seized cities only, but the lesser towns also, and the open country. nevertheless it seemed to me that it may be restrained and corrected. it is certain that the temples, which were almost forsaken, begin to be more frequented; and the sacred solemnities, after a long intermission, are revived. victims, likewise, are everywhere (passim) bought up; whereas, for some time, there were few to purchase them. whence it is easy to imagine that numbers of men might be reclaimed if pardon were granted to those that shall repent." (c. plin. trajano imp. lib. x. ep. xcvii.) it is obvious to observe, that the passage of pliny's letter here quoted, proves, not only that the christians in pontus and bithynia were now numerous, but that they had subsisted there for some considerable time. "it is certain," he says, "that the temples, which were almost forsaken (plainly ascribing this desertion of the popular worship to the prevalency of christianity), begin to be more frequented; and the sacred solemnities, after a long intermission, are revived." there are also two clauses in the former part of the letter which indicate the same thing; one, in which he declares that he had "never been present at any trials of christians, and therefore knew not what was the usual subject of inquiry and punishment, or how far either was wont to be urged." the second clause is the following: "others were named by an informer, who, at first, confessed themselves christians, and afterwards denied it; the rest said they had been christians some three years ago, some longer, and some about twenty years." it is also apparent, that pliny speaks of the christians as a description of men well known to the person to whom he writes. his first sentence concerning them is, "i have never been present at the trials of christians." this mention of the name of christians, without any preparatory explanation, shows that it was a term familiar both to the writer of the letter and the person to whom it was addressed. had it not been so, pliny would naturally have begun his letter by informing the emperor that he had met with a certain set of men in the province called christians. here then is a very singular evidence of the progress of the christian religion in a short space. it was not fourscore years after the crucifixion of jesus when pliny wrote this letter; nor seventy years since the apostles of jesus began to mention his name to the gentile world. bithynia and pontus were at a great distance from judea, the centre from which the religion spread; yet in these provinces christianity had long subsisted, and christians were now in such numbers as to lead the roman governor to report to the emperor that they were found not only in cities, but in villages and in open countries; of all ages, of every rank and condition; that they abounded so much as to have produced a visible desertion of the temples; that beasts brought to market for victims had few purchasers; that the sacred solemnities were much neglected:--circumstances noted by pliny for the express purpose of showing to the emperor the effect and prevalency of the new institution. no evidence remains by which it can be proved that the christians were more numerous in pontus and bithynia than in other parts of the roman empire; nor has any reason been offered to show why they should be so. christianity did not begin in these countries, nor near them. i do not know, therefore, that we ought to confine the description in pliny's letter to the state of christianity in these provinces, even if no other account of the same subject had come down to us; but, certainly, this letter may fairly be applied in aid and confirmation of the representations given of the general state of christianity in the world, by christian writers of that and the next succeeding age. justin martyr, who wrote about thirty years after pliny, and one hundred and six after the ascension, has these remarkable words: "there is not a nation, either of greek or barbarian, or of any other name, even of those who wander in tribes, and live in tents, amongst whom prayers and thanksgivings are not offered to the father and creator of the universe by the name of the crucified jesus." (dial cum tryph.) tertullian, who comes about fifty years after justin, appeals to the governors of the roman empire in these terms: "we were but of yesterday, and we have filled your cities, islands, towns, and boroughs, the camp, the senate, and the forum. they (the heathen adversaries of christianity) lament that every sex, age, and condition, and persons of every rank also, are converts to that name." (tertull. apol. c. .) i do allow that these expressions are loose, and may be called declamatory. but even declamation hath its bounds; this public boasting upon a subject which must be known to every reader was not only useless but unnatural, unless the truth of the case, in a considerable degree, corresponded with the description; at least, unless it had been both true and notorious, that great multitudes of christians, of all ranks and orders, were to be found in most parts of the roman empire. the same tertullian, in another passage, by way of setting forth the extensive diffusion of christianity, enumerates as belonging to christ, beside many other countries, the "moors and gaetulians of africa, the borders of spain, several nations of france, and parts of britain inaccessible to the romans, the sarmatians, daci, germans, and scythians;" (ad jud. c. .) and, which is more material than the extent of the institution, the number of christians in the several countries in which it prevailed is thus expressed by him: "although so great a multitude, that in almost every city we form the greater part, we pass our time modestly and in silence." (ad scap. c. iii.) a clemens alexandrinus, who preceded tertullian by a few years, introduced a comparison between the success of christianity and that of the most celebrated philosophical institutions: "the philosophers were confined to greece, and to their particular retainers; but the doctrine of the master of christianity not remain in judea, as philosophy did in greece, but is throughout the whole world, in every nation, and village, and city, both of greeks and barbarians, converting both whole houses and separate individuals, having already brought over to the truth not a few of the philosophers themselves. if the greek philosophy he prohibited, it immediately vanishes; whereas, from the first preaching of our doctrine, kings and tyrants, governors and presidents, with their whole train, and with the populace on their side, have endeavoured with their whole might to exterminate it, yet doth it flourish more and more." (clem. ai. strora. lib. vi. ad fin.) origen, who follows tertullian at the distance of only thirty years, delivers nearly the same account: "in every part of the world," says he, "throughout all greece, and in all other nations, there are innumerable and immense multitudes, who, having left the laws of their country, and those whom they esteemed gods, have given themselves up to the law of moses, and the religion of christ: and this not without the bitterest resentment from the idolaters, by whom they were frequently put to torture, and sometimes to death: and it is wonderful to observe how, in so short a time, the religion has increased, amidst punishment and death, and every kind of torture." (orig. in cels. lib. i.) in another passage, origen draws the following candid comparison between the state of christianity in his time and the condition of its more primitive ages: "by the good providence of god, the christian religion has so flourished and increased continually that it is now preached freely without molestation, although there were a thousand obstacles to the spreading of the doctrine of jesus in the world. but as it was the will of god that the gentiles should have the benefit of it, all the counsels of men against the christians were defeated: and by how much the more emperors and governors of provinces, and the people everywhere strove to depress them, so much the more have they increased and prevailed exceedingly." (orig. cont. cels. lib vii.) it is well known that, within less than eighty years after this, the roman empire became christian under constantine: and it is probable that constantine declared himself on the side of the christians because they were the powerful party: for arnobius, who wrote immediately before constantine's accession, speaks of "the whole world as filled with christ's doctrine, of its diffusion throughout all countries, of an innumerable body of christians in distant provinces, of the strange revolution of opinion of men of the greatest genius,--orators, grammarians, rhetoricians, lawyers, physicians having come over to the institution, and that also in the face of threats, executions and tortures." (arnob. in genres, . i. pp. , , , , . edit. lug. bat. .) and not more than twenty years after constantine's entire possession of the empire, julius firmiens maternus calls upon the emperors constantius and constans to extirpate the relics of the ancient religion; the reduced and fallen condition of which is described by our author in the following words: "licet adhue in quibusdam regionibus idololatriae morientia palpitont membra; tamen in eo res est, ut a christianis omnibus terris pestiferum hoc malum funditus amputetur:" and in another place, "modicum tautum superest, ut legibus vestris--extincta idololatriae pereat funesta contagio." (de error. profan. relig. c. xxi. p. , quoted by lardner, vol. viii. p. .) it will not be thought that we quote this writer in order to recommend his temper or his judgment, but to show the comparative state of christianity and of heathenism at this period. fifty years afterwards, jerome represents the decline of paganism, in language which conveys the same idea of its approaching extinction: "solitudinem patitur et in urbe gentilitas. dii quondam nationum, cum bubonibus et noctuis, in solis culminibus remanserunt." (jer. ad lect. ep. , .) jerome here indulges a triumph, natural and allowable in a zealous friend of the cause, but which could only be suggested to his mind by the consent and universality with which he saw; the religion received. "but now," says he, "the passion and resurrection of christ are celebrated in the discourses and writings of all nations. i need not mention jews, greeks, and latins. the indians, persians, goths, and egyptians philosophise, and firmly believe the immortality of the soul, and future recompenses, which, before, the greatest philosophers had denied, or doubted of, or perplexed with their disputes. the fierceness of thracians and scythians is now softened by the gentle sound of the gospel; and everywhere christ is all in all." (jer. ad lect. ep. , ad heliod.) were, therefore, the motives of constantine's conversion ever so problematical, the easy establishment of christianity, and the ruin of heathenism, under him and his immediate successors, is of itself a proof of the progress which had made in the preceding period. it may be added also, "that maxentius, the rival of constantine, had shown himself friendly to the christians. therefore of those who were contending for worldly power and empire, one actually favoured and flattered them, and another may be suspected to have joined himself to them partly from consideration of interest: so considerable were they become, under external disadvantages of all sorts." (lardner, vol. vii. p. .) this at least is certain, that, throughout the whole transaction hitherto, the great seemed to follow, not to lead, the public opinion. it may help to convey to us some notion of the extent and progress of christianity, or rather of the character and quality of many early christians, of their learning and their labours, to notice the number of christian writers who flourished in these ages. saint jerome's catalogue contains sixty-six writers within the first three centuries, and the first six years of the fourth; and fifty-four between that time and his own, viz. a. d. . jerome introduces his catalogue with the following just remonstrance:--"let those who say the church has had no philosophers, nor eloquent and learned men, observe who and what they were who founded, established, and adorned it; let them cease to accuse our faith of rusticity, and confess their mistake." (jer. prol. in lib. de ser. eccl.) of these writers, several, as justin, irenaeus, clement of alexandria, tertullian, origen, bardesanes, hippolitus, eusebius, were voluminous writers. christian writers abounded particularly about the year . alexander, bishop of jerusalem, founded a library in that city, a.d. . pamphilus, the friend of origen, founded a library at cesarea, a.d. . public defences were also set forth, by various advocates of the religion, in the course of its first three centuries. within one hundred years after christ's ascension, quadratus and aristides, whose works, except some few fragments of the first, are lost; and, about twenty years afterwards, justin martyr, whose works remain, presented apologies for the christian religion to the roman emperors; quadratus and aristides to adrian, justin to antoninus pins, and a second to marcus antoninus. melito, bishop of sardis, and apollinaris, bishop of hierapolis, and miltiades, men of great reputation, did the same to marcus antoninus, twenty years afterwards; (euseb. hist. lib. iv. c. . see also lardner, vol. ii. p. .) and ten years after this, apollonius, who suffered martyrdom under the emperor commodus, composed an apology for his faith which he read in the senate, and which was afterwards published. (lardner, vol. ii. p. .) fourteen years after the apology of apollonius, tertullian addressed the work which now remains under that name to the governors of provinces in the roman empire; and, about the same time, minucius felix composed a defence of the christian religion, which is still extant; and, shortly after the conclusion of this century, copious defences of christianity were published by arnobius and lactantius. section ii. reflections upon the preceding account. in viewing the progress of christianity, our first attention is due to the number of converts at jerusalem, immediately after its founder's death; because this success was a success at the time, and upon the spot, when and where the chief part of the history had been transacted. we are, in the next place, called upon to attend to the early establishment of numerous christian societies in judea and galilee; which countries had been the scene of christ's miracles and ministry, and where the memory of what had passed, and the knowledge of what was alleged, must have yet been fresh and certain. we are, thirdly, invited to recollect the success of the apostles and of their companions, at the several places to which they came, both within and without judea; because it was the credit given to original witnesses, appealing for the truth of their accounts to what themselves had seen and heard. the effect also of their preaching strongly confirms the truth of what our history positively and circumstantially relates, that they were able to exhibit to their hearers supernatural attestations of their mission. we are, lastly, to consider the subsequent growth and spread of the religion, of which we receive successive intimations, and satisfactory, though general and occasional, accounts, until its full and final establishment. in all these several stages, the history is without a parallel for it must be observed, that we have not now been tracing the progress, and describing the prevalency, of an opinion founded upon philosophical or critical arguments, upon mere of reason, or the construction of ancient writing; (of which are the several theories which have, at different times, possession of the public mind in various departments of science and literature; and of one or other of which kind are the tenets also which divide the various sects of christianity;) but that we speak of a system, the very basis and postulatum of which was a supernatural character ascribed to a particular person; of a doctrine, the truth whereof depends entirely upon the truth of a matter of fact then recent. "to establish a new religion, even amongst a few people, or in one single nation, is a thing in itself exceedingly difficult. to reform some corruptions which may have spread in a religion, or to make new regulations in it, is not perhaps so hard, when the main and principal part of that religion is preserved entire and unshaken; and yet this very often cannot be accomplished without an extraordinary concurrence of circumstances, and may be attempted a thousand times without success. but to introduce a new faith, a new way of thinking and acting, and to persuade many nations to quit the religion in which their ancestors have lived and died, which had been delivered down to them from time immemorial; to make them forsake and despise the deities which they had been accustomed to reverence and worship; this is a work of still greater difficulty." (jortin's dis. on the christ. rel. p. , th edit.) the resistance of education, worldly policy, and superstition, is almost invincible. if men, in these days, be christians in consequence of their education, in submission to authority, or in compliance with fashion, let us recollect that the very contrary of this, at the beginning, was the case. the first race of christians, as wall as millions who succeeded them, became such in formal opposition to all these motives, to the whole power and strength of this influence. every argument, therefore, and every instance, which sets forth the prejudice of education, and the almost irresistible effects of that prejudice (and no persons are more fond of expatiating upon this subject than deistical writers), in fact confirms the evidence of christianity. but, in order to judge of the argument which is drawn from the early propagation of christianity, i know no fairer way of proceeding than to compare what we have seen on the subject with the success of christian missions in modern ages. in the east india mission, supported by the society for promoting christian knowledge, we hear sometimes of thirty, sometimes of forty, being baptized in the course of a year, and these principally children. of converts properly so called, that is, of adults voluntarily embracing christianity, the number is extremely small. "notwithstanding the labour of missionaries for upwards of two hundred years, and the establishments of different christian nations who support them, there are not twelve thousand indian christians, and those almost entirely outcasts." (sketches relating to the history, learning, and manners of the hindoos, p. ; quoted by dr. robertson, hist. dis. concerning ancient india, p. .) i lament as much as any man the little progress which christianity has made in these countries, and the inconsiderable effect that has followed the labours of its missionaries; but i see in it a strong proof of the divine origin of the religion. what had the apostles to assist them in propagating christianity which the missionaries have not? if piety and zeal had been sufficient, i doubt not but that our missionaries possess these qualities in a high degree: for nothing except piety and zeal could engage them in the undertaking. if sanctity of life and manners was the allurement, the conduct of these men is unblameable. if the advantage of education and learning be looked to, there is not one of the modern missionaries who is not, in this respect, superior to all the apostles; and that not only absolutely, but, what is of more importance, relatively, in comparison, that is, with those amongst whom they exercise their office. if the intrinsic excellency of the religion, the perfection of its morality, the purity of its precepts, the eloquence, or tenderness, or sublimity, of various parts of its writings, were the recommendations by which it made its way, these remain the same. if the character and circumstances under which the preachers were introduced to the countries in which they taught be accounted of importance, this advantage is all on the side of the modern missionaries. they come from a country and a people to which the indian world look up with sentiments of deference. the apostles came forth amongst the gentiles under no other name than that of jews, which was precisely the character they despised and derided. if it be disgraceful in india to become a christian, it could not be much less so to be enrolled amongst those "quos, per flagitia invisos, vulgus christianos appellabat." if the religion which they had to encounter be considered, the difference, i apprehend, will not be great. the theology of both was nearly the same: "what is supposed to be performed by the power of jupiter, neptune, of aeolus, of mars, of venus, according to the mythology of the west, is ascribed, in the east, to the agency agrio the god of fire, varoon the god of oceans, vayoo god of wind, cama the god of love." (baghvat gets, p. , quoted by dr. robertson, ind. dis. p. .) the sacred rites of the western polytheism were gay, festive, and licentious; the rites of the public religion in the east partake of the same character, with a more avowed indecency. "in every function performed in the pagodas, as well as in every public procession, it is the office of these women (i. e. of women prepared by the brahmins for the purpose) to dance before the idol, and to sing hymns in his praise; and it is difficult to say whether they trespass most against decency by the gestures they exhibit, or by the verses which they recite. the walls of the pagodas were covered with paintings in a style no less indelicate." (others of the deities of the east are of an austere and gloomy character, to be propitiated by victims, sometimes by human sacrifices, and by voluntary torments of the most excruciating kind. voyage de gentil. vol. i. p. -- . preface to the code of gentoo laws, p. ; quoted by dr. robertson, p. .) on both sides of the comparison, the popular religion had a strong establishment. in ancient greece and rome it was strictly incorporated with the state. the magistrate was the priest. the highest officers of government bore the most distinguished part in the celebration of the public rites. in india, a powerful and numerous caste possesses exclusively the administration of the established worship; and are, of consequence, devoted to its service, and attached to its interest. in both, the prevailing mythology was destitute of any proper evidence: or rather, in both, the origin of the tradition is run up into ages long anterior to the existence of credible history, or of written language. the indian chronology computes eras by millions of years, and the life of man by thousands "the suffec jogue, or age of purity, is said to have lasted three million two hundred thousand years; and they hold that the life of man was extended in that age to one hundred thousand years; but there is a difference amongst the indian writers of six millions of years in the computation of this era." (voyage de gentil. vol. i. p. -- . preface to the code of gentoo laws, p. ; quoted by dr. robertson, p. .) and in these, or prior to these, is placed the history of their divinities. in both, the established superstition held the same place in the public opinion; that is to say, in both it was credited by the bulk of the people, but by the learned and philosophical part of the community either derided, or regarded by them as only fit to be upholden for the sake of its political uses.* _________ * "how absurd soever the articles of faith may be which superstition has adopted, or how unhallowed the rites which it prescribes, the former are received, in every age and country with unhesitating assent, by the great body of the people, and the latter observed with scrupulous exactness. in our reasonings concerning opinions and practices which differ widely from our own, we are extremely apt to err. having been instructed ourselves in the principles of a religion worthy in every respect of that divine wisdom by which they were dictated, we frequently express wonder at the credulity of nations, in embracing systems of belief which appear to us so directly repugnant to right reason; and sometimes suspect that tenets so wild and extravagant do not really gain credit with them. but experience may satisfy us, that neither our wonder nor suspicions are well founded. no article of the public religion was called in question by those people of ancient europe with whose history we are best acquainted; and no practice which it enjoined appeared improper to them. on the other hand, every opinion that tended to diminish the reverence of men for the gods of their country, or to alienate them from their worship, excited, among the greeks and romans, that indignant zeal which is natural to every people attached to their religion by a firm persuasion of its truth." ind. dis. p. . that the learned brahmins of the east are rational theists, and secretly reject the established theory, and contemn the rites that were founded upon them, or rather consider them as contrivances to be supported for their political uses, see dr. robertson's ind. dis. p. - . _________ or if it should be allowed, that the ancient heathens believed in their religion less generally than the present indians do, i am far from thinking that this circumstance would afford any facility to the work of the apostles, above that of the modern missionaries. to me it appears, and i think it material to be remarked, that a disbelief of the established religion of their country has no tendency to dispose men for the reception of another; but that, on the contrary, it generates a settled contempt of all religious pretensions whatever. general infidelity is the hardest soil which the propagators of a new religion can have to work upon. could a methodist or moravian promise himself a better chance of success with a french esprit fort, who had been accustomed to laugh at the popery of his country, than with a believing mahometan or hindoo? or are our modern unbelievers in christianity, for that reason, in danger of becoming mahometans or hindoos? it does not appear that the jews, who had a body of historical evidence to offer for their religion, and who at that time undoubtedly entertained and held forth the expectation of a future state, derived any great advantage, as to the extension of their system, from the discredit into which the popular religion had fallen with many of their heathen neighbours. we have particularly directed our observations to the state and progress of christianity amongst the inhabitants of india: but the history of the christian mission in other countries, where the efficacy of the mission is left solely to the conviction wrought by the preaching of strangers, presents the same idea as the indian mission does of the feebleness and inadequacy of human means. about twenty-five years ago was published, in england, a translation from the dutch of a history of greenland and a relation of the mission for above thirty years carried on in that country by the unitas fratrum, or moravians. every part of that relation confirms the opinion we have stated. nothing could surpass, or hardly equal, the zeal and patience of the missionaries. yet their historian, in the conclusion of his narrative, could find place for no reflections more encouraging than the following:--"a person that had known the heathen, that had seen the little benefit from the great pains hitherto taken with them, and considered that one after another had abandoned all hopes of the conversion of these infidels (and some thought they would never be converted, till they saw miracles wrought as in the apostles' days, and this the greenlanders expected and demanded of their instructors); one that considered this, i say, would not so much wonder at the past unfruitfulness of these young beginners, as at their steadfast perseverance in the midst of nothing but distress, difficulties, and impediments, internally and externally: and that they never desponded of the conversion of those poor creatures amidst all seeming impossibilities." (history of greenland, vol. ii. p. .) from the widely disproportionate effects which attend the preaching of modern missionaries of christianity, compared with what followed the ministry of christ and his apostles under circumstances either alike, or not so unlike as to account for the difference, a conclusion is fairly drawn in support of what our histories deliver concerning them, viz. that they possessed means of conviction which we have not; that they had proofs to appeal to which we want. section iii. of the religion of mahomet. the only event in the history of the human species which admits of comparison with the propagation of christianity is the success of mahometanism. the mahometan institution was rapid in its progress, was recent in its history, and was founded upon a supernatural or prophetic character assumed by its author. in these articles, the resemblance with christianity is confessed. but there are points of difference which separate, we apprehend, the two cases entirely. i. mahomet did not found his pretensions upon miracles, properly so called; that is, upon proofs of supernatural agency capable of being known and attested by others. christians are warranted in this. assertion by the evidence of the koran, in which mahomet not only does not affect the power of working miracles, but expressly disclaims it. the following passages of that book furnish direct proofs of the truth of what we allege:--"the infidels say, unless a sign be sent down unto him from his lord, we will not believe; thou art a preacher only." (sale's koran, c. xiii. p. , ed. quarto.) again; "nothing hindered us from sending thee with miracles, except that the former nations have charged them with imposture." (c. xvii. p. .) and lastly; "they say, unless a sign be sent down unto him from his lord, we will not believe: answer; signs are in the power of god alone, and i am no more than a public preacher. is it not sufficient for them, that we have sent down unto them the book of the koran to be read unto them?" (c. xxix. p. .) beside these acknowledgments, i have observed thirteen distinct places in which mahomet puts the objection (unless a sign, &c.) into the mouth of the unbeliever, in not one of which does he allege a miracle in reply. his answer is, "that god giveth the power of working miracles when and to whom he pleaseth;" (c. v. x. xiii. twice.) "that if he should work miracles, they would not believe;" (c. vi.) "that they had before rejected moses, and jesus and the prophets, who wrought miracles;" (c. iii. xxi. xxviii.) "that the koran itself was a miracle." (c. xvi.) the only place in the koran in which it can be pretended that a sensible miracle is referred to (for i do not allow the secret visitations of gabriel, the night-journey of mahomet to heaven, or the presence in battle of invisible hosts of angels, to deserve the name of sensible miracles) is the beginning of the fifty-fourth chapter. the words are these:--"the hour of judgment approacheth, and the moon hath been split in sunder: but if the unbelievers see a sign, they turn aside, saying, this is a powerful charm." the mahometan expositors disagree in their interpretation of this passage; some explaining it to be mention of the splitting of the moon as one of the future signs of the approach of the day of judgment: others referring it to a miraculous appearance which had then taken place. (vide sale, in loc.) it seems to me not improbable, that mahomet might have taken advantage of some extraordinary halo, or other unusual appearance of the moon, which had happened about this time; and which supplied a foundation both for this passage, and for the story which in after times had been raised out of it. after this more than silence, after these authentic confessions of the koran, we are not to be moved with miraculous stories related of mahomet by abulfeda, who wrote his life about six hundred years after his death; or which are found in the legend of al-jannabi, who came two hundred years later.* on the contrary, from comparing what mahomet himself wrote and said with what was afterwards reported of him by his followers, the plain and fair conclusion is, that when the religion was established by conquest, then, and not till then, came out the stories of his miracles. _________ * it does not, i think, appear, that these historians had any written accounts to appeal to more ancient than the sonnah; which was a collection of traditions made by order of the caliphs two hundred years after mahomet's death. mahomet died a.d. ; al-bochari, one of the six doctors who compiled the sonnah, was born a.d. ; died . prideaux's life of mahomet, p. , ed. th. _________ now this difference alone constitutes, in my opinion, a bar to all reasoning from one case to the other. the success of a religion founded upon a miraculous history shows the credit which was given to the history; and this credit, under the circumstances in which it was given, i. e. by persons capable of knowing the truth, and interested to inquire after it, is evidence of the reality of the history, and, by consequence, of the truth of the religion. where a miraculous history is not alleged, no part of this argument can be applied. we admit that multitudes acknowledged the pretensions of mahomet: but, these pretensions being destitute of miraculous evidence, we know that the grounds upon which they were acknowledged could not be secure grounds of persuasion to his followers, nor their example any authority to us. admit the whole of mahomet's authentic history, so far as it was of a nature capable of being known or witnessed by others, to be true (which is certainly to admit all that the reception of the religion can be brought to prove), and mahomet might still be an impostor, or enthusiast, or a union of both. admit to be true almost any part of christ's history, of that, i mean, which was public, and within the cognizance of his followers, and he must have come from god. where matter of fact is not in question, where miracles are not alleged, i do not see that the progress of a religion is a better argument of its truth than the prevalency of any system of opinions in natural religion, morality, or physics, is a proof of the truth of those opinions. and we know that this sort of argument is inadmissible in any branch of philosophy what ever. but it will be said, if one religion could make its way without miracles, why might not another? to which i reply, first, that this is not the question; the proper question is not, whether a religious institution could be set up without miracles, but whether a religion, or a change of religion, founding itself in miracles, could succeed without any reality to rest upon? i apprehend these two cases to be very different: and i apprehend mahomet's not taking this course, to be one proof, amongst others, that the thing is difficult, if not impossible, to be accomplished: certainly it was not from an unconsciousness of the value and importance of miraculous evidence; for it is very observable, that in the same volume, and sometimes in the same chapters, in which mahomet so repeatedly disclaims the power of working miracles himself, he is incessantly referring to the miracles of preceding prophets. one would imagine, to hear some men talk, or to read some books, that the setting up of a religion by dint of miraculous pretences was a thing of every day's experience: whereas, i believe that, except the jewish and christian religion, there is no tolerably well authenticated account of any such thing having been accomplished. ii. the establishment of mahomet's religion was affected by causes which in no degree appertained to the origin of christianity. during the first twelve years of his mission, mahomet had recourse only to persuasion. this is allowed. and there is sufficient reason from the effect to believe that, if he had confined himself to this mode of propagating his religion, we of the present day should never have heard either of him or it. "three years were silently employed in the conversion of fourteen proselytes. for ten years, the religion advanced with a slow and painful progress, within the walls of mecca. the number of proselytes in the seventh year of his mission may be estimated by the absence of eighty-three men and eighteen women, who retired to aethiopia." (gibbon's hist. vol. ix. p. , et seq. ed. dub.) yet this progress, such as it was, appears to have been aided by some very important advantages which mahomet found in his situation, in his mode of conducting his design, and in his doctrine. . mahomet was the grandson of the most powerful and honourable family in mecca; and although the early death of his father had not left him a patrimony suitable to his birth, he had, long before the commencement of his mission, repaired this deficiency by an opulent marriage. a person considerable by his wealth, of high descent, and nearly allied to the chiefs of his country, taking upon himself the character of a religious teacher, would not fail of attracting attention and followers. . mahomet conducted his design, in the outset especially, with great art and prudence. he conducted it as a politician would conduct a plot. his first application was to his own family. this gained him his wife's uncle, a considerable person in mecca, together with his cousin ali, afterwards the celebrated caliph, then a youth of great expectation, and even already distinguished by his attachment, impetuosity, and courage.* he next expressed himself to abu beer, a man amongst the first of the koreish in wealth and influence. the interest and example of abu beer drew in five other principal persons in mecca, whose solicitations prevailed upon five more of the same rank. this was the work of three years; during which time everything was transacted in secret. upon the strength of these allies, and under the powerful protection of his family, who, however some of them might disapprove his enterprise, or deride his pretensions, would not suffer the orphan of their house, the relict of their favourite brother, to be insulted, mahomet now commenced his public preaching. and the advance which he made during the nine or ten remaining years of his peaceable ministry was by no means greater than what, with these advantages, and with the additional and singular circumstance of there being no established religion at mecca at that time to contend with, might reasonably have been expected. how soon his primitive adherents were let into the secret of his views of empire, or in what stage of his undertaking these views first opened themselves to his own mind, it is not now easy to determine. the event however was, that these, his first proselytes, all ultimately attained to riches and honours, to the command of armies, and the government of kingdoms. (gibbon, vol. ix. p .) _________ * of which mr. gibbon has preserved the following specimen: "when mahomet called out in an assembly of his family, who among you will be my companion, and my vizir? ali, then only in the fourteenth year of his age, suddenly replied, o prophet i am the man;--whosoever rises against thee, i will dash out his teeth, tear out his eyes, break his legs, rip up his belly. o prophet! i will be thy vizir over them." vol. ix. p. . _________ . the arabs deduced their descent from abraham through the line of ishmael. the inhabitants of mecca, in common probably with the other arabian tribes, acknowledged, as i think may clearly be collected from the koran, one supreme deity, but had associated with him many objects of idolatrous worship. the great doctrine with which mahomet set out was the strict and exclusive unity of god. abraham, he told them, their illustrous ancestor; ishmael, the father of their nation; moses, the lawgiver of the jews; and jesus, the author of christianity--had all asserted the same thing; that their followers had universally corrupted the truth, and that he was now commissioned to restore it to the world. was it to be wondered at, that a doctrine so specious, and authorized by names, some or other of which were holden in the highest veneration by every description of his hearers, should, in the hands of a popular missionary, prevail to the extent in which mahomet succeeded by his pacific ministry? . of the institution which mahomet joined with this fundamental doctrine, and of the koran in which that institution is delivered, we discover, i think, two purposes that pervade the whole, viz., to make converts, and to make his converts soldiers. the following particulars, amongst others, may be considered as pretty evident indications of these designs: . when mahomet began to preach, his address to the jews, to the christians, and to the pagan arabs, was, that the religion which he taught was no other than what had been originally their own.--"we believe in god, and that which hath been sent down unto us, and that which hath been sent down unto abraham, and ishmael, and isaac, and jacob, and the tribes, and that which was delivered unto moses and jesus, and that which was delivered unto the prophets from their lord: we make no distinction between any of them." (sale's koran, c. ii. p. .) "he hath ordained you the religion which he commanded noah, and which we have revealed unto thee, o mohammed, and which we commanded abraham, and moses, and jesus, saying, observe this religion, and be not divided therein." (sale's koran, c. xlii. p. .) "he hath chosen you, and hath not imposed on you any difficulty in the religion which he hath given you, the religion of your father abraham." (sale's koran, c. xxii. p. .) . the author of the koran never ceases from describing the future anguish of unbelievers, their despair, regret, penitence, and torment. it is the point which he labours above all others. and these descriptions are conceived in terms which will appear in no small degree impressive, even to the modern reader of an english translation. doubtless they would operate with much greater force upon the minds of those to whom they were immediately directed. the terror which they seem well calculated to inspire would be to many tempers a powerful application. . on the other hand: his voluptuous paradise; his robes of silk, his palaces of marble, his riven, and shades, his groves and couches, his wines, his dainties; and, above all, his seventy-two virgins assigned to each of the faithful, of resplendent beauty and eternal youth--intoxicated the imaginations, and seized the passions of his eastern followers. . but mahomet's highest heaven was reserved for those who fought his battles or expended their fortunes in his cause: "those believers who sit still at home, not having any hurt, and those who employ their fortunes and their persons for the religion of god, shall not be held equal. god hath preferred those who employ their fortunes and their persons in that cause to a degree above those who sit at home. god had indeed promised every one paradise; but god had preferred those who fight for the faith before those who sit still, by adding unto them a great reward; by degrees of honour conferred upon them from him, and by granting them forgiveness and mercy." (sale's koran, c. iv. p. .) again; "do ye reckon the giving drink to the pilgrims, and the visiting of the holy temple, to be actions as meritorious as those performed by him who believeth in god and the last day, and fighteth for the religion of god? they shall not be held equal with god.--they who have believed and fled their country, and employed their substance and their persons in the defence of god's true religion, shall be in the highest degree of honour with god; and these are they who shall be happy. the lord sendeth them good tidings of mercy from him, and good will, and of gardens wherein they shall enjoy lasting pleasures. they shall continue therein for ever; for with god is a great reward." (sale's koran, c. ix. p. .) and, once more; "verily god hath purchased of the true believers their souls and their substance, promising them the enjoyment of paradise on condition that they fight for the cause of god: whether they slay or be slain, the promise for the same is assuredly due by the law and the gospel and the koran." (sale's koran, c. ix. p. .)* _________ * "the sword," saith mahomet, "is the key of heaven and of hell; a drop of blood shed in the cause of god, a night spent in arms, is of more avail than two months' fasting or prayer. whosoever falls in battle, his sins are forgiven at the day of judgment; his wounds shall be resplendent as vermilion, and odoriferous as musk; and the loss of his limbs shall be supplied by the wings of angels and cherubim." gibbon, vol. ix. p. . _________ . his doctrine of predestination was applicable, and was applied by him, to the same purpose of fortifying and of exalting the courage of his adherents.--"if anything of the matter had happened unto us, we had not been slain here. answer; if ye had been in your houses, verily they would have gone forth to fight, whose slaughter was decreed, to the places where they died." (sale's koran, c. iii. p. .) . in warm regions, the appetite of the sexes is ardent, the passion for inebriating liquors moderate. in compliance with this distinction, although mahomet laid a restraint upon the drinking of wine, in the use of women he allowed an almost unbounded indulgence. four wives, with the liberty of changing them at pleasure, (sale's koran, c. iv. p. .) together with the persons of all his captives, (gibbon, vol. ix. p. .) was an irresistible bribe to an arabian warrior. "god is minded," says he, speaking of this very subject, "to make his religion light unto you; for man was created weak." how different this from the unaccommodating purity of the gospel! how would mahomet have succeeded with the christian lesson in his mouth.--"whosoever looketh upon a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart"? it must be added, that mahomet did not venture upon the prohibition of wine till the fourth year of the hegira, or the seventeenth of his mission, when his military successes had completely established his authority. the same observation holds of the fast of the ramadan, (mod. univ. hist. vol. i. pp. & .) and of the most laborious part of his institution, the pilgrimage to mecca. (this latter, however, already prevailed amongst the arabs, and had grown out of their excessive veneration for the caaba. mahomot's law, in this respect, was rather a compliance than an innovation. sale's prelim. disc. p. .) what has hitherto been collected from the records of the musselman history relates to the twelve or thirteen years of mahomet's peaceable preaching, which part alone of his life and enterprise admits of the smallest comparison with the origin of christianity. a new scene is now unfolded. the city of medina, distant about ten days' journey from mecca, was at that time distracted by the hereditary contentions of two hostile tribes. these feuds were exasperated by the mutual persecutions of the jews and christians, and of the different christian sects by which the city was inhabited. (mod. univ. hist. vol. i. p. .) the religion of mahomet presented, in some measure, a point of union or compromise to these divided opinions. it embraced the principles which were common to them all. each party saw in it an honourable acknowledgment of the fundamental truth of their own system. to the pagan arab, somewhat imbued with the sentiments and knowledge of his jewish or christian fellow-citizen, it offered no defensive or very improbable theology. this recommendation procured to mahometanism a more favourable reception at medina than its author had been able, by twelve years' painful endeavours, to obtain for it at mecca. yet, after all, the progress of the religion was inconsiderable. his missionary could only collect a congregation of forty persons. it was not a religious, but a political association, which ultimately introduced mahomet into medina. harassed, as it should seem, and disgusted by the long continuance of factions and disputes, the inhabitants of that city saw in the admission of the prophet's authority a rest from the miseries which they had suffered, and a suppression of the violence and fury which they had learned to condemn. after an embassy, therefore, composed of believers and unbelievers, (mod. univ. hist. vol. i. p. .) and of persons of both tribes, with whom a treaty was concluded of strict alliance and support, mahomet made his public entry, and was received as the sovereign of medina. from this time, or soon after this time, the impostor changed his language and his conduct. having now a town at his command, where to arm his party, and to head them with security, he enters upon new counsels. he now pretends that a divine commission is given him to attack the infidels, to destroy idolatry, and to set up the true faith by the sword. (mod. univ. hist. vol. i. p. .) an early victory over a very superior force, achieved by conduct and bravery, established the renown of his arms, and of his personal character. (victory of bedr, mod. univ. hist. vol. i. p. .) every year after this was marked by battles or assassinations. the nature and activity of mahomet's future exertions may be estimated from the computation, that in the nine following years of his life he commanded his army in person in eight general engagements, (mod. univ. hist. vol. i. p. .) and undertook, by himself or his lieutenants, fifty military enterprises. from this time we have nothing left to account for, but that mahomet should collect an army, that his army should conquer, and that his religion should proceed together with his conquests. the ordinary experience of human affairs leaves us little to wonder at in any of these effects: and they were likewise each assisted by peculiar facilities. from all sides, the roving arabs crowded round the standard of religion and plunder, of freedom and victory, of arms and rapine. beside the highly painted joys of a carnal paradise, mahomet rewarded his followers in this world with a liberal division of the spoils, and with the persons of their female captives. (gibbon, vol. ix. p. .) the condition of arabia, occupied by small independent tribes, exposed it to the impression, and yielded to the progress of a firm and resolute army. after the reduction of his native peninsula, the weakness also of the roman provinces on the north and the west, as well as the distracted state of the persian empire on the east, facilitated the successful invasion of neighbouring countries. that mahomet's conquests should carry his religion along with them will excite little surprise, when we know the conditions which he proposed to the vanquished. death or conversion was the only choice offered to idolaters. "strike off their heads! strike off all the ends of their fingers!(sale's koran, c. viii. p. .) kill the idolaters, wheresoever ye shall find them!" (sale's koran, c. ix. p. .) to the jews and christians was left the somewhat milder alternative of subjection and tribute, if they persisted in their own religion, or of an equal participation in the rights and liberties, the honours and privileges, of the faithful, if they embraced the religion of their conquerors. "ye christian dogs, you know your option; the koran, the tribute, or the sword." (gibbon, vol. ix. p. .) the corrupted state of christianity in the seventh century, and the contentions of its sects, unhappily so fell in with men's care of their safety or their fortunes, as to induce many to forsake its profession. add to all which, that mahomet's victories not only operated by the natural effect of conquest, but that they were constantly represented, both to his friends and enemies, as divine declarations in his favour. success was evidence. prosperity carried with it, not only influence, but proof. "ye have already," says he, after the battle of bedr, "had a miracle shown you, in two armies which attacked each other; one army fought for god's true religion, but the other were infidels." (sale's koran, c. iii. p. .) again; "ye slew not those who were slain at bedr, but god slew them.--if ye desire a decision of the matter between us, now hath a decision come unto you." (sale's koran, c. viii. p. .) many more passages might be collected out of the koran to the same effect; but they are unnecessary. the success of mahometanism during this, and indeed every future period of its history, bears so little resemblance to the early propagation of christianity, that no inference whatever can justly be drawn from it to the prejudice of the christian argument. for what are we comparing? a galilean peasant accompanied by a few fishermen with a conqueror at the head of his army. we compare jesus, without force, without power, without support, without one external circumstance of attraction or influence, prevailing against the prejudices, the learning, the hierarchy, of his country; against the ancient religious opinions, the pompous religious rites, the philosophy, the wisdom, the authority, of the roman empire, in the most polished and enlightened period of its existence,--with mahomet making his way amongst arabs; collecting followers in the midst of conquests and triumphs, in the darkest ages and countries of the world, and when success in arms not only operated by that command of men's wills and persons which attend prosperous undertakings, but was considered as a sure testimony of divine approbation. that multitudes, persuaded by this argument, should join the train of a victorious chief; that still greater multitudes should, without any argument, bow down before irresistible power--is a conduct in which we cannot see much to surprise us; in which we can see nothing that resembles the causes by which the establishment of christianity was effected. the success, therefore, of mahometanism stands not in the way of this important conclusion; that the propagation of christianity, in the manner and under the circumstances in which it was propagated, is an unique in the history of the species. a jewish peasant overthrew the religion of the world. i have, nevertheless, placed the prevalency of the religion amongst the auxiliary arguments of its truth; because, whether it had prevailed or not, or whether its prevalency can or cannot be accounted for, the direct argument remains still. it is still true that a great number of men upon the spot, personally connected with the history and with the author of the religion, were induced by what they heard and saw, and knew, not only to change their former opinions, but to give up their time, and sacrifice their ease, to traverse seas and kingdoms without rest and without weariness, to commit themselves to extreme dangers, to undertake incessant toils, to undergo grievous sufferings, and all this solely in consequence, and in support, of their belief of facts, which, if true, establish the truth of the religion, which, if false, they must have known to be so. part iii. a brief consideration of some popular objections. chapter i. the discrepancies between the several gospels. i know not a more rash or unphilosophical conduct of the understanding, than to reject the substance of a story by reason of some diversity in the circumstances with which it is related. the usual character of human testimony is substantial truth under circumstantial variety. this is what the daily experience of courts of justice teaches. when accounts of a transaction come from the mouths of different witnesses, it is seldom that it is not possible to pick out apparent or real inconsistencies between them. these inconsistencies are studiously displayed by an adverse pleader, but oftentimes with little impression upon the minds of the judges. on the contrary, a close and minute agreement induces the suspicion of confederacy and fraud. when written histories touch upon the same scenes of action; the comparison almost always affords ground for a like reflection. numerous, and sometimes important, variations present themselves; not seldom, also, absolute and final contradictions; yet neither one nor the other are deemed sufficient to shake the credibility of the main fact. the embassy of the jews to deprecate the execution of claudian's order to place his statute, in their temple, philo places in harvest, josephus in seed time; both contemporary writers. no reader is led by this inconsistency to doubt whether such an embassy was sent, or whether such an order was given. our own history supplies examples of the same kind. in the account of the marquis of argyle's death, in the reign of charles the second, we have a very remarkable contradiction. lord clarendon relates that he was condemned to be hanged, which was performed the same day; on the contrary, burnet, woodrew, heath, echard, concur in stating that he was beheaded; and that he was condemned upon the saturday, and executed upon the monday. (see biog. britann.) was any reader of english history ever sceptic enough to raise from hence a question whether the marquis of argyle was executed or not? yet this ought to be left in uncertainty, according to the principles upon which the christian history has sometimes been attacked. dr. middleton contended, that the different hours of the day assigned to the crucifixion of christ, by john and by the other evangelists, did not admit of the reconcilement which learned men had proposed: and then concludes the discussion with this hard remark; "we must be forced, with several of the critics, to leave the difficulty just as we found it, chargeable with all the consequences of manifest inconsistency." (middleton's reflections answered by benson, hist. christ. vol. iii. p. .) but what are these consequences? by no means the discrediting of the history as to the principal fact, by a repugnancy (even supposing that repugnancy not to be resolvable into different modes of computation) in the time of the day in which it is said to have taken place. a great deal of the discrepancy observable in the gospels arises from omission; from a fact or a passage of christ's life being noticed by one writer which is unnoticed by another. now, omission is at all times a very uncertain ground of objection. we perceive it, not only in the comparison of different writers, but even in the same writer when compared with himself. there are a great many particulars, and some of them of importance, mentioned by josephus in his antiquities, which, as we should have supposed, ought to have been put down by him in their place in the jewish wars. (lardner, part i. vol. ii. p. , et seq.) suetonius, tacitus, dio cassius, have, all three, written of the reign of tiberius. each has mentioned many things omitted by the rest, (lardner, part i. vol. ii. p. .) yet no objection is from thence taken to the respective credit of their histories. we have in our own times, if there were not something indecorous in the comparison, the life of an eminent person written by three of his friends, in which there is very great variety in the incidents selected by them; some apparent, and perhaps some real contradictions; yet without any impeachment of the substantial truth of their accounts, of the authenticity of the books, of the competent information or general fidelity of the writers. but these discrepancies will be still more numerous, when men do not write histories, but memoirs: which is, perhaps, the true name and proper description of our gospels: that is, when they do not undertake, nor ever meant to deliver, in order of time, a regular and complete account of all the things of importance which the person who is the subject of their history did or said; but only, out of many similar ones, to give such passages, or such actions and discourses, as offered themselves more immediately to their attention, came in the way of their inquiries, occurred to their recollection, or were suggested by their particular design at the time of writing. this particular design may appear sometimes, but not always, nor often. thus i think that the particular design which saint matthew had in view whilst he was writing the history of the resurrection was to attest the faithful performance of christ's promise to his disciples to go before them into galilee; because he alone, except mark, who seems to have taken it from him, has recorded this promise, and he alone has confined his narrative to that single appearance to the disciples which fulfilled it. it was the preconcerted, the great and most public manifestation of our lord's person. it was the thing which dwelt upon saint matthew's mind, and he adapted his narrative to it. but, that there is nothing in saint matthew's language which negatives other appearances, or which imports that this his appearance to his disciples in galilee, in pursuance of his promise, was his first or only appearance, is made pretty evident by saint mark's gospel, which uses the same terms concerning the appearance in galilee as saint matthew uses, yet itself records two other appearances prior to this: "go your way, tell his disciples and peter, that he goeth before you into galilee: there shall ye see him as he said unto you" (xvi. ). we might be apt to infer from these words, that this was the first time they were to see him; at least, we might infer it, with as much reason as we draw the inference from the same words in matthew: the historian himself did not perceive that he was leading his readers to any such conclusion; for, in the twelfth and following verses of this chapter, he informs us of two appearances, which, by comparing the order of events, are shown to have been prior to the appearance in galilee. "he appeared in another form unto two of them, as they walked, and went into the country; and they went and told it unto the residue, neither believed they them: afterwards he appeared unto the eleven, as they sat at meat, and upbraided them with their unbelief, because they believed not them that had seen him after he was risen." probably the same observation, concerning the particular design which guided the historian, may be of use in comparing many other passages of the gospels. chapter ii. erroneous opinions imputed to the apostles. a species of candour which is shown towards every other book is sometimes refused to the scriptures: and that is, the placing of a distinction between judgment and testimony. we do not usually question the credit of a writer, by reason of an opinion he may have delivered upon subjects unconnected with his evidence: and even upon subjects connected with his account, or mixed with it in the same discourse or writing, we naturally separate facts from opinions, testimony from observation, narrative from argument. to apply this equitable consideration to the christian records, much controversy and much objection has been raised concerning the quotations of the old testament found in the new; some of which quotations, it is said, are applied in a sense and to events apparently different from that which they bear, and from those to which they belong in the original. it is probable, to my apprehension, that many of those quotations were intended by the writers of the new testament as nothing more than accommodations. they quoted passages of their scripture which suited, and fell in with, the occasion before them, without always undertaking to assert that the occasion was in the view of the author of the words. such accommodations of passages from old authors, from books especially which are in every one's hands, are common with writers of all countries; but in none, perhaps, were more to be expected than in the writings of the jews, whose literature was almost entirely confined to their scriptures. those prophecies which are alleged with more solemnity, and which are accompanied with a precise declaration that they originally respected the event then related, are, i think, truly alleged. but were it otherwise; is the judgment of the writers of the new testament, in interpreting passages of the old, or sometimes, perhaps, in receiving established interpretations, so connected either with their veracity, or with their means of information concerning what was passing in their own times, as that a critical mistake, even were it clearly made out, should overthrow their historical credit?--does it diminish it? has it anything to do with it? another error imputed to the first christians was the expected approach of the day of judgment. i would introduce this objection by a remark upon what appears to me a somewhat similar example. our saviour, speaking to peter of john, said, "if i will that he tarry till i come, what is that to thee?"' (john xxi. .) these words we find had been so misconstrued, as that a report from thence "went abroad among the brethren, that that disciple should not die." suppose that this had come down to us amongst the prevailing opinions of the early christians, and that the particular circumstance from which the mistake sprang had been lost (which, humanly speaking, was most likely to have been the case), some, at this day, would have been ready to regard and quote the error as an impeachment of the whole christian system. yet with how little justice such a conclusion would have been drawn, or rather such a presumption taken up, the information which we happen to possess enables us now to perceive. to those who think that the scriptures lead us to believe that the early christians, and even the apostles, expected the approach of the day of judgment in their own times, the same reflection will occur as that which we have made with respect to the more partial, perhaps, and temporary, but still no less ancient, error concerning the duration of saint john's life. it was an error, it may be likewise said, which would effectually hinder those who entertained it from acting the part of impostors. the difficulty which attends the subject of the present chapter is contained in this question; if we once admit the fallibility of the apostolic judgment, where are we to stop, or in what can we rely upon it? to which question, as arguing with unbelievers, and as arguing for the substantial truth of the christian history, and for that alone, it is competent to the advocate of christianity to reply, give me the apostles' testimony, and i do not stand in need of their judgment; give me the facts, and i have complete security for every conclusion i want. but, although i think that it is competent to the christian apologist to return this answer, i do not think that it is the only answer which the objection is capable of receiving. the two following cautions, founded, i apprehend, in the most reasonable distinctions, will exclude all uncertainty upon this head which can be attended with danger. first, to separate what was the object of the apostolic mission, and declared by them to be so, from what was extraneous to it, or only incidentally connected with it. of points clearly extraneous to the religion nothing need be said. of points incidentally connected with it something may be added. demoniacal possession is one of these points: concerning the reality of which, as this place will not admit the examination, nor even the production of the argument on either side of the question, it would be arrogance in me to deliver any judgment. and it is unnecessary. for what i am concerned to observe is, that even they who think it was a general, but erroneous opinion of those times; and that the writers of the new testament, in common with other jewish writers of that age, fell into the manner of speaking and of thinking upon the subject which then universally prevailed, need not be alarmed by the concession, as though they had anything to fear from it for the truth of christianity. the doctrine was not what christ brought into the world. it appears in the christian records, incidentally and accidentally, as being the subsisting opinion of the age and country in which his ministry was exercised. it was no part of the object of his revelation, to regulate men's opinions concerning the action of spiritual substances upon animal bodies. at any rate it is unconnected with testimony. if a dumb person was by a word restored to the use of his speech, it signifies little to what cause the dumbness was ascribed; and the like of every other cure wrought upon these who are said to have been possessed. the malady was real, the cure was real, whether the popular explication of the cause was well founded or not. the matter of fact, the change, so far as it was an object of sense, or of testimony, was in either case the same. secondly, that, in reading the apostolic writings, we distinguish between their doctrines and their arguments. their doctrines came to them by revelation properly so called; yet in propounding these doctrines in their writings or discourses they were wont to illustrate, support, and enforce them by such analogies, arguments, and considerations as their own thoughts suggested. thus the call of the gentiles, that is, the admission of the gentiles to the christian profession without a previous subjection to the law of moses, was imported to the apostles by revelation, and was attested by the miracles which attended the christian ministry among them. the apostles' own assurance of the matter rested upon this foundation. nevertheless, saint paul, when treating of the subject, often a great variety of topics in its proof and vindication. the doctrine itself must be received: but it is not necessary, in order to defend christianity, to defend the propriety of every comparison, or the validity of every argument, which the apostle has brought into the discussion. the same observation applies to some other instances, and is, in my opinion, very well founded; "when divine writers argue upon any point, we are always bound to believe the conclusions that their reasonings end in, as parts of divine revelation: but we are not bound to be able to make out, or even to assent to all the premises made use of by them, in their whole extent, unless it appear plainly, that they affirm the premises as expressly as they do the conclusions proved by them." (burnets expos. art. .) chapter iii. the connexion of christianity with the jewish history. undoubtedly our saviour assumes the divine origin of the mosaic institution: and, independently of his authority, i conceive it to be very difficult to assign any other cause for the commencement or existence of that institution; especially for the singular circumstance of the jews adhering to the unity when every other people slid into polytheism; for their being men in religion, children in everything else; behind other nations in the arts of peace and war, superior to the most improved in their sentiments and doctrines relating to the deity.* _________ * "in the doctrine, for example, of the unity, the eternity, the omnipotence, the omniscience, the omnipresence, the wisdom, and the goodness of god; in their opinions concerning providence, and the creation, preservation, and government of the world." campbell on mir. p. . to which we may add, in the acts of their religion not being accompanied either with cruelties or impurities: in the religion itself being free from a species of superstition which prevailed universally in the popular religions of the ancient world, and which is to be found perhaps in all religions that have their origin in human artifice and credulity, viz. fanciful connexions between certain appearances and actions, and the destiny of nations or individuals. upon these conceits rested the whole train of auguries and auspices, which formed so much even of the serious part of the religions of greece and rome, and of the charms and incantations which were practised in those countries by the common people. from everything of this sort the religion of the jews, and of the jews alone, was free. vide. priestley's lectures on the truth of the jewish and christian revelation; . _________ undoubtedly, also, our saviour recognises the prophetic character of many of their ancient writers. so far, therefore, we are bound as christians to go. but to make christianity answerable, with its life, for the circumstantial truth of each separate passage of the old testament, the genuineness of every book, the information, fidelity, and judgment of every writer in it, is to bring, i will not say great, but unnecessary difficulties into the whole system. these books were universally read and received by the jews of our saviour's time. he and his apostles, in common with all other jews, referred to them, alluded to them, used them. yet, except where he expressly ascribes a divine authority to particular predictions, i do not know that we can strictly draw any conclusion from the books being so used and applied, beside the proof, which it unquestionably is, of their notoriety and reception at that time. in this view, our scriptures afford a valuable testimony to those of the jews. but the nature of this testimony ought to be understood. it is surely very different from what it is sometimes represented to be, a specific ratification of each particular fact and opinion; and not only of each particular fact, but of the motives assigned for every action, together with the judgment of praise or dispraise bestowed upon them. saint james, in his epistle, says, "ye have heard of the patience of job, and have seen the end of the lord." notwithstanding this text, the reality of job's history, and even the existence of such a person, have been always deemed a fair subject of inquiry and discussion amongst christian divines. saint james's authority is considered as good evidence of the existence of the book of job at that time, and of its reception by the jews; and of nothing more. saint paul, in his second epistle to timothy, has this similitude: "now, as jannes and jambres withstood moses, so do these also resist the truth." these names are not found in the old testament. and it is uncertain whether saint paul took them from some apocryphal writing then extant, or from tradition. but no one ever imagined that saint paul is here asserting the authority of the writing, if it was a written account which he quoted, or making himself answerable for the authenticity of the tradition; much less that he so involves himself with either of these questions as that the credit of his own history and mission should depend upon the fact whether jannes and jambres withstood moses or not. for what reason a more rigorous interpretation should be put upon other references it is difficult to know. i do not mean, that other passages of the jewish history stand upon no better evidence than the history of job, or of jannes and jambres (i think much otherwise); but i mean, that a reference in the new testament to a passage in the old does not so fix its authority as to exclude all inquiry into its credibility, or into the separate reasons upon which that credibility is founded; and that it is an unwarrantable as well as unsafe rule to lay down concerning the jewish history, what was never laid down concerning any other, that either every particular of it must be true, or the whole false. i have thought it necessary to state this point explicitly, because a fashion, revived by voltaire, and pursued by the disciples of his school, seems to have much prevailed of late, of attacking christianity through the sides of judaism. some objections of this class are founded in misconstruction, some in exaggeration; but all proceed upon a supposition, which has not been made out by argument, viz. that the attestation which the author and first teachers of christianity gave to the divine mission of moses and the prophets extends to every point and portion of the jewish history; and so extends as to make christianity responsible, in its own credibility, for the circumstantial truth (i had almost said for the critical exactness) of every narrative contained in the old testament. chapter iv. rejection of christianity. we acknowledge that the christian religion, although it converted great numbers, did not produce an universal, or even a general conviction in the minds of men of the age and countries in which it appeared. and this want of a more complete and extensive success is called the rejection of the christian history and miracles; and has been thought by some to form a strong objection to the reality of the facts which the history contains. the matter of the objection divides itself into two parts; as it relates to the jews, and as it relates to heathen nations: because the minds of these two descriptions of men may have been, with respect to christianity, under the influence of very different causes. the case of the jews, inasmuch as our saviour's ministry was originally addressed to them, offers itself first to our consideration. now upon the subject of the truth of the christian religion; with us there is but one question, viz., whether the miracles were actually wrought? from acknowledging the miracles, we pass instantaneously to the acknowledgment of the whole. no doubt lies between the premises and the conclusion. if we believe the works of any one of them, we believe in jesus. and this order of reasoning has become so universal and familiar that we do not readily apprehend how it could ever have been otherwise. yet it appears to me perfectly certain, that the state of thought in the mind of a jew of our saviour's age was totally different from this. after allowing the reality of the miracle, he had a great deal to do to persuade himself that jesus was the messiah. this is clearly intimated by various passages of the gospel history. it appears that, in the apprehension of the writers of the new testament, the miracles did not irresistibly carry even those who saw them to the conclusion intended to be drawn from them; or so compel assent, as to leave no room for suspense, for the exercise of candour, or the effects of prejudice. and to this point, at least, the evangelists may he allowed to be good witnesses; because it is a point in which exaggeration or disguise would have been the other way. their accounts, if they could he suspected of falsehood, would rather have magnified than diminished the effects of the miracles. john vii. -- . "jesus answered and said unto them, i have done one work, and ye all marvel.--if a man on the sabbath-day receive circumcision, that the law of moses should not be broken; are ye angry at me, because i have made a man every whit whole on the sabbath-day? judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment. then said some of them of jerusalem, is not this he whom they seek to kill? but lo, he speaketh boldly, and they say nothing to him: do the rulers know indeed that this is the very christ? howbeit we know this man, whence he is: but when christ cometh, no man knoweth whence he is. then cried jesus in the temple as he taught, saying, ye both know me, and ye know whence i am: and i am not come of myself, but he that sent me is true, whom ye know not. but i know him, for i am from him, and he hath sent me. then they sought to take him: but no man laid hands on him, because his hour was not yet come. and many of the people believed on him and said, when christ cometh, will he do more miracles than those which this man hath done?" this passage is very observable. it exhibits the reasoning of different sorts of persons upon the occasion of a miracle which persons of all sorts are represented to have acknowledged as real. one sort of men thought that there was something very extraordinary in all this; but that still jesus could not be the christ, because there was a circumstance in his appearance which militated with an opinion concerning christ in which they had been brought up, and of the truth of which, it is probable, they had never entertained a particle of doubt, viz. that "when christ cometh, no man knoweth whence he is." another sort were inclined to believe him to be the messiah. but even these did not argue as we should; did not consider the miracle as of itself decisive of the question; as what, if once allowed, excluded all further debate upon the subject; but founded their opinion upon a kind of comparative reasoning, "when christ cometh, will he do more miracles than those which this man hath done?" another passage in the same evangelist, and observable for the same purpose, is that in which he relates the resurrection of lazarus; "jesus," he tells us (xi. , ), "when he had thus spoken, cried with a loud voice, lazarus, come forth: and he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes, and his face was bound about with a napkin. jesus saith unto them, loose him, and let him go." one might have suspected, that at least all those who stood by the sepulchre, when lazarus was raised, would have believed in jesus. yet the evangelist does not so represent it:--"then many of the jews which came to mary, and had seen the things which jesus did, believed on him; but some of them went their ways to the pharisees, and told them what things jesus had done." we cannot suppose that the evangelist meant by this account to leave his readers to imagine, that any of the spectators doubted about the truth of the miracle. far from it. unquestionably, he states the miracle to have been fully allowed; yet the persons who allowed it were, according to his representation, capable of retaining hostile sentiments towards jesus. "believing in jesus" was not only to believe that he wrought miracles, but that he was the messiah. with us there is no difference between these two things; with them there was the greatest; and the difference is apparent in this transaction. if saint john has represented the conduct of the jews upon this occasion truly (and why he should not i cannot tell, for it rather makes against him than for him), it shows clearly the principles upon which their judgment proceeded. whether he has related the matter truly or not, the relation itself discovers the writer's own opinion of those principles: and that alone possesses considerable authority. in the next chapter, we have a reflection of the evangelist entirely suited to this state of the case: "but though he had done so many miracles before them, yet believed they not on him." (chap. xii. .) the evangelist does not mean to impute the defect of their belief to any doubt about the miracles, but to their not perceiving, what all now sufficiently perceive, and what they would have perceived had not their understandings been governed by strong prejudices, the infallible attestation which the works of jesus bore to the truth of his pretensions. the ninth chapter of saint john's gospel contains a very circumstantial account of the cure of a blind man; a miracle submitted to all the scrutiny and examination which a sceptic could propose. if a modern unbeliever had drawn up the interrogatories, they could hardly have been more critical or searching. the account contains also a very curious conference between the jewish rulers and the patient, in which the point for our present notice is, their resistance of the force of the miracle, and of the conclusion to which it led, after they had failed in discrediting its evidence. "we know that god spake unto moses, but as for this fellow, we know not whence he is." that was the answer which set their minds at rest. and by the help of much prejudice, and great unwillingness to yield, it might do so. in the mind of the poor man restored to sight, which was under no such bias, and felt no such reluctance, the miracle had its natural operation. "herein," says he, "is a marvellous thing, that ye know not from whence he is, yet he hath opened mine eyes. now we know that god heareth not sinners: but if any man be a worshipper of god, and doeth his will, him he heareth. since the world began, was it not heard, that any man opened the eyes of one that was born blind. if this man were not of god, he could do nothing." we do not find that the jewish rulers had any other reply to make to this defence, than that which authority is sometimes apt to make to argument, "dost thou teach us?" if it shall be inquired how a turn of thought, so different from what prevails at present, should obtain currency with the ancient jews; the answer is found in two opinions which are proved to have subsisted in that age and country. the one was their expectation of a messiah of a kind totally contrary to what the appearance of jesus bespoke him to be; the other, their persuasion of the agency of demons in the production of supernatural effects. these opinions are not supposed by us for the purpose of argument, but are evidently recognised in the jewish writings as well as in ours. and it ought moreover to be considered, that in these opinions the jews of that age had been from their infancy brought up; that they were opinions, the grounds of which they had probably few of them inquired into, and of the truth of which they entertained no doubt. and i think that these two opinions conjointly afford an explanation of their conduct. the first put them upon seeking out some excuse to themselves for not receiving jesus in the character in which he claimed to be received; and the second supplied them with just such an excuse as they wanted. let jesus work what miracles he would, still the answer was in readiness, "that he wrought them by the assistance of beelzebub." and to this answer no reply could be made, but that which our saviour did make, by showing that the tendency of his mission was so adverse to the views with which this being was, by the objectors themselves, supposed to act, that it could not reasonably be supposed that he would assist in carrying it on. the power displayed in the miracles did not alone refute the jewish solution, because the interposition of invisible agents being once admitted, it is impossible to ascertain the limits by which their efficiency is circumscribed. we of this day may be disposed possibly to think such opinions too absurd to have been ever seriously entertained. i am not bound to contend for the credibility of the opinions. they were at least as reasonable as the belief in witchcraft. they were opinions in which the jews of that age had from their infancy been instructed; and those who cannot see enough in the force of this reason to account for their conduct towards our saviour, do not sufficiently consider how such opinions may sometimes become very general in a country, and with what pertinacity, when once become so, they are for that reason alone adhered to. in the suspense which these notions and the prejudices resulting from them might occasion, the candid and docile and humble-minded would probably decide in christ's favour; the proud and obstinate, together with the giddy and the thoughtless, almost universally against him. this state of opinion discovers to us also the reason of what some choose to wonder at, why the jews should reject miracles when they saw them, yet rely so much upon the tradition of them in their own history. it does not appear that it had ever entered into the minds of those who lived in the time of moses and the prophets to ascribe their miracles to the supernatural agency of evil being. the solution was not then invented. the authority of moses and the prophets being established, and become the foundation of the national polity and religion, it was not probable that the later jews, brought up in a reverence for that religion, and the subjects of that polity, should apply to their history a reasoning which tended to overthrow the foundation of both. ii. the infidelity of the gentile world, and that more especially of men of rank and learning in it, is resolvable into a principle which, in my judgment, will account for the inefficacy of any argument or any evidence whatever, viz. contempt prior to examination. the state of religion amongst the greeks and romans had a natural tendency to induce this disposition. dionysius halicarnassensis remarks, that there were six hundred different kinds of religions or sacred rites exercised at rome. (jortin's remarks on eccl. hist. vol. i. p. .) the superior classes of the community treated them all as fables. can we wonder, then, that christianity was included in the number, without inquiry into its separate merits, or the particular grounds of its pretensions? it might be either true or false for anything they knew about it. the religion had nothing in its character which immediately engaged their notice. it mixed with no politics. it produced no fine writers. it contained no curious speculations. when it did reach their knowledge, i doubt not but that it appeared to them a very strange system,--so unphilosophical,--dealing so little in argument and discussion, in such arguments however and discussions as they were accustomed to entertain. what is said of jesus christ, of his nature, office, and ministry, would be in the highest degree alien from the conceptions of their theology. the redeemer and the destined judge of the human race a poor young man, executed at jerusalem with two thieves upon a cross! still more would the language in which the christian doctrine was delivered be dissonant and barbarous to their ears. what knew they of grace, of redemption, of justification, of the blood of christ shed for the sins of men, of reconcilement, of mediation? christianity was made up of points they had never thought of; of terms which they had never heard. it was presented also to the imagination of the learned heathen under additional disadvantage, by reason of its real, and still more of its nominal, connexion with judaism. it shared in the obloquy and ridicule with which that people and their religion were treated by the greeks and romans. they regarded jehovah himself only as the idol of the jewish nation, and what was related of him as of a piece with what was told of the tutelar deities of other countries; nay, the jews were in a particular manner ridiculed for being a credulous race; so that whatever reports of a miraculous nature came out of that country were looked upon by the heathen world as false and frivolous. when they heard of christianity, they heard of it as a quarrel amongst this people about some articles of their own superstition. despising, therefore, as they did, the whole system, it was not probable that they would enter, with any degree of seriousness or attention, into the detail of its disputes or the merits of either side. how little they knew, and with what carelessness they judged of these matters, appears, i think, pretty plainly from an example of no less weight than that of tacitus, who, in a grave and professed discourse upon the history of the jews, states that they worshipped the effigy of an ass. (tacit. hist. lib. v. c. .) the passage is a proof how prone the learned men of those times were, and upon how little evidence, to heap together stories which might increase the contempt and odium in which that people was holden. the same foolish charge is also confidently repeated by plutarch. (sympos. lib. iv. quaest. .) it is observable that all these considerations are of a nature to operate with the greatest force upon the highest ranks; upon men of education, and that order of the public from which writers are principally taken: i may add also upon the philosophical as well as the libertine character; upon the antonines or julian, not less than upon nero or domitian; and, more particularly, upon that large and polished class of men who acquiesced in the general persuasion, that all they had to do was to practise the duties of morality, and to worship the deity more patrio; a habit of thinking, liberal as it may appear, which shuts the door against every argument for a new religion. the considerations above mentioned would acquire also strength from the prejudices which men of rank and learning universally entertain against anything that originates with the vulgar and illiterate; which prejudice is known to be as obstinate as any prejudice whatever. yet christianity was still making its way: and, amidst so many impediments to its progress, so much difficulty in procuring audience and attention, its actual success is more to be wondered at, than that it should not have universally conquered scorn and indifference, fixed the levity of a voluptuous age, or, through a cloud of adverse prejudications, opened for itself a passage to the hearts and understandings of the scholars of the age. and the cause which is here assigned for the rejection of christianity by men of rank and learning among the heathens, namely, a strong antecedent contempt, accounts also for their silence concerning it. if they had rejected it upon examination, they would have written about it; they would have given their reasons. whereas, what men repudiate upon the strength of some prefixed persuasion, or from a settled contempt of the subject, of the persons who propose it, or of the manner in which it is proposed, they do not naturally write books about, or notice much in what they write upon other subjects. the letters of the younger pliny furnish an example of this silence, and let us, in some measure, into the cause of it. from his celebrated correspondence with trajan, we know that the christian religion prevailed in a very considerable degree in the province over which he presided; that it had excited his attention; that he had inquired into the matter just so much as a roman magistrate might be expected to inquire, viz., whether the religion contained any opinions dangerous to government; but that of its doctrines, its evidences, or its books, he had not taken the trouble to inform himself with any degree of care or correctness. but although pliny had viewed christianity in a nearer position than most of his learned countrymen saw it in, yet he had regarded the whole with such negligence and disdain (further than as it seemed to concern his administration), that, in more than two hundred and forty letters of his which have come down to us, the subject is never once again mentioned. if, out of this number, the two letters between him and trajan had been lost, with what confidence would the obscurity of the christian religion have been argued from pliny's silence about it, and with how little truth! the name and character which tacitus has given to christianity, "exitiabilis superstitio" (a pernicious superstition), and by which two words he disposes of the whole question of the merits or demerits of the religion, afford a strong proof how little he knew, or concerned himself to know, about the matter. i apprehend that i shall not be contradicted, when i take upon me to assert, that no unbeliever of the present age would apply this epithet to the christianity of the new testament, or not allow that it was entirely unmerited. read the instructions given by a great teacher of the religion to those very roman converts of whom tacitus speaks; and given also a very few years before the time of which he is speaking; and which are not, let it be observed, a collection of fine sayings brought together from different parts of a large work, but stand in one entire passage of a public letter, without the intermixture of a single thought which is frivolous or exceptionable:--"abhor that which is evil, cleave to that which is good. be kindly affectioned one to another, with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another; not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the lord; rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer; distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality. bless them which persecute you; bless, and curse not. rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. be of the same mind one towards another. mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate. be not wise in your own conceits. recompense to no man evil for evil. provide things honest in the sight of all men. if it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, vengeance is mine; i will repay, saith the lord: therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for, in so doing, thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good. "let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. for there is no power but of god: the powers that be are ordained of god. whosoever, therefore, resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of god: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation. for rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. wilt thou then not be afraid of the power? do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same: for he is the minister of god to thee for good. but if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of god, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil. wherefore ye must needs be subject, not only for wrath, but also for conscience' sake. for, for this cause pay ye tribute also: for they are god's ministers, attending continually upon this very thing. render therefore to all their dues; tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour. "owe no man anything, but to love one another; for he that loveth another, hath fulfilled the law. for this, thou shalt not commit adultery, thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not bear false witness, thou shalt not covet; and if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. love worketh no ill to his neighbour; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law. "and that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed. the night is far spent, the day is at hand; let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light. let us walk honestly as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying." (romans, xii. --xiii. .) read this, and then think of "exitiabilis superstitio!" or, if we be not allowed, in contending with heathen authorities, to produce our books against theirs, we may at least be permitted to confront theirs with one another. of this "pernicious superstition" what could pliny find to blame, when he was led, by his office, to institute something like an examination into the conduct and principles of the sect? he discovered nothing but that they were went to meet together on a stated day before it was light, and sing among themselves a hymn to christ as a god, and to bind themselves by an oath, not to the commission of any wickedness, but, not to be guilty of theft, robbery, or adultery; never to falsify their word, nor to deny a pledge committed to them, when called upon to return it. upon the words of tacitus we may build the following observations: first; that we are well warranted in calling the view under which the learned men of that age beheld christianity an obscure and distant view. had tacitus known more of christianity, of its precepts, duties, constitution, or design, however he had discredited the story, he would have respected the principle. he would have described the religion differently, though he had rejected it. it has been very satisfactorily shown, that the "superstition" of the christians consisted in worshipping a person unknown to the roman calendar; and that the "perniciousness" with which they were reproached was nothing else but their opposition to the established polytheism; and this view of the matter was just such an one as might be expected to occur to a mind which held the sect in too much contempt to concern itself about the grounds and reasons of their conduct. secondly; we may from hence remark how little reliance can be placed upon the most acute judgments in subjects which they are pleased to despise; and which, of course, they from the first consider as unworthy to be inquired into. had not christianity survived to tell its own story, it must have gone down to posterity as a "pernicious superstition;" and that upon the credit of tacitus's account, much, i doubt not, strengthened by the name of the writer, and the reputation of his sagacity. thirdly; that this contempt, prior to examination, is an intellectual vice, from which the greatest faculties of mind are not free. i know not, indeed, whether men of the greatest faculties of mind are not the most subject to it. such men feel themselves seated upon an eminence. looking down from their height upon the follies of mankind, they behold contending tenets wasting their idle strength upon one another with the common disdain of the absurdity of them all. this habit of thought, however comfortable to the mind which entertain it, or however natural to great parts, is extremely dangerous; and more apt than almost any other disposition to produce hasty and contemptuous, and, by consequence, erroneous judgments, both of persons and opinions. fourthly; we need not be surprised at many writers of that age not mentioning christianity at all, when they who did mention it appear to have entirely misconceived its nature and character; and, in consequence of this misconception, to have regarded it with negligence and contempt. to the knowledge of the greatest part of the learned heathens, the facts of the christian history could only come by report. the books, probably, they had never looked into. the settled habit of their minds was, and long had been, an indiscriminate rejection of all reports of the kind. with these sweeping conclusions truth hath no chance. it depends upon distinction. if they would not inquire, how should they be convinced? it might be founded in truth, though they, who made no search, might not discover it. "men of rank and fortune, of wit and abilities, are often found, even in christian countries, to be surprisingly ignorant of religion, and of everything that relates to it. such were many of the heathens. their thoughts were all fixed upon other things; upon reputation and glory, upon wealth and power, upon luxury and pleasure, upon business or learning. they thought, and they had reason to think, that the religion of their country was fable and forgery, a heap of inconsistent lies; which inclined them to suppose that other religions were no better. hence it came to pass, that when the apostles preached the gospel, and wrought miracles in confirmation of a doctrine every way worthy of god, many gentiles knew little or nothing of it, and would not take the least pains to inform themselves about it. this appears plainly from ancient history." (jortin's disc. on the christ. rel. p. , ed. th.) i think it by no means unreasonable to suppose that the heathen public, especially that part which is made up of men of rank and education, were divided into two classes; these who despised christianity beforehand, and those who received it. in correspondency with which division of character the writers of that age would also be of two classes; those who were silent about christianity, and those who were christians. "a good man, who attended sufficiently to the christian affairs, would become a christian; after which his testimony ceased to be pagan and became christian." (hartley, obs. p. .) i must also add, that i think it sufficiently proved, that the notion of magic was resorted to by the heathen adversaries of christianity, in like manner as that of diabolical agency had before been by the jews. justin martyr alleges this as his reason for arguing from prophecy rather than from miracles. origen imputes this evasion to celsus; jerome to porphyry; and lactantius to the heathen in general. the several passages which contain these testimonies will be produced in the next chapter. it being difficult, however, to ascertain in what degree this notion prevailed, especially the superior ranks of the heathen communities, another, and think an adequate, cause has been assigned for their infidelity. it is probable that in many cases the two causes would together. chapter v. that the christian miracles are not recited, or appealed to, by early christian writers themselves so fully or frequently as might have been expected. i shall consider this objection, first, as it applies to the letters of the apostles preserved in the new testament; and secondly, as it applies to the remaining writings of other early christians. the epistles of the apostles are either hortatory or argumentative. so far as they were occupied in delivering lessons of duty, rules of public order, admonitions against certain prevailing corruptions, against vice, or any particular species of it, or in fortifying and encouraging the constancy of the disciples under the trials to which they were exposed, there appears to be no place or occasion for more of these references than we actually find. so far as these epistles are argumentative, the nature of the argument which they handle accounts for the infrequency of these allusions. these epistles were not written to prove the truth of christianity. the subject under consideration was not that which the miracles decided, the reality of our lord's mission; but it was that which the miracles did not decide, the nature of his person or power, the design of his advent, its effects, and of those effects the value, kind, and extent. still i maintain that miraculous evidence lies at the bottom of the argument. for nothing could be so preposterous as for the disciples of jesus to dispute amongst themselves, or with others, concerning his office or character; unless they believed that he had shown, by supernatural proofs, that there was something extraordinary in both. miraculous evidence, therefore, forming not the texture of these arguments, but the ground and substratum, if it be occasionally discerned, if it be incidentally appealed to, it is exactly so much as ought take place, supposing the history to be true. as a further answer to the objection, that the apostolic epistles do not contain so frequent, or such direct and circumstantial recitals of miracles as might be expected, i would add, that the apostolic epistles resemble in this respect the apostolic speeches, which speeches are given by a writer who distinctly records numerous miracles wrought by these apostles themselves, and by the founder of the institution in their presence; that it is unwarrantable to contend that the omission, or infrequency, of such recitals in the speeches of the apostles negatives the existence of the miracles, when the speeches are given in immediate conjunction with the history of those miracles: and that a conclusion which cannot be inferred from the speeches without contradicting the whole tenour of the book which contains them cannot be inferred from letters, which in this respect are similar only to the speeches. to prove the similitude which we allege, it may be remarked, that although in saint luke's gospel the apostle peter is represented to have been present at many decisive miracles wrought by christ; and although the second part of the same history ascribes other decisive miracles to peter himself, particularly the cure of the lame man at the gate of the temple (acts iii. ), the death of ananias and sapphira (acts v. ), the cure of aeneas (acts ix. ), the resurrection of dorcas (acts ix. ); yet out of six speeches of peter, preserved in the acts, i know but two in which reference is made to the miracles wrought by christ, and only one in which he refers to miraculous powers possessed by himself. in his speech upon the day of pentecost, peter addresses his audience with great solemnity thus: "ye men of israel, hear these words: jesus of nazareth, a man approved of god among you, by miracles, and wonders, and signs, which god did by him in the midst of you, as ye yourselves also know:" (acts ii. .) &c. in his speech upon the conversion of cornelius, he delivers his testimony to the miracles performed by christ in these words: "we are witnesses of all things which he did, both in the land of the jews and in jerusalem." (acts x. .) but in this latter speech no allusion appears to the miracles wrought by himself notwithstanding that the miracles above enumerated all preceded the time in which it was delivered. in his speech upon the election of matthias, (acts i. .) no distinct reference is made to any of the miracles of christ's history except his resurrection. the same also may be observed of his speech upon the cure of the lame man at the of the temple; (acts iii. .) the same in his speech before the sanhedrim; (acts iv. .) the same in his second apology in the presence of that assembly stephen's long speech contains no reference whatever to miracles, though it be expressly related of him, in the book which preserves the speech, and almost immediately before the speech, "that he did great wonders and miracles among the people." (acts vi. .) again, although miracles be expressly attributed to saint paul in the acts of the apostles, first generally, as at iconium (acts xiv. ), during the whole tour through the upper asia (xiv. ; xv. ), at ephesus (xix. , ); secondly, in specific instances, as the blindness of elymas at paphos, (acts xiii. .) the cure of the cripple at lystra, (acts xiv. .) of the pythoness at philippi, (acts xvi. .) the miraculous liberation from prison in the same city, (acts xvi. .) the restoration of eutychus, (acts xx. .) the predictions of his shipwreck, (acts xxvii. .) the viper at melita, the cure of publius's father; (acts xxvii. .) at all which miracles, except the first two, the historian himself was present: notwithstanding, i say, this positive ascription of miracles to st. paul, yet in the speeches delivered by him, and given as delivered by him, in the same book in which the miracles are related, and the miraculous powers asserted, the appeals to his own miracles, or indeed to any miracles at all, are rare and incidental. in his speech at antioch in pisidia, (acts xiii. .) there is no allusion but to the resurrection. in his discourse at miletus, (acts xx. .) none to any miracle: none in his speech before felix; (acts xxiv. .) none in his speech before festus; (acts xxv. .) except to christ's resurrection and his own conversion. agreeably hereunto, in thirteen letters ascribed to saint paul, we have incessant references to christ's resurrection, frequent references to his own conversion, three indubitable references to the miracles which he wrought; (gal. iii. ; rom. xv. , ; cor. xii. .) four other references to the same, less direct, yet highly probable; ( cor. ii. , ; eph. iii. ; gal. ii. ; thess. i. .) but more copious or circumstantial recitals we have not. the consent, therefore, between saint paul's speeches and letters is in this respect sufficiently exact; and the reason in both is the same, namely, that the miraculous history was all along presupposed, and that the question which occupied the speaker's and the writer's thoughts was this: whether, allowing the history of jesus to be true, he was, upon the strength of it, to be received as the promised messiah; and, if he was, what were the consequences, what was the object and benefit of his mission? the general observation which has been made upon the apostolic writings, namely, that the subject of which they treated did not lead them to any direct recital of the christian history, belongs to the writings of the apostolic fathers. the epistle of barnabas is, in its subject and general composition, much like the epistle to the hebrews; an allegorical application of divers passages of the jewish history, of their law and ritual, to those parts of the christian dispensation in which the author perceived a resemblance. the epistle of clement was written for the sole purpose of quieting certain dissensions that had arisen amongst the members of the church of corinth, and of reviving in their minds that temper and spirit of which their predecessors in the gospel had left them an example. the work of hermas is a vision; quotes neither the old testament nor the new, and merely falls now and then into the language and the mode of speech which the author had read in our gospels. the epistles of polycarp and ignatius had for their principal object the order and discipline of the churches which they addressed. yet, under all these circumstances of disadvantage, the great points of the christian history are fully recognised. this hath been shown in its proper place. (vide supra, pp. - . [part , chapter ]) there is, however, another class of writers to whom the answer above given, viz. the unsuitableness of any such appeals or references as the objection demands to the subjects of which the writings treated, does not apply; and that is the class of ancient apologists, whose declared design it was to defend christianity, and to give the reasons of their adherence to it. it is necessary, therefore, to inquire how the matter of the objection stands in these. the most ancient apologist of whose works we have the smallest knowledge is quadratus. quadratus lived about seventy years after the ascension, and presented his apology to the emperor adrian. from a passage of this work, preserved in eusebius, it appears that the author did directly and formally appeal to the miracles of christ, and in terms as express and confident as we could desire. the passage (which has been once already stated) is as follows: "the works of our saviour were always conspicuous, for they were real: both they that were healed, and they that were raised from the dead, were seen, not only when they were healed or raised, but for a long time afterwards; not only whilst he dwelled on this earth, but also after his departure, and for a good while after it; insomuch as that some of them have reached to our times," (euseb. hist. i. iv. c. .) nothing can be more rational or satisfactory than this. justin martyr, the next of the christian apologists, whose work is not lost, and who followed quadratus at the distance of about thirty years, has touched upon passages of christ's history in so many places, that a tolerably complete account of christ's life might be collected out of his works. in the following quotation he asserts the performance of miracles by christ, in words as strong and positive as the language possesses: "christ healed those who from their birth were blind, and deaf, and lame; causing, by his word, one to leap, another to hear, and a third to see; and having raised the dead, and caused them to live, he, by his works, excited attention, and induced the men of that age to know him: who, however, seeing these things done, said that it was a magical appearance, and dared to call him a magician, and a deceiver of the people." (just. dial. p. , ed. thirlby.) in his first apology, (apolog. prim. p. , ib.) justin expressly assigns the reason for his having recourse to the argument from prophecy, rather than alleging the miracles of the christian history; which reason was, that the persons with whom he contended would ascribe these miracles to magic; "lest any of our opponents should say, what hinders, but that he who is called christ by us, being a man sprung from men, performed the miracles which we attribute to him by magical art?" the suggestion of this reason meets, as i apprehend, the very point of the present objection; more especially when we find justin followed in it by other writers of that age. irenaeus, who came about forty years after him, notices the same evasion in the adversaries of christianity, and replies to it by the same argument: "but if they shall say, that the lord performed these things by an illusory appearance (phantasiodos), leading these objectors to the prophecies, we will show from them, that all things were thus predicted concerning him, and strictly came to pass." (iren. i. ii. c. .) lactantius, who lived a century lower, delivers the same sentiment upon the same occasion: "he performed miracles;--we might have supposed him to have been a magician, as ye say, and as the jews then supposed, if all the prophets had not with one spirit foretold that christ should perform these very things." (lactant. v. .) but to return to the christian apologists in their order. tertullian:--"that person whom the jews had vainly imagined, from the meanness of his appearance, to be a mere man, they afterwards, in consequence of the power he exerted, considered as a magician, when he, with one word, ejected devils out of the bodies of men, gave sight to the blind, cleansed the leprous, strengthened the nerves of those that had the palsy, and lastly, with one command, restored the dead to life; when he, i say, made the very elements obey him, assuaged the storms, walked upon the seas, demonstrating himself to be the word of god." (tertul. apolos. p. ; ed. priorii, par. .) next in the catalogue of professed apologists we may place origen, who, it is well known, published a formal defence of christianity, in answer to celsus, a heathen, who had written a discourse against it. i know no expressions by which a plainer or more positive appeal to the christian miracles can be made, than the expressions used by origen; "undoubtedly we do think him to be the christ, and the son of god, because he healed the lame and the blind; and we are the more confirmed in this persuasion by what is written in the prophecies: 'then shall the eyes of the blind be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall hear, and the lame man shall leap as a hart.' but that he also raised the dead, and that it is not a fiction of those who wrote the gospels, is evident from hence, that if it had been a fiction, there would have been many recorded to be raised up, and such as had been a long time in their graves. but, it not being a fiction, few have been recorded: for instance, the daughter of the ruler of a synagogue, of whom i do not know why he said, she is not dead, but sleepeth, expressing something peculiar to her, not common to all dead persons: and the only son of a widow, on whom he had compassion, and raised him to life, after he had bid the bearers of the corpse to stop; and the third, lazarus, who had been buried four days." this is positively to assert the miracles of christ, and it is also to comment upon them, and that with a considerable degree of accuracy and candour. in another passage of the same author, we meet with the old solution of magic applied to the miracles of christ by the adversaries of the religion. "celsus," saith origen, "well knowing what great works may be alleged to have been done by jesus, pretends to grant that the things related of him are true; such as healing diseases, raising the dead, feeding multitudes with a few leaves, of which large fragments were left." (orig. cont. cels. lib. ii. sect. .) and then celsus gives, it seems, an answer to these proofs of our lord's mission, which, as origen understood it, resolved the phenomena into magic; for origen begins his reply by observing, "you see that celsus in a manner allows that there is such a thing as magic." (lardner's jewish and heath. test, vol. ii. p. , ed. to.) it appears also from the testimony of st. jerome, that porphyry, the most learned and able of the heathen writers against christianity, resorted to the same solution: "unless," says he, speaking to vigilantius, "according to the manner of the gentiles and the profane, of porphyry and eunomius, you pretend that these are the tricks of demons." (jerome cont. vigil.) this magic, these demons, this illusory appearance, this comparison with the tricks of jugglers, by which many of that age accounted so easily for the christian miracles, and which answers the advocates of christianity often thought it necessary to refute by arguments drawn from other topics, and particularly from prophecy (to which, it seems, these solutions did not apply), we now perceive to be gross subterfuges. that such reasons were ever seriously urged and seriously received, is only a proof what a gloss and varnish fashion can give to any opinion. it appears, therefore, that the miracles of christ, understood as we understand them in their literal and historical sense, were positively and precisely asserted and appealed to by the apologists for christianity; which answers the allegation of the objection. i am ready, however, to admit, that the ancient christian advocates did not insist upon the miracles in argument so frequently as i should have done. it was their lot to contend with notions of magical agency, against which the mere production of the facts was not sufficient for the convincing of their adversaries: i do not know whether they themselves thought it quite decisive of the controversy. but since it is proved, i conceive with certainty, that the sparingness with which they appealed to miracles was owing neither to their ignorance nor their doubt of the facts, it is, at any rate, an objection not to the truth of the history, but to the judgment of its defenders. chapter vi. want of universality in the knowledge and reception of christianity, and of greater clearness in the evidence. or, a revelation which really came from god, the proof, it has been said, would in all ages be so public and manifest, that no part of the human species would remain ignorant of it, no understanding could fail of being convinced by it. the advocates of christianity do not pretend that the evidence of their religion possesses these qualities. they do not deny that we can conceive it to be within the compass of divine power to have communicated to the world a higher degree of assurance, and to have given to his communication a stronger and more extensive influence. for anything we are able to discern, god could have so formed men, as to have perceived the truths of religion intuitively; or to have carried on a communication with the other world whilst they lived in this; or to have seen the individuals of the species, instead of dying, pass to heaven by a sensible translation. he could have presented a separate miracle to each man's senses. he could have established a standing miracle. he could have caused miracles to be wrought in every different age and country. these and many more methods, which we may imagine if we once give loose to our imaginations, are, so far as we can judge, all practicable. the question therefore is, not whether christianity possesses the highest possible degree of evidence, but whether the not having more evidence be a sufficient reason for rejecting that which we have. now there appears to be no fairer method of judging concerning any dispensation which is alleged to come from god, when question is made whether such a dispensation could come from god or not, than by comparing it with other things which are acknowledged to proceed from the same counsel, and to be produced by the same agency. if the dispensation in question labour under no defects but what apparently belong to other dispensations, these seeming defects do not justify us in setting aside the proofs which are offered of its authenticity, if they be otherwise entitled to credit. throughout that order then of nature, of which god is the author, what we find is a system of beneficence: we are seldom or never able to make out a system of optimism. i mean, that there are few cases in which, if we permit ourselves to range in possibilities, we cannot suppose something more perfect, and, more unobjectionable, than what we see. the rain which descends from heaven is confessedly amongst the contrivances of the creator for the sustentation of the animals and vegetables which subsist upon the surface of the earth. yet how partially: and irregularly is it supplied! how much of it falls upon sea, where it can be of no use! how often is it wanted where it would be of the greatest! what tracts of continent are rendered deserts by the scarcity of it! or, not to speak of extreme cases, how much sometimes do inhabited countries suffer by its deficiency or delay!--we could imagine, if to imagine were our business, the matter to be otherwise regulated. we could imagine showers to fall just where and when they would do good; always seasonable, everywhere sufficient; so distributed as not to leave a field upon the face of the globe scorched by drought or even a plant withering for the lack of moisture. yet, does the difference between the real case and the imagined case, or the seeming inferiority of the one to the other, authorise us to say, that the present disposition of the atmosphere is not amongst the productions or the designs of the deity? does it check the inference which we draw from the confessed beneficence of the provision? or does it make us cease to admire the contrivance? the observation which we have exemplified in the single instance of the rain of heaven may be repeated concerning most of the phenomena of nature; and the true conclusion to which it leads is this--that to inquire what the deity might have done, could have done, or, as we even sometimes presume to speak, ought to have done, or, in hypothetical cases, would have done; and to build any propositions upon such inquiries against evidence of facts, is wholly unwarrantable. it is a mode of reasoning which will not do in natural history, which will not do in natural religion, which cannot therefore be applied with safety to revelation. it may have same foundation in certain speculative a priori ideas of the divine attributes, but it has none in experience or in analogy. the general character of the works of nature is, on the one hand, goodness both in design and effect; and, on the other hand, a liability to difficulty and to objections, if such objections be allowed, by reason of seeming incompleteness or uncertainty in attaining their end. christianity participates of this character. the true similitude between nature and revelation consists in this--that they each bear strong marks of their original, that they each also bear appearances of irregularity and defect. a system of strict optimism may, nevertheless, be the real system in both cases. but what i contend is, that the proof is hidden from us; that we ought not to expect to perceive that in revelation which we hardly perceive in anything; that beneficence, of which, we can judge, ought to satisfy us that optimism, of which we cannot judge, ought not to be sought after. we can judge of beneficence, because it depends upon effects which we experience, and upon the relation between the means which we see acting and the ends which we see produced. we cannot judge of optimism because it necessarily implies a comparison of that which is tried with that which is not tried; of consequences which we see with others which we imagine, and concerning many of which, it is more than probable, we know nothing; concerning some that we have no notion. if christianity be compared with the state and progress of natural religion, the argument of the objector will gain nothing by the comparison. i remember hearing an unbeliever say that, if god had given a revelation, he would have written it in the skies. are the truths of natural religion written in the skies, or in a language which every one reads? or is this the case with the most useful arts, or the most necessary sciences of human life? an otaheitean or an esquimaux knows nothing of christianity; does he know more of the principles of deism or morality? which, notwithstanding his ignorance, are neither untrue, nor unimportant, nor uncertain. the existence of deity is left to be collected from observations, which every man does not make, which every man, perhaps, is not capable of making. can it be argued that god does not exist because if he did, he would let us see him, or discover himself to man kind by proofs (such as, we may think, the nature of the subject merited) which no inadvertency could miss, no prejudice withstand? if christianity be regarded as a providential instrument the melioration of mankind, its progress and diffusion that of other causes by which human life is improved diversity is not greater, nor the advance more slow, in than we find it to be in learning, liberty, government, laws. the deity hath not touched the order of nature in vain. the jewish religion produced great and permanent effects; the christian religion hath done the same. it hath disposed the world to amendment: it hath put things in a train. it is by no means improbable that it may become universal; and that the world may continue in that stage so long as that the duration of its reign may bear a vast proportion to the time of its partial influence. when we argue concerning christianity, that it must necessarily be true because it is beneficial, we go, perhaps, too far on one side; and we certainly go too far on the other when we conclude that it must be false because it is not so efficacious as we could have supposed. the question of its truth is to be tried upon its proper evidence, without deferring much to this sort of argument on either side. "the evidence," as bishop butler hath rightly observed, "depends upon the judgment we form of human conduct, under given circumstances, of which it may be presumed that we know something; the objection stands upon the supposed conduct of the deity, under relations with which we are not acquainted." what would be the real effect of that overpowering evidence which our adversaries require in a revelation it is difficult foretell; at least we must speak of it as of a dispensation which we have no experience. some consequences, however, would, it is probable, attend this economy, which do not seem to befit a revelation that proceeded from god. one is, that irresistible proof would restrain the voluntary powers too much; would not answer the purpose of trial and probation; would call for no exercise of candour, seriousness, humility, inquiry, no submission of passion, interests, and prejudices, to moral evidence and to probable truth; no habits of reflection; none of that previous desire to learn and to obey the will of god, which forms perhaps the test of the virtuous principle, and which induces men to attend, with care and reverence, to every credible intimation of that will, and to resign present advantages and present pleasures to every reasonable expectation of propitiating his favour. "men's moral probation may be, whether they will take due care to inform themselves by impartial consideration; and, afterwards, whether they will act, as the case requires, upon the evidence which they have. and this we find by experience is often our probation in our temporal capacity." (butler's analogy, part ii. c. .) ii. these modes of communication would leave no place for the admission of internal evidence; which ought, perhaps, to bear a considerable part in the proof of every revelation, because it is a species of evidence which applies itself to the knowledge, love, and practice, of virtue, and which operates in proportion to the degree of those qualities which it finds in the person whom it addresses. men of good dispositions, amongst christians, are greatly affected by the impression which the scriptures themselves make upon their minds. their conviction is much strengthened by these impressions. and this perhaps was intended to be one effect to be produced by the religion. it is likewise true, to whatever cause we ascribe it (for i am not in this work at liberty to introduce the christian doctrine of grace or assistance, or the christian promise that, "if any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of god" john vii. .),--it is true, i say, that they who sincerely act, or sincerely endeavour to act, according to what they believe, that is, according to the just result of the probabilities, or, if you please, the possibilities in natural and revealed religion, which they themselves perceive, and according to a rational estimate of consequences, and, above all, according to the just effect of those principles of gratitude and devotion which even the view of nature generates in a well-ordered mind, seldom fail of proceeding farther. this also may have been exactly what was designed. whereas, may it not be said that irresistible evidence would confound all characters and all dispositions? would subvert rather than promote the true purpose of the divine counsels; which is, not to produce obedience by a force little short of mechanical constraint, (which obedience would be regularity, not virtue, and would hardly perhaps differ from that which inanimate bodies pay to the laws impressed upon their nature), but to treat moral agents agreeably to what they are; which is done, when light and motives are of such kinds, and are imparted in such measures, that the influence of them depends upon the recipients themselves? "it is not meet to govern rational free agents in via by sight and sense. it would be no trial or thanks to the most sensual wretch to forbear sinning, if heaven and hell were open to his sight. that spiritual vision and fruition is our state in patria." (baxter's reasons, p. .) there may be truth in this thought, though roughly expressed. few things are more improbable than that we (the human species) should be the highest order of beings in the universe: that animated nature should ascend from the lowest reptile to us, and all at once stop there. if there be classes above us of rational intelligences, clearer manifestations may belong to them. this may be one of the distinctions. and it may be one to which we ourselves hereafter shall attain. iii. but may it not also be asked, whether the perfect display of a future state of existence would be compatible with the activity of civil life, and with the success of human affairs? i can easily conceive that this impression may be overdone; that it may so seize and fill the thoughts as to leave no place for the cares and offices of men's several stations, no anxiety for worldly prosperity, or even for a worldly provision, and, by consequence, no sufficient stimulus to secular industry. of the first christians we read, "that all that believed were together, and had all things common; and sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need; and continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, did eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart" (acts ii. - .) this was extremely natural, and just what might be expected from miraculous evidence coming with full force upon the senses of mankind: but i much doubt whether, if this state of mind had been universal, or long-continued, the business of the world could have gone on. the necessary art of social life would have been little cultivated. the plough and the loom would have stood still. agriculture, manufactures, trade, and navigation, would not, i think, have flourished, if they could have been exercised at all. men would have addicted themselves to contemplative and ascetic lives, instead of lives of business and of useful industry. we observe that st. paul found it necessary frequently to recall his converts to the ordinary labours and domestic duties of their condition; and to give them, in his own example, a lesson of contented application to their worldly employments. by the manner in which the religion is now proposed, a great portion of the human species is enabled and of these multitudes of every generation are induced, to seek and effectuate their salvation through the medium of christianity, without interruption of the prosperity or of the regular course of human affairs. chapter vii. the supposed effects of christianity. that a religion which under every form in which it is taught holds forth the final reward of virtue and punishment of vice, and proposes those distinctions of virtue and vice which the wisest and most cultivated part of mankind confess to be just, should not be believed, is very possible; but that, so far as it is believed, it should not produce any good, but rather a bad effect upon public happiness, is a proposition which it requires very strong evidence to render credible. yet many have been found to contend for this paradox, and very confident appeals have been made to history and to observation for the truth of it. in the conclusions, however, which these writers draw from what they call experience, two sources, i think, of mistake may be perceived. one is, that they look for the influence of religion in the wrong place. the other, that they charge christianity with many consequences for which it is not responsible. i. the influence of religion is not to be sought for in the councils of princes, in the debates or resolutions of popular assemblies, in the conduct of governments towards their subjects, of states and sovereigns towards one another; of conquerors at the head of their armies, or of parties intriguing for power at home (topics which alone almost occupy the attention, and fill the pages of history); but must be perceived, if perceived at all, in the silent course of private and domestic life. nay, even there its influence may not be very obvious to observation. if it check, in some degree, personal dissoluteness, if it beget general probity in the transaction of business, if it produce soft and humane manners in the mass of the community, and occasional exertions of laborious or expensive benevolence in a individuals, it is all the effect which can offer itself to external notice. the kingdom of heaven is within us. that which the substance of the religion, its hopes and consolation, its intermixture with the thoughts by day and by night, the devotion of the heart, the control of appetite, the steady direction of will to the commands of god, is necessarily invisible. yet these depend the virtue and the happiness of millions. this cause renders the representations of history, with respect to religion, defect and fallacious in a greater degree than they are upon any other subject. religion operates most upon those of whom history knows the least; upon fathers and mothers their families, upon men-servants and maid-servants, upon orderly tradesman, the quiet villager, the manufacturer at his loom, the husbandman in his fields. amongst such, its collectively may be of inestimable value, yet its effects, in mean time, little upon those who figure upon the stage of world. they may know nothing of it; they may believe nothing of it; they may be actuated by motives more impetuous than those which religion is able to excite. it cannot, be thought strange that this influence should elude the grasp and touch of public history; for what is public history but register of the successes and disappointments, the vices, the follies, and the quarrels, of those who engage in contentions power? i will add, that much of this influence may be felt in times of public distress, and little of it in times of public wealth and security. this also increases the uncertainty of any opinions that we draw from historical representations. the influence of christianity is commensurate with no effects which history states. we do not pretend that it has any such necessary and irresistible power over the affairs of nations as to surmount the force of other causes. the christian religion also acts upon public usages and institutions, by an operation which is only secondary and indirect. christianity is not a code of civil law. it can only reach public institutions through private character. now its influence upon private character may be considerable, yet many public usages and institutions repugnant to its principles may remain. to get rid of these, the reigning part of the community must act, and act together. but it may be long before the persons who compose this body be sufficiently touched with the christian character to join in the suppression of practices to which they and the public have been reconciled by causes which will reconcile the human mind to anything, by habit and interest. nevertheless, the effects of christianity, even in this view, have been important. it has mitigated the conduct of war, and the treatment of captives. it has softened the administration of despotic, or of nominally despotic governments. it has abolished polygamy. it has restrained the licentiousness of divorces. it has put an end to the exposure of children and the immolation of slaves. it has suppressed the combats of gladiators,* and the impurities of religions rites. it has banished, if not unnatural vices, at least the toleration of them. it has greatly meliorated the condition of the laborious part, that is to say, of the mass of every community, by procuring for them a day of weekly rest. in all countries in which it is professed it has produced numerous establishments for the relief of sickness and poverty; and in some, a regular and general provision by law. it has triumphed over the slavery established in the roman empire: it is contending, and i trust will one day prevail, against the worse slavery of the west indies. _________ * lipsius affirms (sat. b. i. c. ) that the gladiatorial shows sometimes cost europe twenty or thirty thousand lives in a month; and that not only the men, but even the women of all ranks were passionately fond of these shows. see bishop porteus, sermon xiii. _________ a christian writer, (bardesanes, ap. euseb. praep. evang. vi. .) so early as in the second century, has testified the resistance which christianity made to wicked and licentious practices though established by law and by public usage:--"neither in parthia do the christians, though parthians, use polygamy; nor in persia, though persians, do they marry their own daughters; nor among the bactri, or galli, do they violate the sanctity of marriage; nor wherever they are, do they suffer themselves to be overcome by ill-constituted laws and manners." socrates did not destroy the idolatry of athens, or produce the slighter revolution in the manners of his country. but the argument to which i recur is, that the benefit of religion, being felt chiefly in the obscurity of private stations, necessarily escapes the observation of history. from the first general notification of christianity to the present day, there have been in every age many millions, whose names were never heard of, made better by it, not only in their conduct, but in their disposition; and happier, not so much in their external circumstances, as in that which is inter praecordia, in that which alone deserves the name of happiness, the tranquillity and consolation of their thoughts. it has been since its commencement the author of happiness and virtue to millions and millions of the human race. who is there that would not wish his son to be a christian? christianity also, in every country in which it is professed, hath obtained a sensible, although not a complete influence upon the public judgment of morals. and this is very important. for without the occasional correction which public opinion receives, by referring to some fixed standard of morality, no man can foretel into what extravagances it might wander. assassination might become as honourable as duelling: unnatural crimes be accounted as venal as fornication is wont to be accounted. in this way it is possible that many may be kept in order by christianity who are not themselves christians. they may be guided by the rectitude which it communicates to public opinion. their consciences may suggest their duty truly, and they may ascribe these suggestions to a moral sense, or to the native capacity of the human intellect, when in fact they are nothing more than the public opinion, reflected from their own minds; and opinion, in a considerable degree, modified by the lessons of christianity. "certain it is, and this is a great deal to say, that the generality, even of the meanest and most vulgar and ignorant people, have truer and worthier notions of god more just and right apprehensions concerning his attributes and perfections, a deeper sense of the difference of good and evil, a greater regard to moral obligations, and to the plain and most necessary duties of life, and a more firm and universal expectation of a future state of rewards and punishments, than in any heathen country any considerable number of men were found to have had." (clarke, ev. nat. rel. p. . ed. v.) after all, the value of christianity is not to be appreciated by its temporal effects. the object of revelation is to influence human conduct in this life; but what is gained to happiness by that influence can only be estimated by taking in the whole of human existence. then, as hath already been observed, there may be also great consequences of christianity which do not belong to it as a revelation. the effects upon human salvation of the mission, of the death, of the present, of the future agency of christ, may be universal, though the religion be not universally known. secondly, i assert that christianity is charged with many consequences for which it is not responsible. i believe that religious motives have had no more to do in the formation of nine tenths of the intolerant and persecuting laws which in different countries have been established upon the subject of religion, than they have had to do in england with the making of the game-laws. these measures, although they have the christian religion for their subject, are resolvable into a principle which christianity certainly did not plant (and which christianity could not universally condemn, because it is not universally wrong), which principle is no other than this, that they who are in possession of power do what they can to keep it. christianity is answerable for no part of the mischief which has been brought upon the world by persecution, except that which has arisen from conscientious persecutors. now these perhaps have never been either numerous or powerful. nor is it to christianity that even their mistake can fairly be imputed. they have been misled by an error not properly christian or religious, but by an error in their moral philosophy. they pursued the particular, without adverting to the general consequence. believing certain articles of faith, or a certain mode of worship, to be highly conducive, or perhaps essential, to salvation, they thought themselves bound to bring all they could, by every means, into them, and this they thought, without considering what would be the effect of such a conclusion when adopted amongst mankind as a general rule of conduct. had there been in the new testament, what there are in the koran, precepts authorising coercion in the propagation of the religion, and the use of violence towards unbelievers, the case would have been different. this distinction could not have been taken, nor this defence made. i apologise for no species nor degree of persecution, but i think that even the fact has been exaggerated. the slave-trade destroys more in a year than the inquisition does in a hundred or perhaps hath done since its foundation. if it be objected, as i apprehend it will be, that christianity is chargeable with every mischief of which it has been the occasion, though not the motive; i answer that, if the malevolent passions be there, the world will never want occasions. the noxious element will always find a conductor. any point will produce an explosion. did the applauded intercommunity of the pagan theology preserve the peace of the roman world? did it prevent oppressions, proscriptions, massacres, devastation? was it bigotry that carried alexander into the east, or brought caesar into gaul? are the nations of the world into which christianity hath not found its way, or from which it hath been banished, free from contentions? are their contentions less ruinous and sanguinary? is it owing to christianity, or to the want of it, that the regions of the east, the countries inter quatuor maria, peninsula of greece, together with a great part of the mediterranean coast, are at this day a desert? or that the banks of the nile, whose constantly renewed fertility is not to be impaired by neglect, or destroyed by the ravages of war, serve only for the scene of a ferocious anarchy, or the supply of unceasing hostilities? europe itself has known no religious wars for some centuries, yet has hardly ever been without war. are the calamities which at this day afflict it to be imputed to christianity? hath poland fallen by a christian crusade? hath the overthrow in france of civil order and security been effected by the votaries of our religion, or by the foes? amongst the awful lessons which the crimes and the miseries of that country afford to mankind this is one; that in order to be a persecutor it is not necessary to be a bigot: that in rage and cruelty, in mischief and destruction, fanaticism itself can be outdone by infidelity. finally, if war, as it is now carried on between nations produce less misery and ruin than formerly, we are indebted perhaps to christianity for the change more than to any other cause. viewed therefore even in its relation to this subject, it appears to have been of advantage to the world. it hath humanised the conduct of wars; it hath ceased to excite them. the differences of opinion that have in all ages prevailed amongst christians fall very much within the alternative which has been stated. if we possessed the disposition which christianity labours, above all other qualities, to inculcate, these differences would do little harm. if that disposition be wanting, other causes, even were these absent, would continually rise up to call forth the malevolent passions into action. differences of opinion, when accompanied with mutual charity, which christianity forbids them to violate, are for the most part innocent, and for some purposes useful. they promote inquiry, discussion, and knowledge. they help to keep up an attention to religious subjects, and a concern about them, which might be apt to die away in the calm and silence of universal agreement. i do not know that it is in any degree true that the influence of religion is the greatest where there are the fewest dissenters. chapter viii. the conclusion, in religion, as in every other subject of human reasoning, much depends upon the order in which we dispose our inquiries. a man who takes up a system of divinity with a previous opinion that either every part must be true or the whole false, approaches the discussion with great disadvantage. no other system, which is founded upon moral evidence, would bear to be treated in the same manner. nevertheless, in a certain degree, we are all introduced to our religious studies under this prejudication. and it cannot be avoided. the weakness of the human judgment in the early part of youth, yet its extreme susceptibility of impression, renders it necessary to furnish it with some opinions, and with some principles or other. or indeed, without much express care, or much endeavour for this purpose, the tendency of the mind of man to assimilate itself to the habits of thinking and speaking which prevail around him, produces the same effect. that indifferency and suspense, that waiting and equilibrium of the judgment, which some require in religious matters, and which some would wish to be aimed at in the conduct of education, are impossible to be preserved. they are not given to the condition of human life. it is a consequence of this institution that the doctrines of religion come to us before the proofs; and come to us with that mixture of explications and inferences from which no public creed is, or can be, free. and the effect which too frequently follows, from christianity being presented to the understanding in this form, is, that when any articles, which appear as parts of it, contradict the apprehension of the persons to whom it is proposed, men of rash and confident tempers hastily and indiscriminately reject the whole. but is this to do justice, either to themselves or to the religion? the rational way of treating a subject of such acknowledged importance is, to attend, in the first place, to the general and substantial truth of its principles, and to that alone. when we once feel a foundation; when we once perceive a ground of credibility in its history; we shall proceed with safety to inquire into the interpretation of its records, and into the doctrines which have been deduced from them. nor will it either endanger our faith, or diminish or alter our motives for obedience, if we should discover that these conclusions are formed with very different degrees of probability, and possess very different degrees of importance. this conduct of the understanding, dictated by every rule of right reasoning, will uphold personal christianity, even in those countries in which it is established under forms the most liable to difficulty and objection. it will also have the further effect of guarding us against the prejudices which are wont to arise in our minds to the disadvantage of religion, from observing the numerous controversies which are carried on amongst its professors; and likewise of inducing a spirit of lenity and moderation in our judgment, as well as in our treatment of those who stand, in such controversies, upon sides opposite to ours. what is clear in christianity we shall find to be sufficient, and to be infinitely valuable; what is dubious, unnecessary to be decided, or of very subordinate importance, and what is most obscure, will teach us to bear with the opinions which others may have formed upon the same subject. we shall say to those who the most widely dissent from us, what augustine said to the worst heretics of his age; "illi in vos saeviant, qui nasciunt, cum quo labore verum inveniatur, et quam difficile caveantur errores;---qui nesciunt, cure quanta difficultate sanetur oculus interioris hominis;--qui nesciunt, quibus suspiriis et gemitibus fiat ut ex quantulacumque parte possit intelligi deus.". (aug. contra. ep. fund. cap. ii. n. , .) a judgment, moreover, which is once pretty well satisfied of the general truth of the religion will not only thus discriminate in its doctrines, but will possess sufficient strength to overcome the reluctance of the imagination to admit articles of faith which are attended with difficulty of apprehension, if such articles of faith appear to be truly parts of the revelation. it was to be expected beforehand, that what related to the economy and to the persons of the invisible world, which revelation profess to do, and which, if true, it actually does, should contain some points remote from our analogies, and from the comprehension of a mind which hath acquired all its ideas from sense and from experience. it hath been my care in the preceding work to preserve the separation between evidences and doctrines as inviolable as i could; to remove from the primary question all considerations which have been unnecessarily joined with it; and to offer a defence to christianity which every christian might read without seeing the tenets in which he had been brought up attacked or decried: and it always afforded a satisfaction to my mind to observe that this was practicable; that few or none of our many controversies with one another affect or relate to the proofs of our religion; that the rent never descends to the foundation. the truth of christianity depends upon its leading facts, and upon them alone. now of these we have evidence which ought to satisfy us, at least until it appear that mankind have ever been deceived by the same. we have some uncontested and incontestable points, to which the history of the human species hath nothing similar to offer. a jewish peasant changed the religion of the world, and that without force, without power, without support; without one natural source or circumstance of attraction, influence, or success. such a thing hath not happened in any other instance. the companions of this person, after he himself had been put to death for his attempt, asserted his supernatural character, founded upon his supernatural operations: and, in testimony of the truth of their assertions, i.e. in consequence of their own belief of that truth, and in order to communicate the knowledge of it to others, voluntarily entered upon lives of toil and hardship, and, with a full experience of their danger, committed themselves to the last extremities of persecution. this hath not a parallel. more particularly, a very few days after this person had been publicly executed, and in the very city in which he was buried, these his companions declared with one voice that his body was restored to life: that they had seen him, handled him, ate with him, conversed with him; and, in pursuance of their persuasion of the truth of what they told, preached his religion, with this strange fact as the foundation of it, in the face of those who had killed him, who were armed with the power of the country, and necessarily and naturally disposed to treat his followers as they had treated himself; and having done this upon the spot where the event took place, carried the intelligence of it abroad, in despite of difficulties and opposition, and where the nature of their errand gave them nothing to expect but derision, insult, and outrage.--this is without example. these three facts, i think, are certain, and would have been nearly so, if the gospels had never been written. the christian story, as to these points, hath never varied. no other hath been set up against it. every letter, every discourse, every controversy, amongst the followers of the religion; every book written by them from the age of its commencement to the present time, in every part of the world in which it hath been professed, and with every sect into which it hath been divided (and we have letters and discourses written by contemporaries, by witnesses of the transaction, by persons themselves bearing a share in it, and other writings following that again regular succession), concur in representing these facts in this manner. a religion which now possesses the greatest part of the civilised world unquestionably sprang up at jerusalem at this time. some account must be given of its origin; some cause assigned for its rise. all the accounts of this origin, all the explications of this cause, whether taken from the writings of the early followers of the religion (in which, and in which perhaps alone, it could he expected that they should he distinctly unfolded), or from occasional notices in other writings of that or the adjoining age, either expressly allege the facts above stated as the means by which the religion was set up, or advert to its commencement in a manner which agrees with the supposition of these facts being true, and which testifies their operation and effects. these prepositions alone lay a foundation for our faith; for they prove the existence of a transaction which cannot even, in its most general parts, be accounted for upon any reasonable supposition, except that of the truth of the mission. but the particulars, the detail of the miracles or miraculous pretences (for such there necessarily must have been) upon which this unexampled transaction rested, and for which these men acted and suffered as they did act and suffer, it is undoubtedly of great importance to us to know. we have this detail from the fountain-head, from the persons themselves; in accounts written by eye-witnesses of the scene, by contemporaries and companions of those who were so; not in one book but four, each containing enough for the verification of the religion, all agreeing in the fundamental parts of the history. we have the authenticity of these books established by more and stronger proofs than belong to almost any other ancient book whatever, and by proofs which widely distinguish them from any others claiming a similar authority to theirs. if there were any good reason for doubt concerning the names to which these books are ascribed (which there is not, for they were never ascribed to any other, and we have evidence not long after their publication of their bearing the names which they now bear); their antiquity, of which there is no question, their reputation and authority amongst the early disciples of the religion, of which there is as little, form a valid proof that they must, in the main at least, have agreed with what the first teachers of the religion delivered. when we open these ancient volumes, we discover in them marks of truth, whether we consider each in itself, or collate them with one another. the writers certainly knew something of what they were writing about, for they manifest an acquaintance with local circumstances, with the history and usages of the times, which could belong only to an inhabitant of that country, living in that age. in every narrative we perceive simplicity and undesignedness; the air and the language of reality. when we compare the different narratives together, we find them so varying as to repel all suspicion of confederacy; so agreeing under this variety as to show that the accounts had one real transaction for their common foundation; often attributing different actions and discourses to the person whose history, or rather memoirs of whose history, they profess to relate, yet actions and discourses so similar as very much to bespeak the same character: which is a coincidence that, in such writers as they were, could only be the consequence of their writing from fact, and not from imagination. these four narratives are confined to the history of the founder of the religion, and end with his ministry. since, however, it is certain that the affair went on, we cannot help being anxious to know how it proceeded. this intelligence hath come down to us in a work purporting to be written by a person, himself connected with the business during the first stages of its progress, taking up the story where the former histories had left it, carrying on the narrative, oftentimes with great particularity, and throughout with the appearance of good sense,* information and candour; stating all along the origin, and the only probable origin, of effects which unquestionably were produced, together with the natural consequences of situations which unquestionably did exist; and confirmed, in the substance at least of the account, by the strongest possible accession of testimony which a history can receive, original letters, written by the person who is the principal subject of the history, written upon the business to which the history relates, and during the period, or soon after the period, which the history comprises. no man can say that this all together is not a body of strong historical evidence. _________ * see peter's speech upon curing the cripple (acts iii. ), the council of the apostles (xv.), paul's discourse at athens (xvii. ), before agrippa (xxvi.). i notice these passages, both as fraught with good sense and as free from the smallest tincture of enthusiasm. _________ when we reflect that some of those from whom the books proceeded are related to have themselves wrought miracles, to have been the subject of miracles, or of supernatural assistance in propagating the religion, we may perhaps be led to think that more credit, or a different kind of credit, is due to these accounts, than what can be claimed by merely human testimony. but this is an argument which cannot be addressed to sceptics or unbelievers. a man must be a christian before he can receive it. the inspiration of the historical scriptures, the nature, degree, and extent of that inspiration, are questions undoubtedly of serious discussion; but they are questions amongst christians themselves, and not between them and others. the doctrine itself is by no means necessary to the belief of christianity, which must, in the first instance at least, depend upon the ordinary maxim of historical credibility. (see powell's discourse, disc. xv. p. .) in viewing the detail of miracles recorded in these books, we find every supposition negatived by which they can be resolved into fraud or delusion. they were not secret, nor momentary, nor tentative, nor ambiguous; nor performed under the sanction of authority, with the spectators on their side, or in affirmance of tenets and practices already established. we find also the evidence alleged for them, and which evidence was by great numbers received, different from that upon which other miraculous accounts rest. it was contemporary, it was published upon the spot, it continued; it involved interests and questions of the greatest magnitude; it contradicted the most fixed persuasions and prejudices of the persons to whom it was addressed; it required from those who accepted it, not a simple, indolent assent, but a change, from thenceforward, of principles and conduct, a submission to consequences the most serious and the most deterring, to loss and danger, to insult, outrage, and persecution. how such a story should be false, or, if false, how under such circumstances it should make its way, i think impossible to be explained; yet such the christian story was, such were the circumstances under which it came forth, and in opposition to such difficulties did it prevail. an event so connected with the religion, and with the fortunes, of the jewish people, as one of their race, one born amongst them, establishing his authority and his law throughout a great portion of the civilised world, it was perhaps to be expected should be noticed in the prophetic writings of that nation; especially when this person, together with his own mission, caused also to be acknowledged the divine original of their institution, and by those who before had altogether rejected it. accordingly, we perceive in these writings various intimations concurring in the person and history of jesus, in a manner and in a degree in which passages taken from these books could not be made to concur in any person arbitrarily assumed, or in any person except him who has been the author of great changes in the affairs and opinions of mankind. of some of these predictions the weight depends a good deal upon the concurrence. others possess great separate strength: one in particular does this in an eminent degree. it is an entire description, manifestly directed to one character and to one scene of things; it is extant in a writing, or collection of writings, declaredly prophetic; and it applies to christ's character, and to the circumstances of his life and death, with considerable precision, and in a way which no diversity of interpretation hath, in my opinion, been able to confound. that the advent of christ, and the consequences of it, should not have been more distinctly revealed in the jewish sacred books, is i think in some measure accounted for by the consideration, that for the jews to have foreseen the fall of their institution, and that it was to merge at length into a more perfect and comprehensive dispensation, would have cooled too much, and relaxed, their zeal for it, and their adherence to it, upon which zeal and adherence the preservation in the world of any remains, for many ages, of religious truth might in a great measure depend. of what a revelation discloses to mankind, one, and only one, question can properly be asked--was it of importance to mankind to know, or to be better assured of? in this question, when we turn our thoughts to the great christian doctrine of the resurrection of the dead, and of a future judgment, no doubt can possibly be entertained. he who gives me riches or honours, does nothing; he who even gives me health, does little, in comparison with that which lays before me just grounds for expecting a restoration to life, and a day of account and retribution; which thing christianity hath done for millions. other articles of the christian faith, although of infinite importance when placed beside any other topic of human inquiry, are only the adjuncts and circumstances of this. they are, however, such as appear worthy of the original to which we ascribe them. the morality of the religion, whether taken from the precepts or the example of its founder, or from the lessons of its primitive teachers, derived, as it should seem, from what had been inculcated by their master, is, in all its parts, wise and pure; neither adapted to vulgar prejudices, nor flattering popular notions, nor excusing established practices, but calculated, in the matter of its instruction, truly to promote human happiness; and in the form in which it was conveyed, to produce impression and effect: a morality which, let it have proceeded from any person whatever, would have been satisfactory evidence of his good sense and integrity, of the soundness of his understanding and the probity of his designs: a morality, in every view of it, much more perfect than could have been expected from the natural circumstances and character of the person who delivered it; a morality, in a word, which is, and hath been, most beneficial to mankind. upon the greatest, therefore, of all possible occasions, and for a purpose of inestimable value, it pleased the deity to vouchsafe a miraculous attestation. having done this for the institution, when this alone could fix its authority, or give to it a beginning, he committed its future progress to the natural means of human communication, and to the influence of those causes by which human conduct and human affairs are governed. the seed, being sown, was left to vegetate; the leaven, being inserted, was left to ferment; and both according to the laws of nature: laws, nevertheless, disposed and controlled by that providence which conducts the affairs of the universe, though by an influence inscrutable, and generally undistinguishable by us. and in this, christianity is analogous to most other provisions for happiness. the provision is made; and; being made, is left to act according to laws which, forming a part of a more general system, regulate this particular subject in common with many others. let the constant recurrence to our observation of contrivance, design, and wisdom, in the works of nature, once fix upon our minds the belief of a god, and after that all is easy. in the counsels of a being possessed of the power and disposition which the creator of the universe must possess, it is not improbable that there should be a future state; it is not improbable that we should be acquainted with it. a future state rectifies everything; because, if moral agents be made, in the last event, happy or miserable, according to their conduct in the station and under the circumstances in which they are placed, it seems not very material by the operation of what causes, according to what rules, or even, if you please to call it so, by what chance or caprice these stations are assigned, or these circumstances determined. this hypothesis, therefore, solves all that objection to the divine care and goodness which the promiscuous distribution of good and evil (i do not mean in the doubtful advantages of riches and grandeur, but in the unquestionably important distinctions of health and sickness, strength and infirmity, bodily ease and pain, mental alacrity and depression) is apt on so many occasions to create. this one truth changes the nature of things; gives order to confusion; makes the moral world of a piece with the natural. nevertheless, a higher degree of assurance than that to which it is possible to advance this, or any argument drawn from the light of nature, was necessary, especially to overcome the shock which the imagination and the senses received from the effects and the appearances of death, and the obstruction which thence arises to the expectation of either a continued or a future existence. this difficulty, although of a nature no doubt to act very forcibly, will be found, i think, upon reflection to reside more in our habits of apprehension than in the subject: and that the giving way to it, when we have any reasonable grounds or the contrary, is rather an indulging of the imagination than anything else. abstractedly considered, that is, considered without relation to the difference which habit, and merely habit, produces in our faculties and modes of apprehension, i do not see anything more in the resurrection of a dead man than in the conception of a child; except it be this, that the one comes into his world with a system of prior consciousness about him, which the other does not: and no person will say that he knows enough of either subject to perceive that this circumstance makes such a difference in the two cases that the one should be easy, and the other impossible; the one natural, the other not so. to the first man the succession of the species would be as incomprehensible as the resurrection of the dead is to us. thought is different from motion, perception from impact: the individuality of a mind is hardly consistent with the divisibility of an extended substance; or its volition, that is, its power of originating motion, with the inertness which cleaves to every portion of matter which our observation or our experiments can reach. these distinctions lead us to an immaterial principle: at least, they do this: they so negative the mechanical properties of matter, in the constitution of a sentient, still more of a rational, being, that no argument drawn from the properties can be of any great weight in opposition to other reasons, when the question respects the changes of which such: a nature is capable, or the manner in which these changes am effected. whatever thought be, or whatever it depend upon the regular experience of sleep makes one thing concerning it certain, that it can be completely suspended, and completely restored. if any one find it too great a strain upon his thoughts to admit the notion of a substance strictly immaterial, that is, from which extension and solidity are excluded, he can find no difficulty in allowing, that a particle as small as a particle of light, minuter than all conceivable dimensions, may just as easily be the depositary, the organ, and the vehicle of consciousness as the congeries of animal substance which forms a human body, or the human brain; that, being so, it may transfer a proper identity to whatever shall hereafter be united to it; may be safe amidst the destruction of its integuments; may connect the natural with the spiritual, the corruptible with the glorified body. if it be said that the mode and means of all this is imperceptible by our senses, it is only what is true of the most important agencies and operations. the great powers of nature are all invisible. gravitation, electricity, magnetism, though constantly present, and constantly exerting their influence; though within us, near us, and about us; though diffused throughout all space, overspreading the surface, or penetrating the contexture, of all bodies with which we are acquainted, depend upon substances and actions which are totally concealed from our senses. the supreme intelligence is so himself. but whether these or any other attempts to satisfy the imagination bear any resemblance to the truth; or whether the imagination, which, as i have said before, is the mere slave of habit, can be satisfied or not; when a future state, and the revelation of a future state is not only perfectly consistent with the attributes of the being who governs the universe; but when it is more; when it alone removes the appearance of contrariety which attends the operations of his will towards creatures capable of comparative merit and demerit, of reward and punishment; when a strong body of historical evidence, confirmed by many internal tokens of truth and authenticity, gives us just reason to believe that such a revelation hath actually been made; we ought to set our minds at rest with the assurance, that in the resources of creative wisdom expedients cannot be wanted to carry into effect what the deity hath purposed: that either a new and mighty influence will descend upon the human world to resuscitate extinguished consciousness; or that, amidst the other wonderful contrivances with which the universe abounds, and by some of which we see animal life, in many instances, assuming improved forms of existence, acquiring new organs, new perceptions, and new sources of enjoyment, provision is also made, though by methods secret to us (as all the great processes of nature are), for conducting the objects of god's moral government, through the necessary changes of their frame, to those final distinctions of happiness and misery which he hath declared to be reserved for obedience and transgression, for virtue and vice, for the use and the neglect, the right and the wrong employment of the faculties and opportunities with which he hath been pleased, severally, to intrust and to try us. _the expositor's library_ modern substitutes for christianity by the very rev. pearson mcadam muir d.d. minister of glasgow cathedral chaplain in ordinary to the king _christus vincit, christus regnat, christus imperat_ hodder and stoughton london -- new york -- toronto first published . . . december second edition . . . october in memoriam s. a. m. june , . october , february , {vii} contents i page popular impeachments of christianity . . . . . ii morality without religion . . . . . . . . . . iii the religion of the universe . . . . . . . . . iv the religion of humanity . . . . . . . . . . . {viii} v theism without christ . . . . . . . . . . . . vi the tribute of criticism to christ . . . . . . appendices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . authorities consulted . . . . . . . . . . . . index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . { } i popular impeachments of christianity 'why call ye me lord, lord, and do not the things which i say?'--s. luke vi. . 'the name of god is blasphemed among the gentiles through you.'--romans ii. . 'what if some did not believe? shall their unbelief make the faith of god without effect?'--romans iii. . 'by reason of whom the way of truth shall be evil spoken of.'-- s. peter ii. . 'so is the will of god, that with well-doing ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men.'-- s. peter ii. . { } i popular impeachments of christianity that there is at present a widespread alienation from the christian faith can hardly be denied. sometimes by violent invective, sometimes by quiet assumption, the conclusion is conveyed that christianity is obsolete. whatever benefits it may have conferred in rude, unenlightened ages, it is now outgrown, it is not in keeping with the science and discovery of modern times. 'the good lord jesus has had his day,'[ ] is murmured in pitying condescension towards those who still suffer themselves to be deceived by the antiquated superstition. the statements in which our forefathers embodied the relations { } between god and man are no longer, except by a very few, considered adequate; and there is everywhere a demand that those statements should be recast. is not all this an irresistible proof that the beliefs of the church have been abandoned, that the old notions of the divine care, the spiritual world, the everlasting life, cannot be maintained, must be relegated to the realm of imagination? the blessings with which christianity is commonly credited spring from other sources: the evils with which society is infected are its result, direct or indirect. i such accusations, it may occur to us, cannot be made seriously: they bear their refutation in the very making; they cannot be propounded with any expectation of being accepted. this may seem self-evident to us: it is not self-evident to multitudes of eager, { } earnest men. the accusations are persistently made by vigorous writers and impassioned speakers, and are received as incontrovertible propositions. however astonishing, however painful, it may be for us to hear, it is well that we should know, what, in largely circulated books and periodicals, and in mass meetings of the people, is said about the faith which we profess, and about us who profess it. listen to some of the terms in which christianity is impeached. 'i undertake,' says mr. winwood reade, 'i undertake to show that the destruction of christianity is essential to the interests of civilisation; and also that man will never attain his full powers as a moral being, until he has ceased to believe in a personal god, and in the immortality of the soul. christianity must be destroyed.'[ ] 'the hostile evidence,' says mr. philip { } vivian, 'appears to be overwhelming. christianity cannot be true. provided that we see things as they really are, and not as we wish them to be, we cannot but come to this conclusion. we cannot get away from facts. modern knowledge forces us to admit that the christian faith cannot be true.'[ ] 'i want,' exclaims mr. vivian carey, who has apparently, like lord herbert of cherbury, received a revelation to prove that no revelation has been given, 'i want to destroy the fetich of centuries and to instil in its place a life of duty, and of faith in god and man, and i believe there is a power that has impelled me to attempt this task.... a system that has produced such results must be essentially bad.... it will not be difficult to create a faith and a religion that will serve the needs of humanity, where christianity has so deplorably failed.'[ ] { } 'if christianity,' argues mr. charles watts, 'were potent for good, that good would have been displayed ere now.... the ties of domestic affection, the bonds of the social compact, the political relations of rulers and ruled, all have surrendered themselves to its influence. yet with all these advantages, it has proved unable to keep pace with a progressive civilisation.'[ ] 'in a really humane and civilised nation,' mr. robert blatchford contends, 'there should be and need be no such thing as ignorance, crime, idleness, war, slavery, hate, envy, pride, greed, gluttony, vice. but this is not a humane and civilised nation, and never will be while it accepts christianity as its religion. these are my reasons for opposing christianity.'[ ] 'christianity,' he iterates and reiterates, 'is not true.'[ ] 'onward, ye children of the new faith!' { } exultantly cries mr. moncure d. conway. 'the sun of christendom hastes to its setting, but the hope never sets of those who know that the sunset here is a sunrise there!'[ ] such is the manner in which the downfall of christianity is now proclaimed. and the impression is prevalent that, though in all ages christianity has been the object of doubt and of scorn, yet never has it been rejected with such intensity of hatred as now, never have keen criticism and deep earnestness, wide learning and shrewd mother-wit been so combined in the attack. it is not merely the reckless, the dissolute, the frivolous who turn away from its reproofs, seeking excuses for their self-indulgence, but it is the thoughtful, the austere, the high-principled, the reverent, the unselfish, who are engaged in a crusade against all that we, as christians, hold dear. 'to the old spirit of mockery, coarse or refined, to the old wrangle of argument, { } also coarse or refined, has succeeded the spirit of grave, measured, determined negation.'[ ] men whose integrity and elevation of character are beyond suspicion, take their places among the rebels against the authority of christ. they are fighting, they assert, not for the removal of a check to their vices, but for the introduction of a nobler ideal. in the demolition of christianity, in the sweeping away of every vestige of religious belief, religious custom, religious hope, they imagine themselves to be conferring inestimable benefits upon mankind. christianity, in their view, is the product of delusion and the buttress of all social ills. ii the contrast which so many are drawing between the present and the past is not a little exaggerated. there have been few periods in which christianity has not been the { } object of animadversion and attack, in which its speedy downfall has not been confidently predicted. it was two hundred years ago that dean swift wrote _an argument to prove that the abolishing of christianity in england may, as things now stand, be attended with some inconveniences, and perhaps not produce those many good effects proposed thereby_': the dean, with scathing sarcasm, ridiculing at once the conventional customs by which christianity was misrepresented, and the supercilious ignorance which assumed that it was extinct.[ ] it was about a quarter of a century later that bishop butler, in the advertisement to his _analogy of religion to the constitution and course of nature_, stated, 'it is come, i know not how, to be taken for granted by many persons that christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry, but that it is now, at length, discovered to be fictitious. and accordingly they treat it as if, { } in the present age, this were an agreed point among all people of discernment; and nothing remained but to set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were, by way of reprisals for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of the world.' and the bishop drily gave as the aim of the _analogy_: 'thus much, at least, will be here found, not taken for granted but proved, that any reasonable man who will thoroughly consider the matter, may be as much assured as he is of his own being, that it is not, however, so clear a case that there is nothing in it.' the assumption that christianity is a thing of the past can hardly be more prevalent now than it was then; and the groundlessness of the assumption then may lead to the conclusion that the assumption is equally groundless now. since the days of butler or of swift, the progress of christianity has not ceased: its developments of thought and { } life have been among the most remarkable in its whole career. the exultation over its decay in the twentieth century may possibly be found as premature and as vain as the exultation over its decay in the eighteenth century, or in any of the centuries which have gone before. iii the most popular impeachments of christianity are mainly these. it is a mass of false and superstitious beliefs long exploded. it is the opponent of progress and inquiry, the discoveries of science having been made in direct defiance of its teaching and its influence. it is the champion of oppression and tyranny. it aims at keeping the poor in ignorance and destitution. it prostrates itself before the rich and seeks the patronage of the great. it so insists on people being absorbed in { } the thought of heaven that it practically precludes them from doing any good on earth. it is a system of selfishness, inculcating the dogma that no one need care for anything except the salvation of his own soul.[ ] it is the foster-mother of all the evil and misery by which society is distressed. dishonesty, cruelty, slavery, war, persecution, avarice, drunkenness, vice, would seem to be its natural fruits. 'how calm and sweet the victories of life,' shrieked shelley in one of his early poems. 'how terrorless the triumph of the grave ... ... but for thy aid religion! but for thee, prolific fiend, who peoplest earth with demons, hell with men, and heaven with slaves! thou taintest all thou look'st upon!'[ ] what shall we say to these accusations? christians have been credulous and superstitious, have argued and acted as if only in { } the abnormal and exceptional could the divine presence be found, as if god were a hard taskmaster and capricious tyrant. they have resisted progress and inquiry, blindly refusing to see the light which was streaming upon them. they have unquestionably been guilty of miserable pride towards inferiors in wealth or in station, and guilty of miserable sycophancy towards the rich and the powerful. christians have too frequently neglected the material well-being of the community, have suffered disgraceful outward conditions to remain without protest, have not striven to shed abroad happiness and brightness in squalid and wretched lives. christians have been art and part in fostering such conditions as wrung from compassionate and indignant hearts the _song of the shirt_ and the _cry of the children_. christians have imagined that correctness of belief would make up for falseness of heart, and loudness of profession for depravity of { } practice. christians have supposed that in religion all that has to be striven for is the salvation of one's own soul, have even represented the joy of the redeemed as heightened by a contemplation of the torments of the lost. christians must bear the responsibility of much of the abounding vice which they have not earnestly tried to combat where it already exists, and which, in various forms, they have introduced into regions where it was unknown before. lawlessness and degradation in the slums, fraud and dishonesty in trade, gross revelations in the fashionable world; bigotry, slander, scandals in the ecclesiastical world; plots, wars, treacheries, assassinations, in the political world: these things ought not so to be. the fiercest denunciations, the most withering satires, which unbelievers have employed, do not exceed in intensity of condemnation the judgment which christian preachers and christian writers have pronounced.[ ] { } in all ages of the church the most powerful weapon against christianity has been the example of christians. the faith which they nominally hold has been judged by the lives which they actually lead.[ ] 'christianity,' said a bishop of the eighteenth century, 'would perhaps be the last religion a wise man would choose, if he were guided by the lives of those who profess it.'[ ] but is this to admit that the hope of the world lies in renouncing christianity? that in confining ourselves to the seen and the temporal, we shall best elevate mankind? that the prospect of annihilation and the absence of wisdom, love, and providence in the order of the universe constitute the most glorious gospel which can be proclaimed? nothing of the kind. it is only proved that many christians are not acting according to their belief, that their practice does not square with their { } profession. the belief and the profession are not proved to be wrong and bad. it would be unreasonable to argue that, because a man who has been vehemently sounding the praises of truthfulness is convicted of deliberate lying, therefore truthfulness is shown to be worthless. it is equally unreasonable to identify christianity with everything to which it is most definitely opposed, to represent it as the enemy of everything which it was intended to maintain, and then to conclude that christianity is discredited.[ ] as we should argue from the detection of a liar, not that lying is right, but that he should return to the ways of truth, so we should argue from the lives of christians who live in flagrant contradiction to the precepts of our lord and his apostles, not that the precepts should be rejected, but that they should be kept; not that christianity should be abolished, but that it should be obeyed. { } christians have created prejudice, hatred, against christianity, but it is not christianity which they have been exhibiting. we repudiate the hideous travesty which they have made, the hideous travesty which is credulously or maliciously accepted by assailants as a correct representation. christianity is not a religion of darkness and superstition: it calls to its disciples 'be children of light: prove all things: hold fast that which is good.' christianity does not sycophantishly court the rich and despise the poor: it tells the stories of the rich man and lazarus, and of the rich fool, and it declares 'ye cannot serve god and mammon.' christianity does not teach that the life which a man leads is of less consequence than the belief which he professes: it demands, 'why call ye me, lord, lord, and do not the things which i say?' christianity is not selfish, is not a system which inculcates the saving of one's own soul as the first and last of duties: { } 'he that loveth his life shall lose it. bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of christ. by this shall all men know that ye are my disciples if ye have love one to another.' it is surely reasonable to demand that christianity shall be judged, not by its misrepresentations, but by what it is in itself, not as it has been perverted by bitter enemies, or by false disciples, but as it is proclaimed and manifested in its author and finisher. iv in the face of such tremendous indictments, what is the duty incumbent on us who profess and call ourselves christians? certainly not that we should abjure the name, but that we should remember what the name signifies. we ought to consider our ways, to give ourselves to self-examination. there must be something amiss when such hideous portraits can be painted with any expectation of their being taken as correct likenesses. it is right { } that we should repel with indignation the ludicrous and intolerable caricatures which are presented as our belief, the unwarrantable consequences which are deduced from it. it is right that we should remove misapprehensions and refute calumnies; but, above all it is necessary that we should take heed to our own conduct and our own character. the scandals which we have so much reason to deplore owe their existence, not to christianity, but to the absence of christianity. and the very sneers which greet any departure from rectitude or morality on the part of a professing christian prove that such a departure is not a manifestation, but a renunciation of christianity, that what is expected of christians is the highest and the best that human nature can produce. 'if,' argues mr. blatchford, 'if to praise christ in words and deny him in deeds be christianity, then london is a christian city and england is a christian nation. for it is { } very evident that our common english ideals are anti-christian, and that our commercial, foreign, and social affairs are run on anti-christian lines.'[ ] as mr. blatchford's life is spent in deploring the baseness of 'our common english ideals,' and in exposing the iniquity of the methods in which 'our commercial, foreign, and social affairs' are conducted, the logical inference would seem to be that, as anti-christian ideals and anti-christian lines have so signally failed, it might be well to give christian ideals and christian lines a trial. 'in a really humane and civilised nation,' mr. blatchford maintains, 'there should be, and there need be, no such thing as poverty, ignorance, crime, idleness, war, slavery, hate, envy, pride, greed, gluttony, vice. but,' he continues his curious argument, 'this is not a humane and civilised nation, and never will be while it accepts christianity as its religion. these,' { } so he adds as an irresistible conclusion, 'these are my reasons for opposing christianity.'[ ] very good reasons, if christianity taught such a creed and encouraged such a morality. but that any human being should give such a description of the purpose of christian faith indicates either that the describer is swayed by blindest prejudice or else that no genuine christian has ever crossed his path. 'what if some do not believe? shall their unbelief make the faith of god of none effect? god forbid: yea, let god be true, but every man a liar.' truth continues to be truth, though people who talk much about it may be false. goodness continues to be goodness, though people who sing its praises may be thoroughly depraved. generosity does not cease to be generosity, though its beauty should be extolled by a miser. courage does not cease to be courage, though its heroism should be extolled by a coward. temperance { } is temperance, though we should be assured of the fact by the thick speech of a drunkard. the virtue is admirable, even when those who acknowledge how admirable it is do not practise it. that christianity towers so far above the attainments of its average disciples, nay, above the attainments of its saintliest, is itself a kind of evidence of its divine origin. 'when the king of the tartars, who was become christian,' says montaigne, 'designed to come to lyons to kiss the pope's feet, and there to be an eyewitness of the sanctity he hoped to find in our manners, immediately our good s. louis sought to divert him from his purpose: for fear lest our inordinate way of living should, on the contrary, put him out of conceit with so holy a belief. and yet it happened quite otherwise to this other, who going to rome to the same end, and there seeing the dissolution of the prelates and people of that time, settled { } himself so much the more firmly in our religion, considering how great the force and dignity of it must necessarily be that could maintain its dignity and splendour amongst so much corruption and in so vicious hands.' god's truth abides whether men receive it or deny it. christ is the way, the truth, and the life, though every so-called christian should become apostate. the woes of the world are to be cured by more christianity, not by less; and on us, in whose hands have been placed its holy oracles, rests the responsibility of proving its inestimable advantage ourselves and of conferring it on all mankind. wherever christianity has really flourished, untold blessings have been the result.[ ] with all the sad deficiencies and sadder perversions by which its course has been chequered, no influence for good can be compared with it in elevating character, in diffusing peace and { } goodwill, in fitting men to labour and to endure. the diffusion of the spirit of christianity is a synonym for the diffusion of all that tends to the true well-being of the world. only as genuine christianity, the christianity of christ, prevails, will mankind be morally and spiritually lifted into a higher sphere. put together the wisest and most ennobling suggestions of those who regard christianity as obsolete and you find that it is virtually christianity which is delineated. it is in the prevalence of principles and practices which, however they may be designated, are in reality christian, that the salvation of society and of individuals will be found. in the absence of such principles and practices will be found the secret of ruin, disorder, dissolution, and decay. it is false christianity against which the tornado of abuse is really directed. where genuine christianity appears, and is recognised as genuine, it commands respect. { } even the most virulent of recent assailants, who seriously considers that, until we get rid of the 'incubus of the modern christian religion, our civilisation will so surely decay that we shall become an entirely decadent race,' and who complacently announces that 'it will not be difficult to create a faith and a religion which will serve the needs of humanity where christianity has so signally failed,' even he is graciously pleased to allow, 'i have no quarrel with christianity as a code of morals. the sermon on the mount, no matter who preached it, is quite sufficient, if its teaching was only practised instead of preached, to make this world an eminently desirable place in which to live. my quarrel is concerned with the professional promoters and organisers of religion who have made the very name of christianity to stink in the nostrils of honest men.' in other words, it is not to christianity, but to christians by whom it is misrepresented, that he is opposed, and he { } cannot refrain from granting, though surely with transparent inconsistency, that it is by the noble lives of christians that christianity has been so long preserved. 'it won, with its beauty and sentiment, the allegiance of many who were true and manly. and it is such as these who have raised the gospel from the slough of infamy. it is such as these who, in the darkest ages, have perpetuated by the goodness of their lives the faith that is left to-day. it is the virtues of christians, not the virtue of christianity, that keeps the faith alive.'[ ] the very opposite is nearer the truth. the virtues of christians are simply the outcome of the virtue of christianity: it is the vices of christians which compose the deepest 'slough of infamy' into which the gospel has ever been plunged. but from all these charges and counter-charges, it would seem to be clear that real { } christianity compels respect even where it is viewed with aversion, that its progress is hindered by nothing so much as by the unworthiness of its adherents, that it gains assent by nothing so much as by the manifestation of christian lives. will any one venture to deny that the world would be vastly improved were every one in it to be a genuine christian, animated by christian motives, doing christian deeds? the revolution would be immense, indescribable: it would be the end of all evil: it would be the establishment of all good. no man's hand would be against another, all would strive together for the welfare of the whole, there would be no contention save how to excel in love and in good works. the human imagination cannot depict anything more glorious, more ennobling, than the will of god done on earth as it is done in heaven, and this is what would be if the thoughts of every heart were brought { } into captivity to the obedience of christ. the most splendid dreams of the most exalted visionaries would be more than fulfilled: everything true and lovely and of good report would be ratified and confirmed: everything false and vile would be changed and purified, and nothing to hurt or destroy or defile would remain. the fulfilment of that ideal is simply the universal prevalence of christianity, the universal triumph of christ. the systems and tendencies at which we are about to glance owe their vitality to the faith which they attempt to supersede. they are, in so far as they are good, either tending towards christianity or borrowing from it. the insufficiency of mere material well-being, the irresistible association of religion with morality, the worship of the universe, the worship of humanity, all are signs of the ineradicable instinct of the unseen and eternal, of the unquenchable thirst for the living god; and belief in the living { } god finds its noblest illustration and confirmation in him who said, 'he that hath seen me hath seen the father,' in him to whom the searching scrutiny of critical inquirers, as well as the fervid devotion of believers, bears so marvellous a witness. we hope to show not only that the abolition of christianity might 'be attended with sundry inconveniences,' or that the assumption of there being 'nothing in' christianity is 'not so clear a case,' but we hope to show that if, amid present perplexity and estrangement, many feel themselves obliged to go back and walk no more with christ, we, for our part, as we hear his voice of tender reproach, 'will ye also go away?' can only, with heartfelt conviction, give the answer, 'lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.' [ ] tennyson, _in the children's hospital_. [ ] _the martyrdom of man_. [ ] _the churches and modern thought_. [ ] _parsons and pagans_. [ ] _secularists' manual_. [ ] _god and my neighbour_. [ ] _ibid_. [ ] _earthward pilgrimage_. [ ] dean church, _pascal and other sermons_, p. . [ ] appendix i. [ ] appendix ii. [ ] _queen mab_. [ ] hans faber, _das christentum der zukunft_. [ ] appendix. [ ] sir leslie stephen, _english thought in the eighteenth century_, vol. i. p. [ ] appendix iv. [ ] _god and my neighbour_. [ ] _god and my neighbour_, ch. ix. p. . [ ] appendix v. [ ] _parsons and pagans_. { } ii morality without religion 'i am sought of them that asked not for me: i am found of them that sought me not.'--isaiah lxv. . 'not the hearers of the law are just before god, but the doers of the law shall be justified. for when the gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves; which shew the work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another.'--romans ii. - . 'strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope and without god in the world.'--ephesians ii. . 'the acknowledging of the truth which is after godliness.'--titus i. . { } ii morality without religion that religion and morality have no necessary connection is a popular assumption. in books, in pamphlets, in magazines, on platforms, in ordinary conversation, it is loudly proclaimed or quietly insinuated that the morality of the future will be independent morality, morality without sanction. morality, it is iterated and reiterated, can get on quite well without religion: religion is a positive hindrance to morality. this view is, no doubt, extreme. perhaps it is only here and there in the writings which fall into the hands of most of us, or in the circles with which most of us mingle, that the matter is stated so bluntly and so plainly. but in { } not a few writings of wide circulation, and in whole classes of the community, the statement is made as if beyond contradiction. even in works which we are all reading, and in companies where we daily find ourselves, the logical conclusion of arguments, the natural inference from assumptions, would be simply that extreme position. there is no use in evading the fact that if some highly popular opinions are accepted, no statement of the uselessness of religion in any form or system can be too extreme. the mere assurance that religion is a reality, is a benefit, is a necessity, though it may not seem a great deal to establish, though it may leave a host of problems still to solve, would be a gain to many, would sweep away the chief doubts by which they are perplexed. there need not, on our part, be any hesitation in declaring, to begin with, that religion { } without morality is worthless. the attempt to keep them apart, to regard them as independent of each other, has often enough been made by nominal champions of religion. the upholding of certain views regarding god and his relations to mankind has been considered sufficient to make up for neglect of the duties incumbent on ordinary mortals. the performance of certain rites and ceremonies has been considered an adequate compensation for the commission of deliberate crimes. instances might easily be cited of persons engaged in villainous schemes, achieving deeds of dishonesty which will cause ruin to hundreds of innocent victims, executing plots of fiendish revenge, with little regard for human life, and no regard at all for truth, but exceedingly punctilious in attention to religious observances. one of the most cold-blooded murderers that ever disgraced the habitable globe was careful not to neglect any act of devotion, and while { } perpetrating the most nefarious basenesses never failed to write in his diary the most pious sentiments. that kind of religion is worse than nothing, was rightly regarded as increasing the horror and loathsomeness of the monster's life. in a minor degree, we have all seen illustrations of the same incongruity, we may even have detected indications of it in ourselves, the tendency to imagine that the more we go to church or frequent the sacraments or read the bible, we are entitled to latitude in our conduct. there is no tendency against which we need to be more constantly on our guard, none which is more strongly, more terrifically, denounced in the old testament and in the new, by prophets and apostles, and by the lord jesus christ himself. unbelievers in christianity are perfectly right when they say that religion without morality is absolutely worthless. { } ii we may go further. we may admit, nay, we must vehemently maintain, that morality without religion is far better than religion without morality. look at this man who makes no profession of religion, but who is temperate, honest, self-sacrificing for the public good. look at that man who made a loud profession, but who was leading a life of secret vice, who was false to the trust reposed in him, who appropriated what had been committed to his charge. can there be any doubt, we are triumphantly asked, that of these two, the religious is inferior to the irreligious? there can be no doubt whatever, would be the reply of every well-instructed christian. morality without religion is incalculably better than religion without morality. but what does this prove with regard to christianity? it simply proves how eternally true is the parable { } of our lord: 'a certain man had two sons, and he came to the first and said, son, go work to-day in my vineyard. he answered and said, i will not, but afterwards he repented and went. and he came to the second and said likewise. and he answered and said, i go, sir, and went not. whether of them twain did the will of his father? they say unto him, the first,' and our lord confirmed the answer. iii that kind of comparison between religion and morality is most misleading, for such 'religion' is not religion at all. it may be hypocrisy, it may be superstition, it may be self-deception: christianity it is not, and never can be. the contrast is not really between morality and religion, but between morality and immorality, falsehood, fraud, and wilful imposition. whatever else the kingdom of god may be, it is at least { } righteousness: where there is no righteousness, there can be no kingdom of god. whatever else christian doctrine may be, it is at least a doctrine according to godliness, a teaching in accordance with the eternal laws of righteousness. for purposes of analysis and convenience, we may distinguish between religion and morality, and show them working in different spheres, but it is utterly erroneous to suppose that they can be actually divorced. in every right and rational representation of the christian religion, morality is included and imbedded, otherwise it is only a maimed and mutilated religion which is held out for acceptance. on the other hand, in all true morality, especially in its highest and purest manifestations, religion is present. it is possible to decry morality. 'mere morality,' in the current acceptation of the phrase, may lack a good deal, may be a phase of self-righteousness, self-interest, cold calculation, { } a keeping up of appearances before the world, but morality itself is of a higher strain: it is the fulfilment of every duty to one's self and to one's neighbour: it implies that each duty is done from the right motive: the purer and loftier it becomes the more it encroaches on the religious domain: it is crowned and glorified with a religious sanction: it is, visible or hidden, conscious or unconscious, a doing of the will of god. morality, to hold its own, must be 'touched by emotion,' and morality touched by emotion is identical with religion. to admit moral obligation in all its length and breadth, and depth and height, is to admit god.[ ] iv a curious illustration of the fact that morality, to be permanent, needs the inspiration of religion, that morality, at its best and purest, tends to become religion, is { } afforded in such a work as dr. stanton coit's _national idealism and a state church_. dr. coit has for twenty years been engaged in founding ethical societies, and his high and disinterested aims need not be called in question. but the book is evidence that in order to support the lofty principles which he so earnestly expounds, he is obliged to call in the aid of principles which he imagined himself to have discarded. he begins by denying the supernatural in every shape and form. he will have none of a personal god, or of a personal immortality. there is no higher being than man. all trust must be shifted from supernatural to human agencies. 'combined human foresight, the general will of organised society, assumes the rôle of creative providence.' 'this is, then, the presupposition of all moral judgment in harmony with which i would reconstruct the religions of the world: that no crime and no good deed that happens in this world shall { } ever be traced to any other moral agencies than those actually inhabiting living human bodies and recognised by other human beings as fit subjects of human rights and privileges.' in other words, morality, morality alone, morality without any sanction from above, or any hope from beyond, is the all-sufficient strength and ennoblement of man. but what is the superstructure which dr. stanton coit proceeds to build upon this foundation? one would naturally expect that prayer and churches and sacraments would have no place. but these are exactly what he insists on retaining; these will apparently be more important, more necessary, in the future than in the past. 'we should appropriate and adapt the materials furnished us by the rites and ceremonies of the historic church. as the woodbird, bent on building her nest, in lieu of better materials makes it of leaves and of feathers from her breast, so may we use what is familiar, old, { } and close at hand. it is all ours; and the homelike beauty of the church of the future will be enhanced by the ancient materials wrought into its new forms.' so much enhanced, indeed, that most people will be inclined to tolerate the new forms simply because of the ancient materials which are allowed to remain. among the ancient materials which dr. coit appropriates or adapts, prayer occupies a prominent place. and he is severe upon those, _e.g._, comte and dr. congreve, who would banish petition from the sphere of worship. he delights in pointing out that, in despite of themselves, they include requests for personal blessings. nor is prayer to be a mere aspiration or inarticulate longing of the soul. 'no mental activity can become definite, coherent, and systematic, and remain so, except it be embodied and repeated in words.... a petition that does not, or cannot, or will not, formulate itself in words, and let the lips move to shape them, and the { } voice to sound them, and the eye to visualise them on the written or printed page, becomes soon a mere torpor of the mind, or a meaningless movement of blind unrest, or a trick of pretending to pray. perfected prayer is always spoken.' to whom, or to what, this prayer, uttered or unexpressed, is to be offered, may be difficult of comprehension. it is not to god, as we have hitherto employed that sacred name; but dr. coit insists that the word 'god' shall be retained, and that we have no right to deny to this god the attribute of personality. 'any one who worships either a concrete social group or an abstract moral quality may justly protest against the charge that his god is impersonal: he may insist that it is either superpersonal or interpersonal, or both.' the worship of nature appears to be discouraged, and to be considered as of comparatively little worth. 'we dare never forget that moral qualities stand to us in a { } different dynamic relation from the grass and the stars and the sea--no effects upon us or upon these will result from petitions even of a most righteous man to them. but no one can deny that prayers to purity, serenity, faith, humanity, england, man, woman, to milton, to jesus, do create a new moral heaven and a new earth for him who thirsts after righteousness.' leaving the name of our lord out of the discussion, why should a prayer to serenity have more moral influence than a prayer to the sea? why should a prayer to the stars be less efficacious than a prayer to milton, whose soul was like a star and dwelt apart? we have only to invest the stars and the sea with certain qualities evolved from our own imagination to make them as worthy of worship as either milton or serenity. dr. coit is scathing in his criticism of the positivist prayers, whether of comte or of dr. congreve: they are 'screamingly funny': 'the most monstrous { } absurdity ever perpetrated by a really good and great man.' the epithets are possibly justified; but are they quite inapplicable to one who supposes that an invocation of the living and eternal god means no more than an invocation of england, or faith, or woman? it is only when god has become to us an abstraction that an abstraction can take the place of god. a manual of services fitted to a nation's present needs is what, according to dr. coit, is required to ensure the progress and triumph of the ethical movement. 'until the new idealism possesses its own manual of religious ritual, it cannot communicate effectively its deeper thought and purpose. the moment, however, it has invented such a means of communication, it would seem inevitable that a rapid moral and intellectual advancement of man must at last take place, equal in speed and in beneficence to the material advancement which followed { } during the last century in the wake of scientific inventions.' the ritual of ethical societies will not outwardly differ much from the ritual to be found in existing religions. its details have yet to be arranged or 'invented.' the only things certain are that a book of prayers ought to be provided at once, and that in swinburne's _songs before sunrise_ may be found an 'anthology of prayer suitable for use in the church of humanity,' prayers 'as sublime and quickening in melody and passion as anything in the hebrew prophets or the litany of the church.' dr. coit does not denounce theology as theology, he even insists on being himself ranked among theologians. his readers may be surprised to learn on what doctrines he dwells with particular fondness. he laments that belief in the existence and power of the devil should be waning. 'we may not believe in a personal devil, but we must believe in a devil who acts very like a person.' { } he predicts that teachers will more and more teach a doctrine of hell-fire. out of kindness they will terrify by presenting the evil effects, indirect and remote, of selfish thoughts and dispositions. 'we must frighten people away from the edge of the abyss which begins this side of death.' finally, though, of course, the word is not used in the ordinary sense, the necessity of the doctrine of the incarnation is upheld. 'the incarnation must for ever remain a fundamental conception of religion. until all men are incarnations of the principle of constructive moral beneficence, and to a higher degree, jesus will remain pre-eminent; and it is quite possible that in proportion as he is approached, gratitude to him will increase rather than diminish.' 'even should any one ever in the future transcend him, still it will only be by him and in glad acknowledgment of the debt to him. there never can in the future be a dividing of the world into christianity { } and not christianity. it will only be a new and more christian christianity, compatible with liberty and reason.' thus the drift and tendency of this book bring us back, however unintentionally, to the faith of which it appears, at first sight, to be the renunciation. it establishes irresistibly that morality, to be living and permanent, must have religious sanction and inspiration, that we need to be delivered from the awful thraldom of evil, that the supreme realities are the things which are unseen; that prayer is the life of the soul; that public worship is a necessity; that in christ the greatest redemptive power has been embodied, and the purest vision of the eternal has been granted; and that, in its adaptation to human needs, its fostering of human aspirations, its ministering to human sorrows, its renewal of human penitence, its consecration of life and its hope in death, no ethical society yet devised gives any { } symptom of being able to supplant the church of him who said, 'come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden and i will give you rest.' v now, from the fact that morality at its best assumes a religious tinge, merges itself in religion, we may legitimately infer that, without the inspiration of religion, morality at its best will not long prevail.[ ] 'love, friendship,' said sir james fitzjames stephen, 'good nature, kindness carried to the height of sincere and devoted affection, will always be the chief pleasures of life, whether christianity is true or false; but christian charity is not the same as any of these, or all of these put together, and i think that if christian theology were exploded, christian charity would not survive it.'[ ] at present, when religion has pervaded everything with its sacred sanctions, it is easy to say that religion { } would not be greatly missed were it discarded, and that morality would be unaffected. this is pure conjecture. to test its worth we should need a state of society from which every vestige of religion had disappeared. it will not do to retain any of the beliefs or the customs which owe their origin to a sense of the unseen and eternal, to a sense of any power above ourselves, ruling our destinies and instilling into our minds thoughts and desires and hopes beyond the visible and the material. if morality, in the limited acceptation of the term, is sufficient for the elevation and welfare of mankind, it is not to be supported by any admixture of religion: it must prove its power by itself. religion must be utterly abolished, its every sanction must be universally rejected, its every impulse must have universally ceased before it can be contended with any measure of assurance that the world will be none the worse, may be even the better, for its vanishing. { } if religion is a delusion, remember what must be eliminated from our convictions. there can be no higher tribunal than that of man by which our actions can be judged.[ ] a life of outward propriety is the utmost that can be demanded of us, if it is only against the wellbeing of our neighbour or the promotion of our own happiness that we can transgress. what has human law to do with our hearts? what legislation can deal with 'envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness,' unless they manifest themselves in outward acts? a base, unloving, impure, acrimonious, untruthful man may crawl through life, never having been arrested, never having been sentenced to any term of penal servitude. he can stand erect before all the laws of the country and say, 'all these have i kept from my youth up.' and unless there be a higher law than the law of man, unless there be a law written on our hearts by the finger of { } god, unless there be one to whom, above and beyond all earthly appearances, we can mournfully declare, 'against thee, thee only, have i sinned,' nothing more can be reasonably demanded. if there is nothing higher than the visible, it can be only visible results which are of any value. the giving of money to help the needy, and the giving of money in order to obtain a reputation for generosity, must stand on the same level. the widow's mite will be worth infinitely less than the shekels which come from those who devour widows' houses. if there be none to search the heart, none save poor frail fellow-mortals to whom we must give account, what an incentive to purity of motive and loftiness of aspiration is removed! but let men talk as they will, there is a conscience in them which whispers, it does matter whether our hearts as well as our actions are right; it does matter whether we have good motives, good intentions; there is a scrutiny of hearts, { } making and to be made more fully yet; there is one before whom, even though we have not broken the law of the land, we confess with anguish, against thee have i sinned and done evil in thy sight: where i appear most irreproachable, thine eye detecteth error: it is not the occasional trespass that i have chiefly to lament, it is the sin that is almost part and parcel of my very being, the sin that corrodes even where it does not glare, the sin that undermines even where it does not crash. vi the most thoughtful of those who have lost faith in the living god and in fellowship with him hereafter, look on this life with a pessimistic eye. without trust in the unseen and eternal, life is worthless, an idle dream. with its harassing cares, with its petty vexations, with its turbulence and strife, its sorrows, its breaking up of old associations, its quenching the light of our { } eyes, 'o dreary were this earth, if earth were all!' on the stage of the world, 'the play is the tragedy man, the hero the conqueror worm!' we cannot but extend the deepest sympathy, the warmest admiration to those who, bereft of belief and of hope, yet cling tenaciously to moral goodness.[ ] 'what is to become of us,' asks the pensive amiel, 'when everything leaves us, health, joy, affections, the freshness of sensation, memory, capacity for work, when the sun seems to us to have lost its warmth, and life is stripped of all its charms? ... there is but one answer, keep close to duty. be what you ought to be; the rest is god's affair.... and supposing there were no good and holy god, nothing but universal being, the law of the all, an ideal without hypostasis or reality, duty would still be the key of the enigma, the pole star of a wandering { } humanity.'[ ] who does not see that it is the lingering faith in god which gives strength to this conviction and that, were the faith obliterated, the natural conclusion would be for the cultured, 'vanity of vanities: all is vanity'; and for the multitudes, 'let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.' 'i remember how at cambridge,' says mr. f. w. h. myers of george eliot, 'i walked with her once in the fellows' garden of trinity on an evening of rainy may: and she, stirred somewhat beyond her wont, and taking as her text the three words which have been used so often as the inspiring trumpet calls of men--the words _god, immortality, duty_--pronounced with terrible earnestness, how inconceivable was the _first_, how unbelievable the _second_, and yet how peremptory and absolute the _third_. never, perhaps, have sterner accents affirmed the sovereignty of impersonal and uncompromising law. i { } listened and night fell: her grave, majestic countenance turned toward me like a sibyl's in the gloom, and it was as though she withdrew from my grasp one by one the two scrolls of promise, and left me the third scroll only, awful with inevitable fates. and when we stood at length and parted, amid that columnar circuit of the forest trees, beneath the last twilight of starless skies, i seemed to be gazing, like titus at jerusalem, on vacant seats and empty halls, on a sanctuary with no presence to hallow it, and heaven left lonely of a god.'[ ] withdraw belief in a god above and in a life beyond, the only reason for obedience to duty and morality will be either our own pleasure, the doing what is most agreeable to ourselves; or sympathy, the bearing of others' burdens, in the hope that when we have passed away there may be some on earth who will reap the harvest which we have { } sown; or public opinion, the views which are prevalent in a particular time in a particular region; and these reasons are hardly likely to produce a morality which will be other than that of self-indulgence, of despair, or of conventionality.[ ] 'we can get on very well without a religion,' said sir james fitzjames stephen, 'for though the view of life which science is opening to us gives us nothing to worship, it gives us an infinite number of things to enjoy. the world seems to me a very good world, if it would only last. it is full of pleasant people and curious things, and i think that most men find no difficulty in turning their minds away from its transient character.' if it would only last! but it does not last: those dearer to us than ourselves are snatched away. could anything be more selfish, more despicably base than to go about saying, all that is of no { } consequence, so long as i meet with pleasant people and have an infinite number of things to enjoy? it is true that an infinite number of my fellow-creatures may not be enjoying an infinite number of things, may have trouble in recalling almost anything worthy of the name of enjoyment, but why should i be depressed by that? i find no difficulty in turning away my mind from the misfortunes of others. 'we can get on very well without religion.' no doubt without it some of us can have agreeable society and a variety of pleasures more or less refined; but this does not prove that religion is no loss. on the same principle, we can get on very comfortably without honesty, without sobriety, without purity, without generosity. we can get on very comfortably indeed without anything except without a heart which is intent on self-gratification, and which excludes all thought of the wants and woes of the world. 'let us eat and drink, for { } to-morrow we die,' is the irresistible, though rather inconsistent, conclusion of that sublime austerity which so indignantly repudiates the merest hint of reward or hope within the veil, and which so sensitively shrinks from the mercenariness of the religion of the cross. 'the wages of sin is death: if the wages of virtue be dust, would she have heart to endure for the life of the worm and the fly!'[ ] what are the facts? what is the growing tendency where men think themselves strong enough to do without religious beliefs, when they have been proclaiming that the suppression of religion will be the exaltation of a purer morality? there are plenty of indications that the laws of morality are found to be as irksome as the dictates of religion. the first step is to cry out for a higher morality, to censure the morality of { } the new testament as imperfect and inadequate, as selfish and visionary. the next step is to question the restraints of morality, to clamour for liberty in regard to matters on which the general voice of mankind has from the beginning given no uncertain verdict. the last step is to declare that morality is variable and conventional, a mere arbitrary arrangement, which can be dispensed with by the emancipated soul. the literature which assumes that religion is obsolete does not, as a rule, suffer itself to be much hampered by the fetters of morality. the non-religion of the future is what, we are confidently told, increasing knowledge of the laws of sociology will of necessity bring about. should that day ever dawn, or rather let us say, should that night ever envelop us, it will mean the diffusion of non-morality such as the world has never known.[ ] [ ] appendix. [ ] appendix vi. [ ] _nineteenth century_, june . [ ] appendix vii. [ ] appendix viii. [ ] _journal intime_, ii. [ ] _modern essays_. [ ] appendix ix. [ ] tennyson, _wages_. [ ] appendix x. { } iii the religion of the universe 'whither shall i go from thy spirit? or whither shall i flee from thy presence.'--psalm cxxxix. . 'do i not fill heaven and earth? saith the lord.'--jeremiah xxiii. . 'the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain thee.'-- kings viii. . 'in him we live, and move, and have our being.'--acts xvii. . 'one god and father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all.'--ephesians iv. . 'of him, and through him, and to him are all things: to whom be glory for ever. amen.'--romans xi. . 'that god may be all in all.'-- corinthians xv. . { } iii the religion of the universe among proposed substitutes for christianity, none occupies a more prominent place than pantheism, the identity of god and the universe. 'pantheism,' says haeckel, 'is the world system of the modern scientist.'[ ] pantheism, or the religion of the universe, is, in one aspect, a protest against anthropomorphism, the making of god in the image of man. it is in supposing god to be altogether such as we are, to be swayed by the same motives, to be actuated by the same passions as we are, that the most deadly errors have arisen. robert browning, in _caliban upon setebos_, represents a half-brutal { } being who lives in a cave speculating upon the government of the world, wondering why it came to be made, and what could be the purpose of the creator in making it. every motive that could sway the savage mind is in turn discussed: pleasure, restlessness, jealousy, cruelty, sport. 'because i, caliban,' such is the process of his reasoning, 'delight in tormenting defenceless animals, or would crush any one that interfered with my comfort, or do things because my taskmaster obliges me to do them, so must it be with him who made the world.' with great grotesqueness, but with marvellous power, the degraded monster argues as to the reasons which could have prompted the unseen ruler to frame the earth and its inhabitants. everything that he attributes to god is in keeping with his own base nature. what is the explanation of the horrors which have been perpetrated in the name of god? the sacrifice of human { } beings, of vanquished enemies, or of the nearest and the dearest, the agonies of self-torture, did not these originate in the transference to the invisible god of the emotions and principles by which men were guiding their own lives? they had no notion of forbearance and forgiveness and patience, therefore they did not think that there could be forgiveness with god. they were to be turned aside from their fierce, revengeful purposes by bribes and by the protracted sufferings of their foes, therefore they thought that god might be bribed by gifts or propitiated by pains. what they were on earth, delighting in bloodshed and conquest and revelry, that, they supposed, must be the being or the beings who ruled in the world unseen. i god is not as man is, this was a lesson which ancient prophets struggled to teach. he is not a man that he should lie, or a son { } of man that he should repent. he is not to be conceived as influenced by the petty hopes and fears and jealousies which influence the mass of mortals. 'my thoughts are not as your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the lord. for as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.' he is infinitely exalted above the best and wisest of his children and to see in him only their likeness is not to see him aright. it is not to be denied that the writers of the old testament employ anthropomorphic language to vivify the justice and goodness of the eternal. they speak of his eyes and of his face, of his hands and of his arm and of his voice. they speak of him walking in the garden and smelling a sweet savour. they speak of him repenting and being jealous and coming down to see what is done on earth. such figures, however, as a rule, have a force { } and an appropriateness which never can become obsolete or out of date. they even heighten the majesty and spotless holiness of god. they are felt to be, at most, words struggling to express what no words can ever convey: they are the readiest means of impressing on the dull understanding of men their practical duty, of letting them know with what purity and righteousness they have to do. it is not in such figures that any harm can ever lie. the error of taking literally such phrases as 'hands' or 'arm' or 'voice' is not very prevalent, but the error of framing god after our moral image is not distant or imaginary. there is a mode of speaking about divine purposes and divine motives which must jar on those who have begun to discern the divine majesty, to whom the thought of the all-embracing presence has become a reality. { } ii the representation of the almighty and eternal as one of ourselves, as animated by the lowest passions and paltriest prejudices of mankind, as a 'magnified and non-natural' human being, is recognised as ludicrously inadequate and terribly distorted. the representation of the creator as 'sitting idle at the outside of the universe and seeing it go,' as having brought it into being and afterwards left it to itself, as mingling no more in its events and evolution, is utterly discarded. it is, however, to such representations that the assaults of modern critics are directed, and in the overthrow of such representations it is imagined that christianity itself is overthrown. the assailants maintain that christianity in attributing personality to god makes him in the image of man, and separates him from the universe. but what is meant by personality? it does not mean a { } being no higher than man, with the limitations and imperfections of man.[ ] mr. herbert spencer, who would not ascribe personality to god, yet affirmed that the choice was not between personality and something lower than personality, but between personality and something higher. 'is it not just possible that there is a mode of being as much transcending intelligence and will as these transcend mechanical motion?'[ ] the description of personality given by the author of the _riddle of the universe_ would be repudiated by every educated christian. 'the monistic idea of god, which alone is compatible with our present knowledge of nature, recognises the divine spirit in all things. it can never recognise in god a "personal being," or, in other words, an individual of limited extension in space, or even of human form. god is everywhere.'[ ] that conclusion,--we { } are not concerned with the steps by which the conclusion is reached,--does not strike one as a modern discovery. in what authoritative statement of christian doctrine god is defined as _not_ being everywhere, or 'an individual of limited extension in space, or even of human form,' we are unaware. there is apparent misunderstanding in the supposition that we have to take our choice between god as entirely severed from the world, and god existing in the world. god, it is asserted in current phraseology, cannot be both immanent and transcendent; he cannot be both in the world and above it. 'in theism,' so haeckel draws out the comparison, 'god is opposed to nature as an extra-mundane being, as creating and sustaining the world, and acting upon it from without, while in pantheism god, as an intra-mundane being, is everywhere identical with nature itself, and is operative within the world as "force" or { } "energy."'[ ] if there is no juggling with words here, it can hardly be juggling with words to point out that so far as 'space' goes, an intra-mundane being, rather than an extra-mundane, is likely to be 'limited in extension.' iii the imagination that the christian god is a personality like ourselves, and is to be found only above and beyond the world, finds perhaps its strangest expression in some of the writings of that ardent lover of nature, the late richard jefferies. 'i cease,' so he writes in _the story of my heart_, 'to look for traces of the deity in life, because no such traces exist. i conclude that there is an existence, a something higher than soul, higher, better, and more perfect than deity. earnestly i pray to find this something better than a god. there is something superior, higher, more good. for this i search, labour, { } think, and pray.... with the whole force of my existence, with the whole force of my thought, mind, and soul, i pray to find this highest soul, this greater than deity, this better than god. give me to live the deepest soul-life now and always with this soul. for want of words i write soul, but i think it is something beyond soul.' could anything be more pathetic or, at the same time, more self-refuting? how can anything be greater than the infinite, more enduring than the eternal, better than the all-pure and all-perfect? it could be only the god of unenlightened, unchristian teaching, whom he rejected. the god whom he sought must be not only in but beyond and above all created or developed things. it was, indeed, the higher than the highest that he worshipped. it was for god, for the living god, that his eager soul was athirst, and it is in god, the living god, that his eager soul is now, we humbly trust, for ever satisfied. { } iv 'the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain him.' 'whither shall i go from thy spirit? or whither shall i flee from thy presence?' 'my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways saith the lord.' 'in him we live and move and have our being.' 'of him and through him and to him are all things, to whom be glory for ever. amen.'[ ] now it cannot be denied that some who have striven to express after this fashion the unutterable majesty and the universal presence of god, who have endeavoured to demonstrate that god is in all things, and that all things are in god, have at times failed to make their meaning plain. either from the obscurity of their own language, or from the obtuseness of their readers, they have been considered atheists. while vehemently asserting that god is { } everywhere, they have been taken to mean that god is nowhere. the actual conclusion to be drawn from the treatises of spinoza, the reputed founder of modern pantheism, is still undecided. but no one now would brand him with the name of atheist. he was excommunicated by jews and denounced by christians, yet there are many who think that his aim, his not unsuccessful aim, was to establish faith in the unseen and eternal on a basis which could not be shaken. so far from denying god, he was, according to one of the greatest of german theologians, 'a god-intoxicated man.' 'offer up reverently with me a lock of hair to the manes of the holy, repudiated spinoza! the high world-spirit penetrated him: the infinite was his beginning and his end: the universe his only and eternal love.... he was full of religion and of the holy spirit, and therefore he stands alone and unreachable, master in his art above the profane multitude, { } without disciples and without citizenship.'[ ] dean stanley went so far as to say that 'a clearer glimpse into the nature of the deity was granted to spinoza, the excommunicated jew of amsterdam, than to the combined forces of episcopacy and presbytery in the synod of dordrecht.'[ ] such a judgment is rather hard upon the divines who took part in that celebrated synod, but at any rate it indicates that the great philosopher, misunderstood and persecuted, was elaborating in his own way, this great truth, 'in him we live and move and have our being.' 'of him, and through him are all things.' v in their loftiest moments, contemplating the marvels of the heavens above and the earth beneath, devout souls have, wherever they looked, been confronted with the vision of god. 'what do i see in all { } nature?' said fénelon, 'god. god is everything, and god alone.' 'everything,' said william law, 'that is in being is either god or nature or creature: and everything that is not god is only a manifestation of god; for as there is nothing, neither nature nor creature, but what must have its being in and from god, so everything is and must be according to its nature more or less a manifestation of god.' it is the thought which has inspired poets of the most diverse schools, which has been their most marvellous illumination and ecstasy. now it is alexander pope: all are but parts of one stupendous whole whose body nature is, and god the soul. now it is william cowper: there lives and works a soul in all things and that soul is god. now it is james thomson of _the seasons_: these, as they change, almighty father! these are but the varied god. the rolling year is full of thee. { } now it is william wordsworth: i have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts, a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man a motion and a spirit which impels all thinking things, all objects of all thought, and rolls through all things. now it is lord tennyson: the sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains, are not these, o soul, the vision of him who reigns? * * * * * speak to him thou, for he hears, and spirit with spirit can meet. closer is he than breathing and nearer than hands or feet. certainly, we may say, nothing atheistic in utterances like these: they are the utterances of lofty thought, of profound piety, of soaring aspiration, and of childlike faith. they have a pantheistic tinge: what is there to dread in pantheism? not much in { } pantheism of that kind: would there were more of it! but it will be observable that, in the instances cited, though god is in nature and manifesting himself through it, there is a clear distinction between nature and god. it may seem as if it were merely the sky, the sun, the stars, the ocean, that are apostrophised: in reality it is a life, a spirit, a power not themselves, in which they live and move and have their being: not to them, but to that, are the prayers addressed. and, we venture to think, it is scarcely ever otherwise: scarcely ever is the visible alone invoked: identify god as men will with the material universe, or even with the force and energy with which the material universe is pervaded, when they enter into communion with it, in spite of themselves they endow it with the life and the will and the purpose which they have in theory rejected. but the absolute identification of god and the universe, the assumption that above and { } beneath and through all there is no conscious righteousness and wisdom and love overruling and directing, _that_ is a belief to be resisted, a belief which enervates character and enfeebles hope.[ ] 'whoever says in his heart that god is _no more_ than nature: whoever does not provide _behind the veil of creation_ an infinite reserve of thought and beauty and holy love, that might fling aside this universe and take another, as a vesture changing the heavens and they are changed, ... is bereft of the essence of the christian faith, and is removed by only accidental and precarious distinctions from the atheistic worship of mere "natural laws."'[ ] 'in our worship we have to do, not so much with his finite expression in created things as with his own free self and inner reality ... all _religion_ consists in _passing nature by_, in order to enter into direct personal relation { } with him, soul to soul. it is _not_ pantheism to merge all the life of the physical universe in him, and leave him as the inner and sustaining power of it all. it is pantheism to rest in this conception: to merge him in the universe and see him only there: and not rather to dwell with him as the living, holy, sympathising will, on whose free affection the cluster of created things lies and plays, as the spray upon the ocean.'[ ] vi god is _not_ as we are, and yet he _is_ as we are. god is not made in the image of man, but man is made in the image of god. it is through human goodness and human purity and human love that we attain our best conceptions of the divine goodness and purity and love. 'if ye being evil know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more will your heavenly father { } give the holy spirit to them that ask him?' picture to yourself what is highest and best in the human relationship of father and child: be sure that the heavenly father will not fall below, but will infinitely transcend, that standard. all the justice and goodness which we have seen on earth are the feebler reflection of his. it is by learning that the utmost height of human goodness is but a little way towards him that we learn to think of him at all aright. but the justice and the love by which he acts are different only in degree, and not in kind, from ours. when we think of god as altogether such as we are, we degrade him, we have before us the image of the imperfect; when we try to think of him under no image and to discard all figures, he vanishes into unreality and nothingness, but when we see him in christ, we have before us that which we can grasp and understand, and that in which there is no imperfection. { } if there is no god but the universe, we have a universe without a god. worship is meaningless, faith is a mockery, hope is a delusion. if the universe is god, all things in the universe are of necessity divine. the distinction between right and wrong is broken down. in a sense very different from that in which the phrase was originally employed, 'whatever is, is right.' nothing can legitimately be stigmatised as wrong, for there is nothing which is not god. 'if all that is is god, then truth and error are equally manifestations of god. if god is all that is, then we hear his voice as much in the promptings to sin as in the solemn imperatives of conscience. this is the inexorable logic of pantheism, however disguised.'[ ] 'i know,' says mr. frederic harrison, 'what is meant by the power and goodness of an almighty creator. i know what is meant by the genius and patience { } and sympathy of man. but what is the all, or the good, or the true, or the beautiful? ... the "all" is not good nor beautiful: it is full of horror and ruin.... there lies this original blot on every form of philosophic pantheism when tried as the basis of a religion or as the root-idea of our lives, that it jumbles up the moral, the unmoral, the non-human and the anti-human world, the animated and the inanimate, cruelty, filth, horror, waste, death, virtue and vice, suffering and victory, sympathy and insensibility.'[ ] where these distinctions are lost, where this confusion exists, what logically must be the consequence? honesty and dishonesty, truth and falsehood, purity and impurity, kindness and brutality, are put upon a level, are alike manifestations of the one or the all. it is said that in our day the sense of sin has grown weak, that men are not troubled { } by it as once they were. there is a morbid, scrupulous remorsefulness for wrong-doing, a desponding conviction that repentance and restoration are impossible, which may well be put away. but that sin should be no longer held to be sin, that evil should be wrought and the worker experience no pang of shame, would surely indicate moral declension and decay. were the time to come when, universally, mankind should commit those actions and cherish those passions which, through all ages in all lands, have gone by the name of sin, should become so heedless to the voice of conscience, that conscience should cease to speak, the time would have come when men, being past feeling, would devote themselves with greediness to anything that was vile, so long as it was pleasant, the bonds of society would be loosened and destruction would be at hand. the religion of the universe ignores the facts of life, the sorrow, the struggle, { } the depravity, the need of redemption. fortunately, human beings in general are still inclined to mourn because of imperfection or of baseness: still they are inclined at times to cry out, 'who shall deliver me from the body of this death?' and still they have the opportunity of joyfully or humbly saying, 'i thank god through jesus christ our lord.' 'and now at this day,' listen to the ungrudging admission of perhaps the most earnest english apostle of pantheism, mr. allanson picton: 'we of all schools, whether orthodox or heterodox so-called, whether believers or unbelievers in supernatural revelation, all who seek the revival of religion, the exaltation of morality, the redemption of man, draw, most of us, our direct impulse, and all of us, directly or indirectly, our ideals from the speaking vision of the christ. such a claim is justified, not merely by the spiritual power still remaining in the church, { } but almost as much by the tributes paid, and the uses of the gospel teaching made in the writings of the most distinguished among rationalists.... such writers have felt that somehow jesus still holds, and ought to hold, the heart of humanity under his beneficial sway. excluding the partial, imperfect and temporary ideas of nature, spirits, hell, and heaven, which the galilean held with singular lightness for a man of his time, they have acquiesced in and even echoed his invitation to the weary and heavy laden, to take his yoke upon them and learn of him. and that means to live up to his gospel of the nothingness of self, and of unreserved sacrifice to the eternal all in all.'[ ] if such is the conclusion of rationalism and of pantheism, how much more ought it to be the conclusion of christianity. the imagination of a god confined to times and places, visiting the world only occasionally, { } manifesting himself in the past and not in the present, ought to be as foreign to the christian church as to any rationalist or pantheist. be it ours to show that we believe in god who filleth all things with his presence, who is from everlasting to everlasting, that to us there is but one god the father, by whom are all things and we in him, and one lord, jesus christ, by whom are all things and we by him, that god has identified himself with us in jesus christ, his son. be it ours to lose ourselves in him. for, after all our questionings as to the government of the world, as to abounding misery and degradation, as to what lies beyond the veil for ourselves and for others, this is our hope and our confidence: 'god hath concluded all in unbelief that he might have mercy upon all. o the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of god! how unsearchable are his judgments and his ways past finding out. for who hath { } known the mind of the lord? or who hath been his counsellor? or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again? for of him and through him and to him are all things: to whom be glory for ever. amen.' [ ] _riddle of the universe_. [ ] appendix xi. [ ] _first principles_. [ ] _confession of faith of a man of science_. [ ] _riddle of the universe_. [ ] appendix xii. [ ] schleiermacher. [ ] _st. andrews addresses_. [ ] appendix xiii. [ ] martineau, _hours of thought_, ii. p. . [ ] martineau, _hours of thought_, ii. p. . [ ] _faith of a christian_. [ ] _creed of a layman_, p. . [ ] _religion of the universe_. { } iv the religion of humanity 'and god said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness.'--genesis i. . 'when i consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, what is man that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man that thou visitest him? for thou hast made him a little lower than the angels and hast crowned him with glory and honour.'--psalm viii. - thou hast put all things in subjection under his feet. for in that he put all in subjection under him, he left nothing that is not put under him. but now we see not yet all things put under him. but we see jesus who was made a little lower than the angels for the suffering of death crowned with glory and honour, that he by the grace of god should taste death for every man.'--hebrews ii. , . { } iv the religion of humanity the position which religion, and especially the christian religion, assigns to man, to man as he ought to be, is very high. he is made in the image of god, he is a little lower than the angels, a little lower than god, he is a partaker of the divine nature. but as the corruption of the best is the worst, there is nothing in the whole creation more miserable, more loathsome, than man as he has forgotten his high estate and plunged himself into degradation. 'what man has made of man,' is the saddest, most deplorable sight in all the world. amid the awful splendour of the winning loveliness of nature, 'only man is vile.' that is the terrible { } verdict which may be pronounced upon him renouncing his birthright, surrendering himself to the powers which he was meant to keep in subjection. it is not the verdict to be pronounced on man as man, the child of the highest and the heir of all the ages. the appeal of religion, the appeal of christianity above all, has continually been, o sons of men, sully not your glorious garments, cast not away your glorious crown. i it is irreligion, it is unbelief, which comes and says, lay aside these fantastic notions as to your greatness: you are the creatures of a day: you belong, like other animals, to the world of sense, and you pass away along with them: a man hath no pre-eminence above a beast. banish your delusive hopes; confine yourselves to reality; waste not your time in the pursuit of phantoms: make the best of the world in { } which you are: seize its pleasures: shut your eyes to its sorrows: enjoy yourselves in the present and let the future take care of itself: follow the devices and desires of your own hearts in the comfortable assurance that there is no judgment to which you can be brought, save that which exists in the realm of imagination. listening to such whispers, obeying such suggestions, walking in such courses, the spectacle which man presents can be viewed only with compassion, with horror, or with disdain. his ideals, his aspirations, his self-sacrifices are only so many phases of self-deception. the natural conclusion to be drawn from denying the spiritual origin and eternal prospects of man must be that he is of no more account than any of the transitory beings around him, that, if he has any superiority over them, it is only the superiority of a skill with which he can make them the instruments of { } his purposes. with no glimpses of a higher world, with no inspirations from a spirit nobler than his own, he can hardly regard the achievements of heroism as other than acts of madness, he can be fired with no desire to emulate them, he cannot well be trusted to perform ordinary acts of honesty and morality, let alone extraordinary acts of generosity and magnanimity, should they come in collision with his objects and ambitions. unless above himself he can erect himself, how mean a thing is man! deny his divine fellowship, extirpate his heavenly anticipations, and it might seem as if no race on earth would be so poor as do him reverence. ii one thing is assumed by not a few, the absurdity of the almighty caring for such a race, and therefore the impossibility of the incarnation. 'which,' asks mr. frederic { } harrison, 'is the more deliriously extravagant, the disproportionate condescension of the infinite creator, or the self-complacent arrogance with which the created mite accepts, or rather dreams of, such an inconceivable prerogative? his planet is one of the least of all the myriad units in a boundless infinity; in the countless æons of time he is one of the latest and the briefest; of the whole living world on the planet, since the ages of the primitive protozoon, man is but an infinitesimal fraction. in all this enormous array of life, in all these æons, was there never anything living which specially interested the creator, nothing that the redeemer could care for, or die for? if so, what a waste creation must have been! ... why was all this tremendous tragedy, great enough to convulse the universe, confined to the minutest speck of it, for the benefit of one puny and very late-born race?'[ ] { } but is it not the fact that along with the discovery of man's utter insignificance, there has come the discovery of powers and faculties unknown and unsuspected, so that more than ever all things are in subjection to him, his dominion has become wider, his throne more firmly established? is it not the fact that the whole realm of nature is explored by him, is compelled to minister to his wants or to unfold its treasures of knowledge? is it not the fact that more than ever it can be said: the lightning is his slave: heaven's utmost deep gives up her stars, and, like a flock of sheep, they pass before his eye, are numbered, and roll on. the tempest is his steed: he strides the air. and the abyss shouts from her depth laid bare 'heaven, hast thou secrets? man unveils me: i have none.'[ ] is it not the fact that deposed from his position of proud pre-eminence as centre of the universe, man has by his labours and his ingenuity reasserted his high prerogative { } to be lord of the creation? the printing-press, the railway, the telegraph, how have inventions like these invested him with an influence which he did not possess before! and is it not the fact that when most conscious of our nothingness before the immensities around us, when humbled and prostrate before the infinite of which we have caught a transitory glimpse, we are also most conscious of our high destiny, we are lifted above the earthly to the heavenly, we discern that, though we cannot claim a moment, yet eternity is ours? 'what, then, is man! what, then, is man! he endures but an hour and is crushed before the moth. yet in the being and in the working of a faithful man is there already (as all faith, from the beginning, gives assurance) a something that pertains, not to this wild death element of time; that triumphs over time, and _is_, and will be, when time shall be no more.'[ ] { } man's place in the universe may, according to dr. alfred russel wallace, be nearer the centre of things than has so commonly come to be accepted. modern discovery, he maintains, has thrown light on the interesting problem of our relation to the universe; and even though such discovery may have no bearing upon theology or religion, yet, he thinks, it proves that our position in the material creation is special and probably unique, and that the view is justified which holds that 'the supreme end and purpose of this vast universe was the production and development of the living soul in the perishable body of man.' and another, a convinced and ardent disciple of evolution, the late professor john fiske, argues that, 'not the production of any higher creature, but the perfecting of humanity is to be the glorious consummation of nature's long and tedious work.... man seems now, much more clearly than ever, the chief among god's { } creatures.... the whole creation has been groaning and travailing together in order to bring forth that last consummate specimen of god's handiwork, the human soul.'[ ] if this be so, this conclusion arrived at by those who do not hold the ordinary faith of christendom, then the objection that the incarnation could not have taken place for the redemption of such a race as ours, in a world which is so poor a fraction of the infinite universe, falls to the ground; and the protest of a devout modern poet carries conviction with it: this earth too small for love divine! is god not infinite? if so, his love is infinite. too small! one famished babe meets pity oft from man more than an army slain! too small for love! was earth too small to be of god created? why then too small to be redeemed?[ ] man may, or may not, occupy a 'central position in the universe': other worlds may, { } or may not, be inhabited: this earth may be but a minute and insignificant speck amid the mighty all, this at least is certain, that not by mere magnitude is our rank in the scale of being to be decided, and that in the spirit of man will be found that which approaches most nearly to him who is spirit. 'the man who reviles humanity on the ground of its small place in the scale of the universe is,' according to mr. frederic harrison, 'the kind of man who sneers at patriotism and sees nothing great in england, on the ground that our island holds so small a place in the map of the world. on the atlas england is but a dot. morally and spiritually, our fatherland is our glory, our cradle, and our grave.'[ ] iii hence, one of the ablest attempts to supersede christianity is that which goes by { } the name of positivism or the religion of humanity, which sets man on the throne of the universe, and makes of him the sole object of worship. 'a helper of men outside humanity,' said the late professor clifford, 'the truth will not allow us to see. the dim and shadowy outlines of the superhuman deity fade slowly away from before us, and, as the mist of his presence floats aside, we perceive with greater and greater clearness the shape of a yet grander and nobler figure, of him who made all gods and shall unmake them. from the dim dawn of history, and from the inmost depths of every soul, the face of our father _man_ looks out upon us with the fire of eternal youth in his eyes, and says, "before jehovah was, i am." the founder of the organised religion of humanity was auguste comte, who died in the year . he held that in the development of mankind there are three stages: the first, the theological, in which { } worship is offered to god or gods; the second, the metaphysical, in which the human mind is groping after ultimate truth, the solution of the problems of the universe; the third, the positive, in which the search for the illusive and the unattainable is abandoned, and the real and the practical form the exclusive occupation of the thoughts. on sunday, october , , he concluded a course of lectures on the general history of humanity with the uncompromising announcement, 'in the name of the past and of the future, the servants of humanity, both its philosophical and practical servants, come forward to claim as their due the general direction of this world. their object is to constitute at length a real providence, in all departments, moral, intellectual, and material. consequently they exclude, once for all, from political supremacy, all the different servants of god, catholic, protestant, or deist, as being at once behindhand and { } a source of disturbance.' all religions were banished by the truly 'uncompromising announcement': they were all condemned as futile and unreal. the best that could be said of the worship of the past was that it directed 'provisionally the evolution of our best feelings, under the regency of god, during the long minority of humanity.' but the fact that religion will not be banished, that it must somehow find expression, never received fuller verification. we do not dwell upon the private life of comte, its eccentricities and inconsistencies, but this at least cannot be omitted: he practised a course of austere religious observances, he worshipped not only humanity at large, but he paid special adoration to a departed friend such as hardly the devoutest of roman catholics has ever paid to the virgin mary. positivism became, what professor huxley called it, 'catholicism _minus_ christianity.' comte laid down for the guidance of his { } disciples, who are potentially all mankind, rules which no existing religious communion can surpass in minuteness. the supreme object of worship is the great being, humanity, the sum of human beings, past, present, and future. but as it is only too evident that too many of these beings in the past and the present, whatever may be said about the future, are not very fitting objects of worship, humanity, the great being, must be understood as including only worthy members, those who have been true servants of humanity. the emblem of this great being is a woman of the age of thirty, with her son in her arms; and this emblem is to be placed in all temples of humanity and carried in all solemn processions. the highest representatives of humanity are the mother, the wife, and the daughter; the mother representing the past, the wife the present, and the daughter the future. these are in the abstract to be regarded as the guardian { } angels of the family. to these angels every one is to pray three times daily, and the prayers, which may be read, but which must be the composition of him who uses them, are to last for two hours. humanity, the world, and space form the completed trinity of the positivist religion. there are nine sacraments: presentation, initiation, admission, destination, marriage, maturity, retirement, transformation, incorporation. there is a priesthood, to whom is committed the duties of deciding who may or may not be admitted to certain offices during life, of deciding also whether or not the remains of those who have been dead for seven years should be removed from the common burial-place, and interred in 'the sacred wood which surrounds the temple of humanity,' every tomb there 'being ornamented with a simple inscription, a bust, or a statue, according to the degree of honour awarded.' the priests are to receive so comprehensive { } a training that they are not to be fully recognised till forty-two years of age. they are to combine medical knowledge with their priestly qualifications. three successive orders are necessary for the working of the organisation: the aspirants admitted at twenty-eight, the vicars or substitutes at thirty-five, and the priests proper at forty-two. the religion of humanity has a calendar, each month of twenty-eight days being in one aspect dedicated to some social relation, and in another to some famous man representing some phase of human progress: moses, homer, aristotle, cæsar, st. paul, gutenberg, shakespeare. each day of the year is dedicated to one or more great men or women, five hundred and fifty-eight in number, and the last day of the year is the festival of all the dead. 'our calendar is designed to remind us of all types of the teachers, leaders, and makers of our race: of the many modes in which the servants of humanity { } have fulfilled their service. the prophets, the religious teachers, the founders of creeds, of nations and systems of life: the poets, the thinkers, the artists, kings, warriors, statesmen and rulers: the inventors, the men of science and of all useful arts.... every day of the positivist year is in one sense a day of the dead, for it recalls to us some mighty teacher or leader who is no longer on earth.... but the three hundred and sixty-four days of the year's calendar have left one great place unfilled.... those myriad spirits of the forgotten dead, whom, no man can number, whose very names were unknown to those around them in life, the fathers and the mothers, the husbands and the wives, the brothers and the sisters, the sturdy workers and the fearless soldiers in the mighty host of civilisation--shall we pass them by? ... it is those whom to-night we recall, all those who have lived a life of usefulness in their generation, though { } they tugged as slaves at the lowest bank of oars in the galley of life, though they were cast unnoticed into the common grave of the outcast, all whose lives have helped and not hindered the progress of humanity, we recall them all to-night.'[ ] iv the religion of humanity has numbered among its adherents, in part or in whole, several celebrated persons in this country, such as richard congreve, dr. bridges, professor beesley, cotter morison, george eliot. but at present it has no more eloquent and earnest advocate than mr. frederic harrison, who, in _the creed of a layman_, and several other recent volumes, has passionately proclaimed its principles. for more than fifty years he has been its apostle: 'every other aim or occupation has been subsidiary and instrumental to this.'[ ] it { } is true that in some points he has retained his independence, and while those outside accuse him of fanaticism, some of his fellow-believers suspect him of heresy.[ ] but he himself is assured that in the worship of humanity he has obtained the solution of his doubts[ ] and the satisfaction of his spirit, and on his gravestone or his urn he would have inscribed the words, _he found peace_.[ ] there is much that is marvellously elevated in thought as well as exquisite in expression, profoundly devout as well as brilliantly argued, in the narrative of his progress towards his present position. but when his vehement statements are carefully examined, it will almost inevitably be seen that all that is good and sensible in them is an unconscious reproduction of christianity. his negations disappear: the affirmations which he makes are those which the church has always { } maintained. the faith of his childhood permeates and strengthens and beautifies the creed which he adopted in his maturer years. the unity of mankind, the memory of the departed, the necessity of living for others, these are no novelties in christianity. it is in christ that they have specially been brought to light, in him that they find their highest ratification, without him they remain unfulfilled, with him they attain to consistency and power. the great being, humanity, is only an abstraction.[ ] 'there is no such thing in reality,' principal caird reminds us, 'as an animal which is no particular animal, a plant which is no particular plant, a man or humanity which is no individual man. it is only a fiction of the observer's mind.' there is logical force as well as humorous illustration in the contention of dean page roberts, that there is no more a humanity apart { } from individual men and women than there is a great being apart from all individual dogs, which we may call caninity, or a transcendent durham ox, apart from individual oxen, which may be named bovinity.'[ ] nor does the geniality of mr. chesterton render his argument the less telling: 'it is evidently impossible to worship humanity, just as it is impossible to worship the savile club: both are excellent institutions to which we may happen to belong. but we perceive clearly that the savile club did not make the stars and does not fill the universe. and it is surely unreasonable to attack the doctrine of the trinity as a piece of bewildering mysticism, and then to ask men to worship a being who is ninety million persons in one god, neither confounding the persons nor dividing the substance.'[ ] can it be doubted that the great being, { } the sum of human beings, is less conceivable, less worthy of worship than the great being, the god and father of our lord jesus christ?[ ] can it be doubted that the claim of humanity to worship is less credible if we exclude the perfect man, christ jesus, from our view? can it be doubted that the positivist motto, 'live for others,' gains a force and a meaning unapproached elsewhere from the life and death of him who said, 'the son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister and to give his life a ransom for many?' humanity knit together in one, purified from every stain, glorious and adorable, is a lofty and inspiring idea, but nowhere has it been disclosed save in the man christ jesus, the word made flesh, the brightness of the father's glory and the express image of his person. { } v dr. richard congreve owns that much of the religion of humanity exists already in the christian faith, but, in one respect, he asserts that the religion of humanity can claim to be entirely original. 'we accept, so have all men. we obey, so have all men. we venerate, so have some in past ages, or in other countries. we add but one other term, we love.'[ ] that is what distinguishes this new religion and proves its superiority to the old: its votaries have attained this new principle and mode of life: they love one another. the boldness of the claim may stagger us. we turn over the pages of the new testament. we see that love is the fulfilling of the law; is the end of the commandment; is the sum of the law and the prophets; is placed at the very summit of christian graces; is the bond of perfectness; { } is manifested in a life and a death which, after nineteen centuries, remain without a parallel. we recall the touching legend that in his old age the apostle s. john was daily carried into the assembly of the ephesian christians, simply repeating to them, over and over, the words, 'love one another. this is our lord's command, fulfil this and nothing else is needed.' we recall that in early centuries the sympathy and helpfulness by which christians of all ranks and races were united called forth from heathen spectators the amazed and respectful exclamation, 'see how these christians love one another!' recalling these things, we cannot but be startled that, in the nineteenth century of the christian era, a teacher should, with any expectation of being believed, have ventured to affirm that the great discovery which it has been reserved for the present day to make is that of loving one another. ignorance of christianity, misrepresentation { } of christianity, we may well call it: ignorance inconceivable, misrepresentation inconceivable: and yet, as we consider the state of christendom, do we not see what palliates the ignorance and the misrepresentation? have we not reason to confess that, if the commandment be not new, universal obedience to it would be new indeed? may the calm assurance that love is foreign to christianity not startle us into the conviction that we have forgotten what, according to our lord's own declaration, the chief feature of christianity ought to be? 'by this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.' vi 'how can we,' it has been well said, 'be asked to give the name of religion of humanity to a religion that ignores the greatest human being that ever lived, and the very source from which the religion of humanity { } sprang?'[ ] man in himself, man so full of imperfections, man having no connection with any world but this, man unallied to any power higher, nobler than himself, is this to be our god? which is more reasonable: to set up the race of man, unpurified, unredeemed, worthless and polluted, as the object of adoration, or to maintain that 'man indeed is the rightful object of our worship, but in the roll of ages, there has been but one man whom we can adore without idolatry, the man christ jesus'?[ ] the religion of humanity, so called, would have us worship man apart from christ whom yet all acknowledge to be the glory of mankind, but we call on men to worship christ jesus, for in him we see man without a stain, we see our nature redeemed and consecrated, we see ourselves brought nigh to the infinite god. we adore humanity, but humanity { } in its purity: we adore humanity, but only as manifesting in the only begotten son the glory of the eternal father. thus we place no garland around the vices of the human race: thus we abase, and thus we exalt: thus are we humbled to the dust, thus are we raised to the highest heavens. apart from christ, the magnitude of the creation may well depress and overwhelm: apart from christ the human race is morally imperfect instead of being a fit object of blind adoration. seeing christ, we not only feel our inconceivable nothingness in presence of the infinite majesty, but we stand erect and unpresumptuously say, 'we wonder not that thou art mindful of those for whom that son of man lived and died, we are in him partakers of the divine nature. there thou beholdest thine own image.' made in the image of god, such is the ideal of man that comes to us from the beginning of his history; and such is the ideal { } that once, and once only, has been realised. '_ecce homo_! behold the man!' said pontius pilate, in words more full of significance than he knew, pointing to the victim of priestly hatred and popular fickleness. behold the man! man as he ought to be, the image of god. before that divine humanity we reverently bow, to that divine humanity we humbly consecrate ourselves, in fellowship with it alone we learn and manifest the true worth and dignity of man. one writing frantically to exalt mankind and to depreciate christianity, tells us how he sat on a cliff overhanging the seashore and gazed upon the stars, murmuring, 'o prodigious universe, and o poor ignorant, that could believe all these were made for him!' but the sight of a steamship caused him to rejoice at the triumph of art over nature, and to exclaim, 'if man is small in relation to the universe, he is great in relation to the earth: he abbreviates distance and time, { } and brings the nations together.' then he saw that man is ordained to master the laws of which he is now the slave; he believed that if man could understand this mission, a new religion would animate his life, and, in the strength of this revelation, the writer says that he sang in ecstasy to the waters and winds and birds and beasts, he felt a rapture of love for the whole human race, he resolved to preach the new gospel far and wide, and proclaim the glorious mission of mankind.[ ] on the whole the old gospel will be found as ennobling, as inspiring, as practical as the new. all that this new gospel aims at, we, as christians, already believe: and we possess a divine token, a sacred pledge which is foreign to it: we believe that a higher destiny is in store for us than even the construction of wonders of mechanical skill.[ ] stripped of all rhetoric, the conclusion of unbelief in god and immortality can only { } be 'man is what he eats': the conclusion of christianity, 'there is but one object greater than the soul, and that is its creator.' one in a certain place testified, saying, 'what is man, that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man that thou visitest him? thou madest him a little lower than the angels: thou crownest him with glory and honour, and didst set him over the works of thy hands: thou hast put all things in subjection under his feet.' for in that he put all in subjection under him, he left nothing that is not put under him. but now we see not yet all things put under him. but we see jesus who was made a little lower than the angels for the suffering of death, crowned with glory and honour. we see him who is our brother and our forerunner within the veil; and in his exaltation we behold our own.[ ] no vision of the future can surpass that which the christian church { } has cherished from the beginning, that we shall all 'come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the son of god, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of christ ... from whom the whole body fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of itself in love.' [ ] _creed of a layman_, p. . [ ] shelley, _prometheus unbound_. [ ] thomas carlyle. [ ] _man's destiny_, p. , [ ] aubrey de vere. [ ] _creed of a layman_, p. . [ ] frederic harrison, _creed of a layman_. [ ] _memories and thoughts_, p. . [ ] _memories and thoughts_, p. . [ ] appendix xiv. [ ] _creed of a layman_. [ ] appendix xv. [ ] _some urgent questions in christian lights_. [ ] _heretics_, p. . [ ] appendix xvi. [ ] appendix xvii. [ ] e. a. abbott, _through nature to christ_. [ ] frederick william robertson, _sermon on john's rebuke of herod_. [ ] winwood reade, _the outcast_. [ ] appendix xviii. [ ] appendix xix. { } v theism without christ 'ye believe in god, believe also in me.'--s. john xiv. . 'i am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the father but by me.'--s. john xiv. . 'he that hath seen me hath seen the father.'--s. john xiv. . 'neither is there salvation in any other; for there is none other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved.'--acts iv. . 'he that abideth in the doctrine of christ, he hath both the father and the son.'-- s. john . { } v theism without christ by theism without christ is not meant a system like judaism or mohammedanism, but a modern school which maintains that faith in god becomes weakened and impaired by being associated with faith in jesus. there are those who cling with tenacity to the first article of the apostles' creed, 'i believe in god the father almighty,' but who reject with equal fervour the second article of the creed, 'and in jesus christ, his only son, our lord.' they resist with horror the suggestion that the world is under no overruling providence, or that the humblest human being is not regarded with the tender love of the infinite god: they rival the most { } mystical worshipper in the ardour of the language with which in prayer they address the father in heaven, but they refuse to bow in the name of jesus: they go to the father, as they think, without him: they assert that to look to him is virtually to look away from god. they are as hostile as we can be to the substitutes for christianity which we have been considering. they have no sympathy with those who loudly deny that there is a god, or with those who say that it is impossible to find out whether there is a god or not, or with those who think that the creator and the creation are one, that the universe is god, or with those who, not believing in any unseen and eternal god, insist that the proper object of the worship of mankind is man. in the proclamation of the existence of an all-wise and all-holy being, in the proclamation that he has made the world and rules it to its minutest detail, in the proclamation that { } there is a life beyond the grave, they are the allies of the christian church. but then they go on to argue, for those who hold these doctrines, christ is quite superfluous: to hold them in their purity christ must be dethroned and his name no longer specially revered. some may still wish to speak of him as among the great teachers of the world, but some, in order to preserve these precious truths unmixed, decline in a very fanaticism of unbelief to assign him even that position. i the declaration of our lord, 'no man cometh unto the father but by me,' has been a chief stumbling-block and rock of offence. are we to believe, it is asked, that only the comparatively few to whom the knowledge of jesus christ has come can possibly be accepted of the father? when the words were spoken the number of his disciples was exceedingly small. did he mean that the { } father could be approached only by that handful of people, that all beyond were banished from the divine presence and must inevitably perish? that this is what he meant both the friends and the foes of christianity have at times been agreed in holding. the friends have imagined that they were thereby exalting the claim of christ to be the one mediator. it may be a terrible mystery that the vast majority of the human race should have no opportunity of believing in him, should be even unacquainted with his name. we can only bow before the inscrutable decree, and strive with all our might, not only that our own faith may be deepened, but that the knowledge of christ may be diffused over all the earth, so that some here and there may be rescued. there is little wonder that such a view should have given rise to questionings and opposition, should have been rejected as inconsistent with mercy and with justice. it is an { } interpretation on which hostile critics have laid stress as incontestably proving the narrowness and bigotry of the christian creed. if we bear in mind who it is that is presumed to say, 'no man cometh unto the father but by me,' the misconception disappears. it is not merely an individual man, separate from all others, giving himself out as a wise and infallible teacher. he who makes the stupendous claim is one who by the supposition embodies in himself human nature in its perfection, who is identified with his brethren, who says, 'he that hath seen me hath seen the father.' the life which he manifests is the life of god. he is set forth as the way to the father: in mercy and in blessing the way is disclosed in him: it is not in harsh and rigid exclusiveness that he speaks, debarring the mass of mankind: it is in tender comprehensiveness, inviting all without distinction of race or circumstance, opening a new { } and living way for all into the holiest. it is the breaking down of all barriers between man and man, between man and god, not the setting up of another barrier high and insurmountable. when christ declares 'no man cometh unto the father but by me,' he is not declaring that the way is difficult and impassable, he is pointing out a way of deliverance which all may tread. so far from laying down a hard and burdensome dogma to be accepted on peril of pains and penalties, he is imparting a hope and a consolation in which all may rejoice. if we believe him to be the word of god made flesh, if we see in him the brightness of the father's glory, it becomes a truism to say that only through him can life and healing be imparted to mankind. when he himself says, 'i am the way, the truth and the life,' it is natural for him to add, 'no man cometh unto the father but by me.' it will { } be granted by all who believe in god that, apart from god, no soul of man can have life eternal. the most strenuous advocate of the salvation of the virtuous heathen will grant that their salvation does not descend from the idol of wood and stone before which they grovel. it is from the true god, the living god, that the blessing proceeds. it is his touch, his spirit, his presence which has consecrated the earnest though erring worship of the poor idolater. no one who believes in the infinite and eternal god could possibly say that the monstrous image whose aid is invoked by the devout heathen is itself the answerer of his prayer, the cause of his deliverance from sin, the bestower of immortality upon him. the utmost that can be said is that in the costly sacrifices, the painful penances, the passionate prayers which he presents to the object of his adoration, the almighty love discerns a longing after something nobler and better, { } and accepts the service as directed really, though unconsciously, to him. the feeble hands and helpless, groping blindly in the darkness, touch god's right hand in that darkness and are lifted up and strengthened.[ ] but it is the hand of god that they touch. it is from the one omnipotent god that every blessing comes: it is the one omnipotent god who turns to truth and life and reality every sincere and struggling and imperfect attempt to serve him on the part of those who know not his nature or his name. and what is true of god is equally true of christ, the manifestation of god. only grant him to be the incarnate word of god, and it becomes plain that salvation can no more exist apart from him than apart from the father. this word of god is the light that lighteth every man. whatever truth, whatever knowledge of the divine, anywhere { } exists is the result of that illumination. the sparks which shine even in the darkness of heathendom betoken the presence of that light, not wholly extinguished by the folly and ignorance of man. that is the one sun of righteousness which gives light everywhere, though in many places the clouds are so dense that the beams can scarcely penetrate. now, if that word has become flesh, if that light has become embodied in human form, we are still constrained to say, there is no true light but his, it is in his light that all must walk if they would not stray, there is no guide, no deliverer, save him. christ discloses, brings to view, all the saving health which has ever been, all the power of restoring, cleansing, healing, which has ever worked in the souls of men. the one power by which any human being, in any age or in any land, has ever been fitted for the presence of the all holy god, is made manifest in christ. 'neither is there { } salvation in any other, for there is none other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved.' we need have no hesitation in asserting that all who in any age or in any land, or in any religion, have come to the father must have come through the son of man, the eternal word made flesh. we do not contend, as has too frequently been contended, that beyond the limits of christianity, beyond, it may be, the limits of one section of christianity, there is no truth believed, no acceptable service rendered. we hail with gratitude the lofty thoughts and the noble achievements of some who do not in word acknowledge christ as lord. in the vision of the light that lighteth every man, we see how light can find its way to regions farthest from the fount of day.[ ] 'now,' as is well said by the present bishop { } of birmingham, who will hardly be accused of any tendency to minimise the claims of christianity, 'this is no narrow creed. christianity, the religion of jesus, is the light: it is the one final revelation, the one final religion, but it supersedes all other religions, jewish and pagan, not by excluding, but by including all the elements of truth which each contained. there was light in zoroastrianism, light in buddhism, light among the greeks: but it is all included in christianity. a good christian is a good buddhist, a good jew, a good mohammedan, a good zoroastrian; that is, he has all the truth and virtue that these can possess, purged and fused in a greater and completer light. christianity, i say, supersedes all other religions by including these fragments of truth in its own completeness. you cannot show me any element of spiritual light or strength which is in other religions and is not in christianity. nor can you { } show me any other religion which can compare with christianity in completeness of light: christianity is the one complete and final religion, and the elements of truth in other religions are rays of the one light which is concentrated and shines full in jesus christ our lord.'[ ] ii from whatever cause, whether as a reaction against the mode in which this great truth has been at times presented, there have been, and there are, attempts to supersede christianity because of its narrowness. religion must not be identified with any one name: god manifests himself to all, and no mediator is needed. theism, therefore, the worship of the one almighty and eternal being, not christianity, in which a human name is associated with the divine name, can alone pretend to be the universal religion, the { } religion of all mankind. it is not the first time that such an attempt to do without christianity and to do away with it has been made. in the eighteenth century there was a similar movement. to this day at ferney, near geneva, is preserved the chapel which voltaire erected for the worship of god, of god as distinguished from christ as divine or as mediator between god and man. voltaire thought that he could overthrow and crush the faith of christ, but he none the less erected a temple to god. the deists upheld what they called the religion of nature and repudiated revelation. _christianity not mysterious; christianity as old as the creation_, were among the works issued to show the superiority of natural religion, its freedom from difficulties, its agreement with reason, its universality. the most enduring memorial of the controversy is bishop butler's _analogy of religion to the constitution and course of nature_, { } in which it was argued that the natural religion of the deists was beset by as many difficulties as the revelation of the christians, that those who were not hindered from believing in god by the problems which nature presented need not be staggered by the problems which were presented by christianity. bishop butler's argument was directed against a special set of antagonists, an argument, it may be said, of little avail against the scepticism of the present day. the argument seems to have been unanswerable by those to whom it was addressed. the grounds on which they rejected the revelation of christ were shown to be inadequate. when they accepted this or that article of natural religion, they had accepted what was as difficult of belief as this or that part of the revelation which they rejected. the mysteries which existed in the religion with which they would have nothing to do were in harmony with the { } mysteries which existed in the religion which they declared to be necessary for the welfare of society. that retort may be made with even more effect to those who so far occupy that same ground to-day. they rejoice to believe that there is a god, that he is not far off, that he communicates himself to their souls, that the love which we bear to one another is but a faint image of the love which he bears to us, that the noblest qualities which exist in us exist more purely, more gloriously in him, that we are in very deed his children and are called to manifest his likeness. it is by prayer, both in public and in private, both in congregations and alone with the alone, that his love and his help can be comprehended and used. he is no absent god: his ear is not heavy that it cannot hear, nor his arm shortened that it cannot save. with this belief we, as christians, have no dispute: we gladly go along with theists in asserting it: we { } only wonder at their unwillingness to go along with us a little further. for if god be such as they glowingly depict him, if our relations to him be such as they esteem it our greatest dignity to know, there is nothing antecedently impossible in the thought that one man has heard his voice more clearly, has surrendered to his will more entirely, than any other in the history of the ages and the races of mankind: nothing antecedently impossible in the thought that to one man his truth has been conveyed more brightly, more fully than to any other; that in one man the lineaments of the divine image may be seen more distinctly than in any other. if god be such, and if our relations to god be such, as theists describe, why should they shrink with distrust or with antipathy from a son of man who has borne witness to those truths in his life and in his death with a steadfastness of conviction which none other has ever surpassed; who, according { } to the records which we possess of him, habitually lived to do the father's will and died commending his spirit into the father's hands: a son of man who could truly be said to be in heaven while he was on earth? if god be such, and our relations to god be such, as theists describe, would not that son of man be the confirmation of their thoughts? would not his testimony be of infinite value on their side? would he himself not be the radiant illustration, the eagerly longed for proof of the truth for which they contend? they believe in god: why should it, on their own showing, be so hard to believe in christ? iii the theism of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is in some respects different from the deism of the eighteenth. it is not so cold, the god in whom it believes is not so distant from his creatures. but it is not { } less vehement in its depreciation of christianity as a needless and even harmful addition to the religion of nature. conspicuous among the advocates of this modern theism have been francis william newman, miss frances power cobbe, and the rev. charles voysey. francis newman, in his youth, belonged, like his brother the famous cardinal, to the strictest sect of evangelicals, but, like the cardinal also, drifted away from them, though in a totally different direction.[ ] as he found the untenableness of certain views which he had cherished, the insufficiency of certain arguments which he had employed, he came with much anguish of mind to the conclusion that the whole fabric of historical christianity was built upon the sand. he rapidly renounced belief after belief, and caused widespread distress and dismay by a crude attack upon the moral perfection of { } our lord. his conviction that christianity had nothing special to say for itself, and that one religion was as good as another, seems to have been mainly brought about by a discussion which he had with a mohammedan carpenter at aleppo. 'among other matters, i was particularly desirous of disabusing him of the current notion of his people that our gospels are spurious narratives of late date. i found great difficulty of expression, but the man listened to me with much attention, and i was encouraged to exert myself. he waited patiently till i had done and then spoke to the following effect: "i will tell you, sir, how the case stands. god has given to you english many good gifts. you make fine ships, and sharp penknives, and good cloth and cottons, and you have rich nobles and brave soldiers; and you write and print many learned books (dictionaries and grammars): all this is of god. but there is one thing that god has withheld { } from you and has revealed to us; and that is the knowledge of the true religion by which one may be saved."'[ ] but although newman was led to give up christianity, and practically to hold that one religion was as good as another, he clung tenaciously to what he supposed to be common to all religions, belief in god, a belief deep and ardent. the rationalism of the deists did not approve itself to him. 'our deists of past centuries tried to make religion a matter of the pure intellect, and thereby halted at the very frontier of the inward life: they cut themselves off even from all acquaintance with the experience of spiritual men.'[ ] he nourished his soul with psalms and hymns: he sought communion with god. he saw the weakness of morality without the inspiring power of religion. 'morals can seldom gain living energy without the impulsive force derived from spirituals.... however { } much plato and cicero may talk of the surpassing beauty of virtue, still virtue is an abstraction, a set of wise rules, not a person, and cannot call out affection as an existence exterior to the soul does. on the contrary, god is a person; and the love of him is of all affections by far the most energetic in exciting us to make good our highest ideals of moral excellence and in clearing the moral sight, so that that ideal may keep rising. other things being equal (a condition not to be forgotten) a spiritual man will hold a higher and purer morality than a mere moralist. not only does duty manifest itself to him as an ever-expanding principle, but since a larger and larger part of duty becomes pleasant and easy when performed under the stimulus of love, the will is enabled to concentrate itself more on that which remains difficult and greater power of performance is attained.'[ ] where shall we find a more { } vivid or more spiritual description of the rise and progress of devotion in the soul than in the words of this man, who placed himself beyond the pale of every christian communion? 'one who begins to realise god's majestic beauty and eternity and feels in contrast how little and transitory man is, how dependent and feeble, longs to lean upon him for support. but he is _outside_ of the heart, like a beautiful sunset, and seems to have nothing to do with it: there is no getting into contact with him, to press against him. yet where rather should the weak rest than on the strong, the creature of the day than on the eternal, the imperfect than on the centre of perfection? and where else should god dwell than in the human heart? for if god is in the universe, among things inanimate and unmoral, how much more ought he to dwell with our souls! and they, too, seem to be infinite in their cravings: who but he can satisfy them? thus a restless { } instinct agitates the soul, guiding it dimly to feel that it was made for some definite but unknown relation towards god. the sense of emptiness increases to positive uneasiness, until there is an inward yearning, if not shaped in words, yet in substance not alien from that ancient strain, "as the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, o god; my soul is athirst for god, even for the living god."'[ ] mr. newman, in his later days, we understand, had modified the bitterness of his opposition to historical christianity and was ready to avow himself as a disciple of christ. miss frances power cobbe was another devout spirit who, with less violence but equal decisiveness, accepted theism as apart from christianity. in her case, even more visibly than in mr. newman's, it was not christianity which she rejected, but sundry distortions of it with which it had in her mind become { } identified. she wrote not a few articles so permeated with the christian spirit and imbued with the christian hope that the most ardent believer in christ could read them with entire approval and own himself their debtor. she took an active part in many philanthropic movements, and she was an earnest and eloquent advocate of faith in the divine ordering of the world and in human immortality. 'theism,' she said, 'is not christianity _minus_ christ, nor judaism _minus_ the miraculous legation of moses, nor any other creed whatsoever merely stripped of its supernatural element. it is before all things the positive affirmation of the absolute goodness of god: and if it be in antagonism to other creeds, it is principally because of, and in proportion to, their failure to assert that goodness in its infinite and all-embracing completeness.'[ ] 'god is over us, and heaven { } is waiting for us all the same, even though all the men of science in europe unite to tell us there is only matter in the universe and only corruption in the grave. atheism may prevail for a night, but faith cometh in the morning. theism is "bound to win" at last: not necessarily that special type of theism which our poor thoughts in this generation have striven to define: but that great fundamental faith, the needful substruction of every other possible religious faith, the faith in a righteous and loving god, and in a life of man beyond the tomb.'[ ] 'all the monitions of conscience, all the guidance and rebukes and consolations of the divine spirit, all the holy words of the living, and all the sacred books of the dead, these are our primary evidences of religion. in a word, the first article of our creed is "i believe in god the holy ghost." after this fundamental dogma, we accept { } with joy and comfort the faith in the creator and orderer of the physical universe, and believe in god the father almighty, maker of heaven and earth. and lastly we rejoice in the knowledge that (in no mystic athanasian sense, but in simple fact) "_these two are one_." the god of love and justice who speaks in conscience, and whom our inmost hearts adore, is the same god who rolls the suns and guides the issues of life and death.'[ ] in an able paper, _a faithless world_, in which miss cobbe combated the assertion of sir james fitzjames stephen, that the disappearance of belief in god and immortality would be unattended with any serious consequences to the material, intellectual, or moral well-being of mankind, she forcibly said, 'i confess at starting on this inquiry, that the problem, "is religion of use, or can we do as well without it?" seems to me { } almost as grotesque as the old story of the woman who said that we owe vast obligations to the moon, which affords us light on dark nights, whereas we are under no such debt to the sun, who only shines by day, _when there is always light_. religion has been to us so diffused a light that it is quite possible to forget how we came by the general illumination, save when now and then it has blazed out with special brightness.' the comment is eminently just, but does it not apply with equal force to miss cobbe herself? the theism which she professed was the direct outcome of christianity, could never have existed but for christianity, was, in all its best features, simply christianity under a different name. that theism, as a separate organisation, gives little evidence of conquering the world is shown by the fact that, after many years, it boasts of only one congregation, that of the theistic church, swallow street, piccadilly, { } of which the rev. charles voysey is minister. mr. voysey was at one time vicar of a parish in yorkshire, where he issued, under the title of _the sling and the stone_, sermons attacking the commonly accepted doctrines of the church of england, and was in consequence deprived of his living. he is distinctly anti-christian in his teaching; strongly prejudiced against anything that bears the christian name: criticising the sayings and doings of our lord in a fashion which indicates either the most astonishing misconception or the most melancholy perversion. but his sincerity and fervour on behalf of theism are unmistakable. he describes it as _religion for all mankind, based on facts which are never in dispute_. the book which is called by that title is written for the help and comfort of all his fellowmen, 'chiefly for those who have doubted and discarded the christian religion, and in consequence have become agnostics or { } pessimists.' it is prefaced by a dedication, which is also a touching confession of personal faith: 'in all humility i dedicate this book to my god who made me and all mankind, who loves us all alike with an everlasting love, who of his very faithfulness causeth us to be troubled, who punishes us justly for every sin, not in anger or vengeance, but only to cleanse, to heal, and to bless, in whose everlasting arms we lie now and to all eternity.'[ ] mr. voysey has compiled a prayer book for the use of his congregation. the ordinary service is practically the morning or evening service of the book of common prayer, with all references to our lord carefully eliminated. the hymn _jesus, lover of my soul_ is changed to _father, refuge of my soul_; and the hymn just as i am without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me, and that thou bidst me come to thee, o lamb of god, i come, { } is rendered: just as i am without one plea, but that thy lore is seeking me, and that thou bidst me come to thee, o loving god, i come. the service respecting our duty, and the service of supplication have merits of their own, but, except for the wanton omission of the name which is above every name, there is nothing in them which does not bear a christian impress. 'christianity _minus_ christ' would seem to be no unfair definition of their standpoint: and without christ they could not have been what they are. the father who is set forth as the object of worship and of trust is the father whom christ declared, the father who, but for the manifestation of christ, would never have been known. far be it from us to deny that the father has been found by those who have sought him beyond the limits of the church: this only we affirm that those by whom he { } has been found, have, consciously or unconsciously, drawn near to him by the way of christ. nothing of value in modern theism is incompatible with christianity: nothing of value which would not be strengthened by faith in him who said, 'he that hath seen me hath seen the father.' iv the strange objection to faith in christ is sometimes made that it interferes with faith in the father. the notion of mediation is regarded as derogatory alike to god and to man. there is no need for any one to come between: no need for god to depute another to bear witness of him: no need for us to depute another to secure his favour, as from all eternity he is love. the assumption, the groundless assumption, underlying this conception is that the mediator is a barrier between man and god, a hindrance not a help to fellowship with the divine: that one { } goes to the mediator because access to god is debarred. whatever may occasionally have been the unguarded statements of representatives of christianity, it is surely plain that no such doctrine is taught, that the very opposite of such doctrine is taught, in the new testament. 'we do not,' says m. sabatier, 'address ourselves to jesus by way of dispensing ourselves from going to the father. far from this, we go to christ and abide in him, precisely that we may find the father. we abide in him that his filial consciousness may become our own; that the spirit may become our spirit, and that god may dwell immediately in us as he dwells in him. nothing in all this carries us outside of the religion of the spirit: on the contrary, it is its seal and confirmation.'[ ] the whole object of the work of christ, as proclaimed by himself, or as interpreted { } by his apostles, was to show the father, to bring men to the father. 'believest thou not that i am in the father, and the father in me? the words that i speak unto you i speak not of myself: but the father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works.' he 'came and preached peace to you which were afar off and to them that were nigh. for through him we both have access by one spirit unto the father.' to argue that to come to christ is a substitute for coming to god, is an inducement to halt upon the way, is an absolute travesty and perversion. to refuse to see the glory of god in the face of jesus christ is not to bring god near: it is to remove him further from our vision. that god should come to us, that we should go to god, through a mediator, is only in accordance with a universal law. 'why,' says one, who might be expected from his theological training to speak otherwise, 'why, _all_ knowledge is "mediated" even of { } the simplest objects, even of the most obvious facts: there is no such thing in the world as immediate knowledge, and shall we demur when we are told that the knowledge of god the father also must pass, in order to reach us at its best and purest, through the medium of "that son of god and son of man in whom was the fulness of the prophetic spirit and the filial life?" ... of this at least i feel convinced, that where faith in the father has grown blurred and vague in our days, and finally flickered out, the cause must in many instances be sought--i will not say in the wilful rejection, but--in the careless letting go of the message and personality of the son.'[ ] so far from the thought of the father being ignored or set aside by the thought of christ, we may rather say with s. john, 'whosoever denieth the son, the same hath not the father: he that confesseth the son hath the father also.' 'he { } that abideth in the doctrine of christ, he hath both the father and the son.' the homage that we render thee is still our father's own; nor jealous claim or rivalry divides the cross and throne.[ ] v the notion that theism as contrasted with christianity is a mark of progress and of spirituality is a pure imagination. 'more spiritual it may be than the traditional christianity which consists in rigid and stereotyped forms of practice, of ceremonial, of observance, of dogma: but not more spiritual than the teaching of christ himself, the end and completion of whose work was to bring men to the father, to teach them that god is a spirit, and to send the spirit of the father into the hearts of the disciples. it would be a strange perversity if men should reject christ in the name of spiritual { } religion when it is to christ, and to him alone, that they owe the conception of what spiritual religion is.'[ ] to preach the doctrines of theism without reference to christ is to deprive them of their most sublime illustration, their most inspiring force, and their most convincing proof. it is as christ is known that god is believed in. the attempt to create enthusiasm for god while banishing the gospel of christ meets with astonishingly small response. the 'religion for all mankind' makes but little progress, is, in spite of the labours of five-and-thirty years, confined, as we have seen, almost to a solitary moderately sized congregation. and whether or not the 'facts' on which the religion is based 'are never in dispute,' the religion itself is often-times disputed very keenly. modern assaults upon religious faith are, as a rule, directed quite as much against theism as { } against christianity.[ ] it is the love, or even the existence, of the living god, it is human responsibility, it is life beyond the grave, that are called in question as frequently as the resurrection of christ. the assurance that god at sundry times and in divers manners has spoken by prophets renders it not more but less improbable that he should speak by a son: the assurance that there is life beyond the grave for all renders it not more but less improbable that jesus rose from the dead. conversely those who believe in jesus believe with a double intensity in him whom he revealed. 'ye believe in god,' said christ, 'believe also in me.' for many of us now, it is because we believe in christ that we believe also in god. the almighty and eternal is beyond our ken: the grace and truth of jesus christ come home to our hearts. the word that was in the beginning with god and was god, { } is wrapt in impenetrable mystery: the word made flesh can be seen and handled: has wrought with human hands the creed of creeds in loveliness of perfect deeds, more strong than all poetic thought.[ ] and however it may be in a few exceptional cases, where people nominally renouncing christ desperately cleave to a fragment of the faith of their childhood, the fact remains that, where he ceases to be acknowledged, faith in the father whom he manifested tends, gradually or speedily, to vanish. vi the superiority of theism to deism simply consists in its being more christian. with the ideas of god which 'theists' hold, we can, as christians, most cordially sympathise. we can sincerely say, 'hold to them firmly, they are your life: let no man rob you of { } them by any vain deceit.' but we cannot help also asking, 'whence have you drawn those lofty ideas? where have you obtained so exalted a conception of the divine being in his mingled majesty and lowliness, in his inconceivable greatness, and his equally inconceivable compassion? we turn from the picture of god which, with so much labour, so much skill, so much moral earnestness, you have exhibited, and we behold the original in christ and his teaching. however unconsciously, it is his truth, it is his features, that you have reproduced. you have been brought up in the church of christ, or you have been brought into contact with its influences, and you have imbibed its teachings, perhaps more deeply than some who would not dare to question its smallest precepts. still, christ's teaching you have not outgrown, from christ himself you have not escaped. you cannot go from his presence or flee from his spirit. those { } views which you hold so strongly, which are to you the most ennobling that have ever been given of god and of religion, where is it that alone they are to be found? in places where christianity has gone before. no doubt, belief in god is not confined to christian countries: worship of the maker of heaven and earth exists where the name of christ has never been heard, but not such belief, _such_ worship, as that for which those persons contend. the god whom they adore will not be found anywhere save where christianity has penetrated. in this country it is the desperate clinging to one portion of the christian faith when all else has been abandoned: in other lands, in india, for example, where representatives of this way of thinking are not uncommon, it is the rapturous welcome of one of the sublime truths of christianity before which the idolatries of their forefathers are passing away. it is safe to call it a transition stage: { } it will either part with the fragment of christianity which it retains and become merged in doubt and speculation and unbelief; or it will include yet more of the christianity of which it has grasped a part: its belief in god will be crowned and confirmed by its belief in christ. for, speaking to those who cherish faith in the all-righteous and all-loving god as the only hope for the regeneration of mankind, we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that where faith in christ fades, faith in god has a tendency to become vague and dim. he ceases to be thought of as a friend and help at hand: he is resolved into a creator infinitely distant or into a law, immovable, inexorable, a blind, unconscious fate. it is christ who gives life to the thought of god. it is the word made flesh that makes the eternal word more real. the attempt of the deists to purify religion by the preaching of a god who had not { } revealed himself, and could not reveal himself, in a son, came to nothing. voltaire's chapel at ferney still stands, but nobody worships in it. religion seemed to slumber: belief in god seemed to be decaying, when the preaching of the name and the work of christ again aroused it into life. and so it is now. whatever the ability, whatever the sincerity of the advocates of belief in god without reference to christ, it lacks motive-power, it lacks the missionary spirit. if we may judge by the past, theism without christ is a faith which will not spread, which will not lay hold on the labouring and the heavy laden: which may be maintained as a theory, but which will not be as a fire in the souls of men diffusing itself by kindling other souls. it is from christ alone, from christ the manifestation of what god is in heart and mind, from christ the manifestation of what man ought to be, from christ who said, 'in my father's house are many { } mansions: he that hath seen me hath seen the father,' that there comes with an authority to which, in face of the difficulties besetting the present and the future, the human soul will bow, with a soothing power to which the human spirit will gladly yield--it is from christ alone that there comes the divine injunction, 'let not your heart be troubled, ye believe in god, believe also in me.' it is as he is clearly seen and truly known that the clouds of error and superstition vanish from the face of god, and men are drawn to worship and to trust. [ ] longfellow, _song of hiawatha_. [ ] keble, _christian year_. [ ] bishop gore, _the christian creed_. [ ] appendix xx. [ ] _phases of faith_. [ ] _the soul: its sorrows and aspirations_. [ ] _the soul: its sorrows and aspirations_. [ ] _the soul_. [ ] _alone to the alone_. [ ] _alone to the alone_. [ ] _alone to the alone_. [ ] appendix xxi. [ ] _the religions of authority and the religion of the spirit_. [ ] j. warschauer, _coming of christ_. [ ] whittier, _our master_. [ ] r. b. bartlett, _the letter and the spirit_: bampton lecture. [ ] appendix xxii. [ ] tennyson, _in memoriam_. { } vi the tribute of criticism to christ 'for their rock is not as our rock, even our enemies themselves being judges.'--deuteronomy xxxii. . 'he asked his disciples, saying, whom do men say that i, the son of man, am? and they said, some say that thou art john the baptist; some elias; and others jeremias or one of the prophets.'--s. matthew xvi. , . 'what think ye of christ? whose son is he?--s. matthew, xxii. . 'and there was much murmuring among the people concerning him: for some said, he is a good man: others said, nay, but he deceiveth the people.'--s. john vii. . 'then said jesus unto the twelve, will ye also go away? then simon peter answered him, lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.'--s. john vi. , . { } vi the tribute of criticism to christ[ ] of the investigations of modern criticism the most serious are those which have concerned the person of our lord. it has been felt both by assailants and by defenders of the faith that, so long as his supremacy remains acknowledged, christianity has not been overthrown. other doctrines once considered all-important may fall into comparative abeyance: whether they are upheld or rejected or modified, matters little to christianity as christianity. but more and more it has grown clear that christ himself { } is the article of a standing or a falling church. if this doctrine is not of god, if he is not the way, the truth, and the life, christianity, whatever benefits may have been associated with its career, must be ranked among religions which have passed away. but so long as he is admitted to be the authority and standard in the moral and spiritual realm, so long as his name is above every name, the work of destruction is not accomplished. hence, renewed attempts have of late been made to tear the crown from his brow, to reduce him to the level of common men, to relegate him to the domain of myth, even to deny that he ever existed. although, in certain quarters at present, this last and extreme position is loudly asserted, it is hardly necessary to occupy much time in examining it, the trend of all criticism, even of the most rationalistic, being so decidedly opposed to { } it. to deny that he existed is commonly felt to be the outcome of the most arbitrary prejudice, the conclusions of whately's _historic doubts relative to napoleon buonaparte_ remaining grave and weighty in comparison. that jesus of nazareth lived and taught and was crucified, that, immediately after his death, his disciples were proclaiming that he had risen, and was their living inspiration, these are facts which can be denied only by the very extravagance of scepticism. and the admission of these simple facts implies a great deal more than is commonly supposed. i it is the fashion for hostile critics to say, 'christianity is not dependent upon christ: it is the creation of the semi-historical paul, not of the unhistorical jesus. there is at best no more connection between christendom and christ than between america and { } amerigo vespucci.[ ] see how much christians have been obliged to give up: see how belief after belief has had to be surrendered; see how they are now left with the merest fragment of their ancient creed, how evidently they will soon be compelled to part with the little to which they still desperately cling.' the conclusion is somewhat hasty and premature. the fragment which remains is after all the main portion of the creed of the early disciples. where that fragment is declared and held and lived in, there is the presence and the power of the christian faith. we need not trouble ourselves about sundry points which, at one epoch or another, have come to be denied or ignored: we need not say anything either for them or against them. we have to take our stand on what is accepted, not on what is rejected. and for the moment we may { } venture to take our stand only on what is accepted by the critics least biassed in favour of the traditional views of christendom. those who have come to imagine it to be a mark of advanced culture to break with all religion, to confine their attention to the fleeting present, to reject all that claims to have divine sanction, may listen with respect to the words of some who appear in fancied hostility to christianity. we are not assuming that because men are great in science or history or philosophy they must be great in spiritual things. their achievements in their own sphere, let us gratefully recognise; their uprightness, their single-heartedness, let us imitate; and if by chance they are sincere christians as well as able men, let us rejoice; if they are not professing christians at all and yet bear witness to the beneficial influence of christianity and the unique power of the words and character of christ, let us hail with { } pleasure their tribute of admiration as a testimony impartial and unanswerable to the pre-eminence of our lord, but let not our faith in god, our knowledge of our saviour, be dependent on their verdict. the faith of the gospel does not stand or fall with their approval or disapproval. in matters of criticism we do well to defer to scholars, in matters of science we do well to defer to men of science. but in matters pertaining to the inner life, to the development of character, to the knowledge of things pure and lovely and of good report, such men have no exclusive claim to be listened to. and it would be absurd to say that we cannot make up our minds as to whether christ is worthy to be revered and loved and followed until we have ascertained what is said about him by authorities in physics, or geology, or astronomy, by statesmen or novelists or writers of magazine articles, by inventors of ingenious machines or authors of { } sensational stories. if they speak scoffingly, if they do not recognise any sacredness in his spirit and life, it will be impossible for us to take him as our moral and spiritual guide. we might almost as well say that we will not trust the truthfulness or goodness of our father or mother or brother or friend of many years, unless, from persons eminent in literature or science or politics, we have testimonials assuring us that our affection for those with whom we are so closely associated is not a delusion. that is a matter, we should all feel, with which the great and distinguished, however justly great and distinguished, have really nothing to do. it is a matter for ourselves, a matter in which our own experience is worth more than the verdict of people, however learned in their own line, who do not, and cannot, know the friend or relative as we know him ourselves. still, we regard it as an additional { } compliment to his worth, and an additional confirmation of our own faith, if those who have been jealously scrutinising his conduct declare that they can find no fault in him.[ ] if it is made plain that the positive teaching of men unconnected with any church, untrammelled by any creed, is a virtual assertion of much that is most dear to christianity, if it is made plain that even where there is strong denial there is also much reference to christ, it may have more weight than the most cogent arguments or the most glowing appeals of orthodox divines or devout believers. the evangelists delight to record instances of unexpected, unfriendly, unimpeachable testimony to the power of christ. it is not only that the simple-minded people were astonished at his doctrine, but that the soldiers who were sent to silence him { } returned, smitten with amazement, saying, 'never man spake like this man.' it is not only that a grateful penitent washed his feet with tears, but that the unprincipled governor who sentenced him to death declared 'i find in him no fault at all.' it is not only that an apostle confesses, 'thou art the christ the son of the living god,' but that the centurion who watched over his crucifixion exclaimed, 'certainly this was a righteous man: this was a son of god.' it is similar unprejudiced witness that we may hear around us still, the witness of those who profess to have another rule of life than ours, and to be in no degree influenced by our traditions. we must not expect too much from this kind of evidence: we must not expect clear logical proof of every article rightly or wrongly identified with the popularly termed 'orthodox' creed. it would destroy the value of the evidence { } simply to quote orthodox doctrines in orthodox language. what we rather offer is the testimony of those who have resigned their grasp on much that we may deem essential. it is because in a sense we may call them 'enemies' that we ask them to be 'judges' in the great controversy. it is exactly because they are incredulous, or sceptical, or irreligious that we cite them at all. we confine ourselves to the utterances of men who are commonly cited as hostile to the commonly accepted faith of christ, or who do not rank among the number of his nominal disciples, or who at least have discussed his claims by critical and historical methods, endeavouring fairly to take into account all the facts which the circumstances warrant. we say to those who disown the authority of christ: it is not to the words of evangelists or preachers that your attention is sought: it is to the words of those whom you { } profess to respect, of those because of whose supposed antagonism to christianity you are rejecting him. we ask you to listen to them and to consider whether he of whom such men speak in such terms is to be so lightly set aside as you have fancied. ii it will be strange if, accepting even that scanty creed, we do not find ourselves speedily accepting much more. when it is heartily acknowledged that jesus of nazareth lived and died, and that his first followers found strength and irresistible power in the conviction that he had conquered death and the grave, it is of necessity that we go further. the extreme sceptics who maintain that he never existed are, for the purpose of controversy, wise in their generation, for, once his existence is admitted, his mysterious power begins to tell. we are confronted { } with an influence by which, consciously or unconsciously, we must be affected, a knowledge which we must acquire, an authority to which we must bow. let us not think merely of those who have, in utter devotion, yielded their hearts and souls to him through all the centuries, of the institutions and customs which owe their existence directly to him; let us think of the manifestations which are so often visible in those who do not suspect whence the manifestations come, let us think of the tributes of affection, of homage, of devotion which are paid by those to whom the ancient faith in his divinity appears to be an illusion or an impossible exaggeration. scarcely any critic of recent years has been regarded as more destructive than professor schmiedel. indignant attack after indignant attack has been made upon him for arguing that only nine sayings attributed to our lord can be accepted as genuine, that { } all else is involved in suspicion. what schmiedel really does maintain is that these nine sayings must of necessity be accepted as genuine, cannot be rejected by any sane canon of criticism, and that the acceptance of these nine sayings, these 'foundation-pillars,' compels the acceptance of a great deal besides. '_what then have i gained in these nine foundation pillars_? you will perhaps say "very little": i reply, "i have gained just enough." having them, i know that jesus must really have come forward in the way he is said to have done.... in a word, i know, on the one hand, that his person cannot be referred to the region of myth; on the other hand, that he was man in the full sense of the term, and that, without of course denying that the divine character was in him, this could be found only in the shape in which it can be found in any human being. i think, therefore, that if we knew no more we should { } know by no means little about him. but as a matter of fact the foundation-pillars are but the starting-point for our study of the life of jesus.'[ ] and this study, he concludes, gives us nothing less than 'pretty well the whole bulk of jesus' teaching, in so far as its object is to explain in a purely religious and ethical way what god requires of man and wherein man requires comfort and consolation from god.' the standpoint of professor schmiedel is not the standpoint of the church as a whole: he fearlessly and aggressively endeavours to remove any misconception on that subject: all the more remarkable that, renouncing so much, he incontrovertibly establishes so much, incontrovertibly establishes, we may not unreasonably contend, a great deal more than he admits: he cannot, we may think, stop logically where he does. all this may, or may not, be legitimately argued: there can { } be no doubt that one whose dislike of traditional dogmas is excessive, and whose scrutiny of the gospel records is minute and unsparing, forces us to say of jesus, what manner of man is this? it is the same with the general tendency of modern criticism. from the day that strauss accomplished his destructive work, the figure of jesus as a historical reality has been more and more endowed with power.[ ] no age has so occupied itself with him, none has so endeavoured to recall the features of his character, to apply his teachings to the solution of social questions, as this age of ruthless inquiry. the inquirers may have abjured tradition, but almost without exception they have profoundly reverenced, if they have not actually worshipped, jesus of nazareth, and they have found in his gospel moral and spiritual light and life. { } some thirty years ago, m. andré lefèvre, a fervid disciple of materialism, an uncompromising and bitter opponent of every symptom of religious manifestation, could not help discerning 'with the clairvoyance of hatred,' the influence of christianity in modern thought. 'descartes, leibnitz, locke, condillac, newton, bonnet, kant, hegel, spinoza himself, toland and priestley, rousseau, all are christians somewhere.... voltaire himself has not completely eliminated the virus: his deism is not exempt from it.'[ ] the same thing is still occurring. in the most unexpected quarters we find the fascination of christ remaining. men not acknowledging themselves to be his followers, defiantly proclaiming that they are not his followers, that they can hardly be even interested in him, are yet perpetually returning, in what they themselves will confess as their higher moments, to the thought of { } him, trying to make plain why it is that for them there is in him no beauty that they should desire him. for example, this is how mr. h. g. wells, the popular author of so many imaginative works, attempts frankly to explain his attitude: 'i hope i shall offend no susceptibilities when i assert that this great and very definite personality in the hearts and imaginations of mankind does not, and never has, attracted me. it is a fact i record about myself without aggression or regret. i do not find myself able to associate him in any way with the emotion of salvation.' but mr. wells goes on to say: 'i admit the splendid imaginative appeal in the idea of a divine human friend and mediator. if it were possible to have access by prayer, by meditation, by urgent outcries of the soul, to such a being whose feet were in the darknesses, who stooped down from the light, who was at once great and little, limitless in power { } and virtue, and one's very brother; if it were possible by sheer will in believing to make and make one's way to such a helper, who would refuse such help? but i do not find such a being in christ. i do not find, i cannot imagine such a being. i wish i could. to me the christian christ seems not so much a humanised god as an incomprehensibly sinless being, neither god nor man. his sinlessness wears his incarnation like a fancy dress, all his white self unchanged. he had no petty weaknesses. now the essential trouble of my life is its petty weaknesses. if i am to have that love, that sense of understanding fellowship which is, i conceive, the peculiar magic and merit of this idea of a personal saviour, then i need some one quite other than this image of virtue, this terrible and incomprehensible galilean with his crown of thorns, his bloodstained hands and feet. i cannot love him any more than i can love a man { } upon the rack.' 'the christian's christ is too fine for me, not incarnate enough, not flesh enough, not earth enough. he was never foolish and hot-eared and inarticulate, never vain, he never forgot things, nor tangled his miracles.'[ ] there is no disputing about tastes; and it is impossible to refute one who tells us that he cannot see and cannot understand, though we may lament and be astonished at his disabilities. why a man upon the rack should not be loved, or why the prime qualification for the saviour of mankind should be the plentiful possession of petty weaknesses, or why it should be necessary for him to be sometimes foolish and to have a bad memory, or what necessary connection there is between hot-ears and the salvation of the world, need not detain us long. for in spite of this apparently curious longing for a deliverer who shall be weak and vain { } and forgetful and hot-eared, and foolish, and of the earth earthy, mr. wells shows us that the urgent outcry of his soul is for a being limitless in power and virtue and one's very brother; and though he says that he does not find such a being in christ, it is exactly what christians have in all ages been finding. 'we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in times of need.' iii the instance which we have cited is exceptional among modern doubters, among those who have deliberately set themselves without violent prejudice to study the claims of christianity. be it in poetry or prose, in scientific criticism or in imaginative { } biography, with remarkable unanimity, while stubbornly refusing to accept the creed of the church, they so depict him that the natural conclusion of their representation is, 'oh, come let us adore him.' there is scarcely any of them who would not sympathise with the admission and aspiration of b. wimmer in his confession, _my struggle for light_: 'i cannot but love this unique child of god with all the fervour of my soul, i cannot but lift up eyes full of reverence and rapture to this personality in whom the highest and most sacred virtues which can move the heart of man shine forth in spotless purity throughout the ages. even if many a trait in his portrait, as the gospels sketch it for us, be more legendary than historical, yet i feel that here a man stands before me, a man who really lived and has a place in history like that of no other man: indeed i feel that even the legends concerning him possess a truth in that they spring from the { } spirit which passed from him into his church. i know what i have to thank him for. i would in my inmost self be so closely united with him that he may live in my spirit and bear absolute sway in my soul. i will not be ashamed of his cross and i will gladly endure the insults which men have directed, and still often enough direct, against him and his truth.' that is the characteristic and dominant note of the more recent criticism. the almost universal conclusion is that the perfect ideal has been depicted in the christ of the gospels, and has been depicted because the reality had been seen in jesus of nazareth.[ ] is it not allowable to declare that the writers, let them say what they will about their rejection of the doctrine of the church concerning the incarnation and the atonement of christ, are practically his disciples, that the ardour of their faith in him not { } infrequently puts to shame the coldness of us who call him lord?[ ] there is scarcely extravagance in the assertion that, as we recognise the part which strauss and renan played, and the unconscious help which they rendered, 'we may well say now "_noster_" strauss and "_noster_" renan. they were, in their measure, and, according to their respective abilities, defenders of the faith.'[ ] while it is possible to lament that among christian apologists there are timid surrenders and faithless forebodings, it is yet more possible to reply that 'whereas our critics were at one time infidels and our bitter enemies, they are now proud of the name of christian and ready to be the friends, as far as that is permitted, of every form of orthodoxy in christianity.'[ ] the language in which, at any rate, they express their conception of him is sometimes { } more devout, more exalted, than the language which used to be employed by professed apologists. the hindu theist, protab chandra mozoomdar, who stood outside the fold of christianity, joyfully proclaimed, 'christ reigns. as the law of the spirit of heavenly life, he reigns in the bosom of every believer.... christ reigns as the recogniser of divine humanity in the fallen, the low, and the despicable, as the healer of the unhappy, the unclean, and the sore distressed. reigns he not in the sweet humanity that goes forth to seek and to save its kin in every land and clime, to teach and preach, and raise and reclaim, to weep and watch and give repose? he reigns as sweet patience and sober reason amid the laws and orders of the world; as the spirit of submission and loyalty he reigns in peace in the kingdoms of the world.... christ reigns in the individual who feebly watches his footprints in the tangled mazes of life. { } he reigns in the community that is bound together in his name. as divine humanity, and the son of god, he reigns gloriously around us in the new dispensation.'[ ] or listen to the rhapsody with which mrs. besant, once an atheist, now a theosophist, depicts his influence from age to age: 'his the steady inpouring of truth into every brain ready to receive it, so that hand stretched out to hand across the centuries and passed on the torch of knowledge, which thus was never extinguished. his the form which stood beside the rack and in the flames of the burning pile, cheering his confessors and his martyrs, soothing the anguish of their pains and filling their hearts with his peace. his the impulse which spoke in the thunder of savonarola, which guided the calm wisdom of erasmus, which inspired the deep ethics of the god-intoxicated spinoza.... his the beauty that allured fra { } angelico and raphael and leonardo da vinci, that inspired the genius of michael angelo, that shone before the eyes of murillo, and that gave the power that raised the marvels of the world, the duomo of milan, the san marco of venice, the cathedral of florence. his the melody that breathed in the masses of mozart, the sonatas of beethoven, the oratorios of handel, the fugues of bach, the austere splendour of brahms. through the long centuries he has striven and laboured, and, with all the mighty burden of the churches to carry, he has never left uncared for and unsolaced one human heart that cried to him for help.'[ ] when we read sentences like these by themselves we say, here is unqualified acceptance of the christian faith. and even when we are told that we must not take the sentences in their literal and natural meaning, that they apply not to him whose earthly { } career is sketched in the gospels, but to an ideal being evolved out of the writer's imagination, we are surely entitled to answer, it is of jesus that the words are spoken, whether their meaning is to be taken literally or figuratively; if they have any meaning at all, they indicate a being without a parallel. that there should be so extraordinary a conflict of opinion regarding him, that the greatest intellects as well as the simplest souls should hail him as divine, that the most critical should still find their explanations insufficient to account for the impression which he made upon his contemporaries and continues to wield to this day, at least renders him absolutely unique. men may disbelieve a great deal; they cannot disbelieve that this amazing personality has a place in the heart of the world which no other has ever occupied. the alleged imaginary ideal has had on earth only one approximate embodiment. nay, we are { } forced to confess, without the actual character disclosed from nazareth to calvary, the ideal would never have been conceived. iv robert browning has described in his _christmas eve_ a certain german professor lecturing upon the myth of christ and the sources whence it is derivable. but as the listeners wait for the inference that faith in him should henceforth be discarded, 'he bids us,' says the supposed narrator of the story, 'when we least expect it take back our faith': go home and venerate the myth i thus have experimented with. this man, continue to adore him rather than all who went before him, and all who ever followed after. this is a correct though humorous summary of much prevalent scepticism. while critics destroy with the one hand, they build up { } with the other; while they seem intent on rooting out every remnant of trust in christ, they frequently conclude by passionately beseeching us to make him our model and our king, our pattern and our guide. if there is anything which is calculated at once to arouse us who profess and call ourselves christians and to make us ashamed, it is that the diligence with which his example is followed, the earnestness with which his words are studied, by some whom we hold to have abandoned the catholic faith, throw into the shade the obedience, the love, the earnestness which prevail among ourselves. they who follow not with us are casting out devils in his name. it is with us, they are careful to say, and not with him that they are waging war. they may dispute the incidents of his recorded life: they may insist on reducing him to the level of humanity, but they also insist that in so doing they act according to his own { } mind, that they refuse, for the very love which they bear him, to surround him with a glory which he would have rejected. devoid of the errors which have led astray his successors, exalted far above the wisest and the best of those who have spoken in his name, it is the function of criticism to show him in his fashion as he lived, to sweep away the falsehoods which have gathered round him in the course of ages.[ ] we do not seek to read into the emotional language of such writers a significance which they would repudiate, but we are surely entitled to point out that in spite of themselves they are bringing their tribute of homage to the king of the jews, the king of all mankind. they grant so much that, it seems to us, they must grant yet more. we, at any rate, cannot stop where they deem themselves obliged to stop. we must go further, we hear other voices swell the { } chorus of adoration, we have the witness not only of those who, in awe and wonderment have exclaimed, 'truly this was a son of god,' but we have the witness of those who from heartfelt conviction are able to say, 'the life which i now live in the flesh i live by the faith of the son of god, who loved me and gave himself for me.' and to them we humbly hope to be able to respond, 'now we believe not because of the language of others, whether honest doubters or devout disciples, for we have heard him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the christ, the saviour of the world.' 'restate our doctrines as we may,' to sum up all in the words of one who began his career as a teacher in the confidence that jesus of nazareth was merely a man, but whom closer study and deepening experience have brought to a fuller faith, 'reconstruct our theologies as we will, this age, like every age, beholds in him the way to god, the { } truth of god, the life of god lived out among men: this age, like every age, has heard and responds to his call, "come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden and i will give you rest": this age, like every age, finds access to the father through the son. these things no criticism can shake, these certainties no philosophy disprove, these facts no science dissolve away. he is the religion which he taught: and while the race of man endures, men will turn to the crucified son of man, not with a grudging, "thou hast conquered, o galilean!" but with the joyful, grateful cry, "my lord and my god."'[ ] v he who was lifted up on the cross is drawing all men to himself, wise and unwise, friend and foe, devout and doubting, is ruling even where his authority is disavowed, is { } causing hearts to adore where intellects rebel. the patriotic english baron, simon de montfort, as he saw the royal forces under prince edward come against him, was filled with admiration of their discipline and bearing. 'by the arm of s. james,' he cried, recalling with soldierly pride that to himself they owed in great measure their skill, 'they come on well: they learned that not of themselves, but of me.' the church of christ, when confronted with the benevolence, the integrity, the zeal of some who are arrayed against her, may naturally say, 'they live well indeed: they learned that not of themselves, but of me.' 'you are probably,' was the homely expostulation of benjamin franklin with thomas paine, 'you are probably indebted to religion for the habits of virtue on which you so justly value yourself. you might easily display your excellent talents of reasoning upon a less hazardous subject, and thereby obtain a rank amongst { } our most distinguished authors. for among us,' continued franklin satirically, 'it is not necessary, as among the hottentots, that a youth, to be raised into the company of men, should prove his manhood by beating his mother.' the blows inflicted on christianity come from unfilial hands and hearts, from hands and hearts which have been strengthened and nurtured on christianity itself, from hands and hearts which, but for the lingering christianity that still impels them, would soon be paralysed and dead. the ideals which systems intended to supersede christianity set before them are, to all intents and purposes, only christianity under another name. where the ideals go beyond ordinary christian practice, they are only a nearer approximation to the supreme ideal which has never been fulfilled save in jesus christ himself. wherever there is truth in them which is not generally accepted, or which comes as a surprise, investigation { } will show that it is an aspect of christianity which christians have been neglecting, that it is a manifestation of the mind of christ, a development of his principles. look where we will, the men that are making real moral and spiritual progress are those who are in touch with him. their beliefs about him may not be accurate, their conception of his nature and work may be defective, but it is his name, his spirit, his power, it is himself that is the secret of their life. one part of his teaching has sunk into their hearts, one element of his character has mysteriously impressed them. they have touched the hem of his garment, the shadow of his apostle passing by has glided over them, and they have been roused from weakness and death. 'he that was healed wist not who it was, for jesus had conveyed himself away.' so it happened in the days of his flesh: so is it happening still: they that are set free may not yet know to whom { } their freedom is to be ascribed. now, as on the way to emmaus, when men are communing together and reasoning, jesus himself may be walking with them, though their eyes are holden that they do not know him. john stuart mill, whose acute intellect, whose spotless rectitude, whose public spirit, whose non-religious training naturally made him the idol of those to whom christianity was a bygone superstition, came in his later days, not indeed to accept the orthodox creed, but yet to stretch out his longing hand to christ, believing that he might have 'unique commission from god to lead mankind to truth and virtue.' george eliot, whose genius was ever labouring to fill up the void which the rejection of her early faith had made, consoled her dying hours, as she had inspired her most ennobling pages, with the _imitation of christ_. matthew arnold, most cultured of critics, joins hands with the most fervid of evangelists in maintaining that { } 'there is no way to righteousness but the way of jesus.' the name of christ--none other name under heaven given among men will ever prove a substitute for that. renouncing faith in christ, is there life, is there salvation for man to be found in the doctrines, the names, the influences which are so vehemently extolled? is there one of them which so satisfies the cravings of the heart, which enkindles such glorious hopes, which inspires to such holy living, which inculcates so universal a brotherhood, as christianity? is there one of them which, at the best, is more than a keeping of despair at bay, than a resolute acceptance of utter overthrow, than a blindness to the tremendous issues which are involved?[ ] will the culture which is devoted, and cannot but be devoted, exclusively to the outward, which imparts a knowledge of science or art or literature, be found sufficient to { } rescue men from the slavery of sin or from the torment of doubt? will the progress which is altogether occupied with the material and the physical, with providing better houses and better food and better wages, produce happiness without alloy and remove the sting and dread of death?[ ] will the reiteration of the dogma that we are but fleeting shadows, that there is nothing to hope for in the future, that we are all the victims of delusion, tend to elevate and benefit our downcast race? will the attempt to worship what has never been made known, what is simply darkness and mystery, be more successful in raising men above themselves than the worship of the righteousness and the love which have been made manifest in christ? will the attempt to supplant the worship of jesus christ, in whom was no sin, by the worship of humanity at large, of humanity stained with guilt and crime as { } well as illumined here and there with deeds of heroism, of humanity sunk to the level of the brutes as well as exalted to the level of whatever we may suppose to be the highest, seeing that there is really no higher existence with which to compare it--will this worship of itself, with all its baseness and imperfection, this turning of mankind into a mutual adoration society, make humanity divine? will even the assurance that far-distant ages will have new inventions, fairer laws, more abundant wealth be any deliverance to us from our burdens, any salvation from our individual sorrow and guilt and shame? can we to whom the likeness of christ has been shown, can we imagine that any of these efforts to answer the yearning of mankind for deliverance from the body of this death will prove an efficient substitute for him? and if we forsake him, it must be in one or other of these directions that we go. { } vi but the signs of the times are full of hope. in social work at home, in the progress of missions abroad, in revivals of one kind and another, in growing reverence for holy things, in a renewed interest in religion as the most vital of all topics, even in strange spiritual manifestations not within the church, we have, amid all that is discouraging and depressing, indication of the coming kingdom. the cry, 'back to christ,' with all the truth that is in it, is only half a truth if it does not also mean 'forward to christ.' he is before us as well as behind us, and the hope of the world is the gathering together of all things in him. should there be, as there has been over and over again in days gone by, a widespread unbelief, a rejection of his divine revelation, of this we may be sure--it will be only for a time. when the sceptical physician, in tennyson's poem, murmured: 'the good lord jesus has had his day,' { } the believing nurse made the comment: 'had? has it come? it has only dawned: it will come by and by.' a thought most sad, though most inspiring. 'only dawned.' why is christianity after all these centuries only beginning to be manifested? it is at least partly because of the apathy, the divisions, the evil lives of us who profess and call ourselves christians, because we have wrangled about the secondary and the comparatively unimportant, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law, because we have so left to those beyond the church the duty of proclaiming and enforcing principles which our lord and his apostles put in the forefront of their teaching. we have narrowed the kingdom of christ, we have claimed too little for him, we have forgotten that he has to do with the secular as well as with the spiritual, that he must be king of the nation as well as of the church. but now in the growing { } prominence of social questions, which so many fear as an evidence of the waning of religion, have we not an incentive to show that the social must be pervaded by the religious, that our duties to one another are no small part of the kingdom of christ? for all sorts and conditions of men, for masters and servants, for rulers and ruled, for employers and employed, there is ever accumulating proof that only as they bear themselves towards each other in the spirit of the new testament can there be true harmony and mutual respect; that only, in short, as the kingdoms of this world become the kingdom of our lord and of his christ will men in reality bear one another's burdens; that only as the everlasting gospel of the everlasting love prevails will all strife and contention, whether personal or political or ecclesiastical or national, come to an end; that only as men enter into the fellowship of that son of man who came not to be { } ministered unto but to minister and to give his life a ransom for many will the glorious vision of old be fulfilled: i saw in the night vision, and behold one like the son of man came with the clouds of heaven and came to the ancient of days and they brought him near before him. and there was given him dominion and glory and a kingdom, that all people, nations and languages shall serve him. his dominion is an everlasting dominion which shall not pass away and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed. [ ] in this lecture are included some paragraphs from a sermon long out of print, _the witness of scepticism to christ_, preached before the synod of lothian and tweeddale. [ ] g. lommel, _jesus von nazareth_ (quoted in pfannmüller's _jesus im urteil der jahrhunderte_). [ ] appendix xxiii. [ ] _jesus in modern criticism_. [ ] h. weinel, _jesus im neunzehnten jahrhundert_. [ ] quoted in e. naville, _le témoignage du christ_. [ ] _first and last things: a confession of faith and rule of life_. [ ] appendix xxiv. [ ] appendix xxv. [ ] _lux hominum_, preface. [ ] _lux hominum_, p. . [ ] _the oriental christ_. [ ] _esoteric christianity_. [ ] appendix xxvi. [ ] j. warschauer, _the new evangel_. [ ] appendix xxvii. [ ] appendix xxviii. { } appendices appendix i 'i hope no reader imagines me so weak to stand up in defence of real christianity such as used in primitive times (if we may believe the authors of those ages) to have an influence upon men's beliefs and actions. to offer at the restoring of that would indeed be a wild project: it would be to dig up foundations: to destroy at one blow all the wit and half the learning of the kingdom, to break the entire frame and constitution of things, to ruin trade, extinguish arts and sciences, with the professors of them; in short, to turn our courts, exchanges, and shops into deserts; and would be full as absurd as the proposal of horace, where he advises the romans all in a body, to leave their city, and seek a new seat in some remote part of the world, by way of cure for the corruption of their manners.'--dean swift, _an argument to prove that the abolishing of christianity in england may, as things now stand, be attended with some inconveniences_. { } appendix ii while the state of our race is such as to need all our mutual devotedness, all our aspiration, all our resources of courage, hope, faith, and good cheer, the disciples of the christian creed and morality are called upon, day by day, to work out their own salvation with fear and trembling and so forth. such exhortations are too low for even the wavering mood and quacked morality of a time of theological suspense and uncertainty. in the extinction of that suspense and the discrediting of that selfish quacking i see the prospect for future generations of a purer and loftier virtue, and a truer and sweeter heroism than divines who preach such self-seeking can conceive of.'--harriet martineau, _autobiography_, vol. ii. p. . 'noble morality is classic morality, the morality of greece, of rome, of renaissance italy, of ancient india. but christian morality is slave morality _in excelsis_. for the essence of christian morality is the desire of the individual to be saved: his consciousness of power is so small that he lives in hourly peril of damnation and death and yearns thus for the arms of some saving grace.'--_f. nietzsche_, by a. r. orage, p. . { } 'they [christians] have never learnt to love, to think, to trust. they have been nursed and bred and swaddled and fed on fear. they are afraid of death: they are afraid of truth: they are afraid of human nature: they are afraid of god.... they deal in a poor kind of old wives' fables, of lackadaisical dreams, of discredited sorcery, and white magic, and call it religion and the holy of holies. they wander about in a sickly soil of intellectual moonshine, where they mistake the dense and sombre shadows for substances. they want to stop the clocks of time that it may never be day, and to hoodwink the eyes of the nations that they may lead the people as so many blind.'--robert blatchford, _clarion_, march , . { } appendix iii 'in georgia, indeed, as the jesuits had found it in south america, the vicinity of a white settlement would have proved the more formidable obstacle to the conversion of the indian. when tounchichi was urged to listen to the doctrines of christianity, he keenly replied, "why, there are christians at savannah! there are christians at frederica!" nor was it without good apparent reason that the poor savage exclaimed, "christian much drunk! christian beat men! christian tell lies! devil christian! me no christian!"'--southey, _life of john wesley_, vol. i. p. . 'i was then carried in spirit to the mines where poor oppressed people were digging rich treasures for those called christians, and heard them blaspheme the name of christ, at which i was grieved, for to me his name was precious. i was then informed that these heathens were told that those who oppressed them were the followers of christ, and they said among themselves, "if christ directed them to use us in this sort, this christ is a cruel tyrant."'--_journal of john woolman_, p. . { } appendix iv 'what many upright and ardent souls have rejected is a misconception, a caricature, a subjective christianity of their own, a traditional delusion, which no more resembles real christianity than the conventional christ of the painted church window resembles jesus christ of nazareth. it is true that at this moment the great majority of the people of this country never go to any place of worship, and this is yet more the case on the continent of europe. does it in the least degree indicate that the masses of the european nations have weighed christianity in the balance and found it wanting? nothing of the sort. the overwhelming majority of them have not the faintest conception of what christianity is. i myself have met a great number of so-called "agnostics" and "atheists" in our universities, among our working-men, and in society, but i have never yet met one who had rejected the christianity of christ.'--hugh price hughes, preface to _ethical christianity_. { } appendix v 'wheresoever christianity has breathed it has accelerated the movement of humanity. it has quickened the pulses of life, it has stimulated the incentives of thought, it has turned the passions into peace, it has warmed the heart into brotherhood, it has fanned the imagination into genius, it has freshened the soul into purity. the progress of christian europe has been the progress of mind over matter. it has been the progress of intellect over force, of political right over arbitrary power, of human liberty over the chains of slavery, of moral law over social corruption, of order over anarchy, of enlightenment over ignorance, of life over death. as we survey this spectacle of the past, we are impressed that this study of history is the strongest evidence for god. we hear no argument from design but we feel the breath of the designer. we see the universal life moulding the individual lives, the one will dominating many wills, the infinite wisdom utilising the finite folly, the changeless truth permeating the restless error, the boundless beneficence bringing blessing out of all.... and what shall we say of the future? ... ours is a position in some respects analogous to that of the mediaeval world: the landmarks of the past are fading, the lights in the future are but dimly seen. yet it is the study of the landmarks that helps us to wait for the light, and our highest hope is born of memory. in the view { } of that retrospect, we cannot long despair. we may have moments of heart-sickness when we look exclusively at the present hour: we may have times of despondency when we measure only what the eye can see. but looking on the accumulated results of bygone ages as they lie open to the gaze of history, the scientific conclusion at which we must arrive is this, that the course of christianity shall be, or has been, the path of a shining light, shining more and more unto the perfect day.'--g. matheson, _growth of the spirit of christianity_ (chap, xxxviii., 'dawn of a new day'). { } appendix vi 'shadows and figments as they appear to us to be in themselves, these attempts to provide a substitute for religion are of the highest importance, as showing that men of great powers of mind, who have thoroughly broken loose not only from christianity but from natural religion, and in some cases placed themselves in violent antagonism to both, are still unable to divest themselves of the religious sentiment or to appease its craving for satisfaction. 'that the leaders of the anti-theological movement at the present day are immoral, nobody but the most besotted fanatic would insinuate: no candid antagonist would deny that some of them are in every respect the very best of men.... but what is to prevent the withdrawal of the traditional sanction from producing its natural effect upon the morality of the mass of mankind? ... rate the practical effect of religious beliefs as low and that of social influences as high as you may, there can surely be no doubt that morality has received some support from the authority of an inward monitor regarded as the voice of god.... 'the denial of the existence of god and of a future state, in a word, is the dethronement of conscience: and society will pass, to say the least, through a dangerous interval, before social conscience can fill the vacant throne.'--goldwin smith, 'proposed substitutes for religion,' _macmillan's magazine_, vol. xxxvii. { } appendix vii 'it no less takes two to deliver the game of duty from trivial pretence and give it an earnest interest. how can i look up to myself as the higher that reproaches me? issue commands to myself which i dare not disobey? ask forgiveness from myself for sins which myself has committed? surrender to myself with a martyr's sacrifice? and so through all the drama of moral conflict and enthusiasm between myself in a mask and myself in _propria persona_? how far are these semblances, these battles in the clouds, to carry their mimicry of reality? are we to _worship_ the self-ideality? to _pray_ to an empty image in the air? to trust in sorrow a creature of thought which is but a phenomenon of sorrow? no, if religious communion is reduced to a monologue, its essence is extinct and its soul is gone. it is a living relation, or it is nothing: a response to the supreme reality. and vainly will you search for your spiritual dynamics without the rock eternal for your [greek] _pou stô_'--james martineau, essays iv. , _ideal substitutes for god_. { } appendix viii 'it is an awful hour--let him who has passed through it say how awful--when life has lost its meaning and seems shrivelled into a span--when the grave appears to be the end of all, human goodness nothing but a name, and the sky above this universe a dead expanse, black with the void from which god himself has disappeared. in that fearful loneliness of spirit ... i know but one way in which a man may come forth from his agony scathless: it is by holding fast to those things which are certain still--the grand, simple landmarks of morality. 'in the darkest hour through which a human soul can pass, whatever else is doubtful, this at least is certain. if there be no god and no future state yet even then it is better to be generous than selfish, better to be chaste than licentious, better to be true than false, better to be brave than to be a coward. blessed beyond all earthly blessedness is the man who, in the tempestuous darkness of the soul, has dared to hold fast to these venerable landmarks. thrice blessed is he who, when all is drear and cheerless within and without, when his teachers terrify him and his friends shrink from him, has obstinately clung to moral good. thrice blessed, because his night shall pass into clear bright day.'--f. w. robertson, _lectures, addresses, etc._, p. . { } appendix ix 'let me say at once that if after the elimination of all untruths from christianity, we could build a belief in god and immortality on the residue, we should then have a far more powerful incentive to right conduct than anything that i am about to urge.'--philip vivian, _churches and modern thought_, p. . { } appendix x 'without prejudice, what would be the effect upon modern civilisation if the divine ideal should vanish from modern thought? 'it would be presumptuous to attempt a description, rather because it is so hard to picture ourselves and our outlook deprived of what we have held during thousands of generations, our very _raison d'être_, than because we cannot calculate at least a part of what would have to happen. without pretending to undertake that exercise, it may not be too bold to conclude definitely, what has been suggested argumentatively throughout: namely, that moral goodness, as we trace it in the past, as we enjoy it in the present, as we reckon upon it in the future, would be found undesirable and therefore impracticable. a new "morality" would doubtless take its place and set up a new ideal of goodness; but the former would no more represent the elements we so far call moral than the latter would embody the conceptions we now call good: the more logically the inevitable system were followed up, the more progressively would moral inversion be realised. 'it does not seem credible that the new morality could escape being egoistic and hedonistic, and these principles alone would dictate complete reversal of all our present notions as to what is noble, what is useful, what is good. an egoist hedonism that should not be selfish and sensual is a fond { } superstition; it would have to be both and frankly. all the prophylactic expedients whereby a reciprocal egoism must safeguard its sensuous rights would certainly be there; and they represent in spirit and in practice whatever we have learned to consider execrable. we do not require professor haeckel[ ] to inform us, with the triumphal rhetoric that accompanies a grand new discovery, of the prudential homicide which is to confer a supreme blessing upon humanity, for it has raged throughout antiquity, and still stalks abroad in daylight wherever the kingdom of men is not also the kingdom of christ. ten minutes' thought is sufficient to convince any rational man or woman what must inevitably follow in a world of animal rationalism, where no souls are immortal, where the human will is the supreme will and there is eternal peace in the grave. it could scarcely transpire otherwise than that "euthanasia" should replace care of the chronic sick and indigent aged; that infanticide should be in a large category of circumstances encouraged, and in some compelled; that suicide should offer a rational escape from all serious ills, leaving a door ever hospitably ajar to receive the body bankrupt in its capacity for sensual enjoyment, the only enjoyment henceforth worthy of the name. these are the "virtues" under the new morality; there are other things of which it were not well to speak. imagination turns its back. in a world that has never been without its gods, among human creatures who have never existed without a conscience, deeds have been done and horrors have been practised through centuries, through ages, that make annals read like ogre-tales and books of travels like the works of morbid novelists; and the worst always goes unrecorded. what then ought we to anticipate for a world yielding obedience to nothing loftier { } than the human intellect, seeking no prize obtainable outside the individual life time, logically incapable of any gratification outside the individual body, convinced of nothing save eternal oblivion in the ever-nearing and inevitable grave, and reposed on the calm assurance that "goodness" and "badness," "virtue" and "vice" (whatever these terms may then correspond to) are recompensed, indifferently, by nothing better and nothing worse than physical animal death?'--jasper b. hunt, b.d., _good without god: is it possible_? p. . [ ] see _the wonders of life_, chap. v., popular translation, and other works. { } appendix xi 'when we say that god is personal, we do not mean that he is localised by mutually related organs; that he is hampered by the physical conditions of human personality. we mean that he is conscious of distinctness from all other beings, of moral relation to all living things, and of power to control both from without and from within the action of every atom and of every world. this is what we mean by personality in god. it is not a materialistic idea. it is essentially spiritual. it is a breakwater against the destruction of the very thought of god, or the submersion of it in the mere processes of eternal evolution. there is a pantheism which obliterates every trace of divine personality, which takes from god consciousness, will, affection, emotion, desire, presiding and over-ruling intelligence. but such pantheism is better known as atheism. it destroys the only god who can be a refuge and a strength in time of trouble. it annihilates that mighty conscience which drives the workers of iniquity into darkness and the shadow of death, if possible, to hide themselves. it closes the divine ear against the prayer of faith. it abolishes all sympathy, all communion between the father and the children. it makes god not the world's life, but the world's grave. therefore, against all such pantheism our being revolts.'--peter s. menzies, _sermons_ ('christian pantheism'). { } appendix xii 'there is an old testament pantheism speaking unmistakably out of the lips of the prophets and the psalmists, ... so interwoven with their deepest thoughts of god, that any hesitation to receive it would have been traced by them most probably to purely heathen conditions of thought, which ascribes to every divinity a limited function, a separate home, and a restricted authority.... but undoubtedly the most unequivocal and outspoken pantheist in the bible is st. paul. he speaks in that character to the athenians, affirming all men to be the offspring of god, and, as if this were not a sufficiently close bond of affinity, adding, "in him we live and move and have our being." his pantheistic eschatology casts a radiance over the valley of the shadow of death, which makes the th chapter of st corinthians one of the most precious gifts of divine inspiration which the holy volume contains. "and when all things shall be subdued unto him, then shall the son also himself be subject unto him that put all things under him, that god may be all and all." nor, if he had wished to administer a daring shock to the ultra-calvinism of our own confessional theology, could he have uttered a sentiment more hard to reconcile with any view of the universe that is not pantheistic than that contained in the nd verse of the present chapter: "for god hath concluded them all in unbelief that he might have mercy upon all." it { } is quite clear in the face of all this scripture evidence that there is a form of pantheism which is not only innocent, defensible, justifiable, but which we are bound to teach as of the essence of all true theology. nothing could be more childish than that blind horror of pantheism which shudders back from it as the most poisonous form of rank infidelity.'--peter s. menzies, _sermons_ ('christian pantheism'), { } appendix xiii 'pantheism gives noble expression to the truth of god's presence in all things, but it cannot satisfy the religious consciousness: it cannot give it escape from the limitations of the world, or guarantee personal immortality or (what is most important) give any adequate interpretation to sin, or supply any adequate remedy for it.... christian theology is the harmony of pantheism and deism. on the one hand christianity believes all that the pantheist believes of god's presence in all things. "in him," we believe, "we live and move and are; in him all things have their coherence." all the beauty of the world, all its truths, all its goodness, are but so many modes under which god is manifested, of whose glory nature is the veil, of whose word it is the expression, whose law and reason it embodies. but god is not exhausted in the world, nor dependent upon it: he exists eternally in his triune being, self-sufficing, self-subsistent.... god is not only in nature as its life, but he transcends it as its creator, its lord--in its moral aspect--its judge. so it is that christianity enjoys the riches of pantheism without its inherent weakness on the moral side, without making god dependent on the world, as the world is on god.'--bishop gore, _the incarnation of the son of god_, p. . { } appendix xiv 'the supreme power on this petty earth can be nothing else but the humanity, which, ever since fifty thousand--it may be one hundred and fifty thousand--years has slowly but inevitably conquered for itself the predominance of all living things on this earth, and the mastery of its material resources. it is the collective stream of civilization, often baffled, constantly misled, grievously sinning against itself from time to time, but in the end victorious; winning certainly no heaven, no millennium of the saints, but gradually over great epochs rising to a better and a better world. this humanity is not all the human beings that are or have been. it is a living, growing, and permanent organism in itself, as spencer and modern philosophy establish. it is the active stream of human civilization, from which many drop out into that oblivion and nullity which is the true and only hell.'--f. harrison, _creed of a lagman_, p. . { } appendix xv mr. frederic harrison's creed 'is open to every objection which he so justly brings against what he regards as mr. spencer's creed. these reasons are broad, common, and familiar. so far as i know they never have been, and i do not believe they ever will be, answered. the first objection is that humanity with a capital h (mr. harrison's god) is neither better nor worse fitted to be a god than his unknowable with a capital u. they are as much alike as six and half-a-dozen. each is a barren abstraction to which any one an attach any meaning he likes. humanity, as used by mr. harrison, is not an abstract name for those matters in which all human beings as such resemble each other, as, for instance, a human form and articulate speech.... humanity is a general name for all human beings who, in various ways, have contributed to the improvement of the human race. the positivist calendar which appropriates every day in the year for the commemoration of one or more of these benefactors of mankind is an attempt to give what a lawyer would call "further and better particulars" of the word. if this, or anything like this, be the meaning of mr. harrison's god, i must say that he, she, or it appears to me quite as ill-fitted for worship as the unknowable. how can a man worship an indefinite number of dead people, most of whom are unknown to him even by name, and many of whose characters { } were exceedingly faulty, besides which the facts as to their lives are most imperfectly known? how can he in any way combine these people into a single object of thought? an object of worship must surely have such a degree of unity that it is possible to think about it as distinct from other things, as much unity at least as the english nation, the roman catholic church, the great western railway. no doubt these are abstract terms, but they are concrete enough for practical purposes. every one understands what is meant when it is asserted that the english nation is at war or at peace; that the pope is the head of the roman catholic church; that the great western railway has declared a dividend; but what is humanity? what can any one definitely assert or deny about it? how can any one meaning be affixed to the word so that one person can be said to use it properly and another to abuse it? it seems to me that it is as unknowable as the unknowable itself, and just as well, and just as ill, fitted to be an object of worship.'--sir james fitzjames stephen, 'the unknowable and unknown,' _nineteenth century_, june . { } appendix xvi 'deism and pantheism are both so irrational, so utterly inadequate to explain the simplest facts of our moral and spiritual life that neither of them can long hold mankind together. positivism, which has made a systematic and memorable attempt to fill the gap, itself bears witness to the craving of human nature for some stronger bond than such systems can supply; while its appreciation of the necessity of religion gives it an importance not possessed by mere agnosticism. yet it is impossible to look at an encyclopædic attempt to grasp all knowledge and all history, such as that made by the founder of positivism, without a deep, oppressive sadness.... 'can men heap fact upon fact and connect science with science in a splendid hierarchy and find no better end than this? is such a review to come to this, that we must worship either actual humanity with all its meanness and wickedness, or ideal humanity which does not yet exist, and, if this world is all in all, may never come into being? ... for ideal humanity, however moral and enlightened, if unaided by god, as the posivitist holds, is still earth-bound and sense-bound.... we are told that it is common sense to recognise that much is beyond us. perfectly true. but it is not common sense to worship an ignorant and weak humanity which certainly made nothing, and has in itself no assurance { } of continuance in the future, nay rather, a very clear probability of destruction, if simply left to itself. 'what positivism surely needs to give it hope and consistency is the doctrine of the logos, of the eternal word and reason, the creator, orderer, and sustainer of all things, who has taken a stainless human nature that he might make men capable of all knowledge. this divine humanity of the logos, drawing mankind into himself, is indeed worthy of all worship. in loving him, we learn really what it is to "live for others." in looking to him we cease from selfishness and pride. such a worship of humanity is not a mere baseless hope, but a reality appearing in the very midst of history, a reality apprehended by faith indeed, but by a faith always proving itself to those, and by those, who hold it fast in love. there is room, then, ample room, and a loud demand for the re-establishment of a christian philosophy based upon the incarnation.'--john wordsworth (bishop of salisbury), _the one religion_, pp. - . { } appendix xvii the invariable laws under which humanity is placed have received various names at different periods. destiny, fate, necessity, heaven, providence, all are so many names of one and the same conception: the laws which man feels himself under, and that without the power of escaping from them. we claim no exemption from the common lot. we only wish to draw out into consciousness the instinctive acceptance of the race, and to modify the spirit in which we regard them. we accept: so have all men. we obey: so have all men. we venerate: so have some in past ages or in other countries. we add but one other term--we love. we would perfect our submission and so reap the full benefits of submission in the improvement of our hearts and tempers. we take in conception the sum of the conditions of existence, and we give them an ideal being and a definite home in space, the second great creation which completes the central one of humanity. in the bosom of space we place the world, and we conceive of the world and this our mother earth as gladly welcomed to that bosom with the simplest and purest love, and we give our love in return. thou art folded, thou art lying in the light which is undying. 'thus we complete the trinity of our religion, humanity, the world, and space. so completed we recognise power to { } give unity and definiteness to our thoughts, purity and warmth to our affections, scope and vigour to our activity. we recognise its powers to regulate our whole being, to give us that which it has so long been the aim of all religion to give--internal union. we recognise its power to raise us above ourselves and by intensifying the action of our unselfish instincts to bear down unto their due subordination our selfishness. we see in it yet unworked treasures. we count not ourselves to have apprehended but we press forward to the prize of our high calling. but even now whilst its full capabilities are unknown to us, before we have apprehended, we find enough in it to guide and strengthen us.'--'_the new religion in its attitude towards the old_: a sermon preached at south field, wandsworth, wednesday, th moses ( th january ), on the anniversary of the birth of auguste comte, th january , by richard congreve.' j. chapman: king william street, strand, london. { } appendix xviii 'we have compared positivism where it is thought to be strongest with christianity where it is thought to be weakest. and if the result of the comparison even then has been unfavourable to positivism, how will the account stand if every element in christianity be taken into consideration? the religion of humanity seems specially fitted to meet the tastes of that comparatively small and prosperous class who are unwilling to leave the dry bones of agnosticism wholly unclothed with any living tissue of religious emotion, and who are at the same time fortunate enough to be able to persuade themselves that they are contributing, or may contribute, by their individual efforts to the attainment of some great ideal for mankind. but what has it to say to the more obscure multitude who are absorbed, and wellnigh overwhelmed, in the constant struggle with daily needs and narrow cares, who have but little leisure or inclination to consider the precise rôle they are called on to play in the great drama of "humanity," and who might in any case be puzzled to discover its interest or its importance? can it assure them that there is no human being so insignificant as not to be of infinite worth in the eyes of him who created the heavens, or so feeble but that his action may have consequence of infinite moment long after this material system shall have crumbled into nothingness? does it offer consolation to those who are in grief, hope to those who { } are bereaved, strength to the weak, forgiveness to the sinful, rest to those who are weary and heavy laden? if not, then whatever be its merits, it is no rival to christianity. it cannot penetrate or vivify the inmost life of ordinary humanity. there is in it no nourishment for ordinary human souls, no comfort for ordinary human sorrow, no help for ordinary human weakness. not less than the crudest irreligion does it leave us men divorced from all communion with god, face to face with the unthinking energies of nature which gave us birth, and into which, if supernatural religion be indeed a dream, we must after a few fruitless struggles be again resolved.'--right hon. arthur j. balfour, _the religion of humanity_. { } appendix xix 'truly if humanity has no higher prospects than those which await it from the service of its modern worshippers its prospects are dark indeed. its "normal state" is a vague and distant future. but better things may yet be hoped for when the true light from heaven shall enlighten every man, and the love of goodness shall everywhere come from the love of god, and nobleness of life from the perfect example of the lord.'--john tulloch, d.d. ll.d., _modern theories in philosophy and religion_, p. . { } appendix xx mr. frederic harrison came under the influence of both the newmans. 'john henry newman led me on to his brother francis, whose beautiful nature and subtle intelligence i now began to value. his _phases of faith, the soul, the hebrew monarchy_ deeply impressed me. i was not prepared either to accept all this heterodoxy nor yet to reject it; and i patiently waited till an answer could be found.'--_the creed of a layman_. { } appendix xxi even mr. voysey admits the constraining power of the cross: 'that is still the noblest, most sublime picture in the whole bible, where the christ is hanging on the cross, and the tears and blood flow trickling down, and the last words heard from his lips are "father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." that love and pity will for ever endure as the type and symbol of what is most divine in the heart of man. thank god! it has been repeated and repeated in the lives and deaths of millions besides the christ of calvary. but wherever found it still claims the admiration, and wins the homage of every human heart, and is the crowning glory of the human race.--c. voysey, _religion for all mankind_, p. . { } appendix xxii 'not only the syrian superstition must be attacked, but also the belief in a personal god which engenders a slavish and oriental condition of the mind, and the belief in a posthumous reward which engenders a selfish and solitary condition of the heart. these beliefs are, therefore, injurious to human nature. they lower its dignity, they arrest its development, they isolate its affections. we shall not deny that many beautiful sentiments are often mingled with the faith in a personal deity, and with the hopes of happiness in a future state; yet we maintain that, however refined they may appear, they are selfish at the core, and that if removed they will be replaced by sentiments of a nobler and purer kind.'--winwood reade, _martyrdom of man_, p. . { } appendix xxiii 'there is a servile deference paid, even by christians, to incompetent judges of christianity. they abjectly look to men of the world, to scholars, to statesmen, for testimonies to the everlasting and self-evidencing verities of heaven! and if they can gather up, from the writings or speeches of these men, some patronising notices of religion, some incidental compliment to the civilising influence of the bible, or to the aesthetic proprieties of worship, or to the moral sublimity of the character or gospel of christ, they forthwith proclaim these tributes as lending some great confirmation to the truth of god! so we persist in asking, not "is it true? true to our souls?" or, "has the lord said it?" but, "what say the learned men, the influential men, the eloquent men?" shame upon these time-serving concessions, as unmanly as they are fallacious. go back to the hovels, rather, and take the witnessing of the illiterate souls whose hearts, waiting there in poverty or pain, or under the shadow of some great affliction, the lord himself hath opened.'--f. d. huntingdon, _christian believing and living_. { } appendix xxiv 'it is foreign to our purpose to discuss the various theories which have been advanced to explain the genesis and power of the christian religion from the cynical gibbon to the sentimental renan and the rationalist strauss. one remark may be permitted. it has been our lot to read an immense amount of literature on this subject, and with no bias in the orthodox direction, we are bound to admit that no theory has yet appeared which from purely natural causes explains the remarkable life and marvellous influence of the founder of christianity.'--hector macpherson, _books to read and how to head them_. { } appendix xxv the song of a heathen sojourning in galilee, a.d. . if jesus christ is a man, and only a man, i say that of all mankind i cleave to him, and to him will i cleave alway. if jesus christ is a god, and the only god, i swear i will follow him through heaven and hell, the earth, the sea, and the air! richard watson gilder. { } appendix xxvi 'i distinguish absolutely between the character of jesus and the character of christianity--in other words between jesus of nazareth and jesus the christ. shorn of all supernatural pretensions, jesus emerges from the great mass of human beings as an almost perfect type of simplicity, veracity, and natural affection. "love one another" was the alpha and omega of his teaching, and he carried out the precept through every hour of his too brief life.... but how blindly, how foolishly my critics have interpreted the inner spirit of my argument, how utterly have they failed to realise that the whole aim of the work is to justify jesus against the folly, the cruelty, the infamy, the ignorance of the creed upbuilt upon his grave. i show in cipher, as it were, that those who crucified him once would crucify him again, were he to return amongst us. i imply that among the first to crucify him would be the members of his own church. but nowhere surely do i imply that his soul, in its purely personal elements, in its tender and sympathising humanity was not the very divinest that ever wore earth about it.'--robert buchanan in letter of january to _daily chronicle_ regarding his poem _the wandering jew_. _robert buchanan: his life, life's work, and life's friendships_, by harriett jay, pp. - . { } appendix xxvii 'i do not believe i have any personal immortality. i am part of an immortality perhaps, but that is different. i am not the continuing thing. i personally am experimental, incidental. i feel i have to do something, a number of things no one else could do, and then i am finished, and finished altogether. then my substance returns to the common lot. i am a temporary enclosure for a temporary purpose: that served, and my skull and teeth, my idiosyncrasy and desire will disperse, i believe, like the timbers of the booth after a fair.'--h. g. wells, _first and last things_, p. . { } appendix xxviii 'the estate of man upon this earth of ours may in course of time be vastly improved. so much seems to be promised by the recent achievements of science, whose advance is in geometrical progression, each discovery giving birth to several more. increase of health and extension of life by sanitary, dietetic, and gymnastic improvement; increase of wealth by invention and of leisure by the substitution of machinery for labour: more equal distribution of wealth with its comforts and refinements; diffusion of knowledge; political improvement; elevation of the domestic affections and social sentiments; unification of mankind and elimination of war through ascendency of reason over passion--all these things may be carried to an indefinite extent, and may produce what in comparison with the present estate of man would be a terrestrial paradise. selection and the merciless struggle for existence may be in some measure superseded by selection of a more scientific and merciful kind. death may be deprived at all events of its pangs. on the other hand, the horizon does not appear to be clear of cloud.... let our fancy suppose the most chimerical of utopias realised in a commonwealth of man. mortal life prolonged to any conceivable extent is but a span. still over every festal board in the community of terrestrial bliss will be cast the shadow of approaching death; and the sweeter life becomes the more bitter death will be. { } the more bitter it will be at least to the ordinary man, and the number of philosophers like john stuart mill is small.'--goldwin smith: _guesses at the riddle of existence_ ('is there another life?'). 'in return for all of which they have deprived us, some prophets of modern science are disposed to show us in the future a city of god _minus_ god, a paradise _minus_ the tree of life, a millennium with education to perfect the intellect, and sanitary improvements to emancipate the body from a long catalogue of evils. sorrow no doubt will not be abolished; immortality will not be bestowed. but we shall have comfortable and perfectly drained houses to be wretched in. the news of our misfortunes, the tidings that turn the hair white, and break the strong man's heart will be conveyed to us from the ends of the earth by the agency of a telegraphic system without a flaw. the closing eye may cease to look to the land beyond the river; but in our last moments we shall be able to make a choice between patent furnaces for the cremation of our remains, and coffins of the most charming description for their preservation when desiccated.'--archbishop alexander: _witness of the psalms to christ and christianity_, p. . { } authorities consulted abbott, e. a., _through nature to christ_. armstrong, e. a., _back to jesus; man's knowledge of god; agnosticism and theism in the nineteenth century_. arthur, w., _god without religion; religion without god_. aveling, f. (edited by), _westminster lectures_. balfour, a. j., _religion of humanity; foundations of belief_. ballard, f., _clarion fallacies; miracles of unbelief_. _barker, joseph, life of_. barry, w., _heralds of revolt_. bartlett, r. e., _the letter and the spirit_. besant, annie, _esoteric christianity_. blatchford, r., _god and my neighbour_. blau, paul, '_wenn ihr mich kennetet_.' bousset, w., _jesus; what is religion?; the faith of a modern protestant_. brace, g. loring, _gesta christi_. bremond, h., 'christus vivit' (epilogue of _l'inquiétude religieuse_). broglie, l'abbé paul de, _problèmes et conclusions; la morale sans dieu_. brooks, phillips, bishop, _the influence of jesus_. butler, bishop, _the analogy of religion_. { } caird, e., _the evolution of religion; the social philosophy and religion of comte_. caird, j., _fundamental ideas of christianity_. cairns, d. s., _christianity in the modern world_. carey, vivian, _parsons and pagans_. caro, e., _l'idée de dieu et ses nouveaux critiques; Ã�tudes morales; problèmes de morale sociale_. chesterton, g. k., _heretics; orthodoxy_. church, k. w., _gifts of civilization; pascal and other sermons_. clarke, j. freeman, _steps to belief_. cobbe, frances power, _a faithless world; broken lights; autobiography_. coit, stanton, _national idealism and a state church_. comte, auguste, _catechism of positive religion_ (translated by richard congreve). _contentio veritatis_. conway, moncure d., _the earthward pilgrimage_. craufurd, a. h., _christian instincts and modern doubt_. crooker, j. h., _the supremacy of jesus_. d'alviella, g., _revolution religieuse contemporaine_. davies, o. maurice, _heterodox london_. davies, llewelyn, _morality according to the lord's supper_. _do we believe_? (correspondence from _daily telegraph_.) drawbridge, c. l., _is religion undermined_? drummond, j., _via, veritas, vita_. du bose, w. p., _the gospel and the gospels_. eaton, j. r. t., _the permanence of christianity_. faber, hans, _das christentum der zukunft_. fairbairn, a. m., _christ in modern theology_. { } farrar, a. s., _critical history of free thought_. farrar, f. w., _seekers after god; witness of history to christ_. fiske, john, _the idea of god as affected by modern knowledge; through nature to god; man's destiny_. fitchett, w. h., _beliefs of unbelief_. flint, r., _theism; anti-theistic theories_. footman, h., _reasonable apprehensions and reassuring hints_. fordyce, j., _aspects of scepticism_. forrest, d. w., _the christ of history and of experience_. frommel, gaston, _Ã�tudes religieuses et sociales; Ã�tudes morales et religieuses_. gindraux, j., _le christ et la pensée moderne_ (translation from pfennigsdorf). gladden, washington, _how much is left of the old doctrines_? gore, o., bishop, _the incarnation of the son of god; the christian creed_. guyau, m., _l'irréligion de l'avenir; la morale sans sanction_. haeckel, e., _riddle of the universe; the confession of faith of a man of science_. harnack, adolf, _what is christianity?; christianity and history_. harrison, a. j., _problems of christianity and scepticism_. harrison, frederic, _memories and thoughts; the creed of a layman_. haw, george (edited by), _religious doubts of democracy_. henson, h. hensley, _popular rationalism; the value of the bible_. hillis, n. d., _influence of christ in modern life_. { } hoffmann, f. s., _the sphere of religion_. hunt, jasper b., _good without god_. hunt, john, _christianity and pantheism_. hutton, r. h., _essays theological and literary; contemporary thought and thinkers; aspects of religious and scientific thought_. huxley, t. h., _evolution and ethics_. illingworth, j. r., _personality human and divine; divine immanence_. _is christianity true_? (lectures in central hall, manchester). jastrow, morris, _the study of religion_. jefferies, richard, _the story of my heart: my autobiography_. jones, harry (edited by), _some urgent questions in christian lights_. kutter, herrmann, _sie müssen_. lecky, w. e. h., _history of european morals_. liddon, h. p., _the divinity of our lord and saviour jesus christ; some elements of religion_. lilly, w. s., _the great enigma; the claims of christianity_. lodge, sir oliver, _the substance of faith_. lucas, bernard, _the faith of a christian_. _lux hominum_. _lux mundi_. maitland, brownlow, _theism or agnosticism; steps to faith_. mallock, w. h., _reconstruction of belief_. { } marson, o. l., _following of christ_. martin, a. s., 'christ in modern thought' (hastings's _dictionary of christ and the gospels_, appendix). martineau, harriet, _autobiography_. martineau, james, _ideal substitutes for god; a study of religion; hours of thought_. matheson, g., _growth of the spirit of christianity_. matheson, a. scott, _the gospel and modern substitutes_. menzies, allan, _s. paul's view of the divinity of christ_. menzies, p. s., 'christian pantheism' (in _sermons_). momerie, a. w., _belief in god; immortality; origin of evil_. monod, wilfrid, _aux croyants et aux athées; peut-on rester chrétien_? mories, a. s., _haeckel's contribution to religion_. morison, j. cotter, _the service of man_. mozoomdar, protab chandra, _the oriental christ_. myers, f. w. h., _modern essays_. naville, ernest, _le père céleste; le christ; le temoignage du christ et l'unité du monde chrétien_. neumann, arno, _jesus_. newman, f. w., _the soul: its sorrows and aspirations; phases of faith_. nolloth, c. f., _the person of our lord and recent thought_. oxenham, h. n., _essays ethical and religious_. _oxford house tracts_. palmer, w. s., _an agnostic's progress; the church and modern men_. peile, j. h. f., _the reproach of the gospel_. pfannmüller, gustav, _jesus im urteil der jahrhunderte_. { } picard, l'abbé, _christianity or agnosticism?; la transcendance de jésus christ_. picton, j. allanson, _the religion of the universe; pantheism: its story and significance_. plumptre, e. h., _christ and christendom_. _present day tracts_ (r. t. s.). pringle-pattison, a. seth, _man's place in the cosmos_. reade, winwood, _the martyrdom of man; the outcast_. _religion and the modern mind_ (st. ninian's society lectures). renesse, _jesus christ and his apostles and disciples in the twentieth century_. robinson, o. h., _human nature a revelation of the divine; studies in the character of christ_. romanes, g. j., _thoughts on religion_. sabatier, a., _the religions of authority and the religion of the spirit_. sanday, w., _life of christ in recent research_. savage, m. j., _religion for to-day; the life beyond_. schmiedel, p. w., _jesus and modern criticism_. seaver, r. w., _to christ through criticism_. _secularist's manual_. seeley, j. r., _ecce homo; natural religion_. sen, keshub chunder, india asks, _who is christ_? sheldon, h. o., _unbelief in the nineteenth century_. simpson, p. carnegie, _the fact of christ_. smith, goldwin, _guesses at the riddle of existence; lectures on the study of history; the founder of christianity_. smyth, newman, _old faiths in new light_. stanley, a. p., 'theology of the nineteenth century' (in _essays on church and state_); _christian institutions_. { } stephen, j. fitzjames, 'the unknowable and unknown' (_nineteenth century_, june ); _liberty, equality, and fraternity_. stephen, leslie, _an agnostic's apology; english thought in the eighteenth century_. swete, h. b. (edited by), _cambridge theological essays_. swift, dean, _the abolishing of christianity_. _topics for the times_ (s. p. c. k.). tulloch, j., _modern theories in theology and philosophy; movements of religious thought_. van dyke, h., _the gospel for an age of doubt; the gospel for a world of sin_. vivian, philip, _the churches and modern thought_. voysey, c., _religion for all mankind_. wace, h., _christianity and morality_. wallace, alfred russel, _man's place in the universe_. warschauer, j., _the new evangel; jesus: seven questions; anti-nunquam; jesus or christ?_ watkinson, w. l., _influence of scepticism on character_. weinel, h., _jesus im nevmzehnten jahrhundert_. welsh, r. e., _in relief of doubt_. wells, h. g., _first and last things, a confession of faith and rule of life_. wilson, j. m., _problems of religion and science_. wimmer, r., _my struggle for light_. wordsworth, john, bishop, _the one religion_. young, john, _the christ of history_. { } index abbott, edwin a., . alexander, archbishop, . amiel, h. f., . anthropomorphism, , , . arnold, matthew, . 'back to christ,' . balfour, a. j., . bartlett, r. e., . besant, mrs., . blatchford, robert, , , . browning, robert, , . buchanan, robert, . butler, bishop, , . caird, principal, . calendar, positivist, . _caliban upon setebos_, . carey, vivian, , . chesterton, g. k., . christ the only way, , . ---- the substance of christianity, . christianity, influence of, , . ---- misrepresentation of, , . christians, inconsistency of, , , , , . _christmas eve_, . church, dean, . clifford, w. k., . cobbe, frances power, , . coit, dr. stanton, . comte, auguste, . congreve, richard, , . conway, moncure d., . cowper, william, . criticism, . deism, , , , , . de vere, aubrey, . eliot, george, , . enemies, witness of, . fénelon, . fiske, john, . gilder, r. w., . gore, bishop, , . great being of positivism, , , . haeckel, . harrison, frederic, , , , , , , . hughes, hugh price, . humanity, christ, the ideal of, . ---- religion of, , , , , , . huntingdon, bishop, . immortality, denial of, , , . impeachments of christianity, , . incarnation, , . jefferies, richard, . law, william, . lefèvre, a., . macpherson, hector, . man, . martineau, harriet, . ---- james, . material progress, , . matheson, george, . mediation, . menzies, p. s., , . mill, john stuart, . montaigne, . morality and religion, , , , , . ---- religion without, . mozoomdar, p. c., . myers, f. w. h., . newman, f. w., , . nietzsche, . pantheism, , , , , . personality of god, , , , . picton, j. allanson, . pope, alexander, . positivism, , , . prayer, . reade, winwood, , , . renan, e., . roberts, w. page-, dean, . robertson, frederick william, , . sabatier, a., . schleiermacher, . schmiedel, p. w., . shelley, , . sin, sense of, . smith, goldwin, , . spencer, herbert, . spinoza, . stanley, dean, . stephen, sir j. f., , , . ---- sir leslie, . strauss, d. f., . swift, dean, , . tennyson, , , . 'theism,' , , . thomson, james, . tulloch, john, . uniqueness of christ, , . vivian, philip, , . voltaire, , . voysey, rev. charles, , . wallace, alfred russel, . warschauer, j., , . watts, charles, . wells, h. g., , . wesley, john, . wimmer, r., . woolman, john, . wordsworth, john, bishop, . ---- william, . printed by t. and a. constable, printers to his majesty at the edinburgh university press the expositors library cloth, /- net each volume. the new evangelism. prof. henry drummond, f.r.s.e. the mind of the master. rev. john watson, d.d. the teaching of jesus concerning himself. rev. prof. james stalker, d.d. fellowship with christ. rev. r. w. dale, d.d., ll.d. studies on the new testament. prof. f. godet, d.d. the life of the master. rev. john watson, d.d. studies of the portrait of christ.-- vol. i. rev. george matheson, d.d. studies of the portrait of christ.-- vol. ii. rev. george matheson, d.d. the jewish temple and the christian church. rev. r. w. dale, d.d., ll.d. the ten commandments. rev. r. w. dale, d.d., ll.d. the fact of christ. rev. p. carnegie simpson, m.a. the cross in modern life. rev. j. g. greenhough, m.a. heroes and martyrs of faith. prof. a. s. peake, d.d. a guide to preachers. principal a. e. garvie, m.a., d.d. modern substitutes for christianity. rev. p. mcadam muir, d.d. ephesian studies. right rev. h. c. g. moule, d.d. the unchanging christ. rev. alex mclaren, d.d., d.litt. the god of the amen. rev. alex mclaren, d.d., d.litt. the ascent through christ. rev. e. griffith jones, b.a. studies on the old testament. prof. f. godet, d.d. london: hodder and stoughton public domain works from the university of michigan digital libraries.) [illustration: robert patterson] fables of infidelity and facts of faith: being an examination of the evidences of infidelity. by rev. robert patterson, d. d. revised and enlarged. cincinnati: western tract society. entered according to act of congress, in the year , by western tract society, in the office of the librarian of congress, washington, d. c. stereotyped by ogden, campbell & co., elm st., cincinnati. contents. chapter i. page. did the world make itself? eternity of matter. disproved by its composite nature. disproved by its motion. evolution only a big perpetual motion humbug. work of a designer in the structure of the eye. the eye-maker sees over a wide field and far. the eye-maker sees perfectly. chapter ii. was your mother a monkey? the divine fact of evolution quite different from the atheistic theory. state the question sharply--why? darwin's answer. the ancestral monkey, fish, squirt. natural selection. intended to exclude god. . _the history of the theory._ indian; phoenician; greek; popish; la place's theory; the vestiges of creation. herbert spencer's contradictory theory. the evolutionists' hell. spontaneous generation--two theories; the conflicting theories of progress; tremaux; lamarck; the climatal; darwin's; huxley's; parson's; mivart's; hyatt's; cope's; wallace's; the gods; denounced by the princes of science. agassiz's deliverance against it. imperfection of the theory eked out. huxley's protoplasm. tyndall's potency of life in matter. buchner's matter and force. lubbock's origin of civilization. consequences of the brutal origin of man. propagandism of atheism. . _the theory illogical and incoherent._ darwin admits insufficiency of proof. useless as an explanation of nature. self-contradictory; _e. g._, protoplasm. wallace's self-contradictions. incoherency of the denial of design with the assertion of progress. failure of alleged facts to sustain the theory. does not account for the origin of anything. wild assumptions made by darwin. erroneous assumption of the tendency of natural selection to improve breeds. assumption of infinite possibility of progress in finite creatures. . _an unfounded theory._ no evidence of the facts possible. none ever alleged, save gulliver's. domestication disproves transmutation--horses; pigeons; dogs. the egyptian monuments. the mummied animals. the geological record. the limits of geological time. . _embryology._ testimony of scientists: . embryology only analogical. . embryos _not_ all alike. . four distinct plans of structure. . germs always true to the breed. . _gradations of species._ lamarck's statement. birth descent not inferable from gradation. no such imperceptible blending in nature. the fact of the present existence of distinct species. sterility of hybrids. geological species distinct. the intermediate forms not found. the gradation does not begin with the lowest forms. four kingdoms from the beginning. the new species began with the giants. the gaps fatal to the theory. the abyss between death and life. the gulf between the plant and the animal. the gaps between species which will not breed together. the gaps between air breathers and water breathers, &c. the great gulf between the brute and the man. natural selection could not have deprived a monkey of hair. nor have given a human brain. the brain-worker contravenes natural selection at every step. civilization the contradiction of natural selection. morality and religion the direct contraries of natural selection. tendency immoral, degrading, and atheistic. chapter iii. is god everybody, and everybody god? pantheism described. an antiquated hindooism. a jesuitical atheism. grossly immoral. a practical atheism. chapter iv. have we any need of the bible? civilization and the bible. revelation not impossible. the mythical theory. the inner light. many ignorant of god. heathen morality--plato's. infidel morality--paine's. chapter v. who wrote the new testament? the bible not just like any other book. two modes of investigation. did the council of nice make the bible? the mythical theory. the evidence of celsus. the fragment hypothesis. the bank signature book. could the new testament be corrupted? chapter vi. is the gospel fact or fable? the nature of historical evidence; letters; monuments. contemporary letters of peter, pliny and john. prove the existence of churches. and their worship, holiness, and sufferings. chapter vii. can we believe christ and his apostles? the gospel a unit; must take or refuse it all. apostles' testimony circumstantial. witnesses numerous and independent. confirm their testimony with their blood. chapter viii. prophecy, political--napoleon's--wrong. presidential candidates. draper's dogma of youth and decrepitude of nations. statesmen prophets. general claim for all genius. instances of secular prediction: cayotte's of the french revolution. the oracles of apollo. vettius valens' twelve vultures. spencer's of the disruption of the american union. saint malachi's prophecies. mohammed's prophecies. seneca's of the discovery of america. dante's of the reformation. plato's of shakespeare. symbolical language of prophecy. anybody may predict downfall of nations. an awful truth if it be true. but bible predictions circumstantial--egypt; babylon; nineveh; judea. predict life and resurrection. the arabs; jews; seven churches; messiah. chapter ix. moses and the prophets, god the author of the bible. every other book inspired? connection of bible history and morality. hume's sophism. miracles being violations of laws of nature, contrary to an unalterable experience. no testimony can reach to the supernatural. records of facts not judged by your notions. rationalistic explanation of the miracles. bible account of creation unscientific. antiquity of man. the anachronisms of the pentateuch. bishop colenso's blunders: the universality of the deluge. joshua causing the sun to stand still. cain's wife. increase of jacob's family in egypt. the number of the first-born. the fourth generation. the bishop's blunders in camp life. sterility of the wilderness. population of the promised land. modern discoveries in bible lands. egyptian monuments of joseph. assyrian ethnology and genesis, chaps. x. and xi. sennacherib's conquest of palestine. belshazzar's kingship. the moabitic inscriptions, and omri and ahab. the samaritan pentateuch. the character of the books--austere. variety of writers and unity of plan. contained the surveys, and the laws of the nation. introduced new and republican usages. moses' law in advance of modern social science. testimony of the jewish nation. testimony of christ. the lost books. the law abolished by the gospel. the imperfect morality of old testament. polygamy, slavery, and divorce. the education of the world a gradual process. the imprecations of scripture. chapter x. infidelity among the stars, scientific objections to the bible. the infinity and self-existence of the universe. disproved by its evident limits. its composite materials. its steady loss of heat. buffon's explosion of planets. the nebular theories. the fiction of homogeneous matter. the contradictory theories. the perpetual motion machine. contrary to facts of astronomy. contradicted by astronomers. impossibility of any cosmogony. chapter xi. daylight before sunrise, infidel objections to genesis. the hindoo chronology. the egyptian chronology. the bible age of the earth. the solid firmament. light before the sun. chapter xii. telescopic views of scripture, the source of the water of the deluge. the stars fighting against sisera. the astronomers of the great pyramid. the grand motion of the sun. the formation of dew. the multitude of the stars. the descent of the heavenly city. chapter xiii. science or faith? must faith fade before science? scientists as partial as other people. have no such certainty as is claimed. . _mathematical errors._ the infinite half inch, etc. the doctrine of chances. no mathematical figures in nature. the french metric system. the lowell turbine wheel. . _errors of astronomy._ kant's predictions; le verrier's. herschel's enumeration of errors. sun's distance; other measurements. the moon's structure and influence. la place's proposed improvement. the sun's structure, heat, etc. the sizes, distances, and densities of the planets. errors about the nebulæ. errors about comets. the cosmical ether. the cold of infinite space. from this chaos springs the theory of development. . _errors of geology._ no _fact_ of geology anti-biblical. all anti-biblical theories based on an _if_. no geological measure of _time_. all calculations of time by geologists, which have been tested, have proved erroneous--the danish bogs; the swiss lake villager; horner's nile pottery; the raised beaches of scotland; lyell's blunder in the delta of the mississippi; sir wm. thompson's exposure of the absurdity of the evolutionists' demands for time. conflicting geological theories--the wernerian, huttonian, and diluvian theories; the catastrophists and progressionists; eleven theories of earthquakes; nine theories of mountains; false geology of america; scotland kicked about too. . _errors of zoology._ lamarck's vestiges; tremaux; darwin's contradictions; huxley; mivart, and wallace. blunders of the french academy, denouncing quinine, vaccination, lightning rods, and steam engines. uncertainty of science increases in human concerns. second-hand science founded on somebody's say so. . _all science founded on faith._ reason also based on faith. this life depends on faith. we demand truths of which science is ignorant. all our chief concerns in the domain of faith. religion the most experimental of the sciences. the only science which can make you happy. try for yourself. preface. this is not so much a volume upon the evidences of christianity, as an examination of the evidences of infidelity. when the infidel tells us that christianity is false, and asks us to reject it, he is bound of course to provide us with something better and truer instead; under penalty of being considered a knave trying to swindle us out of our birthright, and laughed at as a fool, for imagining that he could persuade mankind to live and die without religion. suppose he had proved to the world's satisfaction that all religion is a hoax, and all men professing it are liars, how does that comfort me in my hour of sorrow? scoffing will not sustain a man in his solitude, when he has nobody to scoff at; and disbelief is only a bottomless tub, which will not float me across the dark river. if infidels intend to convert the world, they must give us some positive system of truth which we can believe, and venerate, and trust. a glimmering idea of this necessity seems lately to have dawned upon some of them. it is quite possible that they have also felt the want of something for their own souls to believe; for an infidel has a soul, a poor, hungry, starved soul, just like other men. at any rate, having grown tired of pelting the church with the dirtballs of voltaire and paine, they begin to acknowledge that it is, after all, an institution; and that the bible is an influential book, both popular and useful in its way. mankind, it seems, will have a church and a bible of some sort; why not go to work and make a church and a bible of their own? accordingly they have gone to work, and in a very short time have prepared a variety of ungodly religions, so various that the worldly-minded man who can not be suited with one to his taste must be very hard to please. discordant and contradictory in their positive statements, they are agreed only in negatives; denying the god of the bible, the resurrection of the dead, and judgment to come. nevertheless each discoverer or constructor presents his system to the world with great confidence, large claims to superior benevolence, vast pretensions to learning and science, and no little cant about duty and piety. wonderful to tell, some of them are very fond of clothing their ungodliness in the language of scripture. no pains are spared to secure the wide spread of these notions. prominent infidels are invited to deliver courses of scientific lectures, in which the science is made the medium of conveying the infidelity. scientific books, novels, magazines, daily newspapers, and common school books, are all enlisted in the work. the disciples of infidelity are numerous and zealous. it would be hard to find a factory, boarding-house, steamboat or hotel where twelve persons are employed, without an infidel; and harder still to find an infidel who will not use his influence to poison his associates. these systems are well adapted to the depraved tastes of the age. the business man, whose whole soul is set on money-making and spending, is right glad to meet the secularist, who will prove to him on scientific principles, that a man is much profited by gaining the whole world, even at the risk of his soul, if he has such a thing. the young and ill-instructed professor of christianity, whose longings for forbidden joys are strong, has a natural kindliness toward nationalism, which befogs the serene light of god's holy law, and gives the directing power to his own inner liking. the sentimental young lady, who would recoil from the grossness of the deist, is attracted by the poetry of pantheism. infidelity has had, in consequence, a degree of success very little suspected by simple-minded pastors and parents, and which is often discovered too late for remedy. this book is written to expose the _folly_ of some of these novel systems of infidelity--leaving others to show their wickedness. it may surprise some who would glory in being esteemed fiends, to learn that they are only fools. if they should be awakened now to a sense of the absurdities which they cherish as philosophy, it might save them from awaking another day to the shame and everlasting contempt of the universe. i have not taken up all the cavils of infidelity. their name is legion. nor have i troubled my readers with any which they are not likely to hear. leaving the sleeping dogs to lie, i have noticed only such as i have known to bark and bite in my own neighborhood, and know to be rife here in the west. they are stated, as nearly as possible, in the words in which i have heard them in public debate, or in private conversation with gentlemen of infidel principles. i have made no references to books or writers on that side, save to such as i am assured were the sources of their sentiments. in such cases i have named and quoted the authors. where no such quotations are noticed it will be understood that i am responsible for the fairness with which i have represented the opinions which are examined. it is not my design to fight men of straw. every historical or scientific fact adduced in support of the arguments here used is confirmed by reference to the proper authority. but it has not been deemed needful to crowd the pages with references to the works of christian apologists. the christian scholar does not need such references; while to those for whose benefit i write, their names carry no authority, and their arguments are generally quite unknown. one great object of my labor will be gained if i shall succeed in awaking the spirit of inquiry among my readers, to such an extent as to load them to a prayerful and patient perusal of several of the works named on the next page. they have heard only one side of the question, and will be surprised at their own ignorance of matters which they ought to have known. books on the evidences are not generally circulated. ministers perhaps have some volumes in their libraries; but in a hundred houses, it would be hard to find half a dozen containing as many as would give an inquiring youth a fair view of the historical evidences of the truth of the gospel. nor, where they are to be found, are they generally read. being deemed heavy reading, the magazine, or the newspaper is preferred. ministers do not in general devote enough of their time to such sound teaching as will stop the mouths of gainsayers. i have been assured by skeptical gentlemen, who in the early part of their lives had attended church regularly for twenty-two years, that during all that time they had never heard a single discourse on the evidences. moreover, the protean forms of infidelity are so various, and many of its present positions so novel, that books or discourses prepared only twenty years ago miss the mark; and rather expose to the charge of misrepresentation, than produce conviction. new books on infidelity are needed for every generation. the lectures expanded into this volume were delivered in cincinnati, in . replying to different, and discordant systems of error, whose only bond is opposition to the gospel, they are necessarily somewhat disconnected. no attempt was made to mold them into a suit of royal armor, but merely to select a few smooth pebbles from the brook of truth, which any christian lad might sling at the giant defiers of the armies of the living god. having proved acceptable for this purpose, and a steadily increasing demand for repeated editions wearing out the original plates, the author has been requested by british and american publishers to revise the work in the light of the recent discoveries of science. this he has attempted; with what success the reader will judge. conscious of its many defects, yet grateful to god for the good which he has done to many souls by its instrumentality, the author again commends the book to the father of lights, praying him to use it as a mirror to flash such a ray of light into many dark souls as may lead them into the light of the knowledge of the glory of god in the face of jesus christ. san francisco, march , . * * * * * the author having been repeatedly asked by inquirers for the names of books on the evidences of christianity, subjoins a list of those easily accessible in the west. it is not supposed that any one inquirer will read all these; but it is well to read more than one, since the evidence is cumulative, and it is impossible for any writer to present the whole. having a list of several works, the inquirer who can not obtain one may be able to procure another. there are many other works on the evidences on the shelves of all our principal booksellers. _modern atheism_, by james buchanan, ll. d. _typical forms and special ends in creation_, by james mccosh, ll. d., and george dickie, m. d. _religion and geology_, edward hitchcock, ll. d. _the architecture of the heavens_, j. p. nichol, ll. d. _the christian philosopher_, thomas dick, ll. d. _natural theology_, william paley, d. d. _the analogy of religion, natural and revealed, to the constitution and course of nature_, joseph butler, d. c. l. _the bridgewater treatises_, whewell, chalmers, kidd, &c. _the comprehensive commentary_, william jenks, d. d. _the cause and cure of infidelity_, rev. david nelson. _a view of the evidences of christianity_, william paley, d. d. _the eclipse of faith_, ascribed to henry rogers. _the restoration of belief_, ascribed to isaac taylor. _lectures on the evidences of christianity_, university of virginia. _the divine authority of the old and new testaments asserted_, j. leland, d. d. _the bible commentary._ _an apology for the bible, in a series of letters to thomas paine_, r. watson. _a view of the internal evidence of the christian religion_, s. jenyns. _a letter to g. west, esq., on the conversion of st. paul_, lord lyttleton. _observations on the history and evidence of the resurrection of jesus christ_, gilbert west, esq. _difficulties of infidelity_, faber. _dissertations on the prophecies_, thos. newton, d. d. _an introduction to the critical study of the scriptures_, t. h. horne, vol. i. _the evidences of christianity_, charles petit mcilvaine, d. d. _rawlinson's historical evidences._ _modern skepticism_, by joseph barker. _haley's discrepancies of the bible_, w. g. holmes, chicago. _the superhuman origin of the bible_, rogers. _christianity and positivism_, mccosh. _the supernatural in relation to the natural_, mccosh. _aids to faith_, appleton & co. _modern skepticism_, randolph & son. _modern doubt_, christlieb. _alexander's evidences of christianity._ chapter i. did the world make itself? _understand, ye brutish among the people; and, ye fools, when will ye be wise? he that planted the ear, shall he not hear? he that formed the eye, shall he not see? he that chastiseth the heathen, shall he be not correct? he that teacheth man knowledge, shall he not know?_--psalm xciv. , . has the creator of the world common sense? did he know what he was about in making it? had he any object in view in forming it? does he know what is going on in it? does he care whether it answers any purpose or not? strange questions you will say; yet we need to ask a stranger question: had the world a creator, or did it make itself? there are persons who say it did, and who declare that the bible sets out with a lie when it says, that "in the beginning god created the heavens and the earth." whereas, say they, "we know that matter is eternal, and the world is wholly composed of matter; therefore, the heavens and the earth are eternal, never had a beginning nor a creator." but, however fully the atheist may know that matter is eternal, we do not know any such thing, and must be allowed to ask, how do _you_ know? as you are not eternal, we can not take it on your word. the only reason which anybody ever ventured for this amazing assertion is this, that "all philosophers agree that matter is naturally indestructible by any human power. you may boil water into steam, but it is all there in the steam; or burn coal into gas, ashes, and tar, but it is all in the gas, ashes, and tar; you may change the outward form as much as you please, but you can not destroy the substance of anything. wherefore, as matter is indestructible, it must be eternal." profound reasoning! here is a brick fresh from the kiln. it will last for a thousand years to come; therefore, it has existed for a thousand years past! the foundation of the argument is as rotten as the superstructure. it is not agreed among all philosophers that matter is naturally indestructible, for the very satisfactory reason that none of them can tell what matter in its own nature is. all that they can undertake to say is, that they have observed certain properties of matter, and, among these, that "it is indestructible by any operation to which it can be subjected in the ordinary course of circumstances observed at the surface of the globe."[ ] the very utmost which any man can assert in this matter is a negative, a want of knowledge, or a want of power. he can say, "human power can not destroy matter;" and, if he pleases, he may reason thence that human power did not create it. but to assert that matter is eternal because man can not destroy it, is as if a child should try to beat the cylinder of a steam engine to pieces, and, failing in the attempt, should say, "i am sure this cylinder existed from eternity, because i am unable to destroy it." but not only is the assertion of the eternity of matter unproven, and impossible to be proved, it is capable of the most demonstrable refutation, by one of the recent discoveries of science. the principle of the argument is so plain that a child of four years old can understand it. it is simply this, that all substances in heaven and earth are compounded of several elements; but no compound can be eternal. we say to our would-be philosophers, when you tell us that matter is eternal, how does that account for the formation of this world? what is this matter you speak of? this world consists not of a philosophical abstraction called matter, nor yet of one substance known by that name, but of a great variety of material substances, oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, sulphur, iron, aluminum, and some fifty others already discovered.[ ] now, which of these is the eterna-matter you speak of? is it iron, or sulphur, or clay, or oxygen? if it is any one of them, where did the others come from? did a mass of iron, becoming discontented with its gravity, suddenly metamorphose itself into a cloud of gas, or into a pail of water? or are they all eternal? have we fifty-seven eternal beings? are they all eternal in their present combinations? or is it only the single elements that are eternal? you see that your hypothesis--that matter is eternal--gives me no light on the formation of this world, which is not a shapeless mass of a philosophical abstraction called matter, but a regular and beautiful building, composed of a great variety of matters. was it so from eternity? no man who was ever in a quarry, or a gravel pit, will say so, much less one who has the least smattering of chemistry or geology. do you assert the eternity of the fifty-seven single substances, either separate or combined in some other way than we now find them in the rocks, and rivers, and atmosphere of the earth? then how came they to get together at all, and particularly how did they put themselves in their present shapes? each of them is a piece of matter of which _inertia_ is a primary and inseparable property. matter _of itself_ can not begin to move, or assume a quiescent state after being put in motion. will you tell us that the fifty-seven primary elements danced about till the air, and sea, and earth, somehow jumbled themselves together into the present shape of this glorious and beautiful world, with all its regularity of day and night, and summer and winter, with all its beautiful flowers and lofty trees, with all its variety of birds, and beasts, and fishes? to bring the matter down to the level of the intellect of the most stupid pantheist, tell us in plain english, _did the paving stones make themselves?_ for the paving stones are _made_ out of a dozen different chemical constituents, and each one is built up more ingeniously than the house you live in. _now, did the paving stones make themselves?_ no conviction of the human mind is more certain than the belief that every combination of matter proves the existence of a combiner, that every house has had a builder, and that every machine has had a maker. no matter how simple the combination, if it be only two laths fastened together by a nail, or two bricks cemented with mortar, or the sole of an old pegged boot, all the atheists in the world could not convince you that those two laths, or those two bricks, or those two bits of leather existed in such a combination from all eternity. if any wise philosopher tried to persuade you that for anything you could tell they might have been always so, you would reply, "no, sir! you can't cram such stuff down my throat. even a child's common sense shows him that those two laths were not always so nailed together; that those two bricks were not always so placed, one on the top of the other; and that those two pieces of old sole leather were not always pegged together in the sole of a boot." there is no conviction more irresistible than our belief that _no compound can possibly be eternal_. but the universe is the greatest of all compounds. everything in it is compound. chemists speak of simple substances, or elements of matter, and it is well enough to separate the elements of things in our thoughts, for the sake of distinct consideration, and to speak of the properties of pure oxygen, or of pure hydrogen, or of pure carbon, or of pure gold, or of pure iron, or of pure silver. but then we should always remember that there is nothing pure in the world, that there is no such thing in nature as any substance consisting only of a single element, pure and uncombined with others. just as your gold eagle is not pure gold, but alloyed with copper, everything in nature is alloyed. everything in the heavens above, and in the earth beneath, and in the waters under the earth, is compound. the air you breathe, simple as it seems, is composed of three gases, and is besides full of what huxley calls "a stirabout" of millions of seeds of animalculæ and motes of dust visible in the sunbeam. that hydrant water you are about to swallow is a rich aquarium full of all manner of monsters, which the oxy-hydrogen microscope will exhibit to your terrified gaze, devouring each other alive. should you get rid of them by evaporating your water, your chemist will tell you that still your pure water must be a compound of oxygen and hydrogen. there is no help for it. many years ago some astronomers fancied they had found clouds, or nebulæ, of gas, quite simple and uncompounded with anything else, a great many millions of miles away in the sky. they were so very far away that they thought nobody would ever be able to fly so far to bottle up a specimen of that gas and bring it back here to earth and analyze it, to find out whether it was pure and simple, or compound. so they felt quite safe in affirming that there was the genuine, simple, homogeneous gas, in the nebulæ, with which almighty god had nothing whatever to do, but which had first made itself and then had condensed into our present world. but unfortunately for this brilliant discovery the spectroscope opened windows into the nebulæ, and showed very plainly that they were on fire; and fire is a compound; it can not burn without fuel and something to support the combustion; so that settled the alleged simplicity of the nebulæ. it is now demonstrated, therefore, that every known substance existing in nature is a compound, and therefore can not be eternal. and the whole is not greater than the sum of its parts. no number of finite existences can be eternal. the universe, then, can not be eternal. suppose, however, that, for the sake of argument, we should grant our atheistic world-builder his materials, away off beyond the rings of saturn, or the orbit of uranus (since he seems to like to have his quarries a good way off from his building), would he be any nearer the completion of his world-making? as cornwallis declared that the conquest of india resolved itself ultimately into a question of bullocks, the prime consideration in the construction of the world, after you have got your materials, is that of transportation. when one beholds the three great stones in the temple of baalbec, each weighing eleven hundred tons, built into the wall twenty feet high, and a fourth in the quarry, a mile away, nearly ready for removal, he asks, "how did the builders move those immense stones, and raise them to their places?" and when we behold the quarry out of which these stones were taken, and all the other quarries of the world, and all the everlasting mountains, and the whole of this solid earth, and boundless sea, brought, as our theorists affirm, from far beyond the orbit of the most distant planet, we raise the question of transportation, and demand some account of the wagon and team which hauled them to their places. we can not get rid of the necessity for transportation by evaporating the building stones into gas, for a world of gas weighs just as many tons as the world made out of it. before we can make a world we must have _power_; but we can never get power out of the world to build itself. the atheists' world is only a great machine. the first law of mechanics is that action and reaction are equal; consequently machinery can never create power. you will never lift yourself by pulling at your boot-straps; much less can a machine lift and carry itself. it is no matter how big you make the wheels of your machine, as big as the orbits of the planets if you like, still it is only a machine, unless it has a mind in it; and your big machine can no more create power than a little machine as small as a lady's watch. nor does it make the least difference in respect to making power, of what materials your perpetual motion peddler makes his machine--whether of a skein of silk on a reel in a bottle, or of steel and zinc electro magnets running upon diamond points, or whether he melts up his steel, and zinc, and diamonds into red hot fire mist; it is still only a machine, made of these materials, as destitute of power as the smaller machines made out of it. the atheists' universe is only a big machine, and no machine can create power, no more than a paving stone. it has been, however, proposed to manufacture power by the law of gravitation, according to which all bodies attract each other, directly in proportion to their mass, and inversely as the square of their distances. this law appears to prevail as far as our observation extends through space; and our world builders affirm that it must have operated eternally, and that not only were the separate parts of our earth thus drawn together, but that all the orbs of heaven were caused to revolve under its influence. suppose, however, we grant that matter was eternal, and the force of gravitation eternally operating upon it, would that sufficiently account for the building up of even our own little planetary system? by no means. the unresisted force of gravitation would, in far less than an eternity, draw all things together toward the center of gravity of the universe. we should not have separate stars, and suns, and planets, and moons, revolving in orderly orbits, but one vast mass of matter, in which all motion had long since ceased. there must be some power of resistance to gravitation, and nicely balanced against it, a centrifugal force--no matter whether you call it heat, light, or electricity, or by any other name--from which balance of power the movements of the universe are regulated. but here again we arrive at the same conclusion from the balance of power to which we were before driven by the combination of matter--regulated power proclaims a regulator, a governor. power belongeth unto god. in world-building we need not only a quarry of materials, and power for transportation, but a head to plan their arrangement. for, as ten thousand loads of brick and stone dumped down higgledy piggledy will not build a house, neither will ten thousand millions of materials poured into a chaos make a world like this earth, arranged in order and beauty. it is grossly absurd to imagine that the inanimate materials of the earth arranged themselves in their present orderly structure. absurd as it seems to every man of common sense, there are persons claiming to be philosophers who not only assert that they did, but will tell you how they did it. one class of them think they have found it out by supposing every thing in the universe reduced to very fine powder, consisting of very small grains, which they call atoms; or, if that is not fine enough, into gas, of which it is supposed the particles are too fine to be perceived; and then by different arrangements of these atoms, according to the laws of attraction and electricity, the various elements of the world were made, and arranged in its present form. suppose we grant this gassy supposition, that the world millions of ages ago existed as a cloud of atoms, does that bring us any nearer the object of getting rid of a creator than before? the atoms must be material, if a material world is to be made from them; and so they must be extended; each one of them must have length, breadth and thickness. the atheist, then, has only multiplied his difficulties a million times, by pounding up the world into atoms, which are only little bits of the paving stones he intends to make out of them. each bit of the paving stone, no matter how small you break it, remains just as incapable of making itself, or moving itself, as was the whole stone composed of all these bits. so we are landed back again at the sublime question, _did the paving stones make themselves, and move themselves?_ others will tell you that millions of years ago the world existed as a vast cloud of fire mist, which, after a long time, cooled down into granite, and the granite, by dint of earthquakes, got broken up on the surface, and washed with rain into clay and soil, whence plants sprang up of their own accord, and the plants gradually grew into animals of various kinds, and some of the animals grew into monkeys, and finally the monkeys into men. the fire mist they stoutly affirm to have existed from eternity. they do not allege that they remember that (and yet as they themselves are, as they say, composed body and soul of this eternal fire mist, they ought to remember), but only that there are certain comets which occasionally come within fifty or sixty millions of miles of this earth, which they suppose may be composed of the fire mist which they _suppose_ this world is made of. a solid basis, truly, on which to build a world! a cloud in the sky, fifty million of miles away, may possibly be fire mist, may possibly cool down and condense into a solid globe; therefore, this fire mist is eternal, and had no need of a creator; and our world, and all other worlds, may possibly have been like it; therefore, they also were never created by almighty god. such is the atheist's ground of faith. the thinnest vapor or the merest supposition will suffice to risk his eternal salvation upon; provided only it contradicts the bible and gets rid of god. we can not avoid asking with as much gravity as we can command, where did the mist come from? did the mist make itself? where did the fire come from? did it kindle of its own accord? who put the fire and mist together? was it red hot enough from all eternity to melt granite? then why is it any cooler now? how could an eternal red heat cool down? if it existed as a red hot fire mist from eternity, until our atheist began to observe it beginning to cool, why should it ever begin to cool at all, and why begin to cool just then? fill it as full of electricity, magnetism and odyle as you please; do these afford any _reason_ for its very extraordinary conduct? the utmost they do is to show you _how_ such a change took place, but they neither tell you _where the original matter came from_, nor _why its form was changed_. change is an effect, and every effect requires a cause. there could be no cause outside of the fire mist; for they say there was nothing else in the universe. then the cause must be in the mist itself. had it a mind, and a will, and a perception of propriety? did the mist become sensible of the lightness of its behavior, and the fire resolve to cool off a little, and both consult together on the propriety of dropping their erratic blazing through infinite space, and resolve to settle down into orderly, well-behaved suns and planets? in the division of the property, _what became of the mind_? did it go to the sun, or to the moon, or to the pole star, or to this earth? or, was it clipped up into little pieces and divided among the stars in proportion to their respective magnitudes; so that the sun may have, say the hundredth part of an idea, and the moon a faint perception of it? did the fire mist's mind die under this cruel clipping and dissecting process; or is it of the nature of a polypus, each piece alive and growing up to perfection in its own way? has each of the planets and fixed stars a great "soul of the world" as well as this earth, and are they looking down intelligently and compassionately on the little globe of ours? had we not better build altars to all the host of heaven and return to the religion of our acorn-fed ancestors, who burned their children alive, in honor of the sun, on sun-days? an aqueous solution of this difficulty of getting rid of almighty god, is frequently proposed. it is known that certain chemical solutions, when mixed together, deposit a sediment, or precipitate, as chemists call it. and it is supposed that the universe was all once in a state of solution, in primeval oceans, and that the mingling of the waters of these oceans caused them to deposit the various salts and earths which form the worlds in the form of mud, which afterward hardened into rock, or vegetated into trees and men. thus, it is clearly demonstrated that there is no need for the creator if--if--if--we only had somebody to make these primeval oceans--and somebody to mix them together![ ] the development theory of the production of the human race from the mud, through the mushroom, the snail, the tortoise, the greyhound, the monkey and the man, which is now such a favorite with atheists, if it were fully proved to be a fact, would only increase the difficulty of getting rid of god. for either the primeval mud had all the germs of the future plants and monkeys, and men's bodies and souls, in itself originally, or it had not. if it had not, where did it get them? if it had all the life and intelligence in the universe in itself, it was a very extraordinary kind of god. we shall call it the _mud-god_. our atheists then believe in a god of muddy body and intelligent mind. but if they deny intelligence to the mud, then we are back to our original difficulty, with a large appendix, viz: _the paving stones made themselves first and all atheists afterward._ the whole theory of development is utterly false in its first principles. from the beginning of the world to the present day, no man has ever observed an instance of the spontaneous generation of life. there is no law of nature, whether electric, magnetic, odylic, or any other, which can produce a living plant or animal, save from the germ or seed of some previous plant or animal of the same species. nor has a single instance of the transmutation of species ever been proved. every beast, bird, fish, insect and plant brings forth after its kind, and has done so since its creation. no law of natural philosophy is more firmly established than this, _that there is no spontaneous generation, nor transmutation of species._ it is true there is a regular gradation of the various orders of animal and vegetable life, rising like the steps of a staircase, one above the other; but gradation is no more caused by transmutation than a staircase is made by an ambitious lower step changing itself into all the upper ones. to refer the origin of the world to the laws of nature is absurd. law, as johnson defines it, is a rule of action. it necessarily requires an acting agent, an object designed in the action, means to attain it, and authoritative enforcement of the use of those means by a lawgiver. are the laws of nature laws given by some supposed intelligent being, worshiped by the heathen of old, and by the atheists of modern times, under that name? or do they signify the orderly and regular sequence of cause and effect, which is so manifest in the course of all events? if, as atheists say, the latter, this is the very thing we want them to account for. how came the world to be under law without a lawgiver? where there is law, there must be design. chance is utterly inconsistent with the idea of law. where there is design there must, of necessity, be a designer. matter in any shape, stones or lightnings, mud or magnets, can not think, contrive, design, give law to itself, or to any thing else, much less bring itself into existence. there is no conceivable way of accounting for this orderly world we live in but one or other of these two: either an intelligent being created the world, or--_the paving stones made themselves_. "here are two hypotheses, of which the oldest is admitted to offer a full and consistent explanation of all the facts of science. there can be no better cause for any given formation than that god created it so. men of science, however, allege that creation (out of nothing) is 'scientifically inconceivable;' but this is only throwing dust in our eyes; of course, science can not _verify_ it, neither can it verify any other theory of causation. the question is whether reason can accept the fact, though science can not even imagine the process? if not, there is nothing for us but the _eternity of matter_, for evolution itself has to face the very same difficulty when asked to account for its primal germ. it is surely more conceivable that god created the first matter out of nothing, than that nothing evolved something out of itself, by an imminent law of its nature. this point, however, our scientific men are sadly given to shirking. they profess in general not to hold the eternity of matter, but they have nothing to suggest for its origin. they accept it as the starting point of evolution, and decline to speculate on its cause. this, as dr. christlieb observes of bauer's kindred system of criticism, is 'beginning without a beginning--everything is already extant'. we may as well start with species, as with protoplasm, if the inquiry is not to be pushed beyond the fact. the evolutionist is bound to answer whether the process is eternal, or how it began to be. either it had a beginning or it had not; if it had, creation out of nothing is conceded, and there is nothing left to dispute. it is puerile to except to the _frequency_ of creative acts on the ordinary hypothesis of specific origin, because it is freely open to science to reduce the several 'kinds' to the lowest _minimum_ it can experimentally establish. moreover--besides the utter inconsequence of such purely relative ideas as _often_ and _rare_--it is far more reasonable that an eternal, personal author of creation should watch over his work to shape and diversify it at his pleasure, than that, after a single act, he should relapse into _inertia_ like the hindu brahmin. to concentrate the whole evidence of design in one original act, ages upon ages ago, with no opening for after interference, undermines belief in a personal designer, simply because it leaves him nothing to do."[ ] leaving these brutish among the people who assert the latter, to the enjoyment of their folly, let us ascertain what we can know of the great creator of the heavens and the earth. god refers the atheists of the psalmist's days to their own bodies for proofs of his intelligence, to their own minds for proofs of his personality, and to their own observation of the judgments of his providence against evil-doers for proofs of his moral government. our text ascribes for him perception and intelligence: _he that planted the ear, shall he not hear? he that formed the eye, shall he not see?_ it does not say, he has an eye or an ear, but that he has the knowledge we acquire by those organs. and the argument is from the designed organ to the designing maker of it, and is perfectly irresistible. a blind god could not make a seeing man. let us look for a little at a few of the many marks of design in this organ to which god thus refers us. we shall first observe the mechanical skill displayed in the formation of the eye, and then the optical arrangements, or rather a few of them, for there are more than eight hundred distinct contrivances already observed by anatomists in the dead eye, while the great contrivance of all, the power of seeing, is utterly beyond their ken. i hold in my hand a box made of several pieces of wood glued together, and covered on the outside with leather. inside it is lined with cotton, and the cotton has a lining of fine white silk. you at once observe that it is intended to protect some delicate and precious article of jewelry, and that the maker of this box must have been acquainted with the strength of wood, the toughness of leather, the adhesiveness of glue, the softness and elasticity of cotton, the tenacity of silk, and the mode of spinning and weaving it, the form of the jewel to be placed in it, and the danger against which this box would protect it--ten entirely distinct branches of knowledge, which every child who should pick up such a box in the street would unhesitatingly ascribe to its maker. now, the box in which the eye is placed is composed of seven bones glued together internally, and covered with skin on the outside, lined with the softest fat, enveloped in a tissue compared with which the finest silk is only canvas, and the cavity is shaped so as exactly to fit the eye, while the brow projects over like a roof of a veranda, to keep off falling dust and rain from injuring it while the lid is open; and the eyebrows, like a thatch sloping outward, conduct the sweat of the brow, by which a man earns his bread, away around the outer cover, that it may not enter the eye and destroy the sight. if it were preposterous nonsense to say that electricity, or magnetism, or odyle, contrived and made a little bracelet box, how much more absurd to ascribe the making of the cavity of the eye to any such cause. let us next look at the shape of the eye. you observe it is nearly round in its section across, and rather oval in its other direction, and the cavity it lies in is shaped exactly to fit it. now there are eyes in the world angular and triangular, and even square; and as you may readily suppose, the creatures which have them can not move them; to compensate for such inconvenience, some of them, as the common fly, have several hundred. but, unless our heads were as large as sugar hogsheads, we could not be so furnished, and we must either have movable eyes or see only in one direction. accordingly, the contriver of the eye has hung it with a hinge. now there are various kinds of hinges, moving in one direction, and the maker of the eye might have made a hinge on which the eye would move up and down, or he might have given us a hinge that would bend right and left, in which case we should have been able merely to squint a little in two directions. but to enable one to see in every direction, there is only one kind of hinge that would answer the purpose--the ball and socket joint--and the former of the eye has hung it with such a hinge, retaining it in its place partly by the projection of the bones of the face, and partly by the muscles and the optic nerve, which is about as thick as a candlewick, and as tough as leather. most of you have seen a ship, and know the way the yards are moved, and turned, and squared by ropes and pulleys. the rigging of the eye, though not so large, is fully as curious. there is a tackle, called a muscle, to pull it down when you want to look down; another tackle to pull it up when you have done; one to pull it to the right, and another to the left; there is one fastened to the eyeball in two places, and geared through a pulley which will make it move in any direction, as when we roll our eyes; and the sixth, fastened to the under side of the eye, keeps it steady when we do not need to move it. then the eyelids are each provided with appropriate gearing, and need to have it durable too, for it is used thirty thousand times a day; in fact every time we wink. if god had neglected to place these little cords to pull up the eyelash, we should all have been in the condition of the unfortunate gentleman described by dr. nieuwentyt, who was obliged to pull up his eyelashes with his fingers whenever he wanted to see. there is, too, another admirable piece of forethought and skill displayed by the former of the eye, in providing a liquid to wash it, and a sponge to wipe it with, and a waste pipe, through the bone of the nose, to carry off the tears which have been used in washing and moistening the eye. now what absurdity to say that a law of nature, say gravity, or electricity, or magnetism has such knowledge of the principles of mechanics as the eye proclaims its former to have--that it could make a choice among multitudes of shapes of eyes and kinds of joints, and this choice the very best for our convenience; and that having known and chosen, it could have manufactured the various parts of this complicated machine. such a machine requires an intelligent manufacturer; and yet we have only as yet been looking at the dead eye, paying no regard to sight at all. even a blind man's eye prove an intelligent creator. let us now turn our thoughts to the instrument of sight. the optic nerve is the part of the eye which conveys visions to the mind. suppose, instead of being where you observe it, at the back part of the eye, it had been brought out to the front, and that reflections from objects had fallen directly upon it. it is obvious that it would have been exposed to injury from every floating particle of dust, and you would always have felt such a sensation as is caused by a burn or scald when the skin peels off, and leaves the ends of the nerves exposed to the air. the tender points of the fibers of the optic nerve, too, would soon become blunted and broken, and the eye, of course, useless. how, then, is the nerve to be protected, and yet the sight not obstructed? if it were covered with skin, as the other nerves are, you could not see through it. for thousands of years after men had eyes and used them, they knew no substance, at once hard and transparent, which could answer the double purpose of protection and vision. and to this day they know none hard enough for protection, clear enough for vision, and elastic enough to resume its form after a blow. but men did the best they could, and put a round piece of brittle but transparent glass in a ring of tougher metal for the protection of the hands of a watch; and he who first invented the watch crystal thought he had made a discovery. now, observe in the eye, that forward part is the watch glass; the cornea, made of a substance at once hard, transparent and elastic--which man has never been able to imitate--set into the sclerotica, that white, muscular coat which constitutes the white of your eye, acts as a frame for the cornea, and answers another important purpose, as we shall presently see. [illustration: structure of the human eye] but, supposing the end of the nerve protected by the glass, we might have had it brought up to the glass without any interposing lenses or humors, as, in fact, is nearly the case with some crustacea. we can not well imagine all the inconveniences of such an eye to us. if we could see distinctly at all, we could not see much farther or wider than the breadth of the end of the nerve at once. our sight would then be very like that faculty of perceiving colors by the points of the fingers, which some persons are said to possess. in that case, seeing would only be a nicer kind of groping, and our eyes would be more conveniently fixed on the points of our fingers; or, as with many insects, on the ends of long antennae. such a form of eye is precisely suited to the wants of an animal which has not an idea beyond its food, which has no business with any object too large for its mouth, and whose great concern is to stick to a rock and catch whatever animalculæ the water floats within the grasp of its feelers. but for a being whose intercourse should be with all the works of god, and whose chief end in such intercourse should be to behold the creator reflected in his works, it was manifestly necessary to have a wider and larger range of vision; and, therefore, a different form of eye. both these objects, breadth of field combined with length of range, are obtained by placing the optic nerve at the back of the eye, and interposing several lenses, through which objects are observed. by this arrangement a visual angle is secured, and all objects lying within it are distinctly visible at the same time. this faculty of perceiving several objects at the same time is a special property of sight which tends greatly to enlarge our conceptions of the knowledge of him who gave it. a man who never saw can have no idea of it. he can not taste two separate tastes at once, nor smell two distinct smells at once; nor feel more than one object with each hand at once; and if he hears several sounds at the same time, they either flow into each other, making a harmony, or confuse him with their discord. yet we are all conscious that we see a vast variety of distinct and separate objects at one glance of our eyes. i think it is manifest that the former of such an eye not only intended its owner to observe such a vast variety of objects, but from the capacity of his own sight to infer the vastly wider range of vision of him who gave it. besides the breadth of the field of vision, we also require length of range for the purpose of life. the thousand inconveniences which the short-sighted man so painfully feels are obvious to all. yet it may tend to reconcile such to their lot to know that thousands of the liveliest and merriest of god's creatures can not see an inch before them. small birds and insects, which feed on very minute insects, need eyes like microscopes to find them; while the eagle and the fish hawk, which soar up till they are almost out of sight, can distinctly see the hare or the herring a mile below them, and so must have eyes like telescopes. we, too, need to observe minute objects very closely, as when we read fine print, or when a lady threads a fine needle at microscope range; but, if confined to that range, we could not see our friends across the room, or find our way to the next street. again, in traveling we need to see objects miles away, and at night we see the stars millions of miles away; but then, if confined to the long range, we should be strangers at home, and never get within a mile of any acquaintance. now, how to combine these two powers, of seeing near objects and distant ones with the same eye, is the problem which the maker of the eye had to solve. let us look how man tried to solve it. a magnifying lens will collect the rays from any distant object, and convey them to a point called the focus. then suppose we put this glass in the tube of an opera-glass, or pocket spy-glass, and look through the eye-hole and the concave lens, properly adjusted, in front of it, we shall see the image of the object considerably magnified. but suppose the object draws very near, we see nothing distinctly; for the rays reflected from it, which were nearly parallel while it was at a distance, are no longer so when it comes near, but scatter in all directions, and those which fall on the lens are collected at a point much nearer to the lens than before, and the eye-glass must be pushed forward to that focus. accordingly, you know that the spy-glass is made to slide back and forward, and the telescope has a screw to lengthen or shorten the tube according to the distance of the objects observed. another way of meeting the case would be by taking out the lens, and putting in one of less magnifying power, a flatter lens, for the nearer object. now, at first sight, it would seem a very inconvenient thing to have eyes drawing out and in several inches like spy-glasses, and still more inconvenient to have twenty or thirty pairs of eyes, and to need to take out our eyes, and put in a new set twenty times a day. the ingenuity of man has been at work hundreds of years to discover some other method of adapting an optical instrument to long and short range, but without success. now, the former of the eye knew the properties of light and the properties of lenses before the first eye was made; he knew the mode of adjusting them for any distance, from the thousands of millions of miles between the eye and the star, to the half-inch distance of the mote in the sunbeam; and he had not only availed himself of both the principles which opticians discovered, but has executed his work with an infinite perfection which bungling men may admire, but can never imitate. the sclerotic coat of the eye, and the choroid which lies next it are full of muscles which, by their contraction, both press back the crystalline lens nearer the retina, and also flatten it; the vitreous humor, in which the crystalline lens lies, a fine, transparent humor, about as thick as the white of an egg, giving way behind it, and also slightly altering its form and power of refraction to suit the case. thus, that which the astronomer, or the microscopist, performs by a tedious process, and then very imperfectly, we perform perfectly, easily, instantly, and almost involuntarily, with that perfect compound microscope and telescope invented by the former of the human eye. surely, in giving us an instrument so admirably fitted for observing the lofty grandeur of the heavens and the lowlier beauties of the earth, he meant to allure us to the discovery of the perfections of the great designer and former of all these wondrous works. but there is another contrivance in the eye, adapted to lead us further to the consideration of the extent of the knowledge of its power. we are placed in a world of variable lights, of day and night, and of all the variations between light and darkness. we can not see in the full blaze of light, nor yet in utter darkness. had the eye been formed to bear only the noonday glare, we had been half blind in the afternoon, and wholly so in the evening. if the eye were formed so as to see at night, we had been helpless as owls in the day. but the variations of light in the atmosphere may be in some measure compensated, as we know, by regulating the quantity admitted to our houses--shutting up the windows. when we wish to regulate the admission of light to our rooms, we have recourse to various clumsy contrivances; paper blinds, perpetually tearing, sunblind rollers that will not roll, venetian blinds continually in need of mending, awnings blowing away with every storm, or shutters, which shut up and leave us in entire darkness. a self-acting window, which shall expand with the opening of light in the mornings and evenings, and close up of its own accord as the light increases toward noon, has never been manufactured by man. but the former of the eye took note of the necessities and conveniences of the case, and besides giving a pair of shutters to close up when we go to sleep, he has given the most admirable sunblinds ever invented. the nerve of the eye at the back of its chamber can not see without light, and its light comes through the little round window called the pupil, or black of the eye--which is simply a hole in the iris, or colored part. now this iris is formed of two sets of muscles: one set of elastic rings, which, when left to themselves, contract the opening; and another set at right angles to them, like the spokes of a wheel, pulling the inner edge of the iris in all directions to the outside. in fact it is not so much a sunblind, as a self-acting window, opening and closing the aperture according to our need of light, and doing this so instantaneously that we are not sensible of the process. it is self-evident that the maker of such an eye was acquainted with the properties of light, and the alternations of night and day, as well as with the mechanical contrivances for adjusting the eye to these variable circumstances. he has given us an eye capable of seeking knowledge among partial darkness, and of availing itself for this purpose of imperfect light; an apt symbol of our mental constitution and moral situation in a world where good and evil, light and darkness, mix and alternate. perhaps some one is ready to ask, what is the use of so many lenses in the eye? it seems as if the crystalline lens and the optic nerve were sufficient for the purpose of sight, with the cornea simply to protect them. what is the use of the aqueous humor and the vitreous humor? light, when refracted through the lens, becomes separated into its component colors--red, yellow, green, blue, and violet; and the greater the magnifying power of the lens, and the brighter the object viewed, the greater the dispersion of the rays. so that if the crystalline lens of the eye alone were used, we should see every white object bluish in the middle, and yellowish and reddish at the edges; or, in vulgar language, we should see starlight. this difficulty perplexed sir isaac newton all his life, and he never discovered the mode of making a refracting telescope which would obviate it. but m. dolland, an optician, reflecting that the very same difficulty must have presented itself to the maker of the eye, determined to ascertain how he had obviated it. he found that the maker of the eye had a knowledge of the fact that different substances have different powers of refracting or bending the rays of light which pass through them, and that liquids have generally a different power of refraction from solids. for instance, if you put a straight stick in water, the part under water will seem bent at a considerable angle, while if you put the stick through a little hole in a pane of glass it will not seem so much bent. he further discovered that oil of cassia had a different power of refraction from water, and the white of an egg still a different power. he discovered also that the first lens of the eye, the aqueous humor, is very like water; that the crystalline lens is a firm jelly, and that the vitreous humor is about the consistency of the white of an egg. the combination of these three lenses, of different powers of refraction, secures the correction of their separate errors. he could not make telescope lenses of jelly, nor water; therefore, he could not make a perfect achromatic telescope, but he learned the lesson of mutual compensations of difficulties which the maker of the eye teaches the reflecting anatomist, and procuring flint and crown glass of different degrees of refraction, he arranged them in the achromatic lens so as nearly to remedy the defect. i think that you will at once admit that dolland's attempt to remedy the evils of confused sight in the telescope indicated a desire to obtain a precise and correct view of the objects; and that his success in constructing an instrument, nearly perfect, for the use of astronomers, gave evidence that he himself had a clear idea of that perfect and accurate vision which he thus attempted to bestow on them. shall we then imagine any inaccuracy in the sight of him, who not only desired, but executed and bestowed on us, an instrument so perfectly adapted to the imperfections of this lower world, and whose very imperfections are the materials from which he produces clear and perfect vision? no! in god's eye there are no chromatic refractions of passions, or prejudice, or party feeling, or self-love. he sees no reflected or refracted light. o father of light! with whom is no variableness, or shadow of turning, open our eyes to behold thee clearly! our text thus leads us to a knowledge of god's character, from the structure of the bodies he has given us. he that formed my eye sees. though my feeble vision is by no means a standard or limit for his omniscience, yet i may conclude that every perfection of the power of sight he has given me existed previously in him. has he endowed me, a poor puny mortal, the permanent tenant of only two yards of earth, with an eye capable of ranging over earth's broad plains and lofty mountains, of traversing her beauteous lakes and lovely rivers, of scanning her crowded cities, and inspecting all their curious productions, and specially delighting to investigate the bodily forms of men, and their mental characters displayed on the printed page? has he given me the principle of curiosity, without which such an endowment were useless? then most undoubtedly he has himself both the desire to observe all the works of his hands, and the power to gratify that desire. the former of the eye must of necessity be the great observer. wheresoever an eye is found of his handiwork, and wheresoever sight is preserved by his skill, let the owner of such an instrument know that if he can see, god can, and as surely as he sees, god does. if it is possible for us to behold many objects distinctly at once, it is not impossible for god to behold more. if he has given us an eye to look from earth to heaven, then his eye sees from heaven to earth. if i can see accurately, god's inspection is much more impartial. and if he has given me the power of adjusting my imperfect vision to the varying lights and shades of this changing scene, let me not dream for a moment that he is destitute of a corresponding power of investigating difficulties, and penetrating darknesses, and bringing to light hidden works and secret things. god is light. in him is no darkness at all. neither is there any creature that is not manifest in his sight, but all things are naked and opened to the eyes of him with whom i have to do. he has seen all my past life--my faults, my follies, and my crimes. when i thought myself in darkness and privacy, god's eye was upon me there. in the turmoil of business, god's eye was upon me. in the crowd of my ungodly companions, god's eye was upon me. in the darkness and solitude of night, god's eye was upon me. and god's eye is on me now, and will follow me from this house, and will watch me and observe all my actions, on--on--on--while god lives, and wheresoever god's creation extends. "o god, thou has searched and known me; thou knowest my down sitting and mine uprising; thou understandest my thoughts afar off. thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways for there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo! o lord, thou knowest it altogether. thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me. such knowledge is too wonderful for me! it is high, i can not attain unto it; whither shall i go from thy spirit? and whither shall i flee from thy presence? if i ascend up into heaven, thou art there, if i make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there! if i take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. if i say, 'surely the darkness shall cover me,' even the night shall be light about me; yea the darkness hideth not from thee, but the night shineth as the day, the darkness and the light are both alike to thee." footnotes: [ ] reid's chemistry, ii. § . [ ] johnson's turner's chemistry, § . [ ] it might be supposed that such a theory is too palpably absurd to be believed by any save the inmates of a lunatic asylum, had not the writer, and hundreds of the citizens of cincinnati, seen a lecturer perform the ordinary experiment of producing colored precipitates by mixing colorless solutions, as a demonstration of the self-acting powers of matter. common sense, being a gift of god, is righteously withdrawn from those who deny him. [ ] john bull. chapter ii. was your mother a monkey? in the previous chapter we saw the evidences of god's skill and wisdom in the adaptations of nature, fitting the organs of animals for hearing, walking, and eating, and especially in the structure of the human eye. this has long been owned by candid minds as an unanswerable argument, demonstrating the being of god by the works of his hands. but since that chapter was written a school of scientists has arisen, of whom mr. darwin is at present the most popular, claiming to be able to show how all the species of living things can evolve, not only their eyes, but their legs and wings and lungs, and every part of them, from a little bit of primeval life stuff, called protoplasm, by the influence of natural selection. mr. darwin owns that the formation of an eye is rather a tough job for a little pin point germ of protoplasm; but he has no doubt that it has been done, and he writes several books to show us how. we propose to look into this self-evolving process, as he and his brother evolutionists describe their theory. it is necessary, right here at the outset, to distinguish the theory of the evolutionists from the great fact of evolution. almighty god created the world, not only for his own pleasure, but also for his own glory, that men and angels might learn to know him by his works. creation is thus god's great object lesson for men and angels to learn. but learning is a process, gradual, slow, from one step to another. therefore the object lesson must not be precipitated all in a heap upon the infantile intellects of the learners, but unfolded by degrees. geologists assure us that so it was in the past; that first the lifeless strata were deposited; next, light was evolved; afterward, fishes, and marine reptiles, and birds; then came the carboniferous or plant era; afterward the mammalia; last of all man. you observe here an ascending scale of creation, beginning with first principles and simple forms, and ascending to the most complicated; a series of experiments in god's great lecture-room, illustrative of the various steps of the evolution of the divine idea. but six thousand years before geology was born moses described this same evolution of creation, in the first chapter of genesis. as he could not have learned it from any science known in his day, god himself must have shown it to him. the divine idea is still in process of evolution for our instruction. we behold it in the continual formation of new strata by the destruction of the old; in the chemical combinations of the elements of the air, sea, and earth; in the evolution of the grass from the seed, and of the oak from the acorn; in the development of the insect germ into the caterpillar, and the butterfly; in the hatching of the egg into the chicken; and in the growth of the infant into the man. we observe also a divine development of society, an advance of civilization, a providential guidance of history, and a fall and disorder among mankind, with a process of redemption, medical, educational, political and religious, for the human race. the whole process, therefore, of the creation, natural history, and moral government of the world, is the development of a divine idea, according to a divine plan, by the direct or mediate efficacy of divine power, for the accomplishment of the divine purpose as revealed to us in the divine word, the holy scriptures. galen taught that the study of physiology was a divine hymn. this divine development is to be clearly and sharply distinguished from the atheistic theory of evolution. they differ in the following particulars: . the divine development of the world is a great fact; the theory of atheistic evolution is only a baseless theory, a fiction. . the divine development begins in the beginning, with god, creating the heavens and the earth; but the theory of atheistic evolution has no beginning, asserting the eternal existence of a changing world. . the divine development is the unfolding of an intelligent plan, showing the adaptation of means to ends for the accomplishment of a purpose; the atheistic theory of evolution denies plan, purpose, adaptation and final cause. . the divine development is conducted, and continually reinforced by the will of the omnipotent god; the atheistic development evolves only the forces of matter. . the divine development has a moral character, and terminates in the highest holiness and happiness of all obedient men and angels; but the atheistic development contemplates and promises only the evolution of animal instinct and passions, the eternal death of the individual, and, for the universe, only purposeless cycles of progress, and catastrophies of ruin. in this chapter we discuss only the theory of atheistic evolution. in the discussion of all questions affecting human life it is advantageous to trace them to their origin, and to follow them out to their practical results. thus we get a clear view of the whole subject, and are enabled to assign to it its proper influence. it is also a great benefit to the mass of mankind to conduct such discussions in plain language, and to translate the roundabout phrases, and the latinized words of scientific men, as much as we can, into the vulgar tongue; to state the subjects of discussion so as to be understood of the people. so we shall put the whole business of darwinism and development before you, reader, in a nutshell, by simply asking you the question at the head of this chapter, "was your mother a monkey?" what a question! well, then, your grandmother? her grandmother? or does it seem less offensive, or more likely to you to go back some thousands of years, and say your forefathers were apes? that is exactly what mr. darwin says when we translate his scientific language into the vulgar tongue: "the early progenitors of man were no doubt once covered with hair, both sexes having beards; their ears were pointed and capable of movement; and their bodies were provided with a tail having the proper muscles. the foot, judging from the condition of the great toe in the foetus, was then prehensile, and our progenitors, no doubt, were arboreal in their habits, frequenting some warm forest-clad land. the males were provided with great canine teeth, which served them as formidable weapons."[ ] this ancient form "if seen by a naturalist, would undoubtedly have been ranked as an ape or a monkey. and as man, under a genealogical point of view, belongs to the catarhine or old world stock (of monkeys), we must conclude, however much the conclusion may revolt our pride, that our early progenitors would have been properly thus designated."[ ] so here you have your genealogy, name and thing fully described. mr. darwin thinks it is quite an honorable pedigree: "thus we have given to man a pedigree of prodigious length, but not, it may be said, of noble quality. * * * unless we willfully close our eyes, we may, with our present knowledge, approximately recognize our parentage, nor need we feel ashamed of it. the most humble organism is something much higher than the inorganic dust under our feet; and no one with an unbiased mind can study any living creature, however humble, without being struck with enthusiasm at its marvelous structure and properties."[a] there are people, however, who do not grow enthusiastic at the idea of their long-tailed progenitors; but there is no accounting for taste in such matters! for elderly people, who do not take so enthusiastically to monkeys as his junior readers, mr. darwin has provided a rather less gymnastic ancestry. how would you like to have a fish for your forefather? if it were one of neptune's noble tritons, or the philistine fish-god, dagon, or a mermaid, it might not be so repulsive as the ape; or even a twenty-pound salmon, flashing its silver and blue in the sunlight as it spins the line off the reel, might not be so utterly disgusting as the monkey burlesque of humanity. but, alas! mr. darwin has been sent to this proud nineteenth century as the prophet to teach us humility, and here is the scientific statement of the structure of our fishy forefathers: "at a still earlier period the progenitors of man must have been aquatic in their habits, for morphology plainly tells us that our lungs consist of a modified swim bladder which once served as a float. these early predecessors of man thus seen in the dim recesses of time must have been as lowly organized as the lancelot or amphibioxus, or even still more lowly organized."[ ] that certainly is a very humble origin. we are not, however, by any means to the end of our pedigree. mr. darwin says that your codfish aristocracy are descended from a race of squirts--the squirts which you picked up on the shore and squeezed, when you were a boy, discharging these primitive babcock extinguishers upon your playfellows, irreverently regardless of the harm done the poor squirt, the ancestor of the human race. if you doubt it, here is the latest deliverance of infallible science upon the subject. he describes the ascidians: "they hardly appear like animals, and consist of a simple tough leathery sack, with two small projecting orifices. they belong to the molluscoida of huxley, a lower division of the great family of the mollusca; but they have recently been placed by some naturalists among the vermes or worms. their larvæ somewhat resemble tadpoles in shape, and have the power of swimming freely about. * * * we should thus be justified in believing that, at an extremely remote period, a group of animals existed resembling in many respects the larvæ of our present ascidians, which diverged into two great branches, the one retrograding in development and producing the present class of ascidians, the other rising to the crown and summit of the animal kingdom, by giving birth to the vertebrata."[ ] thus it appears that mr. darwin deduces his origin, and that of mankind in general, from one of these ascidians, or, in plain english, makes them a race of squirts. the notion of evolution is a belief that all living beings, plants as well as animals, have not been created, but, like topsy, just grew, from the very smallest germs or spores. evolutionists inform us that all kinds of organisms have been evolved from four or five primeval germs or spores; or more consistently with their great principle, that the simple gave birth to the differentiated, from one primeval germ or egg. mr. darwin alleges four or five primal forms, acknowledging that analogy would lead him up to one. but other members of this school consistently and boldly follow up the stream to its fountain, and allege a single primeval living seed as the origin of all living things, and that this must have been a microscopic animalcule, or plant spore, of the very lowest order, which, multiplying its kind, gave birth to improved and enlarged offspring; and they, in their turn, grew, and multiplied, and differentiated into varieties; and so, in the course of endless ages, the poorer sorts perishing and the better sorts prospering, the world became filled with its existing populations, without any new creative acts of god, and without any particular providential care over the new species. the particular process according to which this multiplication and improvement took place, mr. darwin calls natural selection. every creature tends to increase and multiply; and the very slowest breeders would soon fill the earth, were their multiplication not checked by hunger, by the attacks of enemies, and by the struggle for existence. but all are not born alike strong, or swift, or of the same color; some of the same brood are better fitted to escape enemies, or to fight the battle of life, than others. these will survive, while the weak ones perish. this mr. wallace calls, the survival of the fittest. they will transmit their superior size, or swiftness, or better color, or whatever superiority they possess, to their offspring. the process will go on in successive generations, each adding an infinitesimal quantity to the stock gained by the past generation; just as breeders of improved stock increase the weight of cattle by breeding from the largest; or breeders of race-horses increase the speed by breeding from the swiftest. in this way varieties from the same family will grow into different species. and, as only those differences which are beneficial to the animal are preserved, they will grow into improved species; and, as variations of all sorts take place, so all sorts of varieties and species arise in process of time. all will thus tend to perfect themselves according to the laws of nature, and without any special oversight or care of god, or of anybody but natural selection; which mr. darwin takes special care to describe as an unintelligent selector. he defines the nature which selects to be "the aggregate action and product of natural laws," and these laws are "the sequences of events as ascertained by us." he ridicules the idea of god's special endowment of the fantail pigeon with additional feathers, or of the bull dog's jaws with strength, and says, "but if we give up the principle in the one case, if we do not admit that the variations of the primeval dog were intentionally guided in order, for instance, that the greyhound, that perfect image of symmetry and vigor, might be formed; no shadow of reason can be assigned for the belief that variations alike in nature, and the results of the same general laws which have been the groundwork through natural selection of the most perfectly adapted animals in the world, man included, were intentionally and specially guided."[ ] this, then, is the grand distinctive difference of mr. darwin's mode of producing the various animals; namely, that it is unintelligent, their variations are not designed nor intended by the creator, but they are the results of a method of trial and error, producing a hit-and-miss pattern. the failures all perish, and the successes live and prosper; but there is no intentional or special guidance of god in the business. and the business includes the whole process of peopling the globe, from the creation of the first four or five germs down to the last formation of human society. god is thus dismissed from the greatest part of the world's life, including all human affairs. this is not exactly atheism in theory, but practically it amounts to much the same thing. it is this excommunication of god's agency from the management of the world, and especially from human affairs, by mr. darwin's method, which has so commended his books to the ungodly world. there is a general agreement among this class of writers, that mr. darwin has destroyed the basis of the argument for the being of god from design as displayed in the adaptations of birds and beasts to their conditions. mr. huxley says that "when he first read mr. darwin's book, what struck him most forcibly was the conviction that teleology, as commonly understood, had received its death blow at mr. darwin's hands."[ ] "for the notion that every organism has been created as it is, and launched straight at a purpose, mr. darwin substitutes the conception of something which may fairly be termed a method of trial and error. organisms vary incessantly; of these variations the few meet with surrounding conditions which suit them and thrive; the many are unsuited and become extinguished. * * * for the teleologist (the christian) an organism exists, because it was made for the conditions in which it was found. for the darwinian an organism exists, because out of many of its kind it is the only one which has been able to persist in the conditions in which it was found. * * * if we apprehend the spirit of the origin of species rightly, then nothing can be more entirely and absolutely opposed to teleology, as it is commonly understood, than the darwinian theory."[ ] prof. haeckel argues to the same purpose that darwin's theory leads inevitably to atheism and materialism. dr. buchner says of darwin's theory, "it is the most thoroughly naturalistic that can be imagined, and far more atheistic than that of his decried predecessor, lamarck." carl vogt also commends it because "it turns the creator, and his occasional intervention in the revolution of the earth and in the production of species, without any hesitation out of doors, inasmuch as it does not leave the smallest room for the agency of such a being. the first living germ being granted, out of it the creation develops itself progressively by natural selection, through all the geologic periods of our planet, by the simple law of descent. no new species arise by creation, and none perishes by annihilation; the natural cause of things, the process of evolution of all organisms, and of the earth itself, is of itself sufficient for the production of all we see. thus man is not a special creation, produced in a different way, and distinct from other animals, endowed with an individual soul, and animated by the breath of god; on the contrary, man is only the highest product of the progressive evolution of animal life, springing from the group of apes next below him."[ ] whether, therefore, mr. darwin himself intends his theory to be atheistic or not, it has had the misfortune to be so viewed by the greater number of its supporters; and, accordingly, it is this view of it which we shall keep prominent in the following discussion. mr. darwin does undoubtedly intend his theory to be antagonistic to the bible account of creation and providence, and an improvement upon it; and, whether atheistic or not, it is undoubtedly anti-christian. _i. the history of the theory._ the first thing which strikes a common person on first hearing this theory is that it is a very queer notion for any christian man to invent. we are naturally curious to know how a man, educated in a christian country, could have fallen into it. but it is, in fact, no new discovery, but an old heathen superstition. some four hundred years before christ, when the world had almost wholly apostatized into idolatry, democritus, among the greeks, became offended with the vulgar heathen gods, and set himself to invent a plan of the world without them. from eastern travelers the greeks knew that the brahmins, in india, had a theory of the world developing itself from a primeval egg. he set himself to refine upon it, and imagined virtually the nebular hypothesis. he said that all matter consisted of very small atoms, dancing about in all directions, from all eternity, and which at last happened into the various forms of the present world. the ancient phoenicians held a theory that all life was from the sea; and that, as the wet mud produces all sorts of herbs in spring now, so originally it produced all manner of animals. they worshiped it as a god, and called it mot, or mud. anaximander took up the theory and carried it out in true darwinian style, alleging that the first men sprang from the ground watered by the sea, and that they had spines like sea urchins; evidently deriving them from the radiates. lucretius still further developed the theory in a poem in six books. the spread of christianity, however, hindered the spread of the doctrine, as mr. tyndall feelingly laments, until the saracens overspread the east, when some of them, it seems, favored it. but it seems to be an unlucky dogma, since, with the downfall of the power of the false prophet, the anti-christian form of science went down again. the dogma of the transmutation of species reappeared, however, in the romish church in a religious form; the old heathenism, which had never been wholly banished from the minds of men, thus reasserting itself. about the tenth century some began to teach that the bread of the communion of the lord's supper was transubstantiated, and the wine also, into the body, and blood, and soul, and divinity of our lord jesus christ. this is probably the most complete transmutation of species which has ever been imagined or described. the evolution of bread into deity is only equaled by mr. tyndall's endowment of matter with all the potencies of life and thought; a miracle differing from the popish transubstantiation only in the element of time, but in its essential nature equally supernatural. the dogma excited great discussion for centuries, and produced as many theories of transubstantiation as we now observe of evolution, keeping philosophic minds and pens busy till the dawn of modern science after the reformation. la place threw out the nebular hypothesis, which is substantially democritus' concourse of atoms, only la place endeavored to substitute circular motions under the law of gravitation, instead of democritus' chance arrangement, as a sufficient cause for the formation and motions of planets. herschel's discovery of the nebulæ was hastily laid hold of by a number of writers, and notably by the author of the vestiges of creation, as furnishing the primeval matter necessary for world-making; and till the spectroscopic discoveries of the composite nature of gaseous nebulæ, they were claimed as specimens of worlds in process of formation. la place supposed his nebulous matter to be gas in a state of white-heat combustion, compared with which the heat of the hottest fire would be a cool bath. in no other way could he dissipate the world's substance into sufficient thinness for his vortices. but spencer saw that this tremendous heat would be fatal to all forms of life, and especially to sensitive beings; and tyndall shows us that this original matter must have had all the potencies of life and sensation, and a potency of sensation means being able to feel. now the worst fate threatened against sinners in the bible is a place in the lake burning with fire and brimstone, which burns at ° fahrenheit; but the temperature of the original fire-mist was a thousand times hotter. some of these scientists call such a fate as the bible threatens against the wicked, cruel. but here is a hell manufactured by the evolutionists infinitely worse than that of the bible; for the hell of the bible is only for the wicked, but the evolutionists' hell is indiscriminately for all, saints and sinners, and all sorts of creatures, innocent as babes unborn of any crime; yet they, or, which is the same thing, the matter containing all the potency of their sensations, that is their power of feeling, were born in this hell, and kept in it from all eternity, until it pleased the evolutionists to begin to cool it down a little. however, it was rather scientific than benevolent reasons which induced mr. spencer to reverse the order of procedure, and make his star dust cold to begin with, and to heat it up by condensation and pressure to about the temperature of molten iron; which was still an uncomfortably warm lodging for mr. tyndall's potencies of sensation for some millions of years. the division of opinion about the original nebulæ, however, still prevails; some evolutionists of the old-fashioned order still taking their nebulæ hot, while others, with spencer, prefer it cold, with star dust. as to the spontaneous generation of life, there has been less progress of opinion, though great variety has been exhibited. ovid and virgil describe the way in which a carcass produces bees. it was generally believed that putrid meat produced the maggots, till the blow-flies were discovered laying their eggs. then it was alleged that the entozoa, the worms found in the bodies of animals, were self-produced, without eggs, until the microscope discovered that one could lay , eggs. strauss, however, adhered to the idea that as the tapeworm, as he supposed, was self-produced, so man was originated by the primeval slime. so also professor vogt, and m. tremaux develop their animals from the land, and the latter accounts for their various qualities from the various qualities of their respective birthplaces, the crop being conditioned by the soil. but mr. darwin derives all his organisms from the sea. electricity in its galvanic form was for a while the agent to fire the earthly or marine mud with the vital spark; and mr. crosse's experiments were supposed instances of the creation of acarii or mites in the battery bath, until it was found that the bath contained eggs and the electricity only hatched them. some english evolutionists still adhere to the theory of spontaneous generation, but the leading germans deny any instance of it being known. huxley denies that any case of it has been established as now practicable; but supposes that if we could have been present at the beginning of the world, when all the elements were young and vigorous, we should have seen the chemical elements of the earth and air combining to form living beings, by the mere powers of their nature. if that were the fact, it would be a fact unique and unparalleled, utterly out of the course of nature, and so as contrary to the theory of evolution as if these living beings had been inspired with life by almighty god. so the theory here again is divided. two utterly irreconcilable ideas of the origin of life claim our belief--the theories of biogenesis, and of abiogenesis, the one says all life is from the egg, and has always been so; and so we have an eternal begetting of finite creatures; the other alleges the spontaneous beginning of plants and animals; a fact, if it be a fact, as unparalleled as creation, and far more miraculous. as to the history of the progress of the germs of plants and animals thus produced, we find still greater diversities of opinion, not only as to details, but as to principles. each inventor has added to, or altered, the original idea of evolution, until it has been burdened with more improvements and new patents than the sewing machine; only the evolutionary improvements bid fair to improve the theory out of existence. we have seen m. tremaux, with the autochthonic athenians, deriving the powers of improvement of plants and animals from their native soils. lamarck on the contrary, inspired all his plants and animals--fungi and frogs, and elephants and apes--with the desire of getting on in the world and improving their limbs by exercise; so the greyhound grew slim and fleet by running; the giraffe's neck elongated by reaching up to the branches of the trees on which it browsed, and the duck acquired web feet by swimming. others attributed the evolution of differences to external conditions. the negro became black by exposure to the tropical sun; the arctic hare received its coat of thick white fur from the cold climate, and the buffalo and camel their humps of fat from the sterility of their pastures at certain seasons, and the consequent need of a reserved store of fat for food for the rest of the body. mr. darwin's doctrine of natural selection refuses lamarck's notion of any conscious attempt of the plant or animal at improvement; and equally denies the power of external nature to improve anything, except by killing off poor specimens, save in that very limited range where good pastures make fat animals for a season or two. an innate power of accidental variation to a very small amount, and the slow but constant adding up of profitable variations during countless generations, with the killing off of the unimproved breeds by natural selection, is his patent populator and improver. but this theory is too slow for the nineteenth century, and so neither huxley, nor parsons, nor mivart, nor even wallace, accepts the doctrine as darwin propounds it. it is, in fact, already becoming unpopular among scientific men. lyell proposed the origination of new species by leaps; as we see great geniuses born of commonplace parents; and huxley supports that opinion, and parsons, owen and mivart coincide in this inexplicable explanation. the author of the vestiges of creation accounts for improved species from a prolongation of the period of gestation. but hyatt and cope derive them from quite the contrary process--accelerated development of gestation. mm. ferris and kolliker derive them from parthenogenesis, a mode of genesis of which our world offers no example whatever. the origin of man, with all his mental powers and religious aspirations, is the great difficulty. mr. mivart excludes man wholly from the influence of natural selection, from the time he acquired a soul. mr. wallace, rejecting the action of one supreme intelligence for everything but the origin of universal forces and laws, "contemplates the possibility that the development of the essentially human portions of man's structure and intellect may have been determined by the directing influence of some higher intelligent beings acting through natural and universal laws;"[ ] _i. e._, the gods of the old heathen nations. and so after twenty-two centuries wandering over the world, we have got back to where democritus started from--to pure old heathenism. after such a history of the theory of evolution, and in presence of such contradictory presentations by its advocates, i need scarcely say that it is by no means an established scientific principle, were it not for the insolent manner in which some of them assert it as scientifically demonstrated; and denounce the bible doctrine of creation as mere superstition, "a feather bed of respectable and respected tradition," and warn off christians from any attempt to investigate theories of cosmogony; and overbear the ignorant by the array of the names of men of science who give their sanction to some phase of the theory. but let it be borne in mind that no well-established scientific principle, no demonstrated law, exhibits such contradictory and conflicting phases as those we have just witnessed. the laws of gravitation, or of chemical affinity, for instance, offer no such contradictions of their adherents; because they are founded on facts, while evolution is a mere notion, founded on ignorance and error, as we shall presently see. accordingly, by far the greater number of the greatest scientists oppose it, as utterly unscientific, and have recorded their opposition, and the reasons for it. sir john herschel and sir wm. thompson, among astronomers, have proclaimed its antagonism to the facts of physical astronomy. no new facts subversive of the foundations of faith in god as recognized in the universe by bacon, newton, boyle, descartes, leibnitz, pascal, paley and bell, have been discovered by such scientists as whewell, sedgwick, brewster, faraday, hugh miller, or our american geologists, dawson, hitchcock, and dana. nor have the deliberate and expanded demonstrations of its unscientific character by the late lamented agassiz been ever fairly met, much less overturned. i refer to these honored names for the benefit of that large class who must take their science upon faith in some scientific prophet or apostle, in default of any possibility of personal investigation of the facts. indeed, to the great majority, even of so-called scientific men, their science must be founded upon faith in the dogma of some scientific pope and council. and to such it may be reassuring, amidst the evolutionists' cries of science! science! to know that a great many of the greatest scientists, in spite of all these confused assertions, do still believe in almighty god, do call their souls their own, and hope when they die to go to heaven. as a specimen of the contempt in which this theory is held by the princes of science, read the following extract of an address by agassiz, at a recent meeting of the academy of science:[ ] "as i grow older in the ranks of science," said the professor, "i feel more and more the danger of stretching inferences from a few observations to a wide field. i see that the younger generation among naturalists are at this moment falling into the mistake of making assertions and presenting views as scientific principles which are not even based upon real observation. i think it is time that some positive remonstrance be made against that tendency. the manner in which the evolution theory in zoology is treated would lead those who are not special zoologists to suppose that observations have been made by which it can be inferred that there is in nature such a thing as change among organized beings actually taking place. _there is no such thing on record._ it is shifting the ground from one field of observation to another to make this statement, and when the assertions go so far as to exclude from the domain of science those who will not be dragged into this mire of mere assertion, then it is time to protest. "he thought it was intolerant to say he was not on scientific grounds because he was not falling into the path which was occupied by those who maintain that all organized beings have been derived from a few original progenitors. other supporters of the transmutation doctrine assume that they can demonstrate the changes to have taken place by showing certain degrees of resemblance; but what they never touch is the quality and condition of those few first progenitors from which they were evolved. they assume that they contained all that is necessary to evolve what exists now. that is begging the question at the outset; for if these first prototypes contained the principle of evolution, we should know something about them from observation, and it should be shown that there are such organized beings as are capable of evolution. "i ask, whence came these properties? if this power and capacity of change is not inherent to the first progenitors, then i ask, whence came the impulses by which those progenitors which have not this power of change in themselves acquire them? what is the power by which they are started in directions which are not determined by their primitive nature? from the total silence of the supporters of the transmutation theory on these and other points, _he did not think it worth their while to take the slightest notice of this doctrine of evolution in his scientific considerations_. he acknowledged what the evolutionists had done incidentally in scientific research; none had done more than mr. darwin. he believed he had been injured woefully by his adherents. he was a far better man than most of his school made him." it is to be acknowledged, however, that many scientists are evolutionists. mr. darwin is not alone in his belief. if he were, it would not be worth while to spend time in examining it. quite a number of scientific men have fallen into it, and lecture and write commendations of it; and it has become quite popular among a certain class who do not like to accept the bible doctrine that god created man, with its necessary consequence that the creature ought to obey his creator; and they have proceeded to patch it out into completeness--for, as you observe, it is a little defective; like its own primeval squirt, it lacks a head and a tail--it has neither a beginning nor an end properly fitted to it. it takes a piece out of the middle of the universe from the management of god, but it leaves the beginning and the end totally unaccounted for; telling us neither whence came the first germs, nor whither tends the final fully developed angel. mr. darwin, though he calls one of his works, the origin of species, really avoids the question of origin. he admits the miracle of the creation of the four or five original germs of life, which, according to the evolutionists, is as unscientific as if he admitted four or five hundred. they desire to escape the operation of god altogether. moreover, he gives no account of the origin of the law of heredity, by which each being produces its like; nor yet of the origin of the power of variation, according to which profitable variations occur. here, then, is still a field in which god reigns. but it is specially with mr. darwin's admission of the creator to bestow the origin of life that evolutionists are displeased. if they admit god at the beginning of the world they see plainly that there is no possibility of getting rid of him afterward. messrs. huxley, spencer, tyndall, buchner, haeckel and vogt combine their forces accordingly to evolve the world as we find it without god's intervention. mr. huxley, perceiving that to make either man, or monkey, or nomad, you must have materials, kindly brings a little pitcher of protoplasm, which he calls the physical basis of life. it is the meat our cæsar feeds on, and indeed, for that matter, all living things. all vegetable and animal tissues are made up mostly of oxygen, hydrogen, carbon and nitrogen; and as the materials of which all living beings are built are the same originally, and are simply these chemical substances with a little iron, salt and lime, with their properties, he will have it that all life, including man's life and thought, is merely a development of protoplasm. this is the clay out of which all the various bricks, and tiles, and tea cups, and porcelain vases of the great world building are built. we don't need to begin with monkeys, nor fish, or pollywogs, now to develop into men, for we go down to the very bottom, since we have the stuff they all are made of, namely, protoplasm. still this clay needs a potter to mold and bake it. the difficulty about the protoplasm is that it must be _alive_. you can not get a living pollywog, no more than a living elephant, out of dead protoplasm. mr. huxley shows very well that all protoplasm consists of the same materials; in fact, that all flesh is grass, as the scripture says. the difficulty is how to convert the grass into flesh, unless by some animal eating it; or to convert the nitrogen, carbon and water into grass or grain, or any other form of protein or protoplasm, without the previous action of some plant. in short, how are we to make the chemical materials live? here mr. tyndall comes in and endows the matter of the universe with life, and with all the potency of producing bodies and souls. in his famous belfast address he says: "abandoning all disguise, the confession that i feel bound to make before you is that i prolong the vision backward, beyond the boundary of the experimental evidence, and discern in this matter, which we in our ignorance, and notwithstanding our professed reverence for its creator, have hitherto covered with opprobrium, the promise and potency of every form and quality of life." yet, after all this marvelous endowment of matter with all potency, we have not got quite back to the beginning. for still the questions arise, where did this almighty matter come from? who endowed it with these wonderful potencies? and how does it happen to work so well, in such orderly and regular evolution of star dust, suns, planets, pollywogs, monkeys, men and maggots, in eternal cycles, ever advancing higher and doing better and better for the race, though poorly enough, it appears, for the miserable individuals? here buchner, vogt, spencer and other materialists come in and perfect that which was lacking; showing how the star dust made itself, and how the paving stones made themselves, and are under no obligations to any creator but themselves. matter and force are all they need, and endless time in which to work, and they will account for the universe without any creator at all. everything and every person must be just as it is, according to the regular operation of the laws of nature. as buchner, vogt and spencer have given the system a head, lubbock, evans and others have supplied it with a tail, and demonstrated how society, and morals, and religion have been excogitated by the apes out of their meditations in the forests. it is a fearful and wonderful account they give us of the origin of marriage from the battles of the baboons, of the rights of property established by terrible fights for groves of good chestnuts, of the beginnings of morals from the instincts of brutes, and of the dawnings of religion, or rather of superstition, from the dreams of these animals; the result of the whole being that civilization, and society, and law, and order, and religion, are all simply the evolution of the instincts of the brutes, and that there is no necessity for invoking any supernatural interference to produce them. the termination of the whole, as far as you and i are concerned, is that "we shall fade away as the faint cloud melts into the blue ether," into the eternal sleep of death. it thus appears that there is an orderly succession and attempted adjustment of one part of the doctrine of evolution to another, and that all the various workers are cooperating toward one grand result. it is true they differ widely in their professed religious creeds and political partialities. mr. darwin avows his belief in a creator. mr. huxley votes on the london school board for the introduction of the bible into the public schools. mr. spencer is willing to allow the existence of some great unknowable mystery. some of the french and german evolutionists dispense with any reference to god, as an unnecessary hypothesis. others oppose the idea of god altogether, as inimical to progress. m. comte proposed a worship of humanity. m. strauss would worship the universe. but with all this variety of uniform, and armor, and tactics, the evolutionists are all soldiers of the same army, and are all fighting the same great battle, for the brutal origin of man, and his independence of god. from which independence of god, and brutal origin of mankind, result very important consequences. for the belief of this notion necessarily destroys all faith in the bible, and in the christianity which it reveals, and revolutionizes the basis of the civilization founded upon it, and all the laws protecting life, property, marriage and religion; which laws are based upon the belief of mankind in the dignity of man, the sacredness of human life, and the sanction of morality by the all-seeing judge of all the earth, who will reward every man according to his works. for all practical purposes it makes no great difference whether a man denies that there is any god at all, or admits that there is some kind of a god who created the world millions of years ago, and just set it a spinning to work out its destiny as best it might, but never after concerned himself about it, or its people, and never will; for nobody will ever trouble his head about a god who never troubles his head about him. most of the evolutionists are zealous advocates of their system. these propagandists have had such a degree of success in attracting public attention, in inspiring a large proportion of the secular press, besides scientific journals, as advocates of their notions, and in obtaining entrance for them into the common school books, put into the hands of our children, and into massive quartos published by state legislatures with the money of christian people, and in the prevalent corruption of public morals and breach of private trusts necessarily resulting from the evolution of these principles, that we are compelled, in self-defense, to examine the doctrine of evolution. it is all very well for mr. tyndall to warn off everybody, but evolutionists, from any investigations into cosmogony; about which he owns that they know very little now, and will not know much for some millions of years to come. but common people, who will not live so long, but who in the meantime have to live and make money, and save it, who have children to rear, and houses which they do not want burned over their heads, who have taxes to pay, increasing every year, and public plunderers to prosecute and whose ballots may be asked one of these days for the substitution of the communes of the original apes, and the red republic for these united states, all upon the alleged scientific proof for the truth of the doctrine of evolution, and the consequent abolishment of christianity--common people, i maintain, by whose money and votes this dogma is to be established, will not be debarred from asking the why and the wherefore, neither by mr. tyndall, nor by any other scientific pope. it is a little too late in the day for men who do not know their own mind from the alps to belfast, and who doubt whether god made them whenever they are dyspeptic, to stand up before the public demanding that we shut our eyes and open our mouths, and swallow every preposterous notion they think proper to proclaim as science, to the destruction of our faith in the god who made us, of our respect for our brethren of mankind, and of our hope of heaven. _ii. the illogical structure of the theory._ when men come before the world with a dogma freighted with such wide-reaching revolutions, they ought to be prepared to furnish the most irrefragable proofs of its truth, and of its obligation and authority. we should be able to establish it beyond all controversy as based on a series of facts which take their place historically in the line of the inductive sciences; about which all men of science are agreed, as all astronomers, for instance, are agreed about gravitation; and we should be able to show that each of the alleged consequences flows inevitably and logically from these established facts. ignorance, hypothesis, assumption of facts, sophisms, begging the question, and the like, are wholly impertinent in any such discussion. were they even tolerable in the field of metaphysical discussion, they must, by the rules of the positive philosophy itself, banishing all but ascertained facts from the halls of science, be excluded from this discussion of an alleged general law of nature. but when we enter on the examination of the dogma of evolution, we find its parentage among ignoble superstitions; its fundamental facts still lie in the darkness of ignorance and assumption; and its reasoning is illogical and absurd. the most prominent feature which arrests our notice as we look closely at the theory of evolution, as presented by any of its prominent atheistical advocates is, _its illogical and incoherent structure_. the writer contradicts himself. the various parts of the theory do not hang together. the alleged facts do not sustain the conclusions deduced from them. mr. darwin's books especially abound in the most intolerable assumptions of principles and facts, not only without proof, but in the face of unanswered and unanswerable objections. and the theory is useless for the purpose of its proposal. all this is utterly at variance with the method of true science. none but a mind debauched by bigoted attachment to a preconceived theory could overlook these fatal defects in the system. indeed both darwin and huxley admit that acceptance of the evidence must be preceded by belief in the principle of evolution. it is marvelous that any properly educated student of mental science should accept a theory so incoherent, in which the rents are scarcely held together by the patches. we can only exhibit a few specimens of the multitude of these fatal inconsistencies and deficiencies. the theory is useless as an explanation of the arcana of nature. mr. darwin is, by his own acknowledgment, a very ignorant man--ignorant of the very things necessary for him to know before he can construct a method of creation, and unable to explain to us what he sets out to explain. he confesses himself ignorant of the origin and laws of inheritance, by which his whole system hangs together; of the common ancestors from which he alleges all creatures are derived; of the laws of correlation of parts, though these are indispensable to development; of the reasons of the extinction of species, which is the great business, the very trade of his great agent, natural selection. he has no knowledge of the duration of past ages, though that duration is an essential element of his calculations. the spontaneous variations of plants and animals are the very mainspring of his machine; but he tells us he knows nothing of the laws governing them; nor has he any information about the creation of the primordial forms, nor about the date of beginning, or rate of progress.[ ] all which are necessary to be known in order to the formation of a correct theory. again and again, when confronted with facts which his theory can not explain, he takes refuge in confessions of ignorance. when he meets facts which flatly contradict his theory of the imperceptible beneficial acquirement of organs, or of properties by inheritance--such as the sterility of hybrids, the instincts of neuter bees, the battery of the electric eel, the human eye, and the eye of the cuttle-fish, he owns that "_it is impossible to conceive_ by what steps these wondrous organs have been produced." when asked for the missing links between existing species, he refers us to the undiscovered fossiliferous strata below the silurian. so sir c. lyell refers us for a view of the apes, which developed the first men, to the unexplored geological regions of central africa! and rev. baden powell refers us, for the missing links of the chain of development, to "that enormous period of which we are, from the conditions, _precluded from knowing any thing whatever_." and as to the origin of species, the very thing the title of his book proclaims, and how the original germs varied into the four or five primeval forms, and these into the next, he says: "_our ignorance of the laws of variation is profound!_" and that is science! the christian acknowledges his ignorance of the method of creation; but he presents a sufficient cause for the existence of the facts. the evolutionist ridicules the bible account of creation as incomprehensible, and then he gives us an account which he himself owns to be incomprehensible, and which we, besides, perceive to be absurd. he proposes to explain to us the origin of species, and locates it in the geological strata of an unexplored continent, and in those remote ages of which by the conditions _we are precluded from knowing any thing whatever_! objecting to the idea of the god of the bible, as a self-existent, infinite, intelligent, omnipotent, good spirit, because of its unthinkability, messrs. spencer, tyndall, and the rest assure us of the eternal self existence of an intelligent cloud of gas, endowed with all promises and potencies, of life and thought, as a simple and intelligible substitute! belief in god almighty is only superstition, but faith in mr. tyndall's gas-god is science. mr. spencer honestly lands in the unknowable. well, then, what science have we gained of the mysteries of our origin? of the self-contradictions of evolutionists, we have an instance in huxley's treatment of the fundamental fact of his system--protoplasm. the grand question is: how does the protoplasm become alive? in his famous lecture on the subject, physical basis of life, he argues throughout, that life is a property of protoplasm; that protoplasm owes its properties to the nature and arrangement of its molecules; that there is no more need to infer or allege a faculty called vitality, to account for the production of these various properties of the protoplasm from its chemical constituents, than to infer a power called aquosity, to account for the generation of water from oxygen and hydrogen; and that our thoughts are the expression of molecular changes in that matter of life which is the source of our other vital phenomena. briefly, our minds are manufactured by our bodies. but in his more recent work, the classification of animals, , without any retraction of his previous error, or acknowledgment that he has changed his mind, he flatly contradicts his physical basis, accepting and indorsing "the well-founded doctrine that life is the cause and not the consequence of organization." a still more ridiculous incoherency of the same sort is displayed in the logical department of huxley's physical basis of life; where, after trying to persuade us to put our feet on the ladder which leads in the reverse direction from jacob's, and to descend with him into the slough of materialism, and affirming that "our thoughts are the expression of molecular changes in that matter of life which is the source of our other vital phenomena;" he goes on to say, that he does not believe in materialism. and he tries to vindicate himself by asserting that "we know nothing about the composition of any body whatever as it is." and this after deducing our thoughts from the molecular changes of the protoplasm! a pretty story truly, and an impudent one! here is a man who will tell you all about how your body made your soul out of protoplasm, and in the next page acknowledges that he knows nothing about the composition of either the body or soul as it is! and yet this man will mock the believers in the bible as "smothering their minds under a respectable feather bed of tradition," because they hesitate to shut their eyes, and swallow his contradictions. mr. wallace gives us a specimen of this logical incoherence affecting if possible still more deeply the foundations of philosophic faith.[ ] he heads his paragraph _matter is force_, and goes on to argue that matter is essentially force, and nothing but force; that matter, as popularly understood, does not exist. then in a couple of pages he goes on to argue "that the whole universe is not merely dependent on, but actually _is_, the will of higher intelligences, or of one supreme intelligence." but the whole tenor of his book is thus demolished; since evolution, if it means anything, means the interposition of natural law between the will of the one supreme intelligence and the universe. and on this theory mr. wallace's criticisms on mr. darwin and others are impious, being criticisms upon parts of the will of the one supreme intelligence. similar instances of self-contradiction could be given, did space permit, from almost every advocate of evolution. our space permits the exhibition of but a single instance of the inherent incoherency of the theory. there is nothing in which all the atheistic evolutionists are more emphatic than in the exclusion of design from the universe. all their arguments and sneers are leveled against the idea, that the adaptations of nature were designed or intended by an intelligent mind; and the theory of evolution is welcomed chiefly because it enables them to give some account of the order of the world, without any acknowledgment of a providence guiding it to some end or purpose. but yet all these same evolutionists proclaim progress as the great law of nature, and expend themselves with wonderful eloquence in tracing the progress of nebulæ into worlds, and of worms into men. they glory in progress of the past, and prophesy progress in the future, apparently in the most childish unconsciousness, that the very idea of progress involves design, and that the fact of progress asserts providence. nor is there any escape by alleging necessity of nature, which is merely endowing the designer of progress with omnipotence as well as omniscience. the illogical character of the theory is still further manifested by the failure of its alleged facts to sustain the consequences deduced from them. suppose all the facts alleged by the atheistic evolutionists were granted, how would they do away with the evidence of the being and government of god? as they loudly allege they do. let it be granted that all men grew up from monkeys, and the monkeys from worms, and all worms grew from invisible animalculæ, and that the animalculæ flashed into life by the chemical contact of the materials of the protoplasm, and that the protoplasm was a natural crop of the cooling globe, and that the cooling globe condensed itself out of fire mist or nebulæ or star dust, i demand to know how does all that enable me to get rid of the law of causation? it is a necessary law of my nature to believe that every effect demands an adequate cause. it is equally a law of my nature to believe that every compound, or composite substance, is an effect, that the compound did not compound itself. here is a great effect--a universe in solution, with all the chemical constituents of our globe and solar system floating in it, and all their laws of chemical affinity and proportion, and all their electrical attractions and repulsions, in full operation (else we would never get a universe to thicken down out of it); and besides, all the potencies of vegetable and animal life, and all the great powers of the human mind, in a rather vaporous condition, it is true, but still all there--socrates, seneca and solomon, moses, solon and blackstone, homer, milton and shakespeare, demosthenes, cicero and daniel webster, watt, stephenson, fulton and morse, popes, puritans and evolutionists, universities and newspapers and congresses, the united states and the british empire, and the rest of mankind--all boiled up into mr. tyndall's potencies, but all there in potency, just as truly as they ever were here in fact. well! here is a great effect just as imperatively demanding a great first cause as the world afterward formed out of it. these substances did not make themselves then, any more than the resulting persons or paving stones make themselves now, and they did not endow themselves with these potencies, nor calculate and establish these laws of chemical combination in exact proportion, nor determine scientifically the laws of gravitation and electricity and light and heat, before they came into being; which must have all been established before a single particle of the star dust could begin to cool, or to approach another. the very first idea of matter or of force we can form demands law, and law is merely another name for the divine order of nature. whatever foundation for natural religion, for faith in god as the creator and governor of the world, is afforded by the existing order of the world, it is in no degree logically weakened (though it may be practically) by viewing that order as reached by a process of evolution, since that process also must have been designed, planned, adapted to its purpose, and divinely superintended. accordingly, we find that many philosophers, and some divines, acknowledge a process of the evolution of god's great idea, and adore him for the growth alike of forests and firmaments, regarding evolution, thus conditioned, as profoundly religious. st. augustine, and st. thomas aquinas, of old, and many modern speculators, have assented to the theory of evolution as perfectly consistent with belief in god, as its author. it is utterly illogical to allege that evolution has banished final causes. grant it all its facts, and these facts proclaim god. it is evident, however, that evolutionists are not confident of the ability of the facts which they are able to allege to sustain their theory, since they are perpetually postulating assumptions necessary to their argument, but which are utterly unproved, and incapable of proof. mr. darwin is the most notorious offender against inductive science in this respect. i have now before me a list of eighty-six assumptions of this sort in the origin of species alone. those in his other works are too numerous to mention. he continually mistakes his own assertions, or even his own mere conjectures, for proof, and refers back to them, and builds further assumptions upon them accordingly; and he assumes facts unproven and incapable of proof; and principles which he must know are denied by his opponents. we can only take a few instances at random. he assumes that all dogs are developed from wolves (descent of man, page ); that the instincts of animals are developed (page ); that language was developed (page ); that there is a wider interval between the lamprey and the ape than between the ape and the man, thus begging the question of man's brutality (page ); that the savage is the original state of man (page ); that parental instincts are the result of natural selection, after owning utter ignorance of their origin (page ); that the ideas of glory and infamy are the workings of sympathy (page ); the heredity of moral tastes (page ); that the standard of morality has been rising since the giving of the ten commandments (page ); that our ancestors were quadrupeds (page ); that there have been thousands of generations (page ); that breeds have the character of species (origin of species, page ); that rudimentary organs are inherited abortions (page ); that there are four or five original progenitors, and distant evidence of only one (page ); he assumes descent to prove his geology (page ); and perpetual progress toward perfection (pages , , , ), in the face of his own facts of retrogression. then look at the outrageous character of the assumption that beneficial variations may be added up indefinitely, that is, to infinity. because a gymnast can leap over two horses, can his son leap over three? and his son over four? and his son over five? and can we in time breed a man who will leap to the moon? and yet the whole theory is based upon forgetfulness of the maxim, that there is a limit to all things, and of the fact, that in creatures of flesh and blood this limit is very soon reached. look again at the utterly erroneous assumption that the tendency of the struggle for life is to improve the combatants; an assumption contradicted by the whole history of famine, war, pauperism, and disease, among brutes and men. were the survivors of the irish famine of , or those of the persian, or bengali famines improved by their struggle for life? it is true the fittest survived; but that was all; they were miserably emaciated and demoralized. were the peasantry of europe improved by the wars of the french revolution? on the contrary, though the fittest survived, france was obliged to lower the recruiting standard three inches. in all cases the struggle for life injures all concerned. and yet upon these two fundamental assumptions the theory is built; of which that of the indefinite accumulation of small profitable variations is outrageously impossible and absurd; and the other, of the improvement of breeds by starvation and hardships, is contrary to all observation and experience! take away these two assumptions, and the whole theory of the gradual improvement of plants and animals by such agency vanishes. there is no such power of indefinite improvement by natural selection, as mr. darwin asserts. the utmost it can do is to keep breeds up to the natural standard, or near to it, by destroying the weakest; but at the same time it weakens the strongest also. were there no other objection, this one would be fatal, that mr. darwin assigns an elevating power to a depressing agency, and asserts war, famine, hardship, and disease as his holy angels perfecting progress. mr. darwin presents the most preposterous assumptions with such coolness and apparent unconsciousness of their utter improbability to his readers, and with such an entire ignoring of the necessity of any further attestation than his own _ipse dixit_, as to warrant serious suspicions of his sanity. take, for instance, his bear and whale story. hearne reports having seen in the arctic regions a bear swimming in the water for hours, with his mouth wide open, catching flies; and mr. darwin says if the supply of flies were constant (where the winter lasts eight months of the year ° below zero) _he can see no difficulty in the production at length of an animal as monstrous as a whale_! m. comte's disciples never suspected their master's sanity till he invented a religion for them. . this theory, it should be remembered, is _merely a theory_, _a mere notion_, _a hypothesis_. it is not even alleged that it is based upon facts actually discovered. the alleged facts of the cooling of the nebulæ, the chemical origin of life upon our globe, and the development of the original ascidian into the fish, and that into the monkey, and of the monkey into the man, never were witnessed by anybody, nor could they be witnessed. la place was honest enough to call his part of the theory, the nebular _hypothesis_. he had no idea of claiming for it the rank of a fact of science upon which he, or anybody else, might build a system. nor are the modern assertors of evolution able to establish a single instance of the chemical origin of life at the present day; though thousands of experiments have been made attempting that exploit, by english, french, and german chemists during the last forty years. nor has a single case of the transmutation of species ever been observed in wild animals or plants; nor has any change of species been produced in tame ones by domestication or culture. no naturalist has seen a community of apes in the process of improvement toward manhood; nor has any philologist described the first attempts of the monkeys toward the articulation of language, or the manufacture of clothing, unless we except mr. lemuel gulliver's interesting account of the yahoos. it must be acknowledged that the animals described by that accurate observer, and graphic describer, approach more nearly to those required by mr. darwin's theory than any ever seen before, or since. hence it is greatly to be desired that some scientific evolutionists should thoroughly explore those regions, investigate the manners and customs of the yahoos with the enthusiasm of a true darwinian, and minutely describe those interesting features which would enable us to decide whether they are monkeys progressing to manhood, or men brutalizing into apehood; but which mr. gulliver's lack of scientific enthusiasm for evolution prevented him from closely examining. but until the scientific standing of mr. gulliver's yahoos is determined, the theory of evolution must be assigned to the mountains of speculations, big with expectation, but which yet await the birth of their first fact. mr. darwin indeed alleges the results of domestication upon animals and plants, as producing permanent varieties as different in appearance as many which are ranked by naturalists as different species, and he alleges that natural selection carries on a similar process of improvement among wild animals and plants. but the facts of domestication are most emphatic in refusing to acknowledge any change of species of the most carefully bred animals. the efforts of breeders have been exerted for thousands of years upon the dog, the ox, the goat, the sheep, and the ass, the horse, and the camel, among animals; and upon the goose, the duck, and the pigeon, and for a shorter time, but still for two thousand years, upon the common barn-door poultry. farmers in all lands, since the deluge, have used their best exertions to improve the cereals, the fruit trees, the vines, and root crops, and vegetables, and the result has been some valuable modifications of size, shape, flavor, and fertility; but in no case whatever has any change of species been effected. all the efforts of breeders have not succeeded in making the horse specifically different from the noble animal described in the book of job four thousand years ago. the sheep has not become a goat, nor the goat a sheep, by all the pains of all the shepherds since the days of abel. the ass displays not the least tendency to become a horse, nor the goat to become a cow. mr. darwin makes great capital out of pigeons, enumerating all the varieties owned by fanciers, and showing how the indian emperors bred them a thousand years before christ. but it is strange that he does not see that this makes against his theory; since in all that time this most variable of birds has never been transmuted into any other species. the pigeon has never been changed into a crow, or a magpie, or a woodpecker, or a chicken; has never, in fact, become anything else than a pigeon. dogs are also somewhat variable in their varieties, and mr. darwin relies greatly upon supposed variations from some one assumed ancestral pair of dogs, into the greyhound, mastiff, terrier, and lapdog. but granting all these unproven variations, no instance is alleged of a dog ever becoming a cat or a lion by any care or culture. it will not do to allege, that, for anything we know to the contrary, our present breeds of domestic animals and plants may be so different from those called by the same names in ancient times as to be really different species. we do know many things to the contrary. in the tombs of the egyptians, and the sculptures of the assyrians, we have pictures of the various plants, birds, and animals, from three to four thousand years old, as well as of man, the most domestic animal of the whole. these paintings and sculptures assure us that in all those millenniums domestication has not produced the slightest change in the races of animals, plants, or men. the ethiopian has not changed his skin, nor the leopard his spots. the negro was then the same black-skinned, woolly-headed, flat-nosed, thick-lipped, long-heeled person he is to-day, as pompous, good-humored, and fond of finery. the assyrian statues are good, recognizable likenesses of eminent living jewish merchants, in london and new orleans. the old pharaohs of the monuments can be matched for face and figure any day in the bazars of cairo. the greyhound of the tombs is the same variety now used for coursing hares in the desert. the camel, the ass, and the arab, and assyrian breeds of horses, have not been at all improved in forty centuries. even mr. darwin's favorite pigeons would seem to have ceased to vary; for the carrier-pigeons let loose by sesostris, to carry the news of his coronation to all the cities of egypt, do not differ a feather from the modern egyptian carrier-pigeons. the various wild animals, and many of the plants, are represented on these monuments in great variety. among these i have noted the lotus, the papyrus, the leek, the palm, wheat, barley, and millet; the crocodile, the frog, the crane, the flamingo, the ibis, the goose, the owl, the ostrich, the peacock; and of beasts the now famous ancestral ape, ptolemy's tame lion, the leopard, the gazelle, the hippopotamus, the giraffe, and the wild boar, and many others. but there is not the least perceptible change in the corresponding species now inhabiting egypt and the desert. we can go further than the mere external appearance; for we can actually dissect specimens of the various animals, and thus satisfy ourselves whether any physiological change, amounting to a transmutation of species, has occurred, or was in progress; and the investigation has been conducted by no less a physiologist and zoologist than cuvier, whose authority in such matters no naturalist will dispute. and this is what he says: "it might seem as if the ancient egyptians had been inspired by nature, for the purpose of transmitting to after ages a monument of her natural history. that strange and whimsical people, by embalming with so much care the brutes which were the objects of their stupid adoration, have left us in their sacred grottoes cabinets of zoology almost complete. climate has conspired with art to preserve the bodies from corruption, and we can now assure ourselves with our own eyes what was the state of a good number of species three thousand years ago. * * * i have endeavored to collect all the ancient documents respecting the forms of animals, and there are none equal to those furnished by the egyptians, both in regard to their antiquity and abundance. i have examined with the greatest care the engraved figures of quadrupeds and birds upon the obelisks brought from egypt to ancient rome; and all these figures, one with another, have a perfect resemblance to their intended objects, such as they still are in our days. my learned friend, geoffrey st. hilaire, convinced me of the importance of this research, and carefully collected in the tombs and temples of upper and lower egypt as many mummies of animals as he could procure. he has brought home the mummies of cats, ibises, birds of prey, dogs, crocodiles, and the head of a bull. after the most attentive and detailed examination, not the smallest difference is to be perceived between these animals and those of the same species which we now see, any more than between human mummies and skeletons of men of the present day."[ ] there is then not the first fact, or appearance of a fact, to be adduced in proof of the change of species either by domestication, or natural selection, or any other process known to man. that any such evolution of any animal, or plant, into one of another species ever occurred, is a mere empty notion, in support of which no facts can be adduced. all the animals and plants of which we know anything have remained unchanged since the beginning of man's observation of them. the theory endeavors to account for a change which never happened. it is a mere empty dream, unworthy of a serious consideration by any mind imbued with the first principle of inductive science--namely, that all science is the orderly knowledge of facts; and whose first rule is, _first ascertain your facts_. but it is urged, that though such a change has not occurred during the brief period of human history, it may have been practicable in the lengthened periods revealed by geology, and while the forces of nature were more vigorous during the youth of our planet. this, in fact, is the grand resource of the modern evolutionists--the almost infinite periods and possibilities of geology. we refuse, however, to follow mr. powell into those unexplored realms of the infinite past and discuss the possibilities of ages, of which "by the conditions we can not know anything whatever." we will go as far as the geological strata furnish us with any facts, any evidences of life, any traces of plants or animals of which corresponding species still exist, and will unhesitatingly affirm, on the authority of the most eminent geologists, that such geological representatives of existing species furnish no evidence whatever of evolution into higher forms. on the contrary, we shall show that many species have existed without the slightest change for many thousands, aye, and millions of years, sufficiently long to establish the fact of the permanence of species during the geologic ages known to man. geologists are generally agreed that the first florida coral reef is at least , years old; but agassiz asserts, uncontradicted, that the insect which built it has not altered in the least in that period, and he says regarding it: "these facts furnish evidence, as direct as we can obtain in any branch of physical inquiry, that some at least of the species of animals now existing have been in existence , years, and have not undergone the slightest change in that period." but we can go still further back, and demonstrate the permanence of vegetable structure. hugh miller says: "the oak, the birch, the hazel, the scotch fir, all lived, i repeat, in what is now britain, ere the last great depression of the land. the gigantic northern elephant and rhinoceros, extinct for untold ages, forced their way through the tangled branches; and the british tiger and hyena harbored in their thickets. cuvier framed an argument for the fixity of species on the fact that the birds and beasts of the catacombs were identical in every respect with the animals of the same kind that live now. but what, it has been asked, is a brief period of , years, when compared with the geologic ages? or how could any such argument be founded on a basis so little extended? it is, however, to no such narrow basis that we can refer in the case of these woods. all human history is comprised in the nearer corner of the immense period they measure out; and yet from their first appearance in creation till now, they have not altered a single fiber. and such on this point is the invariable testimony of paleontologic science, testimony so invariable that no great paleontologist was ever yet an asserter of the development hypothesis."[ ] to the same purpose let us hear huxley's testimony, since no one will suspect him of undue respect for moses: "obviously if the earliest fossiliferous rocks now known are coeval with the commencement of life, and if their contents give us any just conception of the earliest fauna and flora, the insignificant amount of modification which can be demonstrated to have taken place in any one group of animals and plants, is quite incompatible with the hypothesis that all living forms are the results of a process of necessary progressive development entirely comprised within the time represented by the fossiliferous rocks."[ ] we are fully warranted, then, in alleging, that no such transmutation of species is known to science, as an existing fact, or as having ever occurred. as to the supposition on which the evolutionists fall back, that such a miracle might have happened thousands of millions of years before the formation of the lowest rocks known to us, we might well decline the discussion of may-be's as facts of science. but there is a positive denial of unimaginable periods of time for mr. darwin's evolution to try its blundering experiments. we are empowered to say positively, no! there is no such length of time for you, mr. darwin, on this little globe at least. this rotating world had a beginning; so had our moon; and our sun, too, began to burn one day. and there are data of the revolution of these bodies, and of the secular cooling of the earth, and of the gradual combustion of the sun, and of the retardation of the earth's motions, from which sir wm. thompson (in his treatise on geological time) calculates, that our earth has not been in a fit state for plants and animals for more than a hundred millions of years; and he demonstrates the absurdity of the demand for unlimited time, as contradictory to the facts of physical astronomy. hence we deny the possibility of evolution in the infinite ages of the past. there never were any such ages on this world of ours. . failing to find facts, evolutionists fall back upon analogies, and support their hypothesis by the supposed analogy of the _growth of the embryos of all plants and animals from germs alleged to be originally perfectly similar_--simple protoplasm cells, which by subsequent evolution, differentiate themselves as widely as the moss from the man. the subject is too obscure for popular discussion. i can only announce the results of the latest and most authoritative researches.[ ] . analogy is a very unsafe guide here, because the differences between the limited life of the individual, and the alleged unlimited life of the race, are precisely those of which we have no analogy. . it is not true that "the original substratum or material is in every instance alike," nor that the "primordial cell is in every instance the same," whether of the "lichen or the man;"[ ] nor as others allege, "that chemical reagents detect no differences between them." chemical reagents are very clumsy instruments for the analysis of living beings, and their properties and powers; which are the antagonists of chemical reactions. nevertheless, heat is a well-known chemical agent, and the application of heat to a fertilized, and to an unfertilized, germ develops a whole world of difference between them. the one becomes a chicken, the other an addled egg. moreover, the application of different degrees of heat to different germs produces the most various reactions. the germs of trout are speedily killed by the moderate temperature of ° fahrenheit, while the germs of most animalculæ and plants develop rapidly at that temperature. such instances might be multiplied, but these are sufficient to contradict the rash assertion of sameness, because a hasty observer did not take pains to discover differences. . there are four distinct plans of structure in the animal kingdom, and at least three, perhaps more, in the vegetable kingdom; and every germ, from the first instant when its evolution can be seen at all, is seen to develop only according to its own proper method. there is no more confusion of germs, or embryos, than of plants or animals. . no instance has ever been known of a germ producing an animal, or plant, of another species, by any process of stopping short of ripening, or undue prolongation of it. every seed breeds true to its kind, or not at all, or produces a deformity. embryology utterly refuses the notion of the transmutation of species. mr. darwin's various references to rudimentary organs, like the bones of a hand in the flipper of the whale, or the teats of male animals, and the like, can hardly be called arguments. he tries to account for them and fails; acknowledging ignorance of the laws of heredity. some of them he will have to be young organs in process of evolution, others organs aborted for want of exercise. in this category he ought to place the tail which he ought to have inherited from his ancestors, as he is greatly exercised to know what became of it. but it is evident that his attempts to build arguments on such things, and to account for occasional variations by atarism, are in contradiction to his principles. most of the known instances of the origination of permanent varieties were not the result of infinitesimal improvements, but were sudden and complete at once. the japan peacocks, the short-legged sheep, the porcupine man and his family, and the six-fingered men, were not at all the results of a slow process of evolution; on the contrary, they were born so, complete at once, in utter contradiction of the theory. . the only other line of argument, which has any show of probability, is that based upon _the gradations of the various orders of plants and animals_. not but that there are many other arguments adduced, but they are of too technical a character to be intelligible to any but zoologists, and of too little weight to demand consideration after the leading arguments are overturned. but this argument from gradation, though logically unsound, is plausibly specious, and therefore demands notice. by far the ablest exhibition of this argument is that made by lamarck, and we give it as he presents it: "the greater the abundance of natural objects assembled together, the more do we discover proofs that everything passes by insensible shades into something else; that even the more remarkable differences are evanescent, and that nature has for the most part left us nothing at our disposal for establishing distinctions, save trifling, and in some respects puerile particularities. we find that many genera among plants and animals are of such an extent, in consequence of the number of species referred to them, that the study and determination of these last have become almost impracticable. when the species are arranged in a series, and placed near to each other, with a due regard to their natural affinities, they each differ in so minute a degree from those next adjoining, that they almost melt into each other, and are in a manner confounded together. if we see isolated species, we may presume the absence of some more closely connected, and which have not yet been discovered. already there are genera, and even entire orders, nay, whole classes which present this state of things." he then goes on to present, "as a guide to conjecture," what his successors now assert as a fact: "in the first place, if we examine the whole series of known animals, from one extremity to the other, when they are arranged in the order of their natural relations, we find that we may pass progressively, or at least with very few interruptions, from beings of more simple to those of more compound structure; and in proportion as the complexity of their organization increases, the number and dignity of their faculties increase also. among plants a similar approximation to a graduated scale of being is apparent. secondly, it appears, from geological observations, that plants and animals of more simple organization existed on the globe before the appearance of those of more compound structure, and the latter were successively formed at more modern periods, each new race being more fully developed than the most perfect of the preceding one."[ ] from this gradation of nature, thus stated, the evolutionists go on to infer genealogy, the birth descent of the larger from the smaller, and of the more complex from the simpler forms, as the only scientific explanation. but it is by no means the only scientific explanation of the order of nature. the best naturalists, from moses to agassiz, have regarded the order of nature as the development of the divine idea, have prosecuted their researches on that view, and have regarded that as a sufficient and scientific explanation of the gradation of plants and animals, as they actually exist. the idea of birth descent can not be logically connected with that of gradation; especially with a gradation upward. were the order of nature such as lamarck describes, how could any man logically infer the birth descent of each of its classes from the next below? here is an ironmonger's sample card of wood screws, beginning with those one-quarter of an inch long, and proceeding by gradations of one-sixteenth of an inch to those of four inches. does the gradation show that the little ones begot the big ones? it may be said the wood screws do not beget progeny. well, here is a hill containing twenty-three potatoes, weighing from half an ounce to half a pound, and quite regularly graded. did the small potatoes beget the big ones? the inference of birth descent from gradation is utterly illogical, and of a piece with the incoherency which we have seen in the other parts of the theory. it never could be inferred from the facts stated, even did nature correspond to lamarck's description. but nature does not correspond to lamarck's description. that description corresponded moderately, perhaps, to the science of his day, which was based chiefly upon external resemblances; but no scientific naturalist of the present day would accept it as a correct statement of the facts revealed by modern science. in the first place there is no such imperceptible blending and shading off of species as the description would imply, obliterating all distinctions of species, and rendering it impossible even for a naturalist to distinguish one species from another. since the time of lamarck, structure and physiology have been more studied than mere external appearances; so that from a tooth or bone cuvier or agassiz could reconstruct an animal, and indicate its internal organization, as well as its form and habits. but even in lamarck's days, and even to the most uneducated, there was no such imperceptible shading and blending as the theory requires. it is well to look here at its requirements, for they are not fully presented by its friends. mr. darwin gives us a diagram exhibiting the variation of an original species into a score or so of varieties, ending in distinct species. but this is very far, indeed, below the necessities of the case. the horse hair worm lays , , of eggs; and the primeval germ, whatever it was, could hardly be less fertile, since fertility increases with simplicity of structure. but, taking , , to begin with, here were as many varieties; since no two of them, or of any creature, could be exactly alike. the next generation would give , , times as many varieties, and so on till natural selection began to thin off the feeble. but here we have, instead of a few well-marked varieties, an infinite multitude of imperceptible variations, rendering classification impossible. and as all these were only varieties of the same breed, they would breed together, and thus still more confuse the complexity, and render distinction of species impossible. for, in spite of all mr. darwin has to say about the extinction of the weaker varieties, the fact is, they are not at all extinguished, but keep their ground as well as the higher classes, or perhaps better. and if a snail, or a worm, can contrive to live now in an unimproved condition, why should its improving cousin die off? did its improvement kill it? and so of improving mollusks, and well-doing radiates, and aspiring rabbits, and all the rest. the world ought to be so full of them that no man could sort them off into species, or tell which was fish, which was flesh, and which red herring; and no pork packer could distinguish hog from dog. but instead of any such horrible confusion of a world full of mongrels, we discover a clear and well defined distinction of species, known even to the poor animals themselves, and by their instincts made known to all mankind. the creator, who created all creatures after their kind, implanted in them an instinct of breeding only with their own species; and placed a bar in the way of man's vain attempts to work confusion of species, by rendering the hybrid offspring of different species sterile, or only capable of breeding back to the pure blood. innumerable attempts have been made by fraud and force to procure cross breeds of different species of plants and animals, but always with the same result--the extinction of the progeny of the hybrid, unless bred back to nature. while a mingling of various breeds of the same species--horses, sheep, or cattle--generally increases fertility, the attempt to mingle different species, as the horse and the ass, though so similar, always produces sterile offspring. it is impossible to conceive any form in which the creator could more emphatically protest against the attempt to confuse the distinctions of species he established. god has fixed a barrier against the mixture or confusion of species by cross breeding, by ordaining the sterility of hybrids. mr. darwin labors in vain to explain away this great fact. it can not be explained into conformity with the evolution theory; for in that theory all species are only breeds or varieties of one species, and ought to increase their fertility by cross breeding. with all scientific naturalists, as with all people of common sense, this proves that species have a distinct existence in nature, and that the creator has ordained the continuance of their distinct existence; which is the denial of evolution. when mr. darwin retreats into the geologic ages, and confessing that his principle has ceased to be operative now in our world, and refers us to them for such evolution of one species from another, he abandons the fundamental principle of his school--the uniformity of nature--and falls back on christian ground the necessity for supernatural origins. he virtually admits the death or superannuation of natural selection, since it has retired from the business of species-making. but when we go back to those old geologic ages, we find that species were then not only as distinct as now, but that the distinctions were even bolder and more visible. many of them have ceased to exist, but they have left their shells, their petrified casts, and their bones, by which we can see that they stood apart in well-defined groups, without any such blending and confusion as the evolution theory asserts. over three thousand species are already classified. between every two of them there ought to be, on mr. darwin's showing, a hundred intermediate variations at the least; and between some of the more widely separated forms there ought to be thousands of intermediate varieties; as for instance between the bear and the whale; and a still greater number between the mollusk with its external shell, and the vertebrate with its internal skeleton. and we ought to find these intermediate forms closely connected with their parents and their children. for intermediate forms in another continent could not be the connecting links between the mollusks and vertebrates of a distant country, say of england. in the same strata in which we find the two ends of the chain, and lying between the two ends of the chain, we ought to find the connecting links. and we ought to find a hundred connecting links for every specimen of distinct species, since mr. darwin alleges that they must have lived and died somewhere; and we have seen they must have lived and died right there where they were born, and where they begot their progeny. the geological strata ought to be full of connecting links. but when we come to look for them they are not there. geology knows nothing about them. it has plenty of distinct, well-defined species--trilobites, and ammonites, and echinoderms, palms, ferns, firs, and mosses, all sorts of quadrupeds from a mouse to a mastodon, and all just as clean-cut and well-defined as the species of existing animals. mr. darwin can not find his connecting links between the species, which ought to have been a hundred times more plentiful than the species they connected. these connecting links are missing links. he ought to be able to overwhelm his opponents, and bury them under mountains of the bones of intermediate species. but all his friends can do is to suggest about half a dozen, while he needs three hundred thousand. he can not pay half a cent on the dollar. in his grief he turns round and abuses the defectiveness of the geological record, which he says he could never have suspected of being so defective but for this failure to meet his drafts. but he need not blame the geological record for not preserving bones of animals which never lived. geology says there never was any such confusion of species as evolution asserts. but not only does the general structure of the web of nature present a clearly striped pattern, instead of the mottled gray of the theory--neither the beginning, nor the middle, nor the end is like what the evolution theory would produce. the gradation does not begin, as the theory asserts and demands, with the monads. on the contrary, we find that there are four kingdoms of animal life--in an ascending scale--the radiate, or starfish; the mollusk or oyster; the articulate, or insect; and the vertebrate, or animals with backbones. now the evolution ought to have begun at the bottom, with the radiate, the coral, and the starfish; it should have gone upward, the coral developing into the oyster, and the oyster into the lobster, and the lobster into the salmon, and so on. but instead of that we discover, away down in the silurian strata, at the very beginning of life, _all the four kingdoms_--the radiates, the mollusks, the articulates, and the fish! evidently, then, there was no such beginning of the world as evolutionists suppose. then as we work upward along the line of march, and of the development of the divine idea, we observe that when new species were introduced, they did not work up slowly from small and weak beginnings; beginning with dwarfs and growing up to giants; but, on the contrary, the giants head the column. the geological books are full of them--sharks forty feet long, frogs as big as oxen, ichthyosaurus and plesiosaurus of fabulous proportions--were not their skeletons preserved--pterodactyles, or bats, as big as a dog, the mastodon giganteus, beside which an ordinary modern elephant is like a shetland pony beside a dray horse, ferns as big as oak trees, and mosses eighteen inches in diameter, shell fish of the nautilus order the size of dinner plates, and crustaceans, cousins to the lobster, three feet long. and all this at the very first start in life of these respective families, and in overwhelming multitudes. that was no age of small beginnings, and small progressive improvements. on the contrary, these old families, like some other old families, seem to have rather lost rank, and bulk, and influence; at least their modern representatives cut no such figure in the world as their predecessors. as we proceed along the line we meet gaps which slay the theory of genealogical descent altogether. a gap is fatal to it. if a family dies out, that is the end of it. you can not resuscitate it after a few centuries, and go on with that breed; much less can you pick up a breed quite different, and attach it to your old genealogy. but in the line of evolution we meet these fatal gaps; and no evolutionist has bridged them, because they can not possibly be bridged. the first great gap is the abyss between death and life. no human power can cross it. how could the chemical actions of dead matter infuse vitality into the first germ, or bud of a plant? for chemical actions are the antagonists of life, and constantly laboring to destroy the living organism, and finally they succeed. there is no process of evolution known to man which can carry evolution across this abyss. but till evolution crosses this gulf it can not even begin to operate. this first abyss is its grave. but, supposing life begun in the plant first, as the theory requires, there is another gap between the life of the plant and that of the animal; for all animal life is sustained by another sort of food than that which feeds the vegetable. the vegetable feeds solely on chemical, unorganized matters; the animal solely on matter organized, on some plant, or on some other animal which feeds on plants. no animal can live on the food of plants. here then is another gap which can not be bridged over, nor crossed; for the plant in process of conversion into an animal is in process of starvation, and when the process is about to be completed, it will end like the miser's horse, whose master diminished his oats darwinianly, a single grain a day, until he had brought him to live on just one grain per day, when, alas! the victim of the experiment died. and so ends evolution experiment no. . then we come on a multitude of gaps, breaks in the uniformity of nature, called for by the evolutionists, between the species which will not breed together. there ought to be no such species on the theory; or, if there are, there ought to be a multitude of intervening varieties toning down the interval; for instance, between the horse and the cow, and between the sheep and the hog. all the ingenuity of all the evolutionists has been tasked in vain to produce any instance of the confusion of two such species, or of the production of a new true species by the intermixture of blood. but they might just as well try to convert iron into gold, or sulphur into carbon. in fact, evolution is the modern physiological form of the old chemical superstition, alchemy, substituting for the transmutation of metals the problem of the transmutation of animals. it were endless to attempt to exhibit the impossibilities of crossing the gaps between the water-breathing fish and the air-breathing animal; between the flying-bird and the quadruped; between instinct and education; between brute selfishness and maternal affection; between the habits of the solitary and those of the gregarious, and those of the colonial insects and animals. no one of these is accounted for satisfactorily by the theory of evolution. but space forbids the attempt. we only cite one other gulf which the theory can not cross: the gulf between the brute and the man. we should rather say the three gulfs; for between man's body and that of the brute there is a gap which natural selection can not cross; another between man's intellectual powers and those of brutes; and the third, and widest of all, between his conscience and their brutal appetites. the gulf between man's body and that of any brute is marked along the whole line, from the solid basis of the feet, enabling him to stand erect, look upward and behold the stars; along the line of the stiff backbone, maintaining the dignified posture; to the hands, on which treatises have been written, displaying their wonderful superiority over those of all other creatures, and enabling man to do what no other animal has done, to fill the world with his handiworks, and alter the very face of nature with his ax, and spade, and steam engine. his tongue and organs of articulate speech alone, were there no other characteristic, proclaim him different from all other animals; none of those resembling him in outward form making the slightest attempts toward articulate language or being able to do so. man alone, of all the animals, possesses no natural covering, but is exposed naked to the inclemency of the elements. what little hair he possesses is chiefly on the breast, where it is of little use as a covering, and on the head, which in other animals is never better protected than the body. mr. darwin alleges that the first men were hairy, like apes. well, how did they lose their hair? not by natural selection, which only perpetuates _profitable_ variations; but the loss of hair to an ape would be as unprofitable as the loss of your clothes to you. not by sexual selection, for there is not the slightest evidence that nudity was ever popular in apedom. we have undoubted evidence, in the two bone needles found with the bones of the man of mentone, that the primeval men were naked, and complete proof that natural selection could not effect such a disadvantageous change had they been hairy. here, then, we have an _inferiority_ to other animals in the animal structure, strangely at variance with the general superiority, and only to be accounted for as an educational provision. but chiefly in the human head does the great outward distinction appear. the brain is the great instrument with which the mind works. you can gauge the strength of ulysses by his bow, and the bulk of the giant by the staff of his spear, which was like a weaver's beam. the brain of the largest ape is about thirty two cubic inches. the brains of the wildest australians are more than double that capacity. they measure from seventy-five inches to ninety. europeans' brains measure from ninety to one hundred inches. there are instances of esquimaux measuring over ninety. even the brain of an idiot is double the size of that of the orang-otang. but how did man get this extraordinary development of brain, far beyond his necessities? for the cave man of mentone, who hunted the bison, had as good a head as bismarck. natural selection could not develop an ape's brain in advance of his necessities. but here we have a prophetic structure; man's head developed far in advance of his necessities. here is a power at work superior to natural selection. with such an instrument man has gone to work and supplied his deficiencies. inferior to many animals in strength and speed, he has manufactured weapons, and subdued them all, asserting himself as the lord of creation, conquering even the mighty mastodon, and piercing the huge caledonian whale with his reindeer harpoon. he has remedied his want of hair by the manufacture of clothing from the spoils of his victims. he has rendered himself independent of the weather by the shelter of his house. he has ceased to be dependent on the spontaneous fruits of the forest by the cultivation of the soil, and so has become a cosmopolite, confined to no province of creation. he has constructed ships, and provisioned them for long voyages, and visited, and colonized every coast of europe, asia, africa, america, and australia. he has formed civilized societies with laws, government, and religion. he has leveled roads, navigated rivers, tunneled mountains, dug navigable canals, constructed steamboats, built railroads, invented electric telegraphs, and steam printing presses; and generally he has developed ideas of society, nationality, and of the universal brotherhood of man, not only not possible under the laws of natural selection, but in the most direct contrariety to those laws, which work only for the benefit of the individual. never under those laws could any great community of animals be formed, never could they obtain the notion of representative government, never combine their powers for any national enterprise, nor could the most hairy and muscular-tailed of mr. darwin's ancestors secure subscribers sufficient to warrant him in starting even a county newspaper. but it is in the moral sense which enables man to distinguish right from wrong, the conscience, which forbids and reproves the unbridled indulgence of the animal appetites, that we observe the grand distinction between man and the brute. there is nothing in the writings of evolutionists more pitiable than their attempts to degrade conscience into a mere gregarious instinct, an outcome of utility to the tribe, and to pleasurable sensations, resulting from the exercise of the social instincts. it would appear that these writers had so sophisticated their own minds that they have ceased to understand the fundamental, world-wide difference between right and gain, between duty and pleasure. "do justice, though the heavens fall," could never be evolved by natural selection. that is the law of the sharpest tooth, and the longest claws, and the biggest bull; the napoleonic theology, whose god is always on the side of the strongest battalions; the law of the perdition of the weak, and the survival of the strongest. in obedience to its laws the birds forsake their parents as soon as they can shift for themselves; the herd tramples down the wounded deer; the wolves devour their wounded brothers; the queen bee puts her sisters to death, and the neuters sacrifice all the males of the hive. in obedience to the laws of natural selection, the males fight for the most attractive females, and keep as many as they can, and form societies on that basis. but man has a sense of justice, and mercy, and gratitude, and love. here is an animal who knows he ought to tell truth, and do right, and honor his parents, and respect and love his brethren. whether he always does his duty or not, he feels and owns he ought to do it. justice, and mercy, and the fear of god, are not at all the attributes of brutes, and never could have been produced by the evolution of their instincts. no animal possesses any knowledge of god, nor practices any form of religious worship. religion, then, could not be the evolution of what has no existence. we have now considered the theory of the atheistical evolution of man, and of all plants and animals from one primeval germ, by the unintelligent operation of the powers of nature. we have seen that there are as many contradictory applications of the theory as there are advocates of it; that in any shape it is incoherent, illogical, and absurd; that it is destitute of any support from facts; that the alleged analogy of embryology fails to give it countenance; that the order of nature in its gradations is contradictory of the theory; that it utterly fails to account for the origin of life, for the distinctness of the four classes of the animal kingdom, for the distinctness of species which refuse to breed together, for the absence of the intermediate forms necessary to the theory; and, above all, that it can give no satisfactory account of man's bodily, mental, and moral superiority to all other animals, nor for his possession of a knowledge of god. its tendency, moreover, is inevitably to degrade man, to destroy that sense of his dignity which is the principal security of human life, to obliterate a belief in the divine origin and sanction of morality, and in the existence of a future life of rewards and punishments, and so to promote the disorganization of society, and the degradation of men to the level of brutes, living only under the laws of their brutal instincts. for all these reasons we reject the theory as unscientific, absurd, degrading to man, and offensive to the god who made him. footnotes: [ ] the descent of man, p. , american edition. [ ] the descent of man, p. , am. ed. [ ] descent of man, p. , am. ed. [ ] descent of man, , am. ed. [ ] the variations of animals, etc., vol. ii. page . [ ] lay sermons, p. . [ ] lay sermons, . [ ] cited by hodge in "what is darwinism?" page , etc. [ ] natural selection, a., am. ed. [ ] from the _presbyterian_, december , . [ ] origin of species, , , , , , , , , , . descent of man, , , and ii.-- , . [ ] natural selection, p. . am. ed. [ ] theory of the earth, . [ ] testimony of the rocks, . [ ] address at annual meeting of the geological society, . [ ] agassiz's methods of study. [ ] draper's human physiology, . [ ] lyell's principles of geology, book iii., chapter . chapter iii. is god everybody, and everybody god? pantheism is that perversion of reason and language which denies god's personality, and calls some imaginary soul of the world, or the world itself, by his name. while pantheists are fully agreed upon the propriety of getting rid of a god who could note their conduct, and call them to account for it hereafter, and who would claim to exercise any authority over them here, they are by no means agreed, either in india, germany, or america, as to what they shall call by his name. public opinion necessitates them to say they believe in a god, but almost every one has his own private opinion as to what it is. we shall speak of it as we hear it pronounced from the lips of its prophets, here, as well as in the writings of its expounders, in europe, and asia. some of them declare, that it is some absolutely unknown cause of all the phenomena of the universe, and others, that it is the universe itself. a large class speak of it as the great soul of the world, while the more materialistic regard it as the world itself, body and soul; the soul being the sum of all the imponderable forces, such as gravitation, heat, light, electricity, magnetism, galvanism, vegetable and animal life, and especially the mesmeric influence, of which many of them regard intellect as a modification; and the body being the sum of all the ponderable substances, such as air, water, earth, minerals, vegetables, and bodies of animals and men. this creed is popularly expressed in the sentence so often heard, "god is everything, and everything is god." but this vast generalization of all things into the higher unity--this exalting of monkeys, men, snails, and paving stones to the same level of divinity--by no means meets the views of the more unphilosophical and aspiring gods and goddesses, for the very reason that it is so impartial. to deify a man and his cat by the same process is not much of a distinction to the former; and of what advantage is it to be made a god, if he does not thereby obtain some distinction? this leveling apotheosis is generally confined to the german pantheists; their more ambitious american brethren ascribe the contented humility which accepts it to the continual influence of the fumes of tobacco and lager beer. man is the great deity of the other class. renan boldly says: "for myself, i believe there is not in the universe an intelligence superior to that of man; the absolute of justice and reason manifests itself only in humanity; regarded apart from humanity that absolute exists only as an abstraction. the infinite exists only when it clothes itself in form."[ ] and as the soul of man is, rather inconsistently for people who believe everything god, supposed to be superior to the rest of him, they go off into great rhapsodies of adoration of their own souls. "the doctrine of the soul--first _soul_, and second _soul_, and evermore _soul_"[ ]--is the doctrine which is to regenerate the world. god, in their view, is nothing till he attains self-consciousness in man. "the universal does not attract us till housed in the individual. who heeds the waste abyss of possibility? standing on the bare ground, my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, all mere egotism vanishes. the currents of the universal being circulate through me. i am part or particle of god." "i stand here to say, 'let us worship the mighty and transcendent soul.'" "god attains to self-consciousness only in the human soul." "honor yourself." "reverence your own individuality." "the soul of man is the highest intelligence in the universe." such are the dogmas which, under the name of philosophy, are poured forth oracularly, unsupported by reason or argument, by the prophets of the new dispensation--the last and highest achievement of the human intellect. it is very unfortunate, however, for the honor of the prophets of the nineteenth century, that this profound discovery was invented, and illustrated, patented, and peddled, by the hindoos, among the people of india, two thousand years before the divinity had struggled into self consciousness in the mighty and transcendent souls of schelling, hegel, and strauss, of atkinson, parker, or emerson. we mean to show in this lecture, that it is an _antiquated, hypocritical, demoralizing atheism_. . _pantheism is an antiquated heresy._--it has rotted and putrefied among the worshipers of cats, and monkeys, and holy bulls, and bits of sticks and stones, on the banks of the ganges, for more than two thousand years; yet it is now hooked up out of its dunghill, and hawked about among christian people, as a prime new discovery of modern philosophy for getting rid of almighty god. as the hindoo shasters are undoubtedly the sources from which french, german, and american philosophers have borrowed their dogmas, and as they have not had time to take the whole system, we shall edify the public by a view of this sublime theology as exhibited in the writings of the pantheistic philosophers of india, as follows: "when existing in the temporary imperfect state of _sagun_, brahm (the pantheist deity) wills to manifest the universe. for this purpose he puts forth his omnipotent energy, which is variously styled in the different systems now under review. he puts forth his energy for what? for the effecting of a creation out of nothing? 'no,' says one of the shasters, but to '_produce from his own divine substance a multiform universe_.' by the spontaneous exertion of this energy he sends forth, from his own divine substance, a countless host of essences, like innumerable sparks issuing from the blazing fire, or myriads of rays from the resplendent sun. these detached portions of brahm--these separated divine essences--soon become individuated systems, destined, in time, to occupy different forms prepared for their reception; whether these be fixed or movable, animate or inanimate, forms of gods or men, forms of animal, vegetable, or mineral existences. "having been separated from brahm in his imperfect state of _sagun_, they carry along with them a share of those principles, qualities, and attributes that characterize that state, though predominating in very different degrees and proportions; either according to their respective capacities, or the retributive awards of an eternal ordination. among others it is specially noted, that as brahm at that time had awakened into a consciousness of his own existence, there does inhere in each separated soul a notion, or a conviction, of its own _distinct_, independent, individual existence. laboring under this delusive notion, or conviction, the soul has lost the knowledge of its own proper nature--its divine origin, and ultimate destiny. it ignorantly regards itself as an inferior entity, instead of knowing itself to be what it truly is, a consubstantial, though it may be an infinitesimally minute portion of the great whole, a universal spirit. "each individual soul being thus a portion of brahm, even as a spark is of fire, it is again and again declared that the relation between them is not that of master and servant, ruler and ruled, but that of whole and part! the soul is pronounced to be eternal _a parte ante_; in itself it has had no beginning or birth, though its separate individuality originated in time. it is eternal _a parte post_; it will have no end--no death; though its separate individuality will terminate in time. its manifestation in time is not a creation; it is an effluence from the eternal fount of spirit. its disappearance from the stage of time is not an extinction of essence--a reduction to nonentity; it is only a refluence into its original source. as an emanation from the supreme, eternal spirit, it is from everlasting to everlasting. neither can it be said to be of finite dimensions; on the contrary, says the sacred oracle, 'being identified with the supreme brahm, it participates in his infinity.' "after having enumerated all the elementary principles, atoms, and qualities successively evolved from brahm, one of the sacred writings states, that though each of these had distinct powers, yet they existed separate and disunited, without order or harmonious adaptation of parts; that until they were duly combined together, it was impossible to produce this universe, or animated beings; and that therefore it was requisite to adopt other means than fortuitous chance for giving them an appropriate combination, and symmetrical arrangement. the supreme, accordingly, produced an egg, in which the elementary principles might be deposited, and nurtured into maturity." "all the primary atoms, qualities, and principles--the seeds of future worlds--that had been evolved from the substance of brahm, were now collected together, and deposited in the newly produced egg. and into it, along with them, entered the self-existent himself, under the assumed form of brahm; and then he sat vivifying, expanding, and combining the elements, a whole year of the creation, or four thousand three hundred millions of solar years! during this amazing period, the wondrous egg floated like a bubble on the abyss of primeval waters, increasing in size, and blazing refulgent as a thousand suns. at length the supreme, who dwelt therein, burst the shell of the stupendous egg, and issued forth under a new form, with a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, and a thousand arms. along with him there issued forth another form, huge and measureless. what could that be? all the elementary principles having now been matured, and disposed into an endless variety of orderly collocations, and combined into one harmonious whole, they darted into visible manifestation under the form of the present glorious universe! a universe now finished, and ready made, with its entire apparatus, of earth, sun, moon, and stars. what, then, is this multiform universe? it is but a harmoniously arranged expansion of primordial principles and qualities. and whence are these? educed or evolved from the divine substance of brahm. hence it is that the universe is so constantly spoken of, even by mythologists, as a manifested form of brahm himself, the supreme, invisible spirit. hence, too, under the notion that it is the manifestation of a being who may assume every variety of corporeal form, is the universe often personified, or described as if its different parts were only the different members of a person, of prodigious magnitude, in human form. it is declared that the hairs of his body are the trees of the forest; of his head, the clouds; of his beard, the lightning. his breath is the circling atmosphere; his voice, the thunder; his eyes, the sun and moon; his veins, the rivers; his nails, the rocks; his bones, the lofty mountains![ ] "the substantial fabrics of all worlds having now been framed and fitted up as the destined abodes of different orders of being, celestial, terrestrial, and infernal, the question next arises, how or by whom were produced the various organized forms which these orders of being were designed to animate? though hosts of subtle essences or souls flowed forth from brahm, all of these remain inactive till united to some form of materialism. from this necessity the gods themselves are not exempted. while the souls of men, and other inferior spirits, must be encased in tabernacles fashioned out of the grosser elements, the souls of the gods, and all other superior spirits, must be made to inhabit material forms, composed of one or other of the infinitely attenuated and invisible rudimental atoms that spring direct from the principle of consciousness. "interminable as are the incoherencies, inconsistencies, and extravagancies of the hindoo sacred writings, on no subject, perhaps, is the multiplicity of varying accounts and discrepancies more astonishing than on the present. volumes could not suffice to retail them all. brahma's first attempts at the production of the forms of animated beings were as eminently unsuccessful as they were various. at one time he is said to have performed a long and severe course of ascetic devotions, to enable him to accomplish his wish; but in vain; at another, inflamed by anger and passion at his repeated failures, he sat down and wept; and from the streaming tear drops sprang into being, as his first boon, a progeny of ghosts and goblins, of an aspect so loathsome and dreadful, that he was ready to faint away. at one time, after profound meditation, different beings spring forth: one from his thumb, another from his breath, a third from his ear, a fourth from his side. but enough of such monstrous legends."[ ] there now, reader, you have the original of the development theory, with vestiges of creation enough to make half a dozen new infidel cosmogonies, besides the genuine original of pantheism, from its native soil. our western pantheists will doubtless reverence their venerable progenitors; and, should the remainder of the family find their way here in a year or two, via germany, the public will be better prepared to give a fitting reception to such distinguished visitors, including their suite of divine bulls and holy monkeys, their lustrations of cow dung, ecstatic hook swingings, burning of widows, and drowning of children, and other pantheistic philosophies, from the banks of the ganges. what an outrage of decency for such men to call themselves philosophers and christians! the relationship of american pantheism with that of india is unblushingly acknowledged by the recent pantheistic writers: "when ancient sages came to believe in the absolute goodness, justice, love, and wisdom of the deity, or providence, they fell into that peace which needed nothing, feared nothing, and therefore worshiped nothing. nothing to blame, nothing to praise; the perfect whole became one great divinity. it was so in magadha and benares; it is so in concord and boston."[ ] . _pantheism is a system of deception and hypocrisy._--has any man a right to pervert the english language, by fixing new meanings to words, entirely different from and contrary to those in common use? if he knows the meaning of the words he uses, and uses them to convey a contrary meaning, he is a deceiver. the name god, used as a proper name, in the english tongue, means "the supreme being; jehovah; the eternal and infinite spirit, the creator and sovereign of the universe."[ ] if, then, a man says he believes in god, but when forced to explain what he means by that name, says he means steam, heat, electricity, galvanism, magnetism, mesmeric force, odyle, animal life, the soul of man, or the sum of all the intelligences in the universe, he is a deceiver, and vain talker, abusing language to conceal his impiety. pantheism is simply jesuitical atheism. willing to dethrone jehovah, but unable and unwilling to place any other being in his stead, as creator and ruler of the universe, yet conscious that mankind will never embrace open atheism, pantheists profess to believe in god, only that they may steal his name to cloak their atheism. we, in common with all who believe in god, demand, that, as their divinity is, by their own confession, essentially different from god, they shall use a different word to describe it. let them call it brahm, as their brethren in india do, or any other name not appropriated to any existing being in heaven or earth, or under the earth; and let them cease to profane religion, and insult common sense, by affixing the holy name of the supreme to their thousand-headed monster. but the very perfection of jesuitism is reached, when pantheists profess their high respect for the christian religion. they do not generally speak of it as a superstition, though some of the vulgar sort do; nor do they decry its mysteries, as deists are in the habit of doing; nor, as socinians, and unitarians, and rationalists, do they attempt to reduce it to a mere code of morals. they grant it to be the highest development of humanity yet reached by the majority of the human race. the brute, the savage, the polytheistic idolater, the star worshiper, the monotheist, the christian, are all, in their scheme, so many successive developments of humanity in its upward progress. there is only one step higher than christianity, and that is pantheism. well knowing that christianity is diametrically opposed to their falsehoods, and that the bible, everywhere, teaches that the natural progress of man has ever been down from a state of holiness to idolatry and barbarism, they have yet the hardihood to profess respect for it, as a system of concealed pantheism, and to clothe their abominations in scripture language. they speak, for instance, of the "beauty of holiness in the mind, that has surmounted every idea of a personal god;" and of "god dwelling in us, and his love perfected in us," when they believe that he dwells as really in every creature: in that hog, for instance. then they will readily acknowledge that the bible is inspired. they _can accept_--that is the phrase--they can accept the book which denounces death upon those fools who, "professing themselves to be wise, change the truth of god into a lie, and worship and serve the creature more than the creator," as merely a mystic revelation of the pantheism which leaves man to "erect everything into a god, provided it is none: sun, moon, stars, a cat, a monkey, an onion, uncouth idols, sculptured marble; nay, a shapeless trunk, which the devout impatience of the idolater does not stay to fashion into the likeness of a man, but gives its apotheosis at once." oh, yes; they accept the bible as inspired--a god inspired book--inasmuch as _every_ product of the human mind is a development of deity. the bible, then, when we have the matter fully explained, is quite on a level with gulliver's travels, or emerson's address to a senior class of divinity. there is nothing, however, in this vast system of monstrosities, which fills the soul of a christian with such loathing and detestation, as to hear pantheists profess their veneration for the lord jesus, and claim him as a teacher of pantheism. if there is one object which they detest with all their hearts, it is the judge of the quick and dead, and the vengeance which he shall take upon them that know not god, and obey not the gospel. any allusion to the judgment seat of christ fills them with fury, and causes them to pour forth awful blasphemies. they know that the lord jesus repeatedly declared himself the judge of the living and the dead--that "the hour is coming in which all that are in their graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth: they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life, and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation;" and that the very last sentence of his public discourses is, "and these" (the wicked) "shall go away into everlasting punishment; but the righteous into life eternal." when they drop the mask for a moment, they can accuse apostles and disciples with "dwelling with noxious exaggeration about the _person_ of christ."[ ] christ, as revealed in the gospel, they hate with a perfect hatred. but when it becomes necessary to address christians, and beguile them into the deceitfulness of pantheism, the tune is changed. christ becomes the model man--"one conceived in conditions favorable to the highest perfectibility of the individual consciousness; and so possessed of powers of generalization far in advance of the age in which he lived. they can listen to and honor one of the best expounders of god and nature in the man of nazareth."[ ] the vilest falsehoods of pantheism are ascribed to jesus, that those who, ignorant of his doctrine, yet respect his name, may be seduced to receive them. of him who declared, "out of the heart of man proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, thefts, false witness, blasphemies," they have the hardihood to declare, "he saw with open eyes the mystery of the soul; alone, in all history, he estimated the greatness of man." calculating upon that ignorance of the teaching of christ which is so general among their audiences, they dare to represent the only begotten son of god as teaching pantheism: "one man was true to what is in you and me; he saw that god incarnates himself in man, and evermore goes forth anew to take possession of his world. he said in this jubilee of sublime emotion, 'i am divine. through me god acts; through me, speaks. would you see god, see me; or see thee when thou also thinkest as i now think.' because the indwelling supreme spirit can not wholly be got rid of, the doctrine of it suffers this perversion, that the divine nature is attributed to one or two persons, and denied to all the rest, and denied with fury." yes, truly, the divine nature is emphatically denied to all unregenerated men, and denied, too, by that divine teacher thus eulogized. hear him: "ye do the deeds of your father. then said they to him, we be not born of fornication; we have one father, even god. jesus said unto them, if god were your father, ye would love me; for i proceeded forth and came from god; neither came i of myself, but he sent me. why do ye not understand my speech? even because ye can not hear my word. ye are of your father, the devil; and the works of your father ye will do. he was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. when he speaketh a lie, he speaketh it of his own; for he is a liar, and the father of it." let pantheists, then, cease to wind their serpent coils around christianity, and to defile the bible with their filthy lickings. the lord jesus will not suffer such persons to bear even a true testimony to him, and his followers will not permit them to ascribe their falsehoods to him, without reproof. let them stand out and avow themselves the enemies of christ and his gospel, as they are, and cease their abominable pretenses of giving to the world the ultimate development of christianity. what concord hath christ with belial? . _pantheism is a system of immorality._--it loosens all the sanctions of moral law. if there is anything upon which all pantheists are agreed, it is in the denial of the resurrection, the judgment, and the future punishment of the wicked. their whole system, in all its range, from spiritualism to phrenology, is expressly invented to get rid of god's moral government. if man is the highest intelligence in the universe, to whom should he render an account of his conduct? or who would have any right to call him to account? then, if we are developments of deity, deity can not offend against itself. further, if our development, both of body and mind, be the inevitable result of the laws of nature--of our organization and our position--man is but the creature of circumstances, and, therefore, as is abundantly argued, can not be made responsible for laws and their results, over which he has no control. "i am what i am. i can not alter my will, or be other than what i am, and can not deserve either reward or punishment."[ ] before hundreds of the citizens of cincinnati, a lecturer publicly denied the right of either god or man to invade his individuality, by taking vengeance upon him for any crime whatever. thousands, who are not yet pantheists, are so far infected with the poison that they utterly deny any right of vindictive punishment to god or man. but this is not all. again and again have we listened with astonishment to men, declaring that there was no moral law--no standard of right and wrong, but the will of the community. of course it was quite natural, after such a declaration, to assert that a wife who should remain with a husband of inferior intellectuality, or unsuitable emotions, was committing adultery; that private property is a legalized robbery; and that when a citizen becomes mentally or physically unfit for the business of life, he confers the highest obligation on society, and performs the highest duty to himself, by committing suicide, and thus returning to the great ocean of being! we might think that confusion of right and wrong could not be worse confounded than this; yet there is a blacker darkness still. _the distinction between good and evil is absolutely denied._ the hindoo pantheists declare that they can not sin, because they are god, and god can not offend against himself; there is no sin--it is all _maya_--delusion. so the american and english school tells us it lives only in the obsolete theology. evil, we are told, "is good in another way we are not skilled in."[ ] so says the author of "representative men." "evil," according to old philosophers, "is good in the making; that pure malignity can exist is the extreme proposition of unbelief. it is not to be entertained by a rational agent. it is atheism; it is the last profanation." "the divine effort is never relaxed; the carrion in the sun will convert itself into grass and flowers; and man, though in brothels, or jails, or on gibbets, is on his way to all that is good and true."[ ] emerson, in a lecture in cincinnati, is reported by the editor of _the central herald_, as saying in his hearing: "to say that the majority of men are wicked, is only to say that they are young." "every man is indebted to his vices--virtues grow out of them as a thrifty and fruitful plant grows out of manure." "there is hope even for the reprobate, and the ruffian, in the fullness of time." if these were only the ravings of lunatics, or the dreamings of philosophers, we should never have hunted them from their hiding-places to scare your visions; but these doctrines are weekly propounded in your own city, and throughout our land, from platform and press, to thousands of your children and their school-teachers, of your work, men and your lawgivers, to your wives and daughters. again and again have our ears been confounded in the squares of new york, and the streets of philadelphia, and the market-places of cincinnati, by the boisterous cry, _what is sin? there is no sin. it is all an old story._ let men who fear no god, but who have lives, and wives, and property to lose, look to it, and say if they act wisely in giving their influence to a system which lands in such consequences. let them devise some religion for the people which will preserve the rights of man, while giving license to trample upon the rights of god; or, failing in the effort, let them acknowledge that the enemy of god is, and of necessity must be, the foe of all that constitutes the happiness of man. impiety and immorality are wedded in heaven's decree, and man can not sunder them. . _pantheism is virtually atheism._--it may scarce seem needful to multiply proofs on this head. how can any one imagine a being composed of the sum of all the intelligences of the universe? such a thing, or combination of things, never was distinctly conceived of by any intelligent being. can intelligences be compounded, or like bricks and mortar, piled upon each other? if they could, did these finite intelligences create themselves? if the soul of man is the highest intelligence in the universe, did the soul of man create, or does the soul of man govern it? shall we adore his soul? some pantheists have got just to this length. m. comte declares, that "at this present time, for minds properly familiarized with true astronomical philosophy, the heavens display no other glory than that of hipparchus, or kepler, or newton, and of all who have helped to establish these laws." _establish_ these laws! laws by which the heavenly bodies were guided thousands of years before kepler or newton were born. shall we then adore the souls of kepler and newton? m. comte has invented a religion, which he is much displeased that the admirers of his positive philosophy will not accept, in which the children are to be taught to worship idols, the youth to believe in one god, if they can, after such a training in infancy, and the full-grown men are to adore a grand etre, "the continuous resultant of all the forces capable of voluntarily concurring in the universal perfectioning of the world, _not forgetting our worthy auxiliaries, the animals_."[ ] our anglo-saxon pantheists, however, are not quite philosophical enough yet to adore the mules and oxen, and therefore refuse worship altogether. "work is worship," constitutes their liturgy. "as soon as the man is as one with god, he will not beg. he will then see prayer in all action."[ ] "labor wide as earth has its summit in heaven. sweat of the brow, and up from that to sweat of the brain, sweat of the heart; which includes all kepler calculations, newton meditations, all sciences, all spoken epics, all acted heroisms, martyrdoms, up to that agony of bloody sweat, which all men have accounted divine! oh, brother, if this is not worship, then i say, the more pity for worship; for this is the noblest thing yet discovered under god's sky." "no man has worked, or can work, except religiously."[ ] "adieu, o church! thy road is that way, mine is this. in god's name, adieu!"[ ] such is the theory. how faithfully acted out, you can learn from the thousands who are now, publicly, upon god's holy sabbath, working religiously upon the bridge that is to span the river, or less ostentatiously in their shops and workrooms throughout the city. within a circle of three miles' radius of the spot you now occupy, one hundred thousand intelligent beings in this christian city worship no god. the abstraction, which the pantheist calls god, is no object of worship. it is not to be loved. if it does good, it could not help it, and did not intend it. it is not to be thanked for benefits. it, the sum of all the intelligence of the universe, can not be collected from the seven spheres to receive any such acknowledgment. it can not deviate from its fated course of proceeding; therefore, says the pantheist, why should i pray? it neither sees his conduct, nor cares for it; and he denies any right to call him to account. it did not create him, does not govern him, will not judge him, can not punish him. it is no object of love, fear, worship, or obedience. it is no god. he is an atheist. he believes not in any god. hear, o israel! the lord our god is one lord. he is distinct from, and supreme over all his works. he now rules, and will hereafter judge all intelligent creatures, and will render to every one according to his works. . _reason declares it._ the world did not make itself. the soul of man did not make itself. the body of man did not make itself. they must have had an intelligent creator, who is god. god is known by his works to be distinct from them, and superior to them. the work is not the workman. the house is not the builder. the watch is not the watchmaker. the sum of all the works of any worker is not the agent who produced them. let an architect spend his life in building a city, yet the city is not the builder. the maker is always distinct from, and superior to, the thing made. you and i, and the universe, are made. our maker, then, is distinct from, and superior to us. one plan gives order to the universe; therefore, one mind originated it. the creator is over all his creatures. . _our consciousness confirms it._ if a blind god could not make a seeing man, a god destitute of the principle of self-consciousness (if such an abuse of language may be tolerated for a moment) could not impart to man the conviction, _i am_,--the ineradicable belief that i am not the world, nor any other person; much less, everybody; but that i am a person, possessed of powers of knowing, thinking, liking and disliking, judging, approving of right, and disapproving of wrong, and choosing and willing my conduct. my maker has at least as much common sense as he has given me. he that teacheth man knowledge, shall he not know? . _our ignorance and weakness demand a governor of the world wiser than ourselves._ the soul of man is not the highest intelligence in the universe. it can not know the mode of its own operation on the body it inhabits, much less the plan of the world's management. man may know much about what does not concern him, and about things over which he has no control; but it is the will of god that his pride should feel the curb of ignorance and impotence where his dearest interests are concerned, that so he may be compelled to acknowledge that god is greater than man. he may be able to tell the place of the distant planets a thousand years hence, but he can not tell where himself shall be next year. he can calculate for years to come the motions of the tides, which he can not control, but can not tell how his own pulse shall beat, or whether it shall beat at all, to-morrow. ever as his knowledge of the laws by which god governs the world increases, his conviction of his impotence grows; and he sees and feels that a wiser head and stronger hand than that of any creature, planned and administered them. ever as he reaches some ultimate truth, such as the mystery of electricity, of light, of life, of gravitation, which he can not explain, and beyond which he can not penetrate, he hears the voice of god therein, demanding him to acknowledge his impotence. "where is the way where light dwelleth, and as for darkness, what is the place thereof? canst thou bind the sweet influences of the pleiades, or loose the bands of orion? canst thou bring forth mazzaroth in his seasons? or canst thou guide arcturus, with his sons? knowest thou the ordinances of heaven? canst thou set the dominion thereof in the earth? canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, that abundance of waters may cover thee? canst thou send lightnings, that they may go and say unto thee, 'here we are?'" . _our consciences convince us that god is a moral governor._ the distinction between brutes and men is, that man has a sense of the distinction between right and wrong. if we find a tribe of savages, or individuals who indulge their appetites without rule, and who do wrong without any apparent remorse or shame, we designate them brutes. even those who in words deny any difference between right and wrong, do in fact admit its existence, by their attempts to justify that opinion. though weaker, or less regarded in some than in others, every man is conscious of a faculty in himself which sits in judgment on his own conduct, and that of others, approving or condemning it as right or wrong. in all lands, and in all ages, the common sense of mankind has acknowledged the existence and moral authority of conscience, as distinct from and superior to mere intellect. no language of man is destitute of words conveying the ideas of virtue and vice, of goodness and wickedness. when one attempts to deceive you by a willful lie, you are sensible not only of an intellectual process of reason detecting the error, but of a distinct judgment of disapprobation of the crime. when one who has received kindness from a benefactor, neglects to make any acknowledgment of it, cherishes no feelings of gratitude, and insults and abuses the friend who succored him, we are conscious, not merely of the facts, as phenomena to be observed, but of the ingratitude, as a crime to be detested. and we are irresistibly constrained to believe that he who taught us this knowledge of a difference between right and wrong, does himself know such a distinction; and that he who implanted this feeling of approval of right, and condemnation of wrong, in us, does himself approve the right, and condemn the wrong. and as we can form no notion of right or wrong unconnected with the idea that approbation of right conduct should be suitably expressed, and that disapprobation of wrong conduct ought also to be suitably expressed--in other words, that right ought to be rewarded, and wrong ought to be punished--so we are constrained to trace such a connection from our minds to the mind of him who framed them. this conviction is god's law, written in our hearts. when we do wrong, we become conscious of a feeling of remorse in our consciences, as truly as the eye becomes conscious of the darkness. we may blind the eye, and we may sear the conscience, that the one shall not see, nor the other feel; but light and darkness, right and wrong, will exist. the awful fact which conscience reveals to us, that we sin against god, that we know the right, and do the wrong, and are conscious of it, and of god's disapprobation of it, is conclusive proof that we are not only distinct from god, but separate from him--that we oppose our wills against his. and every pang of remorse is a premonition of god's judgment, and every sorrow and suffering which the governor of the world has connected with sin--as the drunkard's loss of character and property, of peace and happiness, the frenzy of his soul, and the destruction of his body--is a type and teaching of the curse which he has denounced against sin. . _the world's history is the record of man's crimes, and god's punishments._ once god swept the human race from earth with a flood of water, because the wickedness of man was great on the earth. again, he testified his displeasure against the ungodly sinners of sodom and gomorrah, by consuming their cities with fire from heaven, and leaving the dead sea to roll its solemn waves of warning to all ungodly sinners, to the end of time. by the ordinary course of his providence, he has ever secured the destruction of ungodly nations. no learning, commerce, arms, territories, or skill, has ever secured a rebellious nation against the sword of god's justice. ask the black record of a rebel world's history for an instance. egypt, canaan, nineveh, babylon, persia, greece, rome. where are they now? tyre had ships, colonies, and commerce; rome an empire on which the sun never set; greece had philosophy, arts, and liberty secured by a confederation of republics; spain the treasures of earth's gold and silver, and the possession of half the globe. did these secure them against the moral government of god? no! god's law sways the universe; that law which, with the brazen fetters of eternal justice, binds together sin and misery, crime and punishment, and lays the burden on the backs of all ungodly nations, irresistibly forcing them down--down--down the road to ruin. the vain imagination that refuses to glorify god as god, leads to darkness of heart, thence to atheism, thence to gross idolatry, onward to selfish gratification, violent rapacity, lust of conquest, and luxury, licentiousness, and effeminacy begotten of its spoils; then military tyranny, civil war, servile revolt, anarchy, famine and pestilence, and the sword of less debauched neighbors, christ's iron scepter, hurl them down from the pinnacle of greatness, to dash them in pieces against each other, in the valley of destruction; and there they lie, wrecks of nations, ruins of empires, naught remaining, save some shivered potsherds of former greatness, to show that once they were, and were the enemies of god. oh, america, take warning ere it be too late! god rules the nations. "he that chastiseth the heathen, shall he not correct you?" a day of retribution, reader, comes to you, as an individual. neither your insignificance nor your unbelief can hide you from his eye, nor can your puny arm shield you from his righteous judgment. his hand shall find out his enemies. oh, fly from the wrath to come! "seek the lord while he may be found." he is not far from every one of us. his breath is in our nostrils. his word is in our hands. "whosoever shall call on the name of the lord shall be saved." footnotes: [ ] cited in pressense's _jesus christ, his life and times_. page . [ ] emerson. [ ] duff's india, pages - . [ ] duff's india, page . [ ] man's origin and destiny, . [ ] webster's dictionary. [ ] emerson's address to a senior class in divinity. [ ] hennell's christian theism, which shows how theists of every nation--christian, jew, mohammedan, or chinese--can meet upon common ground. [ ] atkinson's letters, page . [ ] festus, page . [ ] swedenborg, or the mystic (quoted by pierson, ), p. . [ ] politique positive, vol. ii. page . [ ] emerson. [ ] carlyle--past and present. [ ] carlyle--life of sterling. chapter iv. have we any need of the bible? religion consists of the knowledge of a number of great facts, and of a course of life suitable to them. we have seen three of these: that god created the world; that he governs it; and that he is able to conquer his enemies. there are others of the same sort as needful to be known. our knowledge of these facts, or our ignorance of them, makes not the slightest difference in the facts themselves. god is, and heaven is, and hell is, and sin leads to it, whether anybody believes these things or not. it makes no sort of difference in the beetling cliff and swollen flood that sweeps below it, that the drunken man declares there is no danger, and, refusing the proffered lantern, gallops on toward it in the darkness of the night. but when the mangled corpse is washed ashore, every one sees how foolish this man was, to be so confident in his ignorance as to refuse the lantern, which would have shown him his danger, and guided him to the bridge where he might have crossed in safety. some of the facts of religion lie at the evening end of life's journey; the darkness of death's night hides them from mortal eye; and living men might guide their steps the better by asking counsel of one who knows the way. if they get along no better by their own counsel in the next world than most of them do in this, they will have small cause to bless their teacher. who can tell that ignorance, and wickedness, and wretchedness are not as tightly tied together in the world to come, as we see them here? solomon was a knowing man and wise; and better than that, in the esteem of most people, he made money, and tells you how to make it, and keep it. you will make a hundred dollars by reading his proverbs and acting on them. they would have saved some of you many a thousand. of course such a man knew something of the world. he was a wide-awake trader. his ships coasted the shores of asia, and africa, from madagascar to japan; and the overland mail caravans from india and china drew up in the depots he built for them in the heart of the desert. he knew the well-doing people with whom trade was profitable, and the savages who could only send apes and peacocks. he was a philosopher as well as a trader, and could not help being deeply impressed with _the great fact_, that there was a wide difference among the nations of the world. some were enlightened, enterprising, civilized, and flourishing; others were naked savages, living in ignorance, poverty, vice, and starvation, perpetually murdering one another, and dying out of the earth. solomon noticed _another great fact_. in his own country, and in chaldea, mesopotamia, egypt, and some others, god had revealed his will to certain persons for the benefit of their neighbors. he did so generally by opening the eyes of these prophets to see future events, and the great facts of the unseen world, and by giving them messages of warning and instruction to the nations. from this mode of revelation, by opening the prophets eyes to see realities invisible to others, they were called seers, and the revelations they were commissioned to make were called visions; and revelation from god was called, in general, vision. solomon was struck with the fact that some nations were thus favored by god, and other nations were not. the question would naturally arise, what difference does it make, or does it make any difference, whether men have any revelation of god's will or not? solomon was led to observe a _third great fact_. the nations which were favored with these revelations were the civilized, enterprising, and comparatively prosperous nations. in proportion to the amount of divine revelation they had, and their obedience to it, they prospered. the nations that had no revelation from god were the idolatrous savages, who were sinking down to the level of brutes, and perishing off the face of the earth. he daguerreotypes these three great facts in the proverb: "where there is no vision the people perish; but he that keepeth the law, happy is he." oh, says the rationalist, the world is wiser now than it was in solomon's days. he lived in the old mythological period, when men attributed everything extraordinary to the gods. but the world is too wise now to believe in any supernatural revelation. "the hebrew and christian religions like all others have their myths." "the fact is, the pure historic idea was never developed among the hebrews during the whole of their political existence." "when, therefore, we meet with an account of certain phenomena, or events of which it is expressly stated or implied that they were produced immediately by god himself (such as divine apparitions, voices from heaven, and the like), or by human beings possessed of supernatural powers (miracles, prophecies, etc.), such an account is so far to be considered not historical." "indeed, no just notion of the true nature of history is possible without a perception of the inviolability of the chain of finite causes, and of the impossibility of miracles."[ ] a narrative is to be deemed mythical, st. "when it proceeds from an age in which there were no written records, but events were transmitted by tradition; d. when it presents, as historical, accounts of events which were beyond the reach of experience, as occurrences connected with the spiritual world; or d. when it deals in the marvelous, and is couched in symbolical language."[ ] so also a host of others, who pass for biblical expositors, lay it down as an axiom, that all records of supernatural events are mythical, viz: fables, falsehoods, because miracles are impossible. of course, from such premises the conclusion is easy. a revelation from god to man is a supernatural event, and supernatural events are impossible; therefore, a revelation from god is impossible. but it would have been much easier, and quite as logical, to have laid down the axiom in plain words at first, that a revelation from god is impossible, as to argue it from such premises; for it is just as easy to _say_, that a revelation from god is impossible, as to _say_ that miracles are impossible; and as for _proof_ of either one or the other, we must just take their word for it. one can not help being amazed at the cool impudence with which these men take for granted the very point to be proved, and set aside, as unworthy of serious examination, the most authentic records of history, simply because they do not coincide with their so-called philosophy; and at the credulity with which their followers swallow this arrogant dogmatism, as if it were self-evident truth. let us look at it for a moment. other religions have their myths, or fables, therefore, the hebrew and christian records are fables, says the rationalist. profundity of logic! counterfeit bank bills are common, therefore none are genuine. "the fact is, the pure historic idea was never developed among the hebrews," _i. e._, moses and the prophets were all liars. that is the fact, you may take my word for it. "indeed, no just notion of the true nature of history is possible without a perception of the inviolability of the chain of finite causes, and of the impossibility of miracles" which translated into plain words is simply this: no man can understand history who believes in god almighty. "a narrative is to be deemed fabulous when it proceeds from an age in which there were no written records," such, for instance, as any account of the creation of the first man--for no event could possibly happen unless there was a scribe there to write it. or, of the fall of man--we do not know that adam was able to write, and no man can tell truth unless he writes a history. "a narrative is to be deemed fabulous when it presents, as historical, accounts of events which were beyond the reach of experience, as events connected with the spiritual world." is it not self-evident that you and i have had experience of everything in the whole universe, and whoever tells us anything which we have never seen is a liar. "when a narrative deals in the marvelous," such as xenophon's retreat of the ten thousand, herodotus' history, or gibbon's decline and fall of the roman empire, dealing as it does in such marvelous accounts as the death of half the inhabitants of the empire in the reign of galerius, or any other history of wonderful occurrence--it is of course a myth. does not every one know that nothing marvelous ever happened, or, if it did, would any historian trouble himself to record a prodigy? "or, if it is couched in symbolical language," as is every eloquent passage in thucydides, robertson, gibbon, or guizot, the records of china, and of india, the picture-writing of the peruvians, and especially the egyptian hieroglyphics, which were fondly expected to do such good service against the bible--it must be at once rejected, without further examination, as mythological and unworthy of any credit whatever. thus we are conclusively rid forever of the bible, for sure enough it is couched in symbolical language. blessed deliverance to the world! but then, alas! this great deliverance is accompanied with several little inconveniences. all poetry, three-fourths of the world's history, and the largest part of its philosophy, is couched in symbolical language, and especially the whole of the science of metaphysics, from which these very learned writers have deduced such edifying conclusions, is, from the beginning to the end, nothing but a symbolical application of the terms which describe material objects, to the phenomena of mind. alas! we must forever relinquish "the absolute," and "the infinite," and "the conditioned," with all their "affinities and potencies," up to "higher unity," and "the rhythm of universal existence," and all the rest of those perspicuous german hieroglyphics, whether entombed in their native pyramids for the amazement of succeeding generations, by fichte, schelling, or hegel, or "worshiping in the great cathedral of the immensities," "with their heads uplifted into infinite space," or "lying on the plane of their own consciousness," in the writings of carlyle, emerson, and parker. they are myths, the whole of them, for they "are couched in symbolical language;" and bauer, de wette, and strauss have pronounced every thing couched in symbolical language to be mythical. let us henceforth deliver our minds from all anxiety about history, philosophy, or religion, and stick to the price current and the multiplication table, the only accounts that are not "couched in symbolical language." such is the sort of trash that passes for profound philosophy when once it is made unintelligible, and such are the canons of interpretation with which men calling themselves philosophers and christians sit down to investigate the claims of the bible as a revelation from god. if they would speak out their true sentiments, they would say, "there can not be any revelation from god, because there is no god." but they could not call themselves professors of christian colleges, and pastors of christian churches, and reap the emoluments of such situations, if they would honestly avow their atheism. besides, the world would see too plainly the drift of their teaching; therefore it is cloaked under a profession of belief in god, the creator, who however is to be carefully prevented from ever showing himself again in the world he has made. no proof is attempted for the declaration that miracles are impossible. yet, surely, if it implies a contradiction to say so, that contradiction could be shown. that it is not self-evident is shown by the general belief of mankind that miracles have occurred. no man who believes in a supernatural being can deny the possibility of supernatural actings. the creation of the world is the most stupendous of all miracles, utterly beyond the power of any finite causes, and entirely beyond the reach of our experience, yet some of these men admit that this miracle occurred. supernatural events then are not impossible, nor unprecedented. the vain notion that god, having created the world at first, left it for ever after to the operation of natural laws, is conclusively demolished by the discoveries of geology. these discoveries established the fact recorded in scripture, that in bringing the world into its present form there were several distinct and successive interpositions of supernatural power, in the distinct and successive creations of different species of vegetable and animal life. in former periods, they tell us, the earth was so warm that the present races of men and animals could not have lived on it, and the plants and animals of that age could not live now. these very men are profuse in proving that the earth existed for ages before _man_ made his appearance upon it. this being the case, we are compelled to acknowledge the creating power of god above the laws of nature, for there is no law of nature which can either create a new species of plants or animals, nor yet change one kind into another, make an oak into a larch, or an ox into a sheep, or a goose into a turkey, or a megatherium into an elephant, much less into a man. some men have dreamed of such changes as these, but no instance of such a change has ever been alleged in proof of the notion. the most distinguished anatomists and geologists are fully agreed that no such change of one animal into another ever took place; much less that any animal ever was changed into a man. cuvier, from his comprehensive survey of the fossils of former periods, establishes the fact, "that the species now living are not mere varieties of the species which are lost." and agassiz says, "i have the conviction that species have been created successively, at distinct intervals."[ ] revelations of god's special interpositions in the affairs of this world are thus written by his own finger in the fossils and coal, and engraved on the everlasting granite of the earth's foundation stones. dumb beasts and dead reptiles start forward to give their irrefutable testimony to the repeated supernatural acts of their creator in this world which he had made. every distinct species of plants and animals is proof of a distinct supernatural overruling of the present laws of nature. the experience of man is not the limit of knowledge. his own existence is a proof that the chain of finite causes is not inviolable. geology sweeps away the very foundations of skepticism, by demonstrating that certain phenomena produced immediately by god himself--the phenomena of the creation of life--have occurred repeatedly in the history of our globe. revelation is not impossible because supernatural. the world is just as full of supernatural works as of natural. nor is it incredible because it records miracles. the miracles recorded in the coal measures are as astonishing as any recorded in the bible. the rationalist next assures us, however, that any external revelation from god to man is _useless_, because man is wise enough without it. the vulgar exposition of this sentiment is familiar to every reader. "you need not begin to preach bible to me. i know my duty well enough without the bible." the more educated attempt to reason the matter after this fashion: "miraculous phenomena will never prove the goodness and veracity of god, if we do not know these qualities in him without a miracle."[ ] we may remark, in passing, that there are some other attributes of god besides goodness and veracity--holiness and justice for instance--which are proved by miracles. "can thunder from the thirty-two azimuths, repeated daily for centuries, make god's laws more godlike to me? brother, no. perhaps i am grown to be a man now, and do not need the thunder and the terror any longer. perhaps i am above being frightened. perhaps it is not fear but reverence that shall now lead me! revelation! inspirations! and thy own god-created soul, dost thou not call that a revelation?"[ ] it is manifest, however, that if mr. carlyle needs not the sinai thunder to assure him that the law given on sinai was from god, there were then, and are now, many who do, and some of his own sect who doubt in spite of it. if he is above the weakness of fearing god, all the world is not so. the claims of a divine teacher are as unceremoniously rejected as those of a divine revelation. "if it depends on jesus it is not eternally true, and if it is not eternally true it is no truth at all," says parker. as if eternally true, and sufficiently known, were just the same thing; or as if because vaccination would always have prevented the smallpox, the world is under no obligation to jenner for informing us of the fact. in the same tone emerson despises instruction: "it is not instruction but provocation that i can receive from another soul. what he announces, i must find true in me, or wholly reject; and on his word, or as his second, be he who he may, i can accept nothing." again says parker, "christianity is dependent on no outside authority. we verify its eternal truth in our soul."[ ] his aim is "to separate religion from whatever is finite--church, book, person--and let it rest on its absolute truth."[ ] "it bows to no idols, neither the church, nor the bible, nor yet jesus, but god only; its redeemer is within; its salvation within; its heaven and its oracle of god."[ ] the whole strain of this school of writers and their disciples is one of depreciation of external revelation, and of exaltation of the inner light which every man is supposed to carry within him. religion is "no morrison's pill from without," but a "clearing of the inner light," a "reawakening of our own selves from within."[ ] so mr. newman[ ] abundantly argues that an authoritative book revelation of moral and spiritual truth is impossible, that god reveals himself within us and not without us, and that a revelation of all moral and religious truth necessary for us to know is to be obtained by _insight_, or gazing into the depths of our own consciousness. the sum of the whole business is, that neither god nor man can reveal any religious truth to our minds, or as parker felicitously expresses it, "on his word, or as his second, be he who he may, i can accept nothing." now, we are tempted to ask, who are these wonderful prodigies, so incapable of receiving instruction from anybody? and to our amazement we learn, that some forty odd years ago they made their appearance among mankind as little squalling babies, without insight enough to know their own names, or where they came from, and were actually dependent on an external revelation, from their nurses, for sense enough to find their mothers' breasts. and as they grew a little larger, they obtained the power of speaking articulate sounds by external revelation, hearing and imitating the sounds made by others. further, upon a memorable day, they had a "book revelation" made to them, in the shape of a penny primer, and were initiated into the mysteries of a, b, c, by "the instructions of another, be he who he may." there was absolutely not the least "insight," or "spiritual faculty," or "self-consciousness" in one of them, by which they then could, or ever to this hour did, "find true within them" any sort of necessary connection between the signs, c, a, t--d, o, g--and the sounds _cat_, _dog_, or any other sounds represented by any other letters of the alphabet. faith in the word of their teachers is absolutely the sole foundation and only source of their ability to read and write. on "the word of another, and as his second, be he who he may," every one of them has accepted every intelligible word he speaks or writes. there is living on martha's vineyard an old man who has never been off the island, and the extent of his knowledge is bounded by the confines of his home. he has been told of a war between the north and south, but as he had never heard the din of battle, nor seen any soldiers, he considered it a hoax. he is utterly unable to read, and is ignorant to the last degree. a good story is told of his first and only day at school. he was quite a lad when a lady came to the district, where his father lived, to teach school. he was sent, and as the teacher was classifying the school, he was called upon in turn and interrogated as to his studies. of course he had to say he had never been to school, and knew none of his letters. the schoolmistress gave him a seat on one side until she had finished the preliminary examination of the rest of the scholars. she then called him to her and drew on the blackboard the letter a, and told him what it was, and asked him to remember how it looked. he looked at it a moment, and then inquired: "h-h-how do you know it's a?" the teacher replied that when she was a little girl she had been to school to an old gentleman, who told her so. the boy eyed the a for a moment and then asked: "h-h-how do you know but he l-l-lied?" the teacher could not get over this obstacle, and the poor boy was sent home as incorrigible. mr. emerson, and the whole school of those who despise instruction, had better appoint this man their prophet of the inner light, and endow martha's vineyard as the penikese of skepticism. but the knowledge of letters is not half of their indebtedness to external revelation. for they will not deny that a fiji cannibal has just the same "insight," "spiritual faculty," "mighty and transcendent soul," "self-consciousness," or any other name by which they may dignify our common humanity, which they themselves possess. how does it happen, then, that these writers are not assembled around the cannibal's oven, smearing their faces with the blood, and feasting themselves on the limbs of women and children? the inner nature of the cannibal and of the rationalist is the same--whence comes the difference of character and conduct? and the inner light, too, is the same; for they assure us that "inspiration, like god's omnipresence, is coextensive with the race." is it not, after all, mere external revelation, in the shape of education--aye, moral and religious teaching that makes the whole difference between the civilized american and his inspired fiji brother? these gentlemen not only acknowledge, but try to repay their obligations to external revelation. as it is impossible for god to give the world a book revelation of moral and religious truth, they modestly propose to come to his assistance, it being quite possible for some men to do what is impossible for god. accordingly, we have a book revelation of moral and religious truth, from one, in his treatise on "the soul," an "external revelation" from another, in his "discourse concerning religion," a "morrison's pill from the outside," from a third, in his "past and present," and "announcements" from a fourth, which assuredly the great mass of mankind never "found true within them," else his orations and publications had not been needed to convert them. it is to be understood, then, that an "external revelation," or a "book revelation" of spiritual truth is impossible, only when it comes from god, but that these gentlemen have proved it quite possible for themselves to deliver one. in so doing they have undoubtedly attempted to meet the wishes of the greater part of mankind, who have in all lands and in all ages longed for some outward revelation from god, and testified their desire by running after all sorts of omens, auguries, and oracles, consulting witches, and treasuring sibylline leaves, employing writing mediums, and listening to spirit-rappers. the "inspiration which is limited to no sect, age, or nation--which is wide as the world, and common as god,"[ ] has never produced a nation of rationalists; a fact very unaccountable, if rationalism be true; and one which might well lead these writers to acknowledge at least one kind of total depravity, namely, that inspired men should love the darkness of external revelations, and even of book revelations, and read bibles, and korans, and vedas, and "discourses concerning religion," and "phases of faith," while yet "everything that is of use to man lies in the plane of our own consciousness." surely, such a universal craving after an external revelation testifies to a felt necessity for it, and renders it probable, or at least desirable, that god would supply the deficiency. is the religious appetite the only one for which god has provided no supply? the fact is undeniable, that the grand distinction between man and the brutes presents itself right at this point. god guides animals by direct revelation--by their instincts; but having given man reason, and free will, he gives him the whole field of life for their exercise upon the indirect revelations he makes to us through the mediation of others. for all that we know of history, geography, politics, mechanics, agriculture, poetry, philosophy, or any of the common business of life, from the baking of a loaf of bread, or the sewing of a shirt, to the following of a funeral, and the digging of a grave, we are indebted to education, not to inspiration. all analogy then induces the belief that religion also will be taught to mankind by the ministry of human teachers, rather than by the direct inspiration of every individual. but we are instructed, that, "as we have bodily senses to lay hold on matter, and supply bodily wants, through which we obtain naturally all needed material things, so we have spiritual faculties to lay hold on god, and supply spiritual wants; through them we obtain all needed spiritual things." that we have both bodily senses and spiritual faculties is doubtless true; but whether either the one or the other obtain all needed things is somewhat doubtful. i can not tell how it is with mankind in boston, for i am not there; and this being a matter in which religious truth is concerned, mr. emerson will not allow me to receive instruction about it from any other soul; but i see from my window a poor widow, with five children, who has bodily senses to lay hold on matter, and supply bodily wants; yet in my opinion she has not obtained naturally all needed material things; and if there be a truth which lies emphatically in the plane of her own consciousness, it is, that she is in great need of a cord of wood, and a barrel of flour, for her starving children. i know, also, a man, to whom god gave bodily senses to lay hold on matter, and supply bodily wants, who, by his drunkenness, has destroyed these bodily senses, and brought his family to utter destitution of all needed material things. from one cause or another, i find multitudes here in poverty and destitution, notwithstanding they have bodily senses. it is reported, also, that there is a poor-house in boston, and poverty in ireland, and starvation in madeira, and famine in the inundated provinces of france, and misery and destitution in london; which, if true, completely overturns this beautiful theory. for, if, notwithstanding the possession of bodily senses, men do starve in this world for want of needful food and clothing, it is very possible that they may have spiritual faculties also, and yet not obtain through them all needed spiritual things. the second part of the theory is as baseless as the first. all men have spiritual faculties, and have not obtained by them all needed spiritual things. they have not in their own opinion, and surely they are competent judges of "what lies wholly in the plane of their own consciousness." in proof of the fact that mankind have not, in their own opinion, obtained all needed spiritual things by the use of their spiritual faculties, without the aid of external revelation, we appeal to all the religions of mankind, heathen, mohammedan, and christian. every one of these appeals to revelations from god. every lawgiver of note professed to have communication with heaven, zoroaster, minos, pythagoras, solon, lycurgus, numa, mohammed, down to the chief of the recent revolution in china. "whatever becomes of the real truth of these relations," says strabo of those before his day, "_it is certain that men did believe and think them true_." if mankind has found the supply of all their spiritual wants within themselves, would they have clung in this way to the pretense of external revelations? is not the abundance of quack doctors conclusive proof of the existence of disease, and of the need of physicians? not only was the need of an external revelation of some sort acknowledged by all mankind, but the insufficiency of the pretended oracles which they enjoyed was deplored by the wisest part of them. we never find men amidst the dim moonlight of tradition, and the light of nature, vaunting the sufficiency of their inward light; it is only amidst the full blaze of noonday christianity that philosophers can stand up and declare that they have no need of god's teaching. had such men lived in athens of old, they would have found men possessed of spiritual faculties, and those of no mean order, engaged in erecting an altar with this inscription, "_to the unknown god._" one of the wisest of the heathen (socrates) acknowledged that he could attain to no certainty respecting religious truth or moral duty, in these memorable words, "we must of necessity wait, till some one from him who careth for us, shall come and instruct us how we ought to behave toward god and toward man." the chief of the academy, whose philosophy concerning the eternity of matter occupies a conspicuous place in the creed of american heathens, had no such confidence in the sufficiency of his own powers of discovering religious truth. "we can not know of ourselves what petition will be pleasing to god, or what worship we should pay to him; but it is necessary that a lawgiver should be sent from heaven to instruct us." "oh how greatly do i long to see that man!" he further declares that "_this lawgiver must be more than man, that he may teach us the things man can not know by his own nature_."[ ] whether this want of a revelation from god was real, or merely imaginary, will appear by a brief review of the opinions and practices of those who never enjoyed, and of those who reject the light of god's revelation. _they knew not god._ if there is any article of religion fundamental, and indispensable to its very existence, it is the knowledge of god. it is admitted by rationalists that the spiritual faculties are designed to lay hold on god. it has been proved in the previous chapter, and it will be admitted by all but atheists, that god is an intelligent being. and further it has been proved that god is not everything and everybody, but distinct from and supreme over all his works. besides, in this country at least, there will not be much difference of opinion as to the propriety of a rational being adoring a brute, or a log of wood, or a lump of stone. it will be allowed that such stupidity shows both ignorance and folly. now let us inquire into the knowledge of god possessed by the people who have no vision. the chaldeans, the most ancient people of whom we have any account, and who had among them the immediate descendants of noah, and whatever traditions of noah's prophecies they preserved, were probably the best instructed of the heathen. yet we find that they gave up the worship of god, adored the sun, and moon, and stars of heaven, and in process of time degenerated still further, and worshiped dumb idols. from this rock we were hewn; the common names of the days of the week, and especially of the first day of the week, will forever keep up a testimony to the necessity of that revelation which delivered our forefathers and us from burning our children upon the devil's altars on sun-days. the egyptians were reputed the most learned of mankind, and egypt was considered the cradle of the arts and sciences. in her existing monuments, hieroglyphic inscriptions, and tomb paintings, we have presented to us the materials for forming a more correct opinion of the religion and life of the egyptians than of any other ancient people; and the investigation of these monuments is still adding to our information. infidel writers and lecturers have not hesitated to allege that moses merely taught the israelites the religion of egypt; and some have had the hardihood to allege that the ten commandments are found written on the pyramids, as an argument against the necessity of a revelation. if the statement were true, it would by no means prove the conclusion. egypt was favored with divine revelations to several of her kings, and enjoyed occasional visits from, or the permanent teachings of, such prophets as abraham, jacob, joseph, and moses, for four hundred years; a fact quite sufficient to account for her superiority to other heathen nations, as well as for the existence of some traces of true religion on her monuments. but the alleged fact is a falsehood. some good moral precepts are found on the egyptian monuments, but the ten commandments are not there. it may be charitably supposed that those who allege the contrary never learned the ten commandments, or have forgotten them, else they would have remembered that the first commandment is, "thou shalt have no other gods before me;" and that pharaoh indignantly asks, "who is jehovah that i should obey his voice? i know not god:" and that the second is, "thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image," etc., and would have paused before alleging that these commands were engraved on the very temples of idols, and by the priests of the birds, and beasts, and images of creeping things which they adored. it is very doubtful if they believed in the existence of one supreme god, as most of the heathen did; but if they did, "they did not under any form, symbol, or hieroglyphic, represent the idea of the unity of god," as is fully proved by wilkinson.[ ] on the contrary, the monuments confirm the satirical sketch of the poet,[ ] as to the "monsters mad egypt worshiped; here a sea-fish, there a river-fish; whole towns adore a dog. this place fears an ibis saturated with serpents; that adores a crocodile. it is a sin to violate a leek or onion, or break them with a bite." cruel wars were waged between different towns, as plutarch tells us, because the people of cynopolis would eat a fish held sacred by the citizens of latopolis. bulls, and dogs, and cats, and rats, and reptiles, and dung beetles, were devoutly adored by the learned egyptians. a roman soldier, who had accidentally killed one of their gods, a cat, was put to death for sacrilege.[ ] whenever a dog died, every person in the house went into mourning, and fasted till night. so low had the "great, the mighty and transcendent soul," been degraded that there is a picture extant of one of the kings of egypt worshiping his own coffin! such is man's knowledge of god without a revelation from him. the greeks, from their early intercourse with egypt, borrowed from them most of their religion; but by later connections with the hebrews, about the time of aristotle and alexander, they gathered a few grains of truth to throw into the heap of error. after the translation of the scriptures into greek, in the reign of ptolemy philadelphus, any of their philosophers who desired might easily have learned the knowledge of the true god. but before this period we find little or no sense or truth in their religion. and the same remarks will apply to the romans. their gods were as detestable as they were numerous. hesiod tells us they had thirty thousand. temples were erected to all the passions, fears, and diseases to which humanity is subject. their supreme god, jupiter, was an adulterer, mars a murderer, mercury a thief, bacchus a drunkard, venus a harlot; and they attributed other crimes to their gods too horrible to be mentioned. such gods were worshiped, with appropriate ceremonies, of lust, drunkenness, and bloodshed. their most sacred mysteries, carried on under the patronage of these licentious deities, were so abominable and infamous, that it was found necessary, for the preservation of any remnant of good order, to prohibit them. it may be supposed that the human race is grown wiser now than in the days of socrates and cicero, and that such abominations are no longer possible. turn your eyes, then, to india, and behold one hundred and fifty millions of rational beings, possessed of "spiritual faculties," "insight," and "the religious sentiment," worshiping three hundred and thirty millions of gods, in the forms of hills, and trees, and rivers, and rocks, elephants, tigers, monkeys, and rats, crocodiles, serpents, beetles, and ants, and monsters like to nothing in heaven or earth, or under the earth. take one specimen of all. there is "the lord of the world," juggernath. "when you think of the monster block of the idol, with its frightfully grim and distorted visage, so justly styled the moloch of the east, sitting enthroned amid thousands of massive sculptures, the representative emblems of that cruelty and vice which constitute the very essence of his worship; when you think of the countless multitudes that annually congregate there, from all parts of india, many of them measuring the whole distance of their weary pilgrimage with their own bodies; when you think of the merit-earning assiduities constantly practiced by crowds of devotees and religious mendicants, around the holy city, some remaining all day with their head on the ground, and their feet in the air; others with their bodies entirely covered with earth; some cramming their eyes with mud, and their mouths with straw, while others lie extended in a puddle of water; here one man lying with his foot tied to his neck, another with a pot of fire on his breast, a third enveloped in a network of ropes; when, besides these self-inflicted torments, you think of the frightful amount of involuntary suffering and wretchedness arising from the exhaustion of toilsome pilgrimages, the cravings of famine, and the scourgings of pestilence; when you think of the day of the high festival--how the horrid king is dragged forth from his temple, and mounted on his lofty car, in the presence of hundreds of thousands, that cause the very earth to shake with shouts of 'victory to juggernath, our lord;' how the officiating high priest, stationed in front of the elevated idol, commences the public service by a loathsome pantomimic exhibition, accompanied with the utterance of filthy, blasphemous songs, to which the vast multitude at intervals respond, not in the strains of tuneful melody, but in loud yells of approbation, united with a kind of hissing applause; when you think of the carnage that ensues, in the name of sacred offering--how, as the ponderous machine rolls on, grating harsh thunder, one and another of the more enthusiastic devotees throw themselves beneath the wheels, and are instantly crushed to pieces, the infatuated victims of hellish superstition; when you think of the numerous golgothas that bestud the neighboring plain, where the dogs, jackals and vultures seem to live on human prey; and of those bleak and barren sands that are forever whitened with the skulls and bones of deluded pilgrims which lie bleaching in the sun,"[ ] you will be able to see an awful force of meaning in the words of our text, and to realize more fully the necessity of a revelation from god, for the preservation of animal life to man. literally, where there is no vision the people _perish_. man doth not live by bread only, but by every word which proceedeth from the mouth of god. take one other illustration of ignorance of god in the minds of those who close their eyes against the light of revelation--the heathen of europe and america, possessing that inspiration which is wide as the world, looking abroad upon all the glorious works of the great creator, and declaring there is no god. on the other hand, we have men, possessed of this same inspiration, deifying everything, and outrunning even the hindoos in the multitude of their divinities, declaring that every stick, and stone, and serpent, and snail that crawls on the earth is god, and making professions of holding spiritual communings with them all. to crown the monument of folly, the chief of the positive philosophy comes forth with a revelation from his spiritual faculties, in which by way of improving on the proverb "both are best," and of being sure of the truth, he unites atheism, and pantheism, and idolatry--teaches his child to worship idols, the youth to believe in one god, and himself and other full-grown men to adore the "resultant of all the forces capable of voluntarily contributing to the perfectioning of the universe, _not forgetting his worthy friends, the animals_." to such darkness are men justly condemned who shut their eyes against the light of god's revelation. where there is no vision the people perish intellectually. he who turns away his ears from the truth must be turned unto fables. "hear ye and give ear, be not proud, for the lord hath spoken. give glory to the lord your god before he cause darkness, and before your feet stumble upon the dark mountains, and while ye look for light, he turn it into the shadow of death, and make it gross darkness." _without a revelation from god, the mind of man can attain to no certainty regarding the most important of all his interests, the destiny of his immortal soul._ he knows well--for every sickness, and sorrow, and calamity declares it, and quick returning troubles will not allow him to forget--that the ruler of the world is offended with him; and conscience tells him why. the sense of guilt is common to the human race. this is, indeed, "the inspiration which knows no sect, no country, no religion, no age; which is as wide as humanity." reason asks herself, will god be always thus angry with me? shall i always feel these pangs of remorse for my sins? will misery follow me forever, as i see and feel that it does here? or shall my soul exist under god's frowns, or perish under his just sentence, even as my body perishes? does the grave hide forever all that i loved? have they ceased to be? shall we ever meet again? or must i say, "farewell, farewell! an eternal farewell!" and in a few days myself also cease to be? the only answer reason gives is--solemn silence. the wisest of men could not tell. who has not dropped a tear over the dying words of socrates, "i am going out of the world, and you are to continue in it, but which of us has the better part is a secret to every one but god." cicero contended for the immortality of the soul against the multitudes of philosophers who denied it in his day; yet, after recounting their various opinions, he is obliged to say, "which of these is true, god alone knows; and which is most probable, a very great question."[ ] and seneca, on a review of this subject, says: "immortality, however desirable, was rather promised than proved by these great men."[ ] the multitude had but two ideas on the subject. either their ghosts would wander eternally in the land of shadows, or else they would pass into a succession of other bodies, of animals or men. from the nakedness and desolation of unclothed spirit, and the possibility which this notion held out of some close contact with a holy and just judge, the soul shrank back to the hope of the metempsychosis, and hoped rather to dwell in the body of a brute, than be utterly unclothed and mingle with spirits. this is the delusion cherished by the people of india and many other lands to this day. how unsatisfactory to the dying sinner this uncertainty. "tell me," said a wealthy hindoo, who had given all his wealth to the brahmins who surrounded his dying bed, that they might obtain pardon for his sins, "tell me what will become of my soul when i die?" "your soul will go into the body of a holy cow." "and after that?" "it will pass into the body of the divine peacock." "and after that?" "it will pass into a flower." "tell me, oh! tell me," cried the dying man, "where will it go last of all?" where will it go last of all? aye, that is the question reason can not answer. the rejectors of the bible here are as uncertain on this all-important subject as the heathen of india. they have every variety of oracles, and conjectures, and suppositions about the other world; but for their guesses they offer no proof. when they give us their oracles as if they were known truths, we are compelled to ask, how do you know? the only thing in which they are agreed among themselves is in denying the resurrection of the body; a point which they gathered from their heathen classics. a poor, empty, naked, shivering, table-rapping spirit, obliged to fly over the world at the sigh of any silly sewing girl, or the bidding of some brazen-faced strumpet, is all that ever shall exist of washington, or newton, in the scheme of one class of bible rejectors. to obtain rest from such a doom, others fly to the eternal tomb, and inform us that the soul is simply an acting of the brain, and when the brain ceases to act, the soul ceases also. let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. but even this hog philosophy is reasonable, compared with the dogma of the large majority, that a man may blaspheme, swear, lie, steal, murder, and commit adultery, and go straight to heaven--that "many a swarthy indian who bowed down to wood and stone--many a grim-faced calmuck who worshiped the great god of storms--many a grecian peasant who did homage to phoebus apollo when the sun rose or went down--many a savage, his hands smeared all over with human sacrifice--shall sit down with moses and jesus in the kingdom of god."[ ] to such wild unreason does the mind of man descend when it rejects the bible. life and immortality are brought to light by the gospel. where there is no vision, hope perishes. the only plausible creed for him who rejects it is the eternal tomb, and the heart-chilling inscription: "death is an eternal sleep!" _without a revelation from god, men are as ignorant how to live, as how to die._ they have no rule of life having either truth or authority to direct them. our anglo-saxon ancestors, of the purity of whose blood we are so proud, trusted to their magical incantations for the cure of diseases, for the success of their tillage, for the discovery of lost property, for uncharming cattle and the prevention of casualties. one day was useful for all things; another, though good to tame animals, was baleful to sow seed. one day was favorable to the commencement of business, another to let blood, and others wore a forbidding aspect to these and other things. on this day they were to buy, on a second to sell, on a third to hunt, on a fourth to do nothing. if a child was born on such a day, it would live; if on another, its life would be sickly; if on another, it would perish early.[ ] their descendants who reject the bible are fully as superstitious. astrologers, and mediums, and clairvoyants, in multitudes, find a profitable trade among them; and one prominent anti-bible lecturer will cure you of any disease you have, if you will only inclose, in a letter, a lock of hair from the right temple, and--a--five dollar bill. the precepts of even the wisest men, and the laws of the best regulated states, commanded or approved of vice. in babylon prostitution was compulsory on every female. the carthaginian law required human sacrifices. when agathoclas besieged carthage, two hundred children, of the most noble families, were murdered by the command of the senate, and three hundred citizens voluntarily sacrificed themselves to saturn.[ ] the laws of sparta required theft, and the murder of unhealthy children. those of ancient rome allowed parents the power of killing their children, if they pleased. at athens, the capital of heathen literature and philosophy, it was enacted "that infants which appeared to be maimed should either be killed or exposed."[ ] plato, dissatisfied with the constitution, made a scheme of one much better, which he has left us in his republic. in this great advance of society, this heathen millennium, we find that there was to be a community of women and of property, just as among our modern heathens. women's rights were to be maintained by having the women trained to war. children were still to be murdered, if convenience called for it. and the young children were to be led to battle at a safe distance, "that the young whelps might early scent carnage, and be inured to slaughter." the teachings of all these philosophers were immoral. he may lie, says plato, who knows how to do it. pride and the love of popular applause were esteemed the best motives to virtue. profane swearing was commanded by the example of all their best writers and moralists. oaths are frequent in the writings of plato and seneca. the gratification of the sensual appetites was openly taught. aristippus taught that a wise man might steal and commit adultery when he could. unnatural crimes were vindicated. the last dread crime--suicide--was pleaded for by cicero and seneca as the mark of a hero; and demosthenes, cato, brutus, and cassius, carried the means of self-destruction about them, that they might not fall alive into the hands of their enemies. the daily lives of these wisest of the heathen corresponded to their teachings, so far at least as vice was concerned. the most notorious vices, and even unnatural crimes, were practiced by them. the reader of the classics does not need to be reminded that such vices are lauded in the poems of ovid, and horace, and virgil; that the poets were rewarded and honored for songs which would not be tolerated for a moment in the vilest theater of new york. recently some daily papers and broad-church preachers have taken to the canonization of heathen saints; they denounce vigorously the bigotry of any who will not open to them the gates of heaven, or who will, in general, deny salvation to good heathens. but we do not deny salvation to good heathens, or to good jews, or to good mohammedans, or to anybody who is good. god is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, he that feareth god and worketh righteousness is accepted of him. nor are we about to usurp peter's keys, and lock anybody out of heaven, or into it either; we are only acting as jurymen upon the life and conduct of men held up to our children as noble examples of a good life, in their classics, by heathens like themselves, and recommended now by christian clergymen, as fitter for the kingdom of god, than bad christians; which last may be very true, and so much the worse for the bad christians. but the question is not to be thus decided by comparisons, or by generalities; we must have specified individual heathen saints. when, however, we come to look for them, these saints and heroes prove to be only fit for the penitentiary, according to the laws of any of our states; and were they living now, and behaving themselves according to their accustomed habits, the best of them would be fortunate if they got there before they were tarred and feathered by an outraged public. socrates, seneca, and the emperor marcus aurelius, form the stock specimens trotted out of the stables of heathen morality, for the admiration and reverence of christians in this nineteenth century. but it has been well remarked of socrates, that no american lady would live with him a year without applying for a divorce, and getting it, too, upon very sufficient grounds. seneca, who wrote so beautifully upon morals, was an adulterer; and, moreover, prostituted his pen to write a defense of a man who murdered his mother. and marcus aurelius directed the murder of thousands of innocent men and women, causing young ladies to be stripped naked and torn to pieces by wild beasts, in the public amphitheater, and others to be roasted alive in red-hot iron chairs, for no other offense but that they avowed themselves christians. such are these boasted saints and heroes of heathendom. what, then, must the lives of the vulgar have been? in the very height of roman civilization, trajan caused ten thousand men to hew each other to pieces for the amusement of the roman people; and noble ladies feasted their eyes on the spectacle. in the augustan age, when the invincible armies of rome gave law to half the world, fathers were in the habit of mutilating their sons rather than see them subjected to the slavery and terrible despotism of their officers. what, then, must the state of the people of the vanquished countries have been? whole provinces were frequently given over to fire and sword by generals not reputed inhuman; and such was the progress of war and anarchy, and their never-failing accompaniments, famine and pestilence, that, in the reign of gallienus, large cities were left utterly desolate, the public roads became unsafe from immense packs of wolves, _and it was computed that one-half of the human race perished_. this was just before the toleration of christianity. god would allow the wisest and bravest of mankind to try the experiment of neglecting his gospel and living without his revelation, until all mankind might be convinced that such a course is suicidal to nations. "where there is no vision, the people perish." a brief reference to the codes of morals which the modern opposers of the bible would substitute for it in christian lands shall conclude our proof of the necessity of such a revelation of god's law to man, as shall guide his life to peace and happiness. the family is the basis of the commonwealth. destroy family confidence and family government, and you destroy society, subvert civil government, and bring destruction on the human race. mankind are so generally agreed on this subject, that adultery, even among heathens, is regarded and punished as a crime. the whole school of infidel writers and anti-bible lecturers, male and female, apologize for, and vindicate this crime. lord herbert, the first of the english deists, taught that the indulgence of lust and anger is no more to be blamed than the thirst occasioned by the dropsy, or the drowsiness produced by lethargy. mr. hobbes asserted that every man has a right to all things, and may lawfully get them if he can. bolingbroke taught that man is merely a superior animal, which is just the modern development theory, and that his chief end is to gratify the appetites and inclinations of the flesh. hume, whose argument against miracles is so frequently in the mouths of american infidels, taught that adultery must be practiced, if men would obtain all the advantages of life, and that if practiced frequently, it would by degrees come to be thought no crime at all--a prediction as true as holy writ; the fulfillment of which hundreds of the citizens of cincinnati can attest, who have heard a lecturer publicly denounce the bible as an immoral book, and in the same address declare that if a woman was married to a man, in her opinion of inferior development, it was her duty to leave him and live with another. this duty is by no means neglected, as the numerous divorces, spiritual marriages, separations, and elopements among this class of persons, testify. voltaire held that it was not agreeable to policy to regard it as a vice in a moral sense. rousseau, a liar, a thief, and a debauched profligate, according to his own printed "confessions," held the same high opinion of the inner light as our american spiritualists. "_i have only to consult myself_," said he, "_concerning what i do. all that i feel to be right, is right._"[ ] in fact, the purport of this inner light doctrine is exactly as rousseau expressed it, and amounts simply to this, _do what you like._ on this lawless principle these men acted. take, for example, the chief saint on the calendar of american infidelity, whose birthday is annually celebrated by a festival in this city, and in whose honor hundreds of men, who would like to be reputed decent citizens, parade the streets of cincinnati in solemn procession--thomas paine--the author of "the age of reason," as his character is depicted by one who was his helper in the work of blaspheming god and seducing men, and whose testimony, therefore, in the eyes of an infidel, is unimpeachable--william carver. "mr. thomas paine: i received your letter, dated the th ult., in answer to mine, dated november , and after minutely examining its contents, i found that you had taken to the pitiful subterfuge of _lying_ for your defense. you say that you paid me four dollars per week for your board and lodging, during the time you were with me, prior to the first of june last; which was the day that i went up, by your order, to bring you to york, from new rochelle. it is fortunate for me that i have a living evidence that saw you give me five guineas, and no more, in my shop, at your departure at that time; but you said you would have given me more, but that you had no more with you at present. you say, also, that you found your own liquors during the time you boarded with me; but you should have said, 'i found only a small part of the liquor i drank during my stay with you; this part i purchased of john fellows, which was a demi-john of brandy, containing four gallons,' and this did not serve you three weeks. this can be proved, and i mean not to say anything i can not prove, for i hold truth as a precious jewel. it is a well-known fact that you drank one quart of brandy per day, at my expense, during the different times you boarded with me; the demi-john above mentioned excepted, and the last fourteen weeks you were sick. is not this a supply of liquor for dinner and supper." * * * "i have often wondered that a french woman and three children should leave france and all their connections, to follow thomas paine to america. suppose i were to go to my native country, england, and take another man's wife and three children of his, and leave my wife and children in this country, what would be the natural conclusion in the minds of the people, but that there was some criminal connection between the woman and myself?"[ ] the death of this man was horrible. the philadelphia _presbyterian_ says: "there is now in philadelphia a lady who saw paine on his dying-bed. she informs us that paine's physician also attended her father's family in the city of new york, where in her youth she resided, and that on one occasion whilst at their house, he proposed to her to accompany him to the infidel's dwelling, which she did. it was a miserable hovel in what was then raisin street. she had often seen paine before, a drunken profligate, wandering about the streets, from whom the children always fled in terror. on entering his room she found him stretched on his miserable bed. his visage was lean and haggard, and wore the expression of great agony. he expressed himself without reserve as to his fears of death, and repeatedly called on the name of jesus, begging for mercy. the scene was appalling, and so deeply engraven on her mind, that nothing could obliterate it."--_philadelphia presbyterian_, march , . the physician's statement has been common, many years, and corresponds with the above. so do grant thorburn's representations agree with both. and the piece published by rev. jas. inglis in his "waymarks in the wilderness," which has proved so distasteful to the paineites here, substantially agrees with all the others. it is only the truthfulness of it which is so offensive. it may be of interest to state, that the facts therein named are the recollections of old dr. mcclay, a baptist minister of known power and veracity. the fact of paine's miserable, and cowardly, and man-forsaken end is too true. let no one be foolhardy enough to follow them, rejecting to do it, a fourfold cord of strong testimony; nay, we may add, a stronger cord of fivefold testimony, as paine's nurse testifies like the rest. in the east these facts are so notorious that even infidels disown allegiance or attachment to paine, if they wish to be considered respectable. some of the severest denunciations against him, which we ever heard, have been from infidels. indeed this is more than plain from the very fact of all the infidels having forsaken paine on his death-bed. who was his doctor? a christian. who was his nurse? a christian? who were his most constant visitors and sympathizers? thorburn, mcclay, etc., christians. they went, for mercy's sake; infidels, having no "bowels of mercies," kept away. carver, jefferson, etc., were far from him in his extreme hour. the testimony of mons. tronchin, a protestant physician from geneva, who attended voltaire on his death-bed, was: that to see all the furies of orestes, one only had to be present at the death of voltaire. ("_pour voir toutes les furies d'oreste, il n'y avait qu'a se trouver a la mort de voltaire._") "such a spectacle," he adds, "would benefit the young, who are in danger of losing the precious helps of religion." the marechal de richelieu, too, was so terrified at what he saw that he left the bedside of voltaire, declaring that "the sight was too horrible for endurance."[ ] and these are the saints, and apostles, and heroes of infidelity, to whose memories infidels make orations and festivals, and whose writings are reprinted in scores of editions, not only over christendom, but even in india, to teach mankind how to live and how to die! such are the lives and deaths of those who denounce the bible as an immoral book, and blaspheme the god of the bible as too unholy to be reverenced or adored! "but, beloved, remember ye the words which were spoken before of the apostles of our lord jesus christ; how that they told you there should be mockers in the last time, who should walk after their own ungodly lusts. these be they who separate themselves, sensual, having not the spirit." in the free love institute about to be established in our vicinity, we shall have the full development of these filthy principles and practices. let fathers and husbands look to this matter. especially let ungodly men set to work and devise some law of man capable of binding those who renounce the law of god, and with it all human authority. for there can be no law of man, unless there is a revealed law of god. "what right," says the pantheist, the fourierist, the spiritualist, the atheist, "what right have you to command me? right and wrong are only matters of feeling, and your feelings are no rule to me. the will of the majority is only the law of might, and if i can evade it, or overcome it, my will is as good as theirs. oaths are only an idle superstition; there is no judge, no judgment, no punishment for the false swearer." take away the moral sanction of law, and the sacredness of oaths, and what basis have you left for any government, save the point of the bayonet? take away the revealed law of god, and you leave not a vestige of any authority to any human law. "we hold these truths to be self-evident," said the immortal framers of the basis of the american confederation, "that all men are created equal; that they are _endowed by their creator_ with certain unalienable rights." it was well said. the rights of god are the only basis of the rights of man. one of the most sagacious of modern statesmen has borne his testimony to this fundamental truth--that religion is the only basis of social order--in words as trenchant as the guillotine which suggested them. "it is not," says napoleon, "the mystery of incarnation which i perceive in religion, but the mystery of social order. it attaches to heaven an idea of equality which prevents the rich from being massacred by the poor."[ ] once in modern times, the rejectors of the bible had opportunity to try the experiment of ruling a people on a large scale, and giving the world a specimen of an infidel republic. you have heard one of them here express his admiration of that government, and declare his intention to present a public vindication of it. of course, as soon as practicable, that which they admire they will imitate, and the scenes of paris and lyons will be re-enacted in louisville and cincinnati. our bibles will be collected and burned on a dung-heap. death will be declared an eternal sleep. god will be declared a fiction. religious worship will be renounced; the sabbath abolished; and a prostitute, crowned with garlands, will receive the adorations of the mayors and councilmen of cincinnati and newport. the reign of terror will commence. the guillotine shall take its place on the fifth street market place. proscription will follow proscription. women will denounce their husbands, and children their parents, as bad citizens, and lead them to the ax; and well-dressed ladies, filled with savage ferocity, will seize the mangled bodies of their murdered countrymen between their teeth. the licking will be choked with the bodies of men, and the ohio dyed with their blood; and those whose infancy has sheltered them from the fire of the rabble soldiery will be bayoneted as they cling to the knees of their destroyers.[ ] the common doom of man commuted for the violence of the sword, the bayonet, the sucking boat, and the guillotine, the knell of the nation tolled, and the world summoned to its execution and funeral, will need no preacher to expound the text, _where there is no vision, the people perish._ footnotes: [ ] strauss' life of jesus, , , . [ ] bauer's hebrew mythology. [ ] see pearson on infidelity, page , th edition; and agassiz's penikese lectures. [ ] newman's phases of faith, . [ ] carlyle's past and present, . [ ] discourse on religion, p. . [ ] carlyle's past and present, p. . [ ] ib. p. . [ ] the soul, p. . [ ] ib. p. . [ ] parker's discourses, , . [ ] plato. republic. books iv. and vi., and alcibiades ii. [ ] manners and customs of ancient egyptians, second series, vol. ii. page , et passim. [ ] juvenal, satire xv. [ ] diodorus siculus, book i. [ ] duff's india, page . [ ] tusc. quæst. lib. . [ ] seneca, ep. . [ ] parker's discourse, . [ ] turner's anglo-saxons, b. vii. chap. . [ ] diodorus siculus, b. xx. chap. . [ ] aristotle, polit. lib. vii. chap. . [ ] horne's introduction of the scriptures, vol. i. page . [ ] printed repeatedly in new york newspapers, and given entire in the report of the discussion between dr. berg and mr. barker. w. s. young, philadelphia, . [ ] _the occident_, th august, , san francisco. [ ] ardeches' life of napoleon i. . [ ] horne's introduction to the scriptures, vol. i. page , where ample references to contemporary french writers are given. chapter v. who wrote the new testament? "the salutation of paul with mine own hand, which is the token in every epistle: so i write. the grace of our lord jesus christ be with you all. amen."-- thess. iii. . religion rests not on dogmas, but on a number of great facts. in a previous chapter we found one of these to be, that people destitute of a revelation of god's will ever have been, and now are, ignorant, miserable, and wicked. if it were at all needful, we might go on to show that there are people in the world, who have decent clothing and comfortable houses, who work well-tilled farms and sub-soil plows, and reaping machinery, who yoke powerful streams to the mill wheel, and harness the iron horse to the market wagon, who career their floating palaces up the opposing floods, line their coasts with flocks of white-winged schooners, and show their flags on every coast of earth, who invent and make everything that man will buy, from the brass button, dear to the barbarian, to the folio of the philosopher, erect churches in all their towns, and schools in every village, who make their blacksmiths more learned than the priests of egypt, their sabbath scholars wiser than the philosophers of greece, and even the criminals in their jails more decent characters than the sages, heroes, and gods of the lands without the bible; and that these people are the people who possess a book, which they think contains a revelation from god, teaching them how to live well; which book they call the bible. this is the book about which we make our present inquiry, who wrote it? the fact being utterly undeniable, that these blessings are found among the people who possess the bible, and only among them, we at once, and summarily, dismiss the arrogant falsehood presented to prevent any inquiry about the book, namely, that "christianity is just like any other superstition, and its sacred books like the impositions of chinese, indian, or mohammedan impostors. they, too, are religious, and have their sacred books, which they believe to be divine." a profound generalization indeed! is a peach-tree just like a horse-chestnut, or a scrub-oak, or a honey-locust? they are all trees, and have leaves on them. the bible is just as like the yi king, or the vedas, or the koran, as a christian american is like a chinaman, a turk, or a hindoo. but it is too absurd to begin any discussion with these learned thebans of the relative merits of the bible as compared with the vedas, and the chinese classics, of which they have never read a single page. let them stick to what they pretend to know. the bible is a great fact in the world's history, known alike to the prince and the peasant, the simple and the sage. it is perused with pleasure by the child, and pondered with patience by the philosopher. its psalms are caroled on the school green, cheer the chamber of sickness, and are chanted by the mother over her cradle, by the orphan over the tomb. here, thousands of miles away from the land of its birth, in a world undiscovered for centuries after it was finished, in a language unknown alike at athens and jerusalem, it rules as lovingly and as powerfully as in its native soil. to show that its power is not derived from race or clime, it converts the sandwich islands into a civilized nation, and transforms the new zealand cannibal into a british shipowner, the indian warrior into an american editor, and the negro slave into the president of a free african republic. it has inspired the caffirs of africa to build telegraphs, and to print associated press dispatches in their newspapers; while the zulus, one of whom would have converted bishop colenso from christianity, if he had been a christian, are importing steel plows by hundreds every year. it has captured the enemy's fortresses, and turned his guns. lord chesterfield's parlor, where an infidel club met to sneer at religion, is now a vestry, where the prayers of the penitent are offered to christ. gibbon's house, at lake lemon, is now a hotel; one room of which is devoted to the sale of bibles. voltaire's printing press, from which he issued his infidel tracts, has been appropriated to printing the word of god.[ ] it does not look as if it had finished its course and ceased from its triumphs. translated into the hundred and fifty languages spoken by nine hundred millions of men, carried by ten thousand heralds to every corner of the globe, sustained by the cheerful contributions and fervent prayers of hundreds of thousands of ardent disciples, it is still going forth conquering and to conquer. is there any other book so generally read, so greatly loved, so zealously propagated, so widely diffused, so uniform in its results, and so powerful and blessed in its influences? do you know any? if you can not name any book, no, nor any thousand books, which in these respects equal the bible--then it stands out clear and distinct, and separate from all other authorship; and with an increased emphasis comes our question, who wrote it? with all these palpable facts in view, to come to the examination of this question as if we knew nothing about them, or as if knowing them well, we cared nothing at all about them, and were determined to deny them their natural influence in begetting within us a very strong presumption in favor of its divine origin, were to declare that our heads and hearts were alike closed against light and love. but to enter on this inquiry into the origin of the book which has produced such results, with a preconceived opinion that it must be a forgery, and an imposition, the fruit of a depraved heart, and a lying tongue, implies so much home-born deceit that, till the heart capable of such a prejudice be completely changed, no reasoning can have any solid fulcrum of truth or goodness to rest on. it is sheer folly to talk of one's being wholly unprejudiced in such an inquiry. no man ever was, or could be so. as his sympathies are toward goodness and virtue, and the happiness of mankind, or toward pride and deceit, and selfishness and savageness, so will his prejudices be for or against the bible. on looking at the bible, we find it composed of a number of separate treatises, written by different writers, at various times; some parts fifteen hundred years before the others. we find, also, that it treats of the very beginning of the world, before man was made, and of other matters of which we have no other authentic history to compare with it. again, we find portions which treat of events connected in a thousand places with the affairs of the roman empire, of which we have several credible histories. now, there are two modes of investigation open to us, the dogmatic and the inductive. we may take either. we may construct for ourselves, from the most flimsy suppositions, a metaphysical balloon, inflated with self-conceit into the rotundity of a cosmogony, according to which, in our opinion, the world should have been made, and we may paint it over with the figures of the various animals and noble savages which ought to have sprung up out of its fornea, and we may stripe its history to suit our notions of the progress of such a world, and soaring high into the clouds, after a little preliminary amusement in the discovery of eternal red-hot fire-mists, and condensing comets, and so forth, we may come down upon the summit of some of this earth's mountains, say ararat, and take a survey of the bible process of world-making. finding that the creator of the world had to make his materials--a business in which no other world-maker ever did engage--and, further, that god's plan of making it by no means corresponds to our patent process and that the article is not at all like what we intend to produce when we go into the business, and that it does not work according to our expectations, we can denounce the whole as a very mean affair, and the book which describes it as not worth reading. if one wants some new subject for merriment, and does not mind making a fool of himself, and is not to be terrified by old-fashioned notions about god almighty, and is perfectly confident that god can tell him nothing that he does not know better already, and merely wants to see whether he is not trying to pass off old fables upon wide-awake people for facts--this dogmatic plan will suit him. on the other hand, if one is tolerably convinced that he does not know everything, not much of the world he lives in, less of its history, and nothing at all about the best way of making it, and that when it needs mending it will not be sent to his workshop; that he knows nothing about what happened before he was born unless what other people tell him, and that, though men do err, yet all men are not liars, that all the blessings of education, civilization, law and liberty, from the penny primer to the constitution of the united states, came to him solely through the channel of abundant, reliable testimony; that the only way in which he can ever know anything beyond his eyesight with certainty, is to gather testimony about it, and compare the evidence, and inquire into the character of the witnesses; that when one has done so, he becomes so satisfied of the truth of the report that he would rather risk his life upon it than upon the certainty of any mathematical problem, or of any scientific truth, whatever--that ninety-nine out of every hundred citizens of the united states are a thousand times more certain that the yankees whipped the british in , declared the colonies free and independent states, and made washington president, than they ever will be that all bodies attract each other directly as their mass, and inversely as the squares of their distances, that the sum of the angles of any triangle is equal to two right angles, or that the earth is nearer the sun in winter than in summer--and that certainty about the bible history is just as attainable, and just as reliable, as certainty about american history, if he will seek it in the same way--and if he is really desirous to know how this book was written, which alone in the world teaches men how to obtain peace with god, how to live well, and how to die with a firm and joyful hope of a resurrection to life eternal, and what part of it is easiest to prove either true or false--then he will take the inductive mode. he will begin at the present time, and trace the history up to the times in which the book was written. he will ascertain what he can about that part of it which was last written--the new testament--and begin with that part of it which lies nearest him--the epistles. by the comparison of the documents themselves, with all kinds of history and monuments which throw light on the period, he will try to ascertain whether they are genuine or not. and from one well-ascertained position he will proceed to another, until he has traversed the whole ground of the genuineness of the writings, the truth of the story, and the divine authority of the doctrine. this is my plan of investigation; one thing at a time, and the nearest first. it is not worth while to inquire whether it be inspired by god, if it be really a forgery of impostors; nor whether the gospel story is worthy of credit, if the only book which contains it be a religious novel of the third or fourth century. we dismiss then the questions of the inspiration, or even the truth of the new testament, till we have ascertained its authors. we take up the book, and find that it purports to be a relation of the planting of the church of christ, of its laws and ordinances, and of the life, death and resurrection of its founder, written by eight of his companions, at various periods and places, toward the close of the first century. there is a general opinion among all christians that the book was composed then, and by these persons. we want to know why they think so? in short, is it a genuine book, or merely a collection of myths with the apostles' names appended to them by some lying monks? is it a fact, or a forgery? in any historical inquiry, we want some fixed point of time from which to take our departure; and in this case we want to know if there is any period of antiquity in which undeniably this book was in existence, and received as genuine by christian societies. for i will not suppose my readers as ignorant as some of those infidels who allege that it was made by the bible society. it used to be the fashion with those of them who pretended to learning, to affirm that it was made by the council of laodicea, in a. d. ; because, in order to guard the churches against spurious epistles and gospels, that council published a list of those which the apostles did actually write, which thenceforth were generally bound in one volume. before that time, the four gospels were always bound in one volume and called "the gospel." the acts of the apostles and the epistles universally and undoubtedly known to be written by paul, to the churches of thessalonica, galatia, rome, corinth, ephesus, philippi, colosse, and to philemon, a well-known resident of that city, and those to timothy and titus, missionaries of world-wide celebrity, the first general epistle of peter, and the first general epistle of john, which were at once widely circulated to check prevailing heresies--were bound in another volume and called "the apostle." the epistle to the hebrews, being general, and anonymous, _i. e._, not bearing the name of any particular church, or person, to whom anybody who merely looked at it could refer for proof of its genuineness, as in the case of the other epistles--was not so soon known by the european churches to be written by paul. the general epistles of james, jude, and the second general epistle of peter, lying under the same difficulty, and besides being very disagreeable to easy-going christians, from their sharp rebukes of hypocrisy, and the second and third epistles of john, from their brevity, and the revelation of john, being one of the last written of all the books of the new testament, and the most mysterious--were not so generally known beyond the churches where the originals were deposited, until the other two collections had been formed. they were accordingly kept as separate books, and sometimes bound up in a third volume of apostolical writings. besides these, at the time of the council of laodicea, and for a long time before, other books, written by barnabas, clement, polycarp, and other companions and disciples of the apostles, and forged gospels and epistles attributed by heretics to the apostles, were circulated through the churches, and read by christians. the council of laodicea did, what many learned men had done before them; it investigated the evidence upon which any of these books was attributed to an apostle; and finding evidence to satisfy them, that the gospel written by luke had the sanction of the apostle paul, that the gospel of mark was revised by the apostle peter, that the epistle to the hebrews was written by paul, and the other epistles by john, jude, james, and peter, respectively, and not finding evidence to satisfy them about the revelation of john, they expressed their opinion, and the grounds of it, for the information of the world.[ ] into these reasons we will hereafter inquire, for our faith in holy scripture does not rest on their canons. we are not now asking what they _thought_, but what they _did_; and we find that they did criticise certain books, reported to be written by the apostles of jesus christ some three hundred years before, approve some, and reject others as spurious, and publish a list of those they thought genuine. infidels admit this, and on the strength of it long asserted that the council of laodicea made the new testament. at length they became ashamed of the stupid absurdity of alleging that men could criticise the claims, and catalogue the names of books before they were written; and they now shift back the writing--or the authentication of the new testament--for they are not quite sure which, though the majority incline to the former--to the emperor constantine, and the council of nice which met in the year . why they have fixed on the council of nice is more than i can tell. they might as well say the council of trent, or the westminster assembly, either of which had just as much to do with the canon of scripture. however, on some vague hearsay that the council of nice and the emperor constantine made the bible, hundreds in this city are now risking the salvation of their souls. we have in this assertion, nevertheless, as many facts admitted as will serve our present purpose. there did exist, then, undeniably, in the year , large numbers of christian churches in the roman empire, sufficiently numerous to make it politic, in the opinion of infidels, for a candidate for the empire to profess christianity; sufficiently powerful to secure his success, notwithstanding the desperate struggles of the heathen party; and sufficiently religious, or if you like superstitious, to make it politic for an emperor and his politicians to give up the senate, the court, the camp, the chase, and the theater, and weary themselves with long prayers, and longer speeches, of preachers about bible religion. now that is certainly a remarkable fact, and all the more remarkable if we inquire, how came it so? for these men, preachers, prince, and people, were brought up to worship jupiter and the thirty thousand gods of olympus, after the heathen fashion, and to leave the care of religion to heathen priests, who never troubled their heads about books or doctrines after they had offered their sacrifices. in all the records of the world there is no instance of a general council of heathen priests to settle the religion of their people. how happens it then that the human race has of a sudden waked up to such a strange sense of the folly of idolatry and the value of religion? the council of nice, and the emperor constantine, and his counselors, making a bible is a proof of a wonderful revolution in the world's religion; a phenomenon far more surprising than if the secretaries of state, and the senate, and president grant should leave the capital to post off to london, to attend the meetings of a methodist conference, assembled to make a hymn book. now what is the cause of this remarkable conversion of prince, priests, and people? how did they all get religion? how did they get it so suddenly? how did they get so much of it? the infidel gives no answer, except to tell us[ ] that the austerity, purity, and zeal of the first christians, their good discipline, their belief in the resurrection of the body and the general judgment, and their persuasion that christ and his apostles wrought miracles, had made a great many converts. this is just as if i inquired how a great fire originated, and you should tell me that it burned fast because it was very hot. what i want to know is, how it happened that these licentious greeks, and romans, and asiatics, became austere and pure; how these frivolous philosophers suddenly became so zealous about religion; what implanted the belief of the resurrection of the body and of the judgment to come in the skeptical minds of these heathen scoffers; and how did the pagans of italy, egypt, spain, germany, britain, come to believe in the miracles of one who lived hundreds of years before, and thousands of miles away, or to care a straw whether the written accounts of them were true or false? according to the infidel account, the council of nice, and the emperor constantine's bible-making, is a most extraordinary business--a phenomenon without any natural cause, and they will allow no supernatural--a greater miracle than any recorded in the bible. if we inquire, however, of the parties attending that council, what the state of the case is, we shall learn that they believed--whether truly or erroneously we are not now inquiring--but they believed, that a teacher sent from god, had appeared in palestine two hundred and ninety years before, and had taught this religion which they had embraced; had performed wonderful miracles, such as opening the eyes of the blind, healing lepers, and raising the dead; that he had been put to death by the roman governor, pontius pilate, had risen again from the dead, had spoken to hundreds of people, and had gone out and in among them for six weeks after his resurrection; that he had ascended up through the air, to heaven, in the sight of numbers of witnesses, and had promised that he would come again in the clouds of heaven, to raise the dead, and to judge every man according to his works; that before he went away he appointed twelve of his intimate companions to teach his religion to the world, giving them power to work miracles in proof of their divine commission, and requiring mankind to hear them as they would hear him; that they and their followers did so, in spite of persecutions, sufferings, and death, with so much success, that immense numbers were persuaded to give up idolatry and its filthiness, and to profess christianity and its holiness, and to brave the fury of the heathen mob, and the vengeance of the roman law; that a difference of opinion having arisen among them as to whether this teacher was an angel from heaven, or god, whether they should pray and sing psalms to him, as athanasius and his party believed, or only give him some lesser honor as arius and his party believed, and this difference making all the difference between idolatry on the one hand, and impiety on the other, and so involving their everlasting salvation or damnation, they had embraced the first opportunity after the cessation of persecution, and the accession of the first christian emperor, to assemble three hundred and eighteen of their most learned clergymen, of both sides, and from all countries between spain and persia, to discuss these solemn questions; and that, through the whole of the discussions, both sides appealed to the writings of the apostles, as being then well known, and of unquestioned authority with every one who held the christian name. these facts, being utterly indisputable, are acknowledged by all persons, infidel or christian, at all acquainted with history.[ ] here, then, we have the books of the new testament at the council of nice well known to the whole world; and the council, so far from _giving_ any authority to them, _bowing to theirs_--both arian and orthodox with one consent acknowledging that the whole christian world received them as the writings of the apostles of christ. there were venerable men of fourscore and ten at that council; if these books had been first introduced in their lifetime, they must have known it. there were men there whose parents had heard the scriptures read in church from their childhood, and so could not be imposed upon with a new bible. the new testament could not be less than three generations old, else one or other of the disputants would have exposed the novelty of its introduction, from his own information. the council of nice, then, did not make the new testament. it was a book well known, ancient, and of undoubted authority among all christians, ages before that council. _the existence of the new testament scriptures, then, ages before the council of nice, is a great fact._ we next take up the assertions, propounded with a show of learning, that the books of the new testament, and especially the gospels, were not in use, and were not known till the third century; that they are not the productions of contemporary writers; that the alleged ocular testimony or proximity in point of time of the sacred historians to the events recorded is mere assumption, originating in the titles which biblical books bear in our canon; that we stand here (in the gospel history), upon purely mythical and poetical ground; and that the gospels and epistles are a gradually formed collection of myths, having little or no historic reality. so strauss, eichorn, de wette, and their disciples here, attempt to set aside the new testament. in plain english, it is a collection of forgeries. these assertions are absurd. in the hundred years between the death of the apostles, and the beginning of the third century, there was not time to form a mythology. the times of trajan's persecution, and that of the philosophic aurelius, and the busy bustling age of severus, were not the times for such a business. bigoted jews would not, and could not, have made such a character as jesus of nazareth; and the philosophers of that day, celsus and porphyry, for instance, hated it when presented to them as heartily as either strauss or paine. there were not wanting thousands of enemies, able and willing, to expose such a forgery. the aspect and character of the gospel narrative are totally unlike those of mythologies. hear the verdict of one who confessedly stands at the head of the roll of oriental historians: "in no single respect--if we except the fact that it is miraculous--has that story a mythical character. it is a single story, told without variations; whereas myths are fluctuating and multiform: it is blended inextricably with the civil history of the times, which it everywhere reports with extraordinary accuracy; whereas myths distort or supersede civil history: it is full of prosaic detail, which myths studiously eschew: it abounds with practical instruction of the simplest and purest kind; whereas myths teach by allegory. even in its miraculous element it stands to some extent in contrast with all mythologies, where the marvelous has ever a predominant character of grotesqueness which is absent from new testament miracles. (this strauss himself admits, _leben jesu_, - .) simple earnestness, fidelity, painstaking accuracy, pure love of truth, are the most patent characteristics of the new testament writers, who evidently deal with facts, not with fancies, and are employed in relating a history, not in developing an idea. they write that 'we may know the certainty of the things which are most surely believed' in their day. they 'bear record of what they have seen and heard.' i know not how stronger words could have been used to prevent the notion of that plastic, growing myth which strauss conceives to have been in apostolic times."[ ] the character of christ exhibited in the gospels is the contrary of that of the heroes of mythology; as contrary as holiness is to sin. the invention of such a character by any man, or by the wisest set of men who ever lived, would have been a miracle nearly as great as the existence of such a person. when the character of christ was presented to the wisest men of the greeks, and romans, and hebrews, so far from admiring him as a hero, they crucified him as an impostor, and persecuted the preachers of his gospel. there was nothing mythical in the ten persecutions; these at least were hard historical facts. every line of examination of time, place, and circumstances proves the falsehood of the mythical theory, and establishes the truth of the gospel history. the authenticity of the gospel history, and of the apostolic epistles is confirmed by the testimony of their enemies. it is a well-authenticated and undeniable fact, that, in the close of the second century, celsus, an epicurean philosopher, wrote a work against christianity, entitled, "the word of truth," in which he quotes passages from the new testament, and so many of them, that from the fragments of his work which remain, we could gather all the principal facts of the birth, teaching, miracles, death, and resurrection of jesus christ, if the new testament should be lost. if paine quotes the new testament to ridicule it, no man can deny that such a book was in existence at the time he wrote. if he takes the pains to write a book to confute it, it is self-evident that it is in circulation, and possessed of influence. so celsus' attempt to reply to the gospels, and his quotations from them, are conclusive proofs that these books were generally circulated and believed, and held to be of authority at the time he wrote. further, he shows every disposition to present every argument which could possibly damage the christian cause. in fact, our modern infidels have done little more than serve up his old objections. now nothing could have served his purpose better than to prove that the records of the history of christ were forgeries of a late date. this would have saved him all further trouble, and settled the fate of christianity conclusively. he had every opportunity of ascertaining the fact, living, as he did, so near the times and scenes of the gospel history, and surrounded by heretics and false christians, who would gladly have given him every information. but he never once intimates the least suspicion of such a thing--never questions the gospels as books of history--nor denies the miracles recorded in them, but attributes them to magic.[ ] here, then, we have testimony as acceptable to an infidel as that of strauss or voltaire--in fact, utterly undeniable by any man of common sense--that the new testament was well known and generally received by christians as authoritative, when celsus wrote his reply to it, in the end of the second century. if it was a forgery, it was undoubtedly a forgery of old standing, if he could not detect it. but we will go back a step farther, and prove the antiquity of the new testament by the testimony of another enemy, two generations older than celsus. the celebrated heretic, marcion, lived in the beginning of the second century, when he had the best opportunity of discovering a forgery in the writings of the new testament, if any such existed; he was excommunicated by the church, and being greatly enraged thereat, had every disposition to say the worst he could about it. he traveled all the way from sinope on the black sea, to rome, and through galatia, bithynia, asia minor, greece, and italy, the countries where the apostles preached, and the churches to which they wrote, but never found any one to suggest the idea of a forgery to him. he affirmed that the gospel of matthew, the epistle to the hebrews, those of james and peter, and the whole of the old testament, were books only for jews, and published a new and altered edition of the gospel of luke, and ten epistles of paul, for the use of his sect.[ ] we have thus the most undoubted evidence, even the testimony of an enemy, that these books were in existence, and generally received as apostolical and authoritative by christians, at the beginning of the second century, or within twenty years of the last of the apostles, and by the churches to which they had preached and written. the only remaining conceivable cavil against the genuineness of the books of the new testament is: "that they bear internal evidence of being collections of fragments written by different persons--and are probably merely traditions committed to writing by various unknown writers, and afterward collected and issued to the churches under the names of the apostles, for the sake of greater authority." this theory being received as gospel by several learned men, has furnished matter for lengthy discussions as to the sources of the four gospels. translated into english, it amounts to this, that brown, smith, and jones wrote out a number of essays and anecdotes, and persuaded the churches of ephesus, jerusalem, antioch, corinth, and the rest, to receive them as the writings of their ministers, who had lived for years, or were then living, among them; and on the strength of that notion of their being the writings of the apostles, to govern their whole lives by these essays, and lay down their lives and peril their souls' salvation on the truth of these anecdotes. as though they could not tell whether such documents were forgeries or not! it is almost incredible how ignorant dreaming book-worms are of the common business of life. most of my readers will laugh at the idea of a serious answer to such a quibble. nevertheless, for the sake of those whose inexperience may be abused by the authority of learned names, i will show them that the primitive christians, supposing them able to read, could know whether their ministers did really write the books and letters which they received from them. if you go into the citizens' bank, you will find a large folio volume lying on the counter, and on looking at it you will see that it is filled with men's names, in their own handwriting, and that no two of them are exactly alike. every person who has any business to transact with the bank is requested to write his name in the book; and when his check comes afterward for payment, the clerk can tell at a glance if the signature is the same as that of which he has a single specimen. if there has been no opportunity for him to become personally acquainted with the bank, as in case of a foreigner newly arrived, he brings letters of introduction from some well-known mutual friend, or is accompanied by some respectable citizen, who attests his identity. business men have no difficulty whatever in ascertaining the genuineness of documents. it is only when people want to dispute holy scripture that they give up common sense. holy scripture was known to be the genuine writing of the apostles, just in the same way as any other writing was known to be genuine; only the churches who received the writings of the apostles had ten thousand times better security against forgery than any bank in the union. in one of the first letters paul writes to the churches--the second letter to the thessalonians--to whom he had been preaching only a few weeks before, sent from athens, distant only some two days' journey, full of allusions to their affairs, commands how to conduct themselves in the business of their workshops, as well as in the devotions of the church, and explanations of some misunderstood parts of a former letter sent by the hand of a mutual friend--he formally gives them his signature, for the purpose of future reference, and comparison of any document which might purport to come from him, with that specimen of his autograph. he gives not the name merely, but his apostolic benediction also, in his own handwriting: _the salutation of me paul with mine own hand, which is the token in every epistle: so i write. the grace of our lord jesus christ be with you all. amen._ it shows the heart of an apostle of christ; but what concerns the present question is the remark, which every business man will in a moment appreciate, how immensely the addition of these two lines adds to the security against forgery. it is a very hard thing to forge a signature, but give a business man two lines of any man's writing besides that, and he is perfectly secure against imposition.[ ] the churches to which the epistles were written, and to which the gospels were delivered, consisted largely of business men, of merchants and traders, tent makers and coppersmiths, city chamberlains, and officers of cæsar's household, and the like. does any one think such men could not tell the handwriting of their minister, who had lived among them for years; or that men who were risking their lives for the instructions he wrote them, would care less about the genuineness of the documents, than you do about the genuineness of a ten dollar check? i am not as long in this city as paul was in ephesus, nor one fourth of the time that john lived there, yet i defy all the advocates of the mythical theory of germany, and all their disciples here, to write a myth half as long as this essay, and impose it on the elders and members of my church as my writing. let it only be presented in manuscript to the congregation--there was no printing in paul's days--and in five minutes a dozen members of the church will detect the forgery, even if i should hold my peace. and were i to leave on a mission to china or india, and write letters to the church, would any of these business men, who have seen my writing, have the least hesitation in recognizing it again? do you think anybody could forge a letter as from me, and impose it on them? what an absurdity, then, to suppose that anybody could write a gospel or epistle, and get all the members of a large church to believe that an apostle wrote it. the first christians, then, were absolutely certain that the documents which they received as apostolic, were really so. the church of rome could attest the epistle to them, and the gospels of mark and luke written there. the church of ephesus could attest the epistle to them, and the gospel, and letters, and revelation of john written there. and so on of all the other churches; and these veritable autographs were long preserved. says tertullian, who was ordained a. d. : "well, if you be willing to exercise your curiosity profitably in the business of your salvation, visit the apostolical churches in which the very chairs of the apostles still preside--in which their authentic letters themselves are recited (apud quæ _ipsæ authenticæ literæ_ eorum recitantur), sounding forth the voice and representing the countenance of each one of them. is achaia near you, you have corinth. if you are not far from macedonia, you have philippi, you have thessalonica. if you can go to asia, you have ephesus; but if you are near to italy, you have rome." there can not be the least doubt about the preservation of documents for a far longer time than from paul to tertullian--one hundred and fifty years. i hold in my hand a bible, the family bible of the gibsons--printed in --two hundred and fifty-seven years old, in perfect preservation; and we have manuscripts of the scriptures twelve to fourteen hundred years old, like the sinaitic codex, perfectly legible. they were moreover directed to be publicly read in the churches, and they were publicly read every lord's day. is it credible that an impostor would direct his forgery to be publicly read? if the epistle was publicly read during paul's lifetime, that public reading in the hearing of the men who could so easily disprove its genuineness, was conclusive proof to all who heard it, that they knew it to be the genuine writing of the apostle. the primitive churches then had conclusive proof of the genuineness of the apostolic epistles and gospels. the only difficulty which now remains is the objection that they might have been corrupted by alterations and interpolations by monks, in later times. we have two securities against such corruptions, in the way these documents were given, and the nature of their contents. they were sacred heirlooms, and they were public documents. could you, or could any man, have permission to alter the original copy of washington's farewell address? would not the man who should attempt such sacrilege be torn in a thousand pieces? but washington will never be an object of such veneration as john, nor will his farewell address ever compare in importance with paul's farewell letter to the philippians. besides, these gospels and letters were public documents, containing the records of laws, in obedience to which men are daily crossing their inclinations, enduring the mockery of their neighbors, losing their money, and endangering their lives. they contained the proofs and promises of that religious faith in god and hope of heaven, for the sake of which they suffered such things. is it credible that they would allow them to be altered and corrupted? you might far more rationally talk of altering the declaration of independence, or the constitution of the united states. translated into different languages--transported into britain, germany, france, spain, italy, greece, turkey, carthage, egypt, parthia, persia, india, and china--committed to memory by children, and quoted in the writings of christian authors of the first three centuries, to such an extent, that we can gather the whole of the new testament, except twenty-six verses, from their writings--appealed to as authority by heretics and orthodox in controversy--and publicly read in the hearing of tens of hundreds of thousands every sabbath day in worship--we are a thousand times more certain that the new testament has not been corrupted, than we are that the declaration of independence is genuine. on this ground then we plant ourselves. the whole story of a late and gradual formation of the new testament, or, in plain english, of its forgery, stands out as an unmitigated falsehood in the eyes of every man capable of writing his own name. the first churches could not be deceived with forgeries for apostolic writings. nor could they, if they would, allow these writings to be corrupted. be they true or false, fact or fiction, the books of the new testament are the words of the apostles of our lord and savior jesus christ. in the next chapter we will inquire into the truth of their story. footnotes: [ ] the family christian almanac for , p. , american tract society, new york. [ ] acta concitia, sub voce laodicea, canon iv. lardner vi. p. . [ ] gibbon's decline and fall, ii. p. . [ ] the original authorities may be found collected in the fourth volume of lardner's credibility of the gospel history; abstracts of them, with ample references, in mosheim and neander's ecclesiastical histories, and in stanley's eastern church. [ ] rawlinson's _historical evidences_, page . [ ] origen contra celsum, passim. [ ] lardner, vol. ix. page . [ ] in fact, some persons were trying to impose a letter, "as from us," containing declarations, that the day of christ was upon them. chapter vi. is the gospel fact or fable? "for they themselves show of us what manner of entering in we had unto you, and how ye turned to god from idols, to serve the living and true god; and to wait for his son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, even jesus, which delivered us from the wrath to come."-- thess. i. , . in the last chapter we ascertained that the gospels and epistles were not forgeries of some nameless monks of the third century--that the shopkeepers, silversmiths, tent-makers, coppersmiths, tanners, physicians, senators, town councilors, officers of customs, city treasurers, and nobles of cæsar's household, in rome, antioch, ephesus, corinth, athens, and alexandria, could no more be imposed upon in the matter of documents, attested by the well-known signatures of their beloved ministers, than you could by forged letters or sermons purporting to come from your own pastor--and that the documents which they believed to contain the directory of their lives, and the charter of that salvation which they valued more than their lives, which they read in their churches, recited at their tables, quoted in their writings, appealed to in their controversies, translated into many languages, and dispersed into every part of the known world, they neither would, nor could, corrupt or falsify. the genuineness of the copies of the new testament, which we now possess, is abundantly proved by the comparison of over two thousand manuscripts, from all parts of the world; scrutinized during a period of nearly a hundred years, by the most critical scholars, so accurately that the variations of such things as would correspond to the crossing of a t, or the dotting of an i, in english, have been carefully enumerated; yet the result of the whole of this searching scrutiny has been merely the suggestion of a score of unimportant alterations in the received text of the seven thousand nine hundred and fifty-nine verses of the new testament. this is a fact utterly unexampled in the history of manuscripts. there are but six manuscripts of the comedies of terence, and these have not been copied once for every thousand times the new testament has been transcribed, yet there are thirty thousand variations found in these six manuscripts, or an average of five thousand for each, and many of them seriously affect the sense. the average number of variations in the manuscripts of the new testament examined, is not quite thirty for each, including all the trivialities already noticed. we are, then, by the special providence of god, now as undoubtedly in possession of genuine copies of the gospels and epistles, written by the companions of jesus, as we are of genuine copies of the constitution of the united states, and of the declaration of independence. these are historic documents, of well-established genuineness and antiquity, which we now proceed to examine as to their truthfulness. there is no history so trustworthy as that prepared by contemporary writers, especially by those who have themselves been actively engaged in the events which they relate. such history never loses its interest, nor does the lapse of ages, in the least degree, impair its credibility. while the documents can be preserved, xenophon's retreat of the ten thousand, cæsar's gallic war, and the dispatches of the duke of wellington, will be as trustworthy as on the day they were written. yet some suspicion may arise in our minds, that these commanders and historians might have kept back some important events which would have dimmed their reputation with posterity, or might have colored those they have related, so as to add to their fame. of the great facts related in memoirs addressed to their companions in arms, able at a glance to detect a falsehood, we never entertain the least suspicion. if, to this be added, the correspondence of monuments, architecture, painting, statuary, coins, heraldry, and a thousand changes in the manners and customs of a people, we become as absolutely convinced of the truth of the narrative thus confirmed by these silent witnesses as if we had seen the events described. no man who visits the disinterred city of pompeii, and sees the pavements marked by the wheel ruts, has any doubt that the romans used wheeled carriages. when he sees the court-yards adorned with mosaic figures, and the walls with paintings of the gods, and of the manners of the people who worshiped them, he is profoundly impressed with the conviction that they excelled in the fine arts, and in the coarse vices of heathenism. when he visits the coliseum, that vast ruin declares that the wealth of an empire, once devoted to the gratification of the most savage passions, has been diverted into some other channel. when he visits the catacombs, and reads long lines of heathen epitaphs, with their despairing symbols of broken columns, extinguished torches, and their heart-breaking "farewell! an eternal farewell!" and then turns to the monuments of only two centuries later, and reads, "he sleeps in the lord," "he waits the resurrection to life eternal," recording the hopes of whole generations of survivors, he can not doubt the truth of the written records of the conversion of the roman empire. there is, moreover, another kind of contemporary history not so connected and regular as the formal diary or journal, which does not even propose to relate history at all, but is for that very reason entirely removed from the suspicion of giving a coloring to it; which, at the cost of a little patience and industry, gives us the most convincing confirmations of the truth, or exposures of the mistakes of historians, by the undesigned and incidental way in which the use of a name, a date, a proverb, a jest, an expletive, a quotation, an allusion, flashes conviction upon the reader's mind. i mean contemporary correspondence. if we have the private letters of celebrated men laid before us, we are enabled to look right into them, and see their true character. thus macaulay exhibits to the world the proud, lying, stupid tyrant, james, displayed in his own letters. thus voltaire records himself an adulterer, and begs his friend, d'alembert, to lie for him; his friend replies that he has done so. thus the correspondence of the great american herald of the age of reason exhibits him drinking a quart of brandy daily at his friend's expense, and refusing to pay his bill for boarding. in the unguarded freedom of confidential correspondence the vail is taken from the heart. we see men as they are. the true man stands out in his native dignity, and the gilding is rubbed off the hypocrite. give the world their letters, and let the grave silence the plaudits and the clamors which deafened the generation among whom they lived, and no man will hesitate whether or not to pronounce hume a sensualist, or washington the noblest work of god--an honest man. if we add another test of truthfulness, by increasing the number of the witnesses, comparing a number of letters referring to the same events, written by persons of various degrees of education, and of different occupations and ranks of life, resident in different countries, acting independently of each other, and find them all agree in their allusions to, or direct mention of, some central facts concerning which they are all interested, no one can rightfully doubt that this undesigned agreement declares the truth. but if, in addition to all these undesigned coincidences, we happen upon the correspondence of persons whose interests and passions were diametrically opposed to those of our correspondents, and find that, when they have occasion to refer to them, they also confirm the great facts already ascertained, then our belief becomes conviction which can not be overturned by any sophistry, that these things did occur. if whig and tory agree in relating the facts of james' flight, and william's accession, if the letters of his jacobite friends and those of the french ambassador confirm the statements of the english historian, and if we are put in possession of the letters which james himself wrote from france and ireland to his friends in england, does any man in his common sense doubt that the revolution of did actually occur? when, in addition to all this concentration and convergence of testimony, one finds that the matters related, being of public concern, and the changes effected for the public weal, the people have ever since observed, and do to this day celebrate, by religious worship and public rejoicings, the anniversaries of the principal events of that revolution, and that he himself has been present, and has heard the thanksgivings, and witnessed the rejoicings on those anniversaries, the facts of the history come out from the domains of learned curiosity, and take their stand on the market-place of the busy world's engagements. we become at once conscious that this is a practical question--a great fact which concerns us--that the whole of the law and government of a vast empire has felt its impress--that our ancestors and ourselves have been molded under its influence, and that the religion of europe and america, under whose guardianship we have grown to a prominent place among the people of earth, and may arrive at a better prominence among the nations of the saved, has been secured by that revolution. we could scarcely know whether most to pity or contemn the man who should labor to persuade us that such a revolution had never occurred, or that the facts had been essentially misrepresented. now it is precisely on this kind of evidence that we believe the great facts of the christian revolution. we have contemporary histories, formal and informal; letters, public and private, from the principal agents in it, and opposers of it, dispersed from babylon to rome, and addressed to greeks, romans, jews, and asiatics, written by physicians, fishermen, proconsuls, emperors, and apostles. we have miles of monuments, paintings, statuary, cabinets of coins, and all the heraldry of christendom. and these great facts stand out more prominently on the theater of the world's business as effecting changes on our laws and lives, and their introduction as authenticated by public commemorations, more solemn and more numerous than those resulting from the english or the american revolution. our main difficulty lies in selecting, from the vast mass of materials, a portion sufficiently distinct and manageable to be handled in a single essay. we shall be guided by the motto already announced as the rule of inductive research. one thing at a time; and the nearest first. the epistles, being nearer our own times than the gospels, claim our first notice, and first among these, those which stand latest on the page of sacred history, the letters of john; two from peter to the christians of asia; and those which paul, in chains for the gospel, dictated from imperial rome. from the abundant notices of the early christians by historians and philosophers, satirists and comedians, martyrs and magistrates, jewish, christian, and heathen, i shall select only two for comparison with the epistles and of the apostles; and both those heathen--the celebrated letter of pliny to trajan, and the well-established history of tacitus; both utterly undeniable, and admitted by the most skeptical to be above suspicion. not that i suppose that the testimony of men who do not take the trouble of making any inquiry into the reality of the facts of the christian religion is more accurate than that of those whose lives were devoted to its study; or that we have any just reason to attach as much weight to the assertions of persons, who, by their own showing, tortured and murdered men and women convicted of no crime but that of bearing the name of christ, as to those of these martyrs, whose characters they acknowledged to be blameless, and who sealed their testimony with the last and highest attestation of sincerity--their blood. considered merely as a historian, whether, as regards means of knowledge, or tests of truthfulness, by every unprejudiced mind, peter will always be preferred to pliny. but because the world will ever love its own, and hate the disciples of the lord, there will always be a large class to whom the history of tacitus will seem more veritable than that of luke, and the letters of pliny more reliable than those of peter. for their sakes we avail ourselves of that most convincing of all attestations--the testimony of an enemy. what friends and foes unite in attesting must be accepted as true. the facts which we shall thus establish are not, in the first instance, those called miraculous. we are now ascertaining the general character for truthfulness of our letter writers and historians. if we find that their general historic narrative is contradicted by that of other credible historians, then we suspect their story. but if we find that, in all essential matters of public notoriety, they are supported by the concurred testimony of their foes, and that the narrative of the miracles they relate bears the seals of thousands who from foes became friends, from conviction of its truth, then we receive their witness as true. even in paul's day, heathen greek writers bore testimony to the apostles, what manner of entering in they had unto the converts of thessalonica; and how they turned to god from idols, to serve the living and true god, and to wait for his son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead--even jesus, who delivered us from the wrath to come. pliny wrote forty years later. pliny, the younger, was born a. d. , was prætor under domitian, consul in the third year of trajan, a. d. , was exceedingly desirous to add to his other honors that of the priesthood; was accordingly consecrated an augur, and built temples, bought images, and consecrated them on his estates; was, in a. d. , appointed governor of the roman provinces of pontus and bithynia[ ]--a vast tract of asia minor, lying along the shores of the black sea and the propontis; and including the province anciently called mysia, in which were situated pergamos and thyatira, and in the immediate vicinity of sardis and philadelphia. pliny reached his province by the usual route, the port of ephesus; where john had lived for many years, and indited his letters, a. d. , scarcely ten years before. the letters of peter to the strangers scattered through pontus, galatia, cappadocia, asia, and bithynia, bring us to the same mountainous region, eight hundred miles distant from judea; whence, in earlier days, our savage ancestors received those phoenician priests of baal, whose round towers mark the coasts of ireland nearest to the setting sun; and whence, about the period under consideration, came the heralds of the sun of righteousness, who brought the "_leabhar eoin_"[ ] which tells their children of him in whom is the life and the light of men. natives of these countries had been in jerusalem during the crucifixion of jesus, and, though only strangers, had witnessed the darkness, and the earthquake, and had heard the rumors of what had come to pass in those days; and on the day of pentecost had mingled with the curious crowd around the apostles, and heard them speak, in their own mother tongues, of the wonderful works of god. the remainder of the story of their conversion we gather from the letters of peter, john, and pliny. "pliny, to the emperor trajan, wisheth health and happiness:[ ] "it is my constant custom, sire, to refer myself to you in all matters concerning which i have any doubt. for who can better direct me when i hesitate, or instruct me when i am ignorant? "i have never been present at any trials of christians, so that i know not well what is the subject matter of punishment, or of inquiry, or what strictures ought to be used in either. nor have i been a little perplexed to determine whether any difference ought to be made upon account of age, or whether the young and tender, and the full grown and robust, ought to be treated all alike; whether repentance should entitle to pardon, or whether all who have once been christians ought to be punished, though they are now no longer so; whether the name itself, although no crimes be detected, or crimes only belonging to the name ought to be punished. "in the meantime, i have taken this course with all who have been brought before me, and have been accused as christians. i have put the question to them, whether they were christians. upon their confessing to me that they were, i repeated the question a second and a third time, threatening also to punish them with death. such as still persisted, i ordered away to be punished; for it was no doubt with me, whatever might be the nature of their opinion, that contumacy and inflexible obstinacy ought to be punished. there were others of the same infatuation, whom, because they are roman citizens, i have noted down to be sent to the city. "in a short time the crime spreading itself, even whilst under persecution, as is usual in such cases, divers sorts of people came in my way. an information was presented to me, without mentioning the author, containing the names of many persons, who, upon examination, denied that they were christians, or had even been so; who repeated after me an invocation of the gods, and with wine and frankincense made supplication to your image, which, for that purpose, i have caused to be brought and set before them, together with the statues of the deities. moreover, they reviled the name of christ. none of which things, as is said, they who are really christians can by any means be compelled to do. these, therefore, i thought proper to discharge. "others were named by an informer, who at first confessed themselves christians, and afterward denied it. the rest said they had been christians, but had left them; some three years ago, some longer, and one or more above twenty years. they all worshiped your image, and the statues of the gods; these also reviled christ. they affirmed that the whole of their fault or error lay in this: that they were wont to meet together, on a stated day, before it was light, and sing among themselves alternately, a hymn to christ as a god, and bind themselves by a sacrament, not to the commission of any wickedness, but not to be guilty of theft, or robbery, or adultery; never to falsify their word, nor to deny a pledge committed to them, when called upon to return it. when these things were performed, it was their custom to separate, and then to come together again to a meal, which they ate in common, without any disorder; but this they had forborne since the publication of my edict, by which, according to your command, i prohibited assemblies. after receiving this account, i judged it the more necessary to examine two maid servants, which were called ministers, by torture. but i have discovered nothing besides a bad and excessive superstition. "suspending, therefore, all judicial proceedings, i have recourse to you for advice; for it has appeared to me a matter highly deserving consideration, especially upon account of the great number of persons who are in danger of suffering. for many of all ages, and every rank, of both sexes likewise, are accused, and will be accused. nor has the contagion of this superstition seized cities only, but the lesser towns also, and the open country. nevertheless, it seems to me that it may be restrained and arrested. it is certain that the temples, which were almost forsaken, begin to be frequented. and the sacred solemnities, after a long intermission, are revived. victims, likewise, are everywhere brought up, whereas, for some time, there were few purchasers. whence, it is easy to imagine, what numbers of men might be reclaimed, if pardon were granted to those who shall repent." * * * * * "trajan to pliny, wisheth health and happiness:[ ] "you have taken the right course, my pliny, in your proceedings with those who have been brought before you as christians; for it is impossible to establish any one rule that shall hold universally. they are not to be sought after. if any are brought before you, and are convicted, they ought to be punished. however, he that denies his being a christian, and makes it evident in fact, that is, by supplicating to our gods, though he be suspected to have been so formerly, let him be pardoned upon repentance. but in no case, of any crime whatever, may a bill of information be received without being signed by him who presents it, for that would be a dangerous precedent, and unworthy of my government." i must request my reader now to procure a new testament, and read, at one reading, the first general epistle of peter, the first general epistle of john, and the seven epistles to the churches in ephesus, smyrna, pergamos, thyatira, sardis, philadelphia, and laodicea--only about as much matter as four pages of _harper's magazine_, or half a page of the _commercial_--that he may be able to do the same justice to the apostles as to the governor. he will thus be able to see the force of the various allusions to the numbers, doctrines, morals, persecutions, and perseverance of the christians, contained in those letters; the object which i have in view being, to establish their authenticity by proving the truthfulness of their allusions to these things. if you think this too much trouble, please lay down the book, and dismiss the consideration of religion from your thoughts. if the letters of the apostles are not worth a careful reading, it is of no consequence whether they are true or false. . these letters take for granted, that the fact of the existence of large numbers of christians, organized into churches, and meeting regularly for religious worship, at the close of the first century, is a matter of public notoriety to the world. here, in countries eight hundred miles distant from its birthplace, in the lifetime of those who had seen its founder crucified, we find christians scattered over pontus, galatia, cappadocia, asia, and bithynia--churches in seven provincial cities, the sect well known to pliny, before he left italy, as a proscribed and persecuted religion, the professors of which were customarily brought before courts for trial and punishment--though he had not himself been present at such trials--and now so numerous in his provinces, that a great number of persons, of both sexes, young and old, of all ranks, natives and roman citizens, professed christianity. others, influenced by their example and instruction, renounced idolatry; victims were not led to sacrifice; the sacred rites of the gods were suspended, and their temples forsaken. the existence, then, of churches of christ, consisting of vast numbers of converted heathens, at the close of the first century, is in no wise mythological or dubious. it is an established historical fact. the epistles of the apostles stand confirmed by the epistles of the governor and the emperor. . the second great fact presented in the epistles, and confirmed by the letters of the governor and the emperor, is, that the worship of the christian church then was essentially the same which it is now. we find these christians of the first century commemorating the death and resurrection of christ, and rendering divine honors to him; the "stated day" on which they assembled for worship, and the "common meal," are as plain a description of the "disciples coming together upon the first day of the week, to break bread," as a heathen could give in few words. their terms of communion too, to which they pledged their members by a sacrament, "not to be guilty of theft, robbery, or adultery; never to falsify their word, or deny a pledge committed to them," find their counterpart in every well-regulated church at this day. the articles of the christian faith, then, are not the "gradual accretions of centuries," nor is the "redemptive idea, as attaching to christ, a dogma of the post-augustine period." the churches of the first century commemorated the death and resurrection of jesus, as that of a divine person, "singing the hymn to him as a god," which their descendants sing at this day around his table: "forever and forever is, o god, thy throne of might, the scepter of thy kingdom is a scepter that is right, thou lovest right, and hatest ill; for god, thy god, most high, above thy fellows hath with th' oil of joy anointed thee." and the question will force itself upon our minds, and can not be evaded, how did these apostles persuade such multitudes of heathens to believe their repeated assertions of the death, resurrection, and glory of jesus? in the space of three octavo pages, peter refers to these facts eighteen times. john, in like manner, repeatedly affirms them. the christian religion consists in the belief of these facts, and a life corresponding to them. now, how did the apostles persuade such multitudes of heathens to believe a report so wonderful, profess a religion so novel, renounce the gods they had worshiped from their childhood, and all the ceremonies of an attractive, sensual religion; "temples of splendid architecture, statues of exquisite sculpture, priests and victims superbly adorned, attendant beauteous youth of both sexes, performing all the sacred rites with gracefulness; religious dances, illuminations, concerts of the sweetest music, perfumes of the rarest fragrance," and other more licentious enjoyments, inseparable from heathen worship. how did they persuade them to exchange all this for the assembly before daybreak, the frugal common meal, the psalm to christ, and the commemoration of the death of a crucified malefactor? if we add, that they commemorated his resurrection, by observing the lord's day, the question comes up, how did they come to believe that he was risen from the dead? could a few despised strangers, or a few citizens if you will, persuade such a community, purely by natural means, to believe such a report, to care whether the syrian jew died or rose, or to commemorate weekly, by a solemn religious service, either his death or resurrection? it is evident they believed what they commemorated. how did they come to do so? but whether we can answer the question or not, the fact stands out as indisputable, that not merely the writers of the epistles and gospels, and a few enthusiasts, but an immense multitude of all ages, of both sexes, and of every rank--the whole membership of the primitive churches--did believe in the death, resurrection, and glory of the lord jesus, and did render to him divine worship. the second great fact, affirmed in the epistles, stands confirmed by the testimony of the heathen governor, and of the roman emperor. . a mere theory of a new religion, unconnected with practice, may be easily received by those who care little about any, so long as it brings no suffering or inconvenience. but the religion of these christians was, as you see, a practical religion. if their new worship required a great departure from the worship of their childhood, their christian morals required a still greater departure from their former mode of life. i need not remind you of the moral codes of socrates, plato, and aristides, who taught that lying, thieving, adultery, and murder were lawful; nor how much worse than the theory of the best of the heathen were the lives of the worst; nor how unpopular to persons so educated would be such teaching as this--"forasmuch then as christ hath suffered for us in the flesh, arm yourselves also with the same mind: for he that hath suffered in the flesh hath ceased from sin: that he no longer should live the rest of his time in the flesh to the lusts of men, but to the will of god. for the time past of our life may suffice us to have wrought the will of the gentiles, when we walked in lasciviousness, lusts, excess of wine, revelings, banquetings, and abominable idolatries; wherein they think it strange that ye run not with them to the same excess of riot, speaking evil of you: who shall give account to him that is ready to judge the living and the dead." "lay aside all malice, and guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and all evil speakings." "whosoever abideth in christ sinneth not. whosoever sinneth hath not seen him, neither known him. little children, let no man deceive you. he that doeth righteousness is righteous, even as he is righteous. he that committeth sin is of the devil." so sharp, and stern, and strictly virtuous is apostolic religion, as displayed in these letters. is it possible then that these converted heathens did really even approach this standard of morality? did this gospel of christ actually produce any such reformation of their lives? you have the testimony of apostates, eager to save their lives by giving such information as they knew would be acceptable to the persecutor; you have the testimony of the two aged deaconesses, under torture; you have the unwilling, but yet express, testimony of their torturer and murderer, that all his cruel ingenuity could discover nothing worse than an excessive superstition and culpable obstinacy. what, then, does this philosophic inspector of entrails, and adorer of idols, call an excessive superstition and culpable obstinacy? why, they bound themselves by the most solemn religious services, not to be guilty of theft, robbery, or adultery; not to falsify their word, nor deny a pledge committed to them; and when some senseless blocks of brass were carried on men's shoulders, into the court-house, to represent a mortal man, they would not adore them, nor pray to them; no, not though this philosopher compiled the liturgy, and set the example. for this refusal, and this alone, he ordered them away to death. doubtless they heard, in their hearts, the well-known words, "let none of you suffer as a murderer, or as a thief, or as an evil-doer, or as a busybody in other men's matters. but if any man suffer as a christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify god on this behalf." the morality of the epistles, then, was not a merely a fine theory, but an actual rule of life. the moral codes of the apostles were received as actually binding on the members of the churches of the first century. in this all-important matter of the rule of a good life--the fruits by which the tree is known--the integrity, authority, and success of the apostles, in turning licentious heathens into moral christians, is authenticated by the unwilling testimony of their persecutors. the epistles of the apostles stand confirmed, as to their ethics, by the letters of trajan and pliny. . the only other fact to which i call your attention, from among the multitude alluded to in these letters, is the cost at which these converts from heathenism embraced this new religion. every one who renounced heathenism, and professed the name of christ, knew very well that he must suffer for it. "beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you, but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of christ's sufferings, that when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad with exceeding joy;" this was the welcome of the bithynian convert into the church of christ. persecution by fire and sword was then the common lot of the church. "i have never been present at any trials of the christians," says the governor. such trials were well known to him it seems. he was not sure whether he should murder all who ever had borne the name of christ, or only those who proved themselves to be really his disciples, by refusing to revile him, and return to idolatry; and the merciful emperor commands him to spare the apostates. above twenty years before--in a. d. --there were apostates from the persecuted religion. in a. d. , john had written, "they went out from us, that it might be made manifest they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would no doubt have continued with us; but they went out that it might be made manifest that they were not all of us." so it seems pliny thought: "they all worshiped your image, and other statues of the gods; these also reviled christ. none of which things, as is said, they who are really christians can by any means be compelled to do." what these means were he tells us: "i put the question to them, whether they were christians. upon their confessing to me that they were, i repeated the question a second and a third time, threatening, also, to punish them with death. such as still persisted, i ordered away to be punished." what is very remarkable, it was, it seems, "usual in such cases, for the crime to spread itself, even whilst under persecution." in the face of such dangers, these heathen would still profess faith in christ, and when they might have saved their lives by reviling him, refused to do so. from the published rescript of the emperor, approving of pliny's course, and condemning to death all who were convicted of being really christians; from the public circulars of the apostles, warning them of "fiery trials," "satan casting some of them into prison," and exhorting them to "be faithful unto death;" and from such comments on these as the torture and public execution of aged women as well as men--the terms of discipleship were well known to the whole world. yet we see that in the face of all this, "great numbers of persons, of both sexes, and of all ages, and of every rank," in pliny's opinion, were so steadfast in their faith, that "they were in great danger of suffering." here, then, is another well-attested fact, in which the testimony of the apostles stands confirmed by the signatures of the bithynian governor, and the roman emperor--a fact which stands forth clear, prominent, most undoubted, without the smallest trace of anything mythological or misty about it--that, in a. d. , great numbers of converted heathens did suffer exile, torture, and death itself, rather than renounce christ; and that it was well known that the christian faith enabled its professor to overcome the world. these four great facts of the later epistles, being thus established beyond dispute, in pursuance of our plan, we ascend the stream of history some forty years, to the time of the earlier epistles, when paul lay in the prætorian prison, and his faithful companion, luke, wrote the continuation of his narrative of the things most surely believed among the christians; when "apostles were made as the filth of the world, and the offscouring of all things;" and christians "were made a gazing stock both by reproaches and afflictions;" "were brought before kings and rulers, and hated of all nations for christ's name sake;" "endured a great fight of afflictions;" were "for his sake killed all the day long, and accounted as sheep for the slaughter;" "were made a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men." we remove the field of our investigation from a remote province of asia, to one equally remote from judea, and far more unfavorable for the growth of the religion of a crucified jew, to the proud capital of the world, imperial rome. the time shall be shortly after the burning of the city, in a. d. , and during the raging of the first of those systematic, imperial, and savage persecutions through which the church of christ waded, in the bloody footsteps of her lord, to world-wide influence, and undying fame. our historian shall be the well-known tacitus; and the single extract from his history, one of which the infidel gibbon says:[ ] "the most skeptical criticism is obliged to respect the truth of this important fact, and the integrity of this celebrated passage of tacitus." i shall not insert quotations from paul or luke; that were merely to transcribe large portions of the epistles and gospels, which whoever will not carefully peruse, disqualifies himself for forming a judgment of their veracity. the confirmation of the four facts already established, of the existence, worship, morals, and sufferings of the disciples of christ; and these facts as well known within thirty years after his death, will sufficiently appear by the perusal of the following testimony of tacitus.[ ] after relating the burning of the city, and nero's attempt to transfer the odium of it to the sect "commonly known by the name of christians," he says: "the author of that name was christ, who, in the reign of tiberius, was put to death as a criminal, under the procurator, pontius pilate. but this pestilent superstition, checked for a while, broke out afresh, and spread not only over judea, where the evil originated, but also in rome, where all that is evil on the earth finds its way, and is practiced. at first, those only were apprehended who confessed themselves of that sect; afterward, _a vast multitude_ discovered by them; all of whom were condemned, not so much for the crime of burning the city, as for their enmity to mankind. their executions were so contrived, as to expose them to derision and contempt. some were covered over with the skins of wild beasts, that they might be torn to pieces by dogs; some were crucified; while others, having been daubed over with combustible materials, were set up for lights in the night time, and thus burned to death. for these spectacles nero gave his own gardens, and, at the same time, exhibited there the diversions of the circus; sometimes standing in the crowd as a spectator, in the habit of a charioteer; and, at other times, driving a chariot himself; until at length these men, though really criminal, and deserving of exemplary punishment, began to be commiserated, as people who were destroyed, not out of regard to the public welfare, but only to gratify the cruelty of one man." we add no comment on this remarkable passage. take up your new testament and read the contemporary history--acts xxii. to the end of the book--and the letters of paul from rome, to philemon, titus, the ephesians, philippians, colossians, and the second to timothy, written when the aged prisoner was ready to be offered, and the time of his departure, amidst such scenes and sufferings, was at hand. then form your own opinion as to the origin and nature of that faith in jesus which enabled him to say: "none of these things move me, neither count i my life dear unto me, that i may finish my course with joy, and the testimony which i have received of the lord jesus." "i know in whom i have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which i have committed to him against that day." whatever may be your opinion of the apostle's hope for the future, you must acknowledge that we have ascertained, beyond contradiction, these four facts of the past: . that without the power of force, or the help of governments, and in spite of them, the apostles did convert vast multitudes of idolaters from a senseless worship of stocks and stones, to the worship of the one living and true god; a thing never done by the preachers of any other religion before or since. . that without the help of power or civil law, and solely by moral and spiritual means, they did persuade multitudes of licentious heathens to give up their vices, and obey the pure precepts of the morality contained in their epistles; a thing never done by the preachers of any other religion before or since. . that these converts were so firmly persuaded of the truth of their new religion, that, with the choice of life and worldly honor, or a death of infamy and torture before them, multitudes deliberately chose to suffer torture and death rather than renounce the belief in one god, obedience to his laws, and the hope of eternal life through jesus christ, which they had learned from the sermons and letters of these apostles; a thing never done by the professors of any other religion before or since.[ ] . the faith which produced such an illumination of their minds; which caused such a blessed change in their lives; which filled them with joy and hope, and enabled them even to despise torture and death, was briefly this: "that christ died for our sins, according to the scriptures; and that he was buried, and that he rose again on the third day, according to the scriptures; that he ascended up into heaven, and will come again to judge the world, and reward every man according to his works; and that whosoever believes these things in his heart, and confesses them with his mouth, shall be saved; and he that believeth them not shall be damned." it is a fact, then, indisputably proven by history, that the new testament does teach a religion which can enlighten men's minds, reform their lives, give peace to their consciences, and enable them to meet death with a joyful hope of life eternal. it has done these things in times past, and is doing them now. these are its undoubted fruits. reader, this faith may be yours. it will work the same results in you as it has done in others. like causes ever produce like effects. jesus waits to deliver you from your sins, to fill you with joy and peace in believing, and make you abound in hope, by the power of the holy ghost. he has promised, if you will ask it, "i will give them a heart to know me, that i am the lord." footnotes: [ ] lardner vii. page , _et seq._ [ ] pronounced laar owen--john's book. [ ] lib. x. ep. , lardner vii. . [ ] lib. x. ep. , lardner vii. . [ ] decline and fall, vol. ii. page . [ ] lib. xv. chap. . [ ] the sufferings of the jews, under antiochus, are no exception. they suffered for their faith in the true god, the messiah to come, and a resurrection to life eternal. chapter vii. can we believe christ and his apostles? "that which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled of the word of life * * * that which we have seen and heard declare we unto you."-- john i. . we have seen that the companions of jesus wrote the books of the new testament; that their statements of the existence, worship, morals, and faith of the christian church are confirmed by their enemies, and that multitudes of heathens were turned from vice to virtue by the belief of the testimony of these men. they testified that jesus christ did many wonderful miracles, died for our sins, and rose again from the dead; that they saw, and felt his body, and ate, and drank, and conversed with him for forty days after his resurrection; that he ascended up to heaven in their sight; that he sent them to tell the world that he will come again in the clouds of heaven, with his mighty angels, to judge the living and the dead; that he who believes these things and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned. this is their statement. the question is, can we believe them? . the first thing which strikes us in their testimony is, that it stands out utterly different from all other religions. there is nothing in the world like it, not even its counterfeits. the great central fact of christianity--that christ died for our sins, and rose again from the dead--stands absolutely alone in the history of religions. the priests of baal, brahma, or jupiter, never dreamed of such a thing. the prophets of mohammedanism, mormonism, or pantheism, have never attempted to imitate it. the great object of all counterfeit christianity is to deny it. there is no instance in the whole world's history of any other religion ever producing the same effects. we demand an instance of men destitute of wealth, arms, power, and learning, converting multitudes of lying, lustful, murdering idolaters, into honest, peaceable, virtuous men simply by prayer and preaching. when the infidel tells us of the rapid spread of mohammedanism and mormonism--impostures which enlist disciples by promising free license to lust, robbery, and murder, and retain them by the terror of the scimeter and the rifle ball; which reduce mankind to the most abject servitude, and womanhood to the most debasing concubinage; which have turned the fairest regions of the earth to a wilderness, and under whose blighting influence commerce, arts, science, industry, comfort, and the human race itself, have withered away--he simply insults our common sense, by ignoring the difference between backgoing vice and ongoing virtue; or acknowledges that he knows as little about mohammedanism, as he does about christianity. the gospel stands alone in its doctrines, singular in its operation, unequaled in its success. . the next important point for consideration is, that the christianity preached by christ and his apostles is a whole--a single system, which we must either take or leave--believe entirely, or entirely reject it as an imposture. there is no middle ground for you to occupy. it is all true, or all false. for instance, you can not take one of paul's epistles and say, "this is true," and take another of the same man's letters, containing the very same religion, and say, "this is false." if you accept the very briefest of paul's letters, that to philemon, containing only thirteen sentences on private business, you accept eleven distinct assertions of the authority, grace, love, and divinity of our lord. nor can you say you will accept peter's letters and reject paul's; for you will find the very same facts asserted by the one as by the other; and moreover, peter indorses "all the epistles of our beloved brother paul" as on the same pedestal of authority with the other scriptures. you can not say, "i will accept the letters and reject the history," for the letters have no meaning without the history. they are founded upon it, and assume or allege its facts on every page. were the gospels lost, we could collect a good account of the birth, teaching, death, resurrection, ascension, and almighty power of the lord christ from paul's epistles; and these letters are just as confident in alleging the miraculous part of the history as the gospels themselves. neither can you gain any advantage by saying, "i accept the gospels, but reject the letters," for there is not a doctrine of the new testament which is not taught in the very first of them, the gospel by matthew. further, the gospels contain the most solemn authentication of the commissions of the apostles, so that whoever rejects their teaching, brings upon himself guilt equal to that of rejecting christ himself. "lo, i am with you alway"--"he that receiveth you receiveth me, and he that receiveth me, receiveth him that sent me"--"whosoever will not receive you, nor hear your words, when ye depart out of that house or city, shake off the dust of your feet. verily i say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for the land of sodom and gomorrah in the day of judgment, than for that city." it is, if possible, more absurd to attempt to dissect the morality of the gospel from its history, and to say, "we are willing to receive the christian code of morals as a very excellent rule of life, and to regard jesus as a rare example of almost superhuman virtue, but we must consider the narrative of supernatural events interwoven with it as mythological," _i. e._, false. which is much the same as to say, "we will be very happy to receive your friend if he will only cut his head off." of what possible use would the christian code of morals be without the authority of christ, the lawgiver? if he possessed no divine authority, what right has he to control your inclination or mine? and if he will never return to inquire whether men obey or disobey his law, who will regard it? do you suppose the world will be turned upside down, and reformed, by a little good advice? nay, verily, the world has had trial of that vanity long enough. "we must all appear before the judgment seat of christ, that every one may receive the things done in the body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad. knowing, therefore, _the terrors of the lord_, we persuade men." take away the miraculous and supernatural from the gospel history, and there is nothing left for you to accept. there is no political economy nor worldly morality in it. it is wholly the history of a supernatural person, and every precept of his morality comes with a divine sanction. further, you know nothing of either his life or his morality but from the gospel history, and if the record of the miracles which occupy three-fourths of the gospels be false, what reason have you to give any credit to the remainder? for, as the german commentator, de wette, well says, "the only means of acquaintance with a history is the narrative we possess concerning it, and beyond that narrative the interpreter can not go. in these bible records, the narrative reports to us only a supernatural course of events, which we must either receive or reject. if we reject the narrative, we know nothing at all about the event, and we are not justified in allowing ourselves to invent a natural course of events of which the narrative is totally silent." so, you see, you can not make a christ to suit your taste, but must just take the christ of the gospel, or reject him. if you reject the testimony of christ and his apostles as false, and say you can not believe them in matters of fact, how can you respect their morality? of all the absurdities of modern infidelity, the respectful language generally used by its advocates in speaking of christ and his apostles is the most inconsistent. he claimed to be a divine person, and professed to work miracles. the infidel says he was not a divine person, and wrought no miracles. the consequence is unavoidable--such a pretender is a blasphemous impostor. and yet they speak of him as a "model man," an "exemplar of every virtue." what! an impostor a model man? a blasphemer and liar an exemplar of every virtue? is that the infidel's notion of virtue? why, the devils were more consistent in their commendations of his character, "we know thee who thou art, the holy one of god." let our modern enemies of christ learn consistency from their ancient allies. we have also learned from our master to refuse all hypocritical, half-way professions of respect for his character and teachings from those whose business is to prove him a deceiver, and whose object in speaking respectfully of such a one can only be to gain a larger audience, and a readier entrance for their blasphemy among his professed disciples. from every man who professes respect for christ's character, and for the morality which he and his apostles taught, we demand a straightforward answer to the questions: "when he declared himself the son of god, the judge of the living and the dead, did he tell the truth, or did he lie? when he promised to attest his divine commission by rising from the dead on the third day, had he any such power, or did he only mean to play a juggling imposture? is jesus the christ the son of the living god, or a deceiver?" there is no middle ground. he that is not with him is against him. the case is just the same with regard to the witnesses of his miracles, death, and resurrection. they either give a true relation of these things, or they have manufactured a series of falsehoods. how can we believe anything from persons so habituated to lying as the narrators of the mighty works of jesus must be, if those mighty works never were performed? how can we accept their code of morals if we refuse to believe them when they speak of matters of fact? is it possible to respect men as moral teachers, whom we have convicted of forging stories of miracles that never occurred, and confederating together to impose a lying superstition on the world? for this is plainly the very point and center of the question about the truth of the bible, and i am anxious you should see it clearly. a fair statement of this question is half the argument. the question then is simply this, was jesus really the divine person he claimed to be, or was he a blasphemous impostor? when the apostles unitedly and solemnly testified that they had seen him after he was risen from the dead, that they ate and drank with him, that their hands had handled his body, that they conversed with him for forty days, and that they saw him go up to heaven, did they tell the truth or were they a confederated band of liars? there is no reason for any other supposition. they could not possibly be deceived themselves in the matters they relate. they knew perfectly whether they were true or not. we are not talking about matters of dogma, about which there might be room for difference of opinion, but about matters of fact--about what men say they saw, and heard, and felt--about which no man of common sense could possibly be mistaken. "that which we have seen with our eyes, which we have heard, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled of the word of life * * * that which we have seen and heard declare we unto you." such is their language. we must either take it as truth, or reject it as falsehood. it is utter nonsense to talk of the intense subjectivity of the jewish mind, and the belief of the apostles that the messiah would do wonders when he came, and the powerful impressions produced by the teaching of jesus on their minds. we are not talking about impressions on their minds, but about impressions produced on their eyes, and ears, and hands. did these men tell the truth when they told the world that they did eat and drink with jesus after he rose from the dead, or did they lie? that is the question. . it is a hard matter to lie well. a liar has need of a good memory, else he will contradict himself before he writes far. and he needs to be very well posted up in the matters of names, dates, places, manners and customs, else he will contradict some well-known facts, and so expose his forgery to the world. therefore writers of forgeries avoid all such things as much as possible, and as surely as they venture on specifications of that sort they are detected. a man who is conscious of writing a book of falsehoods does not begin on this wise: "now in the fifteenth year of the reign of tiberius cæsar, pontius pilate being governor of judea, and herod being tetrarch of galilee, and his brother philip tetrarch of iturea and of the regions of trachonitis, and lysanias tetrarch of abilene, annas and caiphas being high priests, the word of god came unto john, the son of zacharias, in the wilderness." here in one sentence are twenty historical, geographical, political, and genealogical references, every one of which we can confirm by references to secular historians. the enemies of the lord have utterly failed in their attempts to disprove one out of the hundreds of such statements in the new testament. the only instance of any _public political event_ recorded in the gospel, said not to be confirmed by the fragments of secular history we possess, is luke's account of a census of the roman empire, ordered by augustus cæsar. were it so that luke stood alone in his mention of this, surely his credit as a historian would be as good for this fact, as the credit of tacitus, when he states matters of which suetonius makes no mention, or of pliny, when he relates things not recorded by tacitus. but we can account for the want of corroborative history in this instance, when we know that all the history of dion cassius, from the consulships of antistius and balbus to those of messala and cinna--that is, for five years before and five years after the birth of christ--is lost; as also livy's history of the same period. it is certain that some one did record the fact, for suidas, in his lexicon upon the word _apographe_, says, "that augustus sent twenty select men into all the provinces of the empire to take a census, both of men and property, and commanded that a just proportion of the latter should be brought into the imperial treasury. and this was the first census." to object to the gospel history, that everything contained in it of the doings of christ and his apostles in judea, is not recorded by the historians of greece and italy, is much the same as to say that there are a multitude of facts recorded in d'aubigne's history of the reformation in germany, of which hume and macaulay make no mention in their histories of england. how should they?--treating of different countries, and for the most part of different periods, and writing civil and not church history? does anybody go to macaulay to look for the history of the westminster assembly, or to bancroft for an account of the great revival in new england? or is the veracity of baillie, or edwards suspected, because political history does not concern itself much about religion? it is enough that not a single statement of the gospel history has ever been disproved. i might give you quotations from the enemies of the christian faith, from josephus the jew, and celsus, and porphyry, heathen philosophers, and from the emperor julian, the apostate--who, having been raised a christian, became a heathen, and used all his ingenuity to overturn the religion of christ--expressly admitting the principal miracles recorded in the gospel. but i attach no such importance to the testimony of this class of persons as to suppose that it should be placed, for one moment, on a level with the testimony of the apostles, or that their testimony to the facts of the life and death of christ needs any confirmation from such witnesses. we have such overwhelming evidence of the sincerity and truth of the witnesses chosen by god to bear testimony to the resurrection of christ, as we never can have of the credibility of any secular historian whatever. you will remember that these are the writers whose accounts of the existence, the faith and worship, the numbers and morals of the christian church, we have seen so strikingly confirmed by their enemies; and we now inquire, can we believe the other part of their history to be as true? these are the men who taught the heathen a pure christian morality, one principal article of which was, "lie not one to another, seeing ye have put off the old man with his deeds"--"all liars shall have their portion in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone"--and we are to inquire if they themselves lied; lied publicly, lied repeatedly, if the very business of their lives was to propagate falsehood, and if they died with a lie in their right hands. you will remember that we proved conclusively that the belief of the death and resurrection of jesus did turn immense multitudes of wicked men to a life of virtue, and now we are to inquire if the belief of a lie produced this blessed result, and whether, if so, there be any such thing as truth in the world, or any use in it? . of no other series of events of ancient history do we possess the same number of records by contemporary historians, as of the life, death, and resurrection of the lord jesus. we have four direct systematic memoirs of him by four of his companions; and we have a collection of letters by four others, in which the events of the memoirs are continually referred to. at the mouth of two or three witnesses any man's property and life will be disposed of in a court of justice, but here we have the testimony of eight eye-witnesses of the facts they relate, and they refer to five hundred other persons, the greater part of whom were then alive, who had also seen and heard christ after his resurrection. these eight persons give us their separate and independent statements of those things they deemed worthy of record in the life and death of christ, and of the sayings and doings of several of his friends and enemies. now every person knows that it is impossible to make two crooked boughs tally, or two false witnesses agree. you never saw two lying reports of any considerable number of transactions agree, unless the one was copied from the other. it is evident that the gospels were not copied from each other, for they often relate different events, and when they relate the same occurrence, each man relates those parts of it which he saw himself, and which impressed him most. yet the utmost ingenuity of infidelity has utterly failed to make them contradict each other in any particular. here are eight witnesses to the truth of the same story, four of whom in their letters make occasional allusions to the facts of the history as being perfectly well known, and therefore needing only to be alluded to, yet these cursory references fit into the history with every mark of truthfulness. does the history of matthew, written at jerusalem, tell us that jesus took peter, and james, and john up into a high mountain apart, and was transfigured before them? peter, in his letter, written from babylon, says, "we were eye-witnesses of his majesty. we were with him in the holy mount."-- peter ii. . if the history tells how paul was beaten and cast into prison at philippi, and his feet made fast in the stocks, and that, nevertheless, he manfully defended his birthright as a roman citizen, and made the tyrannical magistrates humble themselves, and apologize for their illegal conduct, we find paul himself, in a letter to a neighboring church, appealing to their knowledge of the facts, "that after we had suffered before, and were shamefully entreated, as ye know, at philippi, we were bold in our god to speak unto you the gospel of god with much contention. for our exhortation was not of deceit, nor of uncleanness, nor in guile. for neither at any time used we flattering words, as ye know, nor a cloak for covetousness."-- thessalonians ii. . hundreds of such undesigned coincidences may be found in the new testament, confirming the veracity of the several historians and letter writers, and giving that impression of the naturalness and truth of the story, which can neither be described nor disputed. the reader who desires to prosecute this interesting branch of the evidences of christianity will find an ample collection of these coincidences in paley's horæ paulinæ. this agreement of independent writers is the more remarkable, as the writers were persons of very various degrees of education, of different professions and ranks of life, born in different countries, and writing from various places in italy, greece, palestine, and assyria, without any communication with each other. matthew was an officer of customs in galilee; mark a hebrew citizen of jerusalem; luke a greek physician of antioch; james and john owned and sailed a fishing smack on lake tiberias; jude left his thirty-nine acres of land, worth nine thousand denarii, to be farmed by his children when he went forth to preach the gospel; and college-bred paul carried his sturdy independence in his breast, and his sail needles in his pocket, and dictated epistles, and cut out marquees and lug-sails in the tent factory of aquila, paul & co., at corinth. several of his letters were written in a dungeon in rome; the last of peter's is dated at babylon; matthew's gospel was penned at jerusalem, and john's gospel and epistles were written at ephesus. the agreement of eight such witnesses, of such different pursuits, and so scattered over the world, in the relation of the same story, in all its leading particulars, together with their variety of style and manner, and their various relations of minor incidents, yet without a single contradiction, are most convincing proofs that they all tell truth. nothing but truth could be thus told without contradiction. the fact that some considerable difficulties and many minor obscurities in these brief though pregnant narratives, prevent the combination of eight accounts so independent in their sources, and various in their style, and design, and auditors, into a flowing historical novel, a homogeneous mass, rounded and squared to our ideas of mathematical precision, is only an additional proof of their truth to nature, which abhors mathematical, as much as truth does rhetorical figures. like the variety of expression used by american, german, french, and polish witnesses in our courts of justice, testifying the same facts in their native idioms, though in english words, the apparent discrepancy, but actual harmony, becomes the most decisive test of the absence of any collusion, and consequently of the verity of the facts which such various witnesses unite in testifying. especially will any such apparent discrepancy resolve itself into our own unskillfulness or ignorance, when we remember that the mists of ages, and the drapery of a strange language, and world-wide removal of residence, and the turning of the world upside down by the progress of christian civilization, and our consequent ignorance of the thousand little details of every-day life, well known to the writer and his immediate readers, and of the force of expressive idioms, perfectly familiar to them--have rendered us not near so capable of detecting inaccuracies, as those contemporary writers and opponents, who allowed them--if they existed--to pass unchallenged. like those antique coins, whose rust-dimmed and abbreviated inscriptions exercise the patience and historic lore of the antiquarian, though neither are needed to declare the precious material, this very rust of antiquity, through which his patience has penetrated, becomes one of the inimitable marks of historic verity. every year throws some new light on texts difficult to us from our ignorance of those manners, customs, names, and places, which infidel malice and christian piety have combined to explore; and from the ruins of nineveh and the sepulchers of egypt we receive unlooked-for testimonies to the minute accuracy of the penmen of the bible. . the manner in which the apostles published their testimony to the world bears every mark of truthfulness. deception and forgery skulk, and try to spread themselves at first in holes and corners, but he that doeth truth cometh to the light. had the apostles been conscious of falsehood, would they have dared to assert that jesus was risen from the dead in the very streets of the city where he was crucified? in the temple, the most public place of resort of the jews who saw him crucified? and to the teeth of the very men who put him to death? if conscious of falsehood, would they have dared, before the chief priests, and the council, and all the senate of israel, to assert that "the god of our fathers raised up jesus, whom ye slew and hanged on a tree. him hath god exalted with his right hand to be a prince and a savior, to give repentance to israel, and remission of sins. and we are his witnesses of these things, and so is also the holy ghost which god hath given to them that obey him."--acts v. . would paul, had he been conscious that he was relating falsehood, have dared to appeal to the judge, before whom he was on trial for his life, as to one who knew the notoriety of these facts, "for the king knoweth of these things, before whom also i speak freely; for i am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from him: for this thing was not done in a corner."--acts xxvi. . would such appeals have been suffered to pass uncontradicted had the statements of the apostles been false? the boldness of their manner, however, of telling their story, is little, compared with the boldness of the design which they had in view in telling it; which was nothing less than to convert the world. now the idea of proselyting other nations to a new religion was absolutely unknown to the world at that time. the greeks and romans never dreamed of any such thing. they would sometimes add a new god to their old pantheon, but the idea of turning a nation to the worship of new deities was never before heard of. the jews were so indignant at the project, that when paul hinted it to them, they cried, "away with such a fellow from the earth, for it is not fit that he should live." and this new and strange idea, of conquering the world for a crucified man, is taken up by a few private citizens, who resolve to overturn the craft by which priests have their wealth, and to bring the kingdoms of the world to become the kingdoms of our lord and of his christ. impostors would never have appealed to their power of working miracles as the apostles did; nor could enthusiasts have done so without instant exposure. it is remarkable, that while in addressing those who believed their divine commission, they rarely allude to it (fourteen of the epistles make no allusion to apostolic miracles), but dwell on a subject of far greater importance--a holy life--they never hesitate to confront a simon magus, or a schismatical church at corinth, or a persecuting high priest and sanhedrim with this power of the holy ghost. "tongues," says paul, "are for a sign, not to them that believe, but to them that believe not;" and this is true of all other miracles. this marks the difference between real miracles and those of pretenders; who have never attempted to establish a new religion by them, or to convert unbelievers hostile to their claims and able to examine them, without immediate exposure. but you never heard of an impostor standing up before the tribunal of his judges and alleging the miraculous cure of a well-known public beggar, lame from his mother's womb, whom they had seen at the church gate every sabbath for forty years, and bringing the man into court after such a fashion as this, "if we this day be examined of the good deed done unto the impotent man, by what means he is made whole, be it known unto you all, and to all the people of israel, that by the name of jesus christ of nazareth, whom ye crucified, whom god raised from the dead, even by him doth this man stand before you whole." such an appeal was unanswerable. "beholding the man that was healed standing with them, they could say nothing against it." nay, they were compelled to acknowledge "that indeed a notable miracle hath been done by them is manifest to all them that dwell in jerusalem--we can not deny it."--acts iv. the denial of the miracles of the gospel is a modern invention of the enemy. the scribes, and priests, emperors, and philosophers of the first centuries, who had the best opportunity of proving their falsehood, were unable to do so. the persecutors and apostates, whose malice against the church knew no bounds, never dared to utter a charge of deception against the apostles. why, then, you ask, did they not all become christians? because miracles can not convert any man against his will. christianity is not merely a belief in miracles, but the love of christ, and a life of holiness. there are many readers of this book who would not turn from their sins if all the dead in spring grove cemetery would rise to-morrow to warn them from hell. god does not intend to force any man to become a christian. he just gives evidence enough to try you, whether you will deal honestly and fairly with your own soul and your god, and if you are determined to hate christ and his holy religion, you shall never want a plausible excuse for unbelief; as it is written, "unto them which are disobedient, christ is a stone of stumbling and a rock of offense." these ancient enemies of christ acknowledged the reality of his miracles, but attributed them to magical power, or the help of satan. the jews said that he had acquired the power of miracles by learning to pronounce the incommunicable name of god. modern infidels deny all his miracles save the greatest--the turning of men from their sins. they can not deny that; they can not ascribe it to the power of satan or of magic, for they do not believe in either; but they follow as nearly in the footsteps of their fathers as possible, when they tell us that multitudes of men, in every age, and in every land, have been turned from falsehood to truth by the belief of a lie, and from vice to virtue by the example of an impostor! . but the strongest proof of the truth of the facts of the gospel is the existence, the labors and sufferings of the apostles themselves. nobody denies that such men lived, and preached, and were persecuted on account of their preaching that jesus died and rose again. now, if this was a falsehood, what motive had they to tell it? it was very displeasing to their rulers who had crucified him, and who had every inclination to give them the same treatment. to preach another king, one jesus, to the romans, was to bring down the power of the empire upon them. nothing could be more absurd in the eyes of the grecian philosophers than to speak of the resurrection of the body. nor could any plan be devised more certain to arouse the fury of the pagan priesthood, than to denounce the craft by which they had their wealth, and to preach that they are no gods which are made by hands. the most degraded wretch, who perishes by the hand of the hangman is not so contemptible in our eyes, as the crucified malefactor was in the eyes of the roman people; nor could anything more disagreeable to the jewish nation be invented than the declaration, that the gentiles should become partakers of the kingdom of god. what then should induce any man in his senses to provoke such an opposition to a new religion, and to make it so contemptible and disagreeable to those whom he sought to convert, if he were manufacturing a lie to gain power and popularity? the religion they preached was not adapted to please sensual men, nor to allow its preachers in sensual gratifications. "our exhortation," says paul--and every reader of the new testament knows that he says truth--"our exhortation was not of deceit, nor of uncleanness, nor of guile." infidels admit that they preached a pure morality. but it is a long time since men learned the proverb, "physician, heal thyself." "thou that preachest a man should not steal, dost thou steal? thou that sayest a man should not commit adultery, dost thou commit adultery? thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege?" it could not, then, be to obtain license for lust that these men preached holiness. there is only one other conceivable motive which should induce men to confederate together for the propagation of falsehood--the design of making money by it. but their new religion made no provision for any such thing. one of their first acts was to desire the church to elect deacons who might manage its money matters, and allow them to give themselves wholly to prayer and to the ministry of the word. twenty-five years after that they could appeal to the world that "even to this present hour, we" (the apostles) "both hunger and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no certain dwelling-place, and labor working with our hands; being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we suffer it: we are counted as the filth of the world, and the offscouring of all things to this day." their book opens with the story of their master's birth in a stable, with the manger for his cradle, and one of its last pictures is that of his venerable apostle chained in a dungeon, and begging his friend to bring his old cloak from troas, and to do his diligence to come before winter. unpopular, pure, and penniless, if the gospel story were not true, how could it have had preachers? they at least believed it. the last and most convincing testimony which any man can give to the truth of a statement of fact is to suffer rather than deny it. many have wondered why god allowed his dear servants to suffer so much persecution in the first ages of the church. one principal reason was to give future ages an irresistible proof of the sincerity and faithfulness of the witnesses for christ. the apostles lived lives of persecution and suffering for the name of jesus; sufferings which they might have avoided if they had only abstained from preaching any more in this name. but, said they, "we can not but speak of the things which we have seen and heard." one who had no personal acquaintance with jesus, and whose first interview with him was while he was breathing out threatening and slaughter against the disciples of the lord, is converted and called to be an apostle; and behold the prospect jesus presents to him, "i will show him _how great things he must suffer for my name_." "the holy ghost testifieth," says paul, "that in every city bonds and afflictions abide me. yet none of these things move me." that at least was a true prophecy. "seven times," says clement, "he was in bonds, he was whipt, he was stoned; he preached both in the east and west, leaving behind him the glorious report of his faith, and so having taught the whole world righteousness, and for that end traveled even to the utmost bounds of the west, he at last suffered martyrdom by the command of the governors, and went to his holy place, having become a most eminent pattern of patience to all ages."[ ] hear his own appeal to those who envied his authority in the church, "are they ministers of christ, i am more: in labors more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths often. of the jews five times received i forty stripes save one. thrice was i beaten with rods, once was i stoned, thrice i suffered shipwreck, a night and a day i have been in the deep: in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by my own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in cold and nakedness."-- corinthians ii. . man can give no higher proof of his veracity, than a life such as this, unless it is to seal it with his blood; and this crowning testimony to the truth the apostles gave. save the aged disciple, who, after torments worse than death, survived to address the persecuted church as, "your companion in tribulation, and in the kingdom and patience of jesus christ," they all suffered martyrdom for the truth of the gospel history. let me again remind you that the gospel is not a collection of dogmas, but a relation of facts; that these twelve men did not preach the death and resurrection of jesus, because they had read them in a creed, but because they had seen them with their own eyes; that they lived holy lives of toil, and hardship, and poverty, and suffering, in preaching these facts to the world; and that they died painful and shameful deaths as martyrs for their truth. you admit these things. then i demand of you, "what more could either god or man do to convince you of their truthfulness?" the faithful and true witness himself has given you this last, undeniable test of veracity. with the certainty of an ignominious death before him, he solemnly swears to the truth of this fact, and dies for it. "and the high priest answered and said unto him, i adjure thee by the living god, that thou tell us whether thou be the christ, the son of god? jesus saith unto him, thou hast said. hereafter ye shall see the son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven." unbeliever, are you prepared to meet him there, and prove him a perjured impostor? footnotes: [ ] wake's trans. of clement, ep. ad cor. v. chapter viii. prophecy. "in fifty years all europe will be either cossack, or republican." so prophesied the most sagacious of modern politicians, by the inspiration of genius, calculating the prospects of the future by the light of his past experience. this prediction of napoleon's is a very fair specimen of the oracles of human sagacity; which always overlooks the most stupendous facts--such as the conversion of an empire--and the commonest experiences--such as the birth of a brace of conflicting twins from the womb of the rachel of revolution, when history happens to predict the failure of the self-elected conquering savior. man learns to believe whatever he fondly desires, to expect what he believes, and to predict what he expects. his predictions are the mirrors which photograph his own moods of mind, rather than views through a telescope directed to the distant cloud-capped mountains of futurity. but it is confidently asserted that the science of party politics is simply the exercise of the gift of prophetic vision on the theater of civil life; and that a sagacious politician is, within his own sphere, a prophet. he applies the conditions of the past, so far as he knows them, to the calculation of the future. his success proves his sagacity, not his supernatural inspiration. why should religious predictions be attributed to a different power? for the very simple and satisfactory reason, that the great majority of the calculations of party politicians are failures, while the predictions of the bible are verified by the event. name a dozen leaders of american politics during the last half century, and you name half a score of disappointed presidential candidates, whose unfinished monuments prevent the kindly green sward of oblivion from vailing their disappointments, and check the prayer of the passing pilgrim that they may rest in peace; while of the last half dozen who have occupied the presidential chair, and guided the destinies of the most progressive half of the world, not a single man had been suggested by the political leaders even ten years before his election. no wonder politicians become shy of prediction. but it is alleged, that while on a field so contracted as to become the arena of mere personal partialities it is confessedly difficult to predict the future, on the wider field of the world's great interests, the well-known uniformity of human passions and interests render their results calculable to the sagacious statesman. thus draper argues, that nations, like the individuals composing them, have fixed periods of growth, manhood, decay, decrepitude, and death--more or less rapid, according to the stock and situation. those who accept that dogma argue that all that is necessary in order to predict the fate of a nation is a correct calculation of its present age; whether of childhood, manhood, or senility. it is wonderful how rashly men will risk their reputation for common sense on the sound of a plausible analogy, which, even were it valid, would not justify the inference drawn from it. for, suppose that there were as fixed laws of national as of individual life, can any man predict the period of the life of any individual, much less his destiny? may not the life of the nation be as liable to accidents and diseases as that of the individual? but the claim has been actually made, that the skillful statesman, or philosophic observer, is able to foresee, and foretell, even such accidents. dean stanley quotes mill as suggesting an ordinary sign of statesmanship in modern times: "to have made predictions often verified by the event, seldom or never falsified by it." others give a still wider range to prophetic inspiration. they tell us that all genius is prophetic, inasmuch as it grasps general laws, universal in their range, and unvariable in their operation, the application of which to particular events constitutes prediction. the hebrew prophets were sagacious observers of human nature, and made very shrewd calculations of the future progress of events by a careful induction of the invariable laws of nature from the history of the past. but there was nothing supernatural in that. every poet, philosopher, and statesman is more or less of a prophet. indeed foresight, like insight, is common to all men: a superior degree of this common possession constitutes the prophet. men of profound insight, or of extensive foresight, are equally rare in all departments of science. ignorance ascribes to supernatural inspiration the sagacity derived from extensive observation of nature and history; while philosophy traces to the same source the inspiration of moses and mohammed, of isaiah and apollo, of the principia, paradise lost, and the apocalypse, of rothschild, napoleon, and bismarck. some geniuses expend themselves in poems, some in paintings, others in predictions. all are alike imperfect and fallible. once in centuries, perhaps, we are astonished by the advent of a master, while occasional less perfect attempts and shrewd guesses keep the fires of ambition alive in the human breast. but if this were a correct account of the case we should have our best prophets as the result of our widest observations of nature and history; the best should come last. the prophets of this nineteenth century should be far ahead of moses in prophetic foresight, standing as they do on the summit of the observatory built by the experience of forty centuries. whereas, as a matter of fact, the world knows nothing about these modern prophets, or their predictions. the instances alleged by rationalists are contemptibly trivial when compared with the bible predictions. contrast, for instance, cayotte's alleged prediction, that the fate of charles would befall louis xvi., and that the rabble would fill paris with anarchy--with daniel's grand historic outline of the four great empires; or with our savior's detailed prediction of the siege of jerusalem. cayotte's guess commanded no respect, even while the coming event cast its shadow before it; nor did he profess to utter it in the name of the great disposer of all events as the seal and authentication of a revelation of moral duty to man; and so it was of no value to those threatened by the calamity. but our lord's predictions were so authoritative in their tone, and so definite in their details, that they enabled his disciples to escape the impending destruction at that time; and their fulfillment has furnished a decisive proof of his divine foresight to all generations. we are told by men who could not read one of apollo's oracles to save their lives, nor recite one of isaiah's prophecies to save their souls, that apollo's oracles, no less than isaiah's, were inspired. could such persons be prevailed upon to read carefully any single prophetic book of scripture, with the historic facts to which it refers, or even the briefest abridgment of these facts, such as that contained in the comprehensive commentary, they would not thus expose their ignorance alike of heathen and christian oracles. the differences between them are too numerous to be easily enumerated. the oracles of the heathen are always sources of gain to their prophets. the ancient pythoness must have a hecatomb, the writing medium a dollar, and the modern pythoness of the platform a dime. but under the inspiration of god even a balaam becomes honest, and the leprosy of naaman marks the sordid gehazi and his seed forever. the oracles of the heathen are always immoral in their tendency. from the first spiritual communication through the serpent medium in the tree of knowledge, down to the last spiritual marriage rapped out by the oracle, they are all in favor of pride, ambition, lying, lust, and murder. the oracles of god begin with a prohibition of curiosity, pride, covetousness, and theft: "in the day thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." and they are uniformly of the same tenor, forbidding, reproving, threatening vice, and encouraging virtue, down to the last: "blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city; for without are dogs, and sorcerers, and whoremongers, and murderers, and idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie." this last mark--falsehood--belongs to all heathen oracles, from the first utterance by the serpent, down to the last response rapped out by the medium. take any one heathen oracle of which we have any definite account--and the number is very small--and you will find that, if it is not "as equivocal as apollo," _it is false_. for instance, dean stanley very confidently refers to certain heathen oracles, "the fulfillment of which, according to cicero, could not be denied without a perversion of all history. such was the foreshadowing of the twelve centuries of roman dominion, by the legend of the apparition of the twelve vultures to romulus, which was so understood years before its accomplishment." comparing the prophetic predictions with such fables, he says: "_it is not that they are more exact in particulars of time and place_; none can be more so than that of the twelve centuries of the roman empire."[ ] the oracle thus exalted to a level with the predictions of our lord and his apostles is quoted by censorinus,[ ] a. d. , from varro, who died b. c. . varro stated that he had heard vettius, no common augur, of great genius in disputing, a match with any of the most learned, say, "if it was so, as the historians related, as to the auguries of the founding of the city of romulus and the twelve vultures, since the roman people had passed years safe, it would reach , ." dean stanley misquotes the oracle, and does injustice to the old heathen prophet. he spake no word whatever about _dominion_; all he dared conjecture for his city was _safety_. even that is put in a highly hypothetical mood. the augury begins with an "if," regarding the apocryphal story of romulus and the twelve vultures. but whether the fable of the vultures be true or not, the augury of twelve centuries of safety deduced from it is undeniably false, whether it refers to the material city, or to the political constitution then established. the city then built was burnt by brennus, the gaul. its successor was taken and plundered by alaric, in a. d. ; again by genseric, and the vandals, in ; and again by the ostrogoths, in . thus the material city was repeatedly taken and destroyed during the twelve centuries succeeding its founding. if the augury referred to the duration of the political constitution then instituted, every school-boy knows that half a dozen revolutions falsified the prediction. if, however, it be alleged that it referred to the ultimate fate of the city of rome, that it should cease to exist after twelve centuries, it is self-evidently false; for now, after the lapse of twenty-six centuries, rome is larger, its people more numerous, and its territory wider than it was for centuries after romulus saw the twelve vultures. thus god "frustrateth the tokens of the liars." yet men who have read roman history, and whose business it is to read their bibles, continue to cite vettius valens as a prophet, and to compare his false auguries with the predictions of the scriptures of truth! this is only one of a number of such secular predictions confidently cited by the learned dean as having been as minute and specific as those of scripture, and undeniably fulfilled. but a scholar of his own church has examined his references and alleged facts, and the result is, that not a single instance remains of the fulfillment of any definite prediction given by the original writers; and where the transcriber and the dean have helped them out to a more definite prediction, it has proved a false prophecy, as in the case of sterling's and spence's prediction of the year of the disruption of the union of the united states. dr. pusey summarizes this discussion in his work on daniel (p. ), from which we extract and condense the following paragraphs on this subject: "dean stanley produces a certain number of alleged predictions in secular history, as counterparts of the predictions of _the political events_ of their own, and the surrounding nations," in the hebrew prophets, _i. e._ (in religious language), "of god's judgments upon both for their sins against himself and their fellow-men." he says, "every one knows instances, both in ancient and modern times, of predictions which have been uttered, and fulfilled, in regard to events of this kind. sometimes such predictions have been the results of political foresight. many instances will occur to students of history. even within our own memory the great catastrophe of the disruption of the united states of america _was foretold, even with the exact date, several years beforehand_. sometimes there has been an anticipation of some future epoch in the pregnant sayings of eminent philosophers and poets; as for example the intimation of the discovery of america by seneca; or of shakespeare by plato; or the reformation by dante. sometimes the result has been produced by the power of divination, granted in some inexplicable manner to ordinary men. of such a kind were many of the ancient oracles, the fulfillment of which, according to cicero, could not be denied without a perversion of history. such was the foreshadowing of the twelve centuries of roman dominion by the legend of the apparition of the twelve vultures to romulus, which was so understood years before its actual accomplishment. such, but with less certainty, was the traditional prediction of the conquest of constantinople by the mussulmans; the alleged predictions by archbishop malachi, whether composed in the eleventh or sixteenth centuries, of the series of popes down to the present time; not to speak of the well-known instances which are recorded both in french and english history. but there are several points which at once place the prophetic predictions on a different level from any of these. _it is not that they are more exact in particulars of time and place_; none can be more so than that of the twelve centuries of the roman empire; and our lord himself has excluded the precise knowledge of times and seasons from the widest and highest range of prophetic vision." (jewish church, . the bible: its form and substance, pages , .) "it might safely be admitted," says dr. pusey, "that the outward predictions of time and place are of the body, rather than of the soul of prophecy, yet as indications that he revealed himself, who alone could know long before what he willed to bring to pass by his providence, the predictions of the hebrew prophets are not to be paralleled by any human history. "definite predictions of the hebrew prophets have been instanced above. dr. stanley's instances of secular fulfillment are unhappy." he then proceeds to examine in their turn the political, poetic, popish, mohammedan, and heathen oracles quoted by dean stanley. _i. the political predictions._ sterling, as quoted by mr. spence, so far from predicting the great catastrophe of the disruption of the united states _at the end_ of the four years, says that no wise man would predict anything even within those four years. "it appears to me that amid so many elements of uncertainty as to the future, both from the excited state of men's minds in the states themselves, and the complication of surrounding circumstances, no wise man would venture to foretell the probable issue of american affairs during the next four years." (on the american union, page .) and this was written amid all the heavings which preceded the bursting of the volcano. it followed, after statesmen had, one after another, seen the elements of that disruption. the probability of the severance of the north and south has been a speculation to which the older of us have long been familiar. and now [ ] who would venture to predict the time of the close of that sad war? (first edition.) now [ ] that it has come to an end americans taunt europeans with their want of foresight in their anticipations as to its issue. the _times_ correspondent retorts as to false anticipations of americans--( ) that the issue would not interfere with slavery; ( ) that there would be separation without bloodshed; ( ) that the war would last only some ninety days; ( ) that the united states would break up into fragments (northern); ( ) they contemplated that the interests of trade would suffice for the harmony of north and south when separated, etc., etc. june , . europeans almost universally anticipated the success of the south. so little did the human sagacity of men really sagacious, with intimate knowledge of the strength of the different parties, their numbers, resources, and all the calculations as to modern warfare, enable them to anticipate within half a year the result of a war, which, through the vivid description of it, and clear knowledge, was carried on almost under their eyes. and these men would have us to suppose that hebrew prophets, living in the center of a small people, could, with mere human knowledge, foretell with absolute certainty the overthrow of flourishing empires, when at the acme of their power! _ii. the so-called prophecies of s. malachi._ these have long been recognized to be a forgery, unmeaning except for the immediate purpose for which they were "forged by the partisans of the cardinal simoncelli, one of the candidates for the tiara, who was designated by the words 'de antiquitate orbis,' because he was of orvieto, in latin, 'orbs vetus.'" (biog. unv'l v. wion.) menestrier published a refutation of the pretended prophecies of s. malachi, paris, , written with much solidity. don feijoo also refuted these pretended prophecies in his _teatro critico_. the noveau dictionnaire historique, by mm. chaudon and delaudine, speaks of the "errors and anachronisms with which this impertinent list swarms." "the forgetfulness of common sense makes itself felt in a few pages. those who have set themselves to explain these too noted insipidities, always find some allusion, forced or probable, in the country, name, arms, birth, talents of the popes, the cardinalatory dignities they had borne, etc.; _e. g._, the prophecy which related to urban the eighth was, _lilium et rosæ_." it was fulfilled to the very letter, say these absurd interpreters, for that pope had in his coat of arms bees, which suck lilies and roses. (art. malachi and wion.) iii. dr. pusey proceeds to examine the process by which a prediction of _the conquest of constantinople_ has been manufactured for the false prophet, mohammed. "in the mosque of sultan mohammed the second," says v. hammer, "which was finished a. d. , there stands, to the right of the main door, on a marble slab, on an azure field, in gold raised characters, the tradition of the prophet relating to constantinople. 'they _will conquer_ constantinople; and blessed the prince, blessed the army which shall fulfill this.'" (constant v. d. bosporos i. .) or (as he renders more exactly in gesch d. osm. reich, p. ), "the best prince is he who conquers it, and the best army, his army." this tradition, being above eight centuries after mohammed, has, of course, no value. it reappears in a different form in ockley, the conquest being presupposed, rather than prophesied. ockley says (history of saracens, ii. ), "mohammed having said, 'the sins of the first army which takes the city of the cæsar are forgiven.'" ockley referring only vaguely to bokhari, who, early in the third century, after mohammed selected , traditions which he held to be genuine, out of some , , i applied to my friend, m. reinaud, professor of arabic at paris, and member of the institute, not doubting that with his large knowledge he would be able to point out to me the passage in the _sahih_. this, with his well-known kindness, he has done, amid his many labors. it puts an end to all questions about prophecy. the passage is this: as omm heram has related to us that she heard the prophet say, "the first army of my people which shall war by sea will acquire merits with god, omm heram said, 'i said, o apostle of god, i will be among them.' he said, 'thou shalt be among them.' then the prophet said, 'the first army of my people which shall attack the city of the cæsar, their sins shall be forgiven them.' then i said, 'i will be with them, o apostle of god.' he said, 'no!'" m. reinaud adds, "there is no question but that mohammed conceived the idea of the invasion of the roman empire, and of the kingdom of persia by his disciples. he himself shortly before his death tried his strength against the roman forces in syria. but the passage does not say what ockley makes him say. it does not say that constantinople would be taken." the other prophecy referred to by von hammer is as follows: "have you heard of a city of which one side is land, the two others sea? they said, 'yea, o apostle of god.' he said, 'the last hour will not come without its being conquered by , sons of isaac. when they come to it they will not fight against it with weapons and engines of war, but with the word, there is no god but god, and god is great!' then will one side of the sea walls fall; and at the second time the second; and at the third time the wall on the land side; and they will enter in with gladness." the framer of this prophesy expected the walls of constantinople to fall like those of jericho, which he must have had in mind. he expected it to fall before arabs, "sons of isaac," not before turks. * * * yet, contrary to the expectation, and the prophecy, it did fall before the turks, after having been seven times besieged by the arabs, and four times by the turks; by whom it was taken a. d. . the framer of the prediction anticipated that the representatives of the followers of the prophet would be arabs to some indefinite period, near the last hour; he expected a miraculous destruction of constantinople; it was besieged seven times by those before whose war-cry he expected it to fall. it did not fall before those before whom he said it would fall; it fell in an ordinary way, not in that predicted; it was besieged in the way in which he said it would not be besieged; lastly, it fell, but its walls fell not. _every detail of the prediction is contrary to the fact._ as for the mere capture, it befalls all great cities in turn; so that a prediction of the capture of any great city would be the safest of all prophecies. but the prediction did not anticipate, what is now certain, that as soon as christian jealousies permit, before the end of the world, it will be wrested from its captors. iv. the legend of romulus and the vultures, and the falsehood of the prediction based upon it, have been exposed on a previous page. v. in regard to seneca's alleged prediction of the discovery of america, it was exceedingly vague; and was wholly based on the undoubted knowledge of its existence by the ancient egyptians, and by plato, proclus, marcellus, ammianus, marcellinus, diodorus, aristotle, and plutarch; whose assertions influenced columbus to undertake the search for it. nothing could be more certain than that such a continent would be rediscovered. but in the only indication which seneca gives us of its location he erred; for thule is still the utmost land northward, no new continent having been discovered, nor remaining to be discovered, toward the north pole. vi. as to the heathen oracles we have already spoken enough. vii. "the anticipation of shakespeare by plato amounts to this, that he makes socrates compel his friends to admit, 'that it belongs to the same man, how to compose comedy and tragedy, and that he who is by skill a composer of tragedies is also a composer of comedies.' (sympos fin.) * * * but it is mere confusion to speak of this as _anticipation_. plato does not say that there would be any greater combination of the two talents than there had been; he does not even say that the highest excellence in one involved excellence in the other; he simply says that the two faculties belonged to the same mind. according to his maxims, if true, it would be rather marvelous that they were not more frequently combined than that they were remarkably in one mind." viii. "those best read in dante are at a loss to find in him any trace of a prediction of the reformation. dante, with his firm faith in all roman doctrine, could not have imagined or anticipated such a disruption as luther's. dean stanley corrects an unimportant misprint or two in the second edition of his book, on the ground of the above statements. he does not even attempt to supply a passage from dante. i have looked for one in vain." yet such a collection of errors, absurdities, falsehoods, and impostures is gravely presented, in this nineteenth century, by a learned clergyman, as comparable in regard to exact fulfillment with the oracles of god. it is not intended here to discuss the question of the continuance of prophetic powers in the church. if, as many believe, the promise in joel ii. --"it shall come to pass in the last days, saith god, that your sons and your daughters shall prophesy," etc.--is a promise not yet exhausted, predictions given by the holy spirit may have been given through christians in former times, and may still be given. but if such be the fact, these are not secular predictions; but spiritual and supernatural, and of the same class with those of scripture; they are therefore not to be cited by rationalists as examples of secular prediction. but it is objected that "the prophecies of scripture are as obscure as the oracles; are all wrapped up in symbolical language; that many of them have a double meaning; that no two interpreters are agreed as to the meaning of the unfulfilled predictions; and that no man can certainly foretell any future event by means of them." the objection proceeds on a total mistake of the nature and design of prophecy, which is not to unvail the future for the gratification of your curiosity, but to give you direction in your present duty; precisely the reverse of the oracles referred to, which proposed to tell their votaries what should happen, but rarely condescended to direct them how to behave themselves so that things might happen well. the larger part of the prophecies of scripture is taken up with directions to men how to regulate their conduct, rather than with information how god means to regulate his. there is just as much of the latter as is sufficient to show us that the god who gave the bible governs the world, and even that always urges the same moral lesson: "say ye to the righteous that it shall be well with him, for he shall eat the fruit of his doings." "woe to the wicked; it shall be ill with him, for the reward of his hands shall be given him." whenever a vision relates to what god will do in the distant future, it is dark and mysterious; but whenever any directions are given necessary for our immediate duty, then the "vision is written and made plain on tables, _that he may run that readeth it_." the possessors of a clearly engrossed title-deed have surely no reason to complain that the president has chosen that his seal appended to it shall consist of a device, which, by reason of its being hard to read, and harder to imitate, secures both himself and them against forgery. the double meaning of some prophecies is a double check. so far from resembling the equivocations of heathen oracles, by taking either of two opposite events for a fulfillment, they require both of two corresponding ones; and some prophecies, like a master key, open several successive events, and thus show that the same mind planned both locks and key. when the prediction is fulfilled all mystery vanishes, and men see plainly that thus it was written; that is to say, men who look; for the man who will not open his eyes will never see anything that it concerns him to know. but the man who thinks that it concerns him so much to know what god will do with the world a hundred years after he is dead, that unless the prophecies of the bible are all made plain to him, he will neither read god's word, nor obey his law, may go on his own way. we expound no mysteries to such persons; for it is written, "none of the wicked shall understand." as to the objection taken from the symbolical language of prophecy, and which seems to a number of our modern critics so weighty that they remove to the purely mythologic ground everything "couched in symbolical language," and account nothing to be prediction unless "literal history written in advance"--i would merely ask, how is it possible to reveal heavenly things to earth-born men but by earthly figures? do you know a single word in your own, or any other language to express a spiritual state, or mental operation, that is not the name of some material state, or physical operation, used symbolically? heart, soul, spirit, idea, memory, imagination, inclination, etc., every one of them a figure of speech--a symbol. nay, is there a letter in your own, or in any other alphabet, that was not originally a picture of something? i demand to know in what way god or man could teach you to know anything you have never seen, but by either showing you a picture of it, or telling you what it is like? that is simply by type or symbol; these are the only possible media of conveying heavenly truth, or future history to our minds. when, therefore, the skeptic insists that prophecy be given literally, in the style of history written in advance, he simply requires that god would make it utterly unintelligible. we can gather clear and definite ideas from the significant hieroglyphics of symbolical language, but the literalities of history written in advance would be worse to decipher than the arrow-headed inscriptions of nineveh. just imagine to yourself alexander the great reading guizot, instead of daniel; or hildreth, as being less mysterious than ezekiel; and meeting, for instance, such a record as this: "in the year of christ, , the united states conquered mexico and annexed california." "in the year of christ--what new olympiad may be that?" he would say. "the united states of course means the states of the achæn league, but on what shore of the euxine may mexico and california be found?" what information could aristotle gather from the record that, "in , the transatlantic telegraph was in operation?" could all the augurs in the seven-hilled city have expounded to julius cæsar the famous dispatch, if intercepted in prophetic vision, "sebastopol was evacuated last night, after enduring for three days an infernal fire of shot and shell?" nay, to diminish the vista to even two or three centuries, what could oliver cromwell, aided by the whole westminster assembly, have made of a prophetic vision of a single newspaper paragraph of history written in advance, to inform them that, "three companies of dragoons came down last night from berwick to southampton, by a special train, traveling - / miles an hour, including stoppages, and embarked immediately on arrival. the fleet put to sea at noon, in the face of a full gale from the s. w.?" why, the intelligible part of this single paragraph would seem to them more impossible, and the unintelligible part more absurd, than all the mysterious symbols of the apocalypse. the world has accepted god's symbols thousands of years ago, and it is too late in the day for our reformers to propose new laws of thought, and forms of speech, to the human race. david's prophetic lyrics, christ's graphic parables, isaiah's celestial anthems, ezekiel's glorious symbols, and solomon's terse proverbs, will be recited and admired, ages after the foggy abstractions of mystified metaphysicians have vanished from the earth. the thirst of passion, the cup of pleasure, the fountain of the water of life, the blood of murder, the rod of chastisement, the iron scepter, the fire of wrath, the balance of righteousness, the sword of justice, the wheels of providence, the conservative mountains, the raging seas of anarchy, and the golden, brazen, and iron ages, will reflect their images in truth's mirror, and photograph their lessons on memory's tablet, while the mists of the "positive philosophy," "the absolute," and "the conditioned," float past unheeded, to the land of forgetfulness. god's prophetic symbols are the glorious embodiments of living truths, while man's philosophic abstractions are the melancholy ghosts of expiring nonsense. the prophetic symbols are sufficiently plain to be distinctly intelligible _after_ the fulfillment, as we shall presently see; sufficiently obscure to baffle presumptuous curiosity before it. had they been so written as to be fully intelligible beforehand, they must have interfered with man's free agency, by causing their own fulfillment. they hide the future sufficiently to make man feel his ignorance; they reveal enough to encourage faith in the god who rules futurity. the revelation of future events, however, is not the principal design of the prophecies of the bible; they bear witness to god's powerful present influence over the world now. for god's prophecy is not merely his foretelling something which will certainly happen at some future time, but over which he has no control--as an astronomer foretells an eclipse of the sun, but can neither hasten nor hinder it--but it is his revealing of a part of his plan of this world's affairs, to show that god, and not man, is the sovereign of this world. for this purpose he tells beforehand the actions which wicked men, of their own free will, will commit, contrary to his law, and the measures he will take to thwart their designs, and fulfill his own. nay, he declares he will so manage matters that, without their knowledge, and even contrary to their intentions, heathen armies, and infidel scoffers shall serve his purposes, and show his power; while yet they are as perfectly voluntary in all their movements as if they, and not god, governed the world. every fulfilled prophecy thus becomes an instance and evidence of a supernatural government; and is, to a thinking mind, a greater miracle than casting mountains into the sea. the style of prophecy corresponds to this design. it is not by any means apologetic, or supplicating; but, on the contrary, majestic, convincing, and terrifying to the ungodly. "_remember this and show yourselves men. bring it again to mind, o ye transgressors. for i am god, and there is none else. i am god, and there is none like me. declaring the end from the beginning, and from, ancient times the things that are not yet done, saying_, 'my counsel shall stand, and i will do all my pleasure.'"[ ] infidels feel the power of this manifestation of god in his word; and are driven to every possible denial of the fact, and evasion of the argument drawn from it. they feel instinctively that bible prophecies are far more than mere predictions. they would rather endow every human being on earth with the power of predicting the future than allow the god of heaven that power of ruling the present which these prophecies assert. hence the attempt to admit their predictive truth, and yet deny their divine authority, by ascribing them to human sagacity. transatlantic steam navigation has produced a remarkable change in the tone of infidel writers and speakers in regard to the prophecies of the bible. you could not converse long with an infidel on this subject, a few years ago, until he would assure you, with all confidence, that the prophecies were all written after their fulfillment, and so were not prophecies at all. but now that travelers of all classes, scoffers, sailors, and doctors in divinity, scientific expeditions, and correspondents of daily papers, have flooded the world with undeniable attestations that many of them are receiving their fulfillment at this day, none but the most grossly ignorant and stupid attempt to deny that the prophecies of the bible were written thousands of years since, and that many of them have since been accomplished; and that so many have been fulfilled that their accomplishment can not be ascribed to chance. but the force of the argument for the divine inspiration of the prophets is met by the assertion, that there is nothing supernatural in prophecy, and that it is only one form of the inspiration of genius applying the general laws of nature. calculating securely on that profound ignorance of the bible which characterizes their followers, modern writers inform them that "none of the prophets ever uttered any distinct, definite, unambiguous prediction of any future event which has since taken place, which a man without a miracle could not equally well predict." it is alleged that the prophecies, in predicting the overthrow of the nations of antiquity, predicted nothing beyond the ken of human sagacity, enlightened by a careful study of the experience of the past, and the invariable laws of nature; that it requires no inspiration to foretell the decay of perishing things; that the invariable progress of all things, empires as well as individuals, is first upward, through a period of youthful vigor and energy, then onward through a period of ripe maturity, and then downward, through a gradual decay, and final dissolution, to the inevitable grave. the world's history is but a history of the decline and fall of nations. . now, if this be true, it is an awful truth for the infidel, for _it sweeps away the last vestige of a foundation of his hope for eternity_. the only reason any unbeliever in revelation could ever give, or that modern rationalists do give, for their hope of a happy eternity, is the analogy of nature--the alleged constant progress of all things toward perfection in this world. it is an awkward truth that individually we must die, and the worms crawl over us; but then the wretched fate of the individual was to be compensated by the glorious progress of the race onward and ever onward and upward; from the fungus to the frog, and from the frog to the monkey, from the monkey to the man, from the noble savage wild in woods, to the pastoral tribe, thence to the empire and the federal republic, and finally to the reign of individual and passional attraction, and union with the sum of all the intelligences of the universe, through a constant progress toward infinite perfection. but, alas! it seems it was a false analogy, an ill-observed fact, a delusion; the course of nature is all the other way. the tendency of all perishing things is not to perfection, but to perdition; and it needs no inspiration to tell that man's loftiest towers, and strongest cities, and proudest empires will come to ruin; or that the most polished, powerful, and populous nations of antiquity will dwindle down into turks, moors, and egyptians. here is a fact of awful omen. death reigns in this world of ours; death moral, social, political, and physical, has ever trampled upon man, proud man, learned man, civilized man, over all the plans of man, over every man, and over every association of men, even the largest, the widest, the mightiest. and now the infidel, having taken away our hope of help from heaven, comes with the serpent's hiss, and fiendish sneer, to taunt the perishing world with this miserable truism--that the tendency of everything on earth is to perdition, and that it needs no inspiration to tell it. truly it does not. were that all the prophets of god had to tell us--as it is all the prophets of infidelity can prophecy--we had as little need for the one as for the other. earthquake and hurricane, volcano and valley flood, autumn frosts and winter blasts, fever, consumption, war, and pestilence, the grave-yard and the charnel-house, the parthenon and the pyramids, the silent cities of colorado, and the buried palaces of assyria, unite to attest this awful doom. but what reason has the skeptic to believe that this invariable law of nature shall ever be repealed, and this inevitable progress of all things to perdition be arrested? why may not men be as selfish, and filthy, and grasping, and murderous in the other world, as they are in this? why may not the course of nature be as fatal to the sinner's prosperity there as it is here? why may not the progress of the proud empires and spheres of futurity be such as the skeptic declares the progress of the past to have been, so invariably toward dissolution and death, that it shall need no inspiration to predict its course downward, downward, ever downward, to endless perdition? stand forward, skeptic, and point the world to an instance in which an ungodly nation has stemmed this all-destroying torrent of ruin; or acknowledge that all you can promise the nations of the world to come, from your experience of the invariable laws of nature, is _perdition, endless perdition_. . it is manifest, however, that this destruction of nations and desolation of empires must have had a beginning some time or other. nations could not perish before they had grown, nor empires be destroyed till they had accumulated; and during all this period of their growth and vigor the experience of mankind would never lead them to predict their ruin. the sagacious observer, beholding babylon, nineveh, damascus, and tyre, growing and flourishing during a period of a thousand years past, could have had no reason from such an experience to expect anything else than a thousand years of prosperity to come. especially impossible is it for human sagacity, enlightened by experience, to predict _unexampled_ desolations, destructions such as the world had never witnessed. _now the predictions of the bible are predictions of unexampled desolations, and unparalleled ruin of empires._ the desolation of any extensive region of the earth, or the overthrow of any great nation, was an event absolutely unknown to the world when the prophets of the bible began to utter their predictions; unless the skeptic will allow the truth of the bible record of the prediction and execution of the deluge, and the destruction of sodom. war and conquest had indeed caused some provinces to change masters; one nation had made marauding invasions on others, and carried off cattle and slaves; but the result of the greatest military operation of which we have any record, at the commencement of the prophetic era--the conquest of palestine by the israelites--so far from desolating the region, or exterminating the people, had been merely to increase its productiveness, and to drive its former occupants to new settlements, where at that era they were fully able to cope with their former conquerors. whatever the experience of thirty centuries may have since taught the nations concerning the certainty of the connection between national crime and national ruin, a long-suffering god had not then given any such signal examples of it, as those of which he gave warning by the prophets. the course of the nations and cities founded after the deluge had been regularly onward and prosperous, and they were just rising to the maturity of their power and splendor when jonah, micah, hosea, and isaiah, began to pronounce their sentences. they denounced desolation and solitude against nations more populous than this continent, one of whose cities enumerated more citizens than some of our proud commonwealths, and displayed buildings, a sight of whose crumbling ruins is deemed sufficient recompense for the perils of a journey of six thousand miles. the hundred churches of cincinnati could all have been conveniently arranged in the basement of the temple of belus; on the first floor our hundred thousand non-church-going citizens might have assembled to listen to a lecture on spiritualism from some eloquent chaldean soothsayer; and the remaining seven stories would have still been open for the accommodation of the natives of the original queen city. every product of earth was trafficked in the markets of tyre; a single jewish house imported annually more gold than all the banks of this continent possess; and the whole coinage of the united states since would want a hundred millions of dollars of the value of the golden furniture of a single temple in babylon. in fact, in the suburbs of babylon or nineveh, washington or cincinnati would have been insignificant villages; and the stone-fronted brick palaces of broadway and the fifth avenue would make passable stables and haylofts for the mansions of thebes or petra. so far, therefore, from being the teaching of experience, there was nothing more utterly unexampled and unparalleled than the complete desolation of any nation at the time the prophets of israel predicted such things. if the world has grown wiser since regarding the decline and fall of empires, it has gathered the best part of its sagacity from the prophecies. the degradation of the seed of ham, and the colonization of asia by the descendants of japhet, were however undeniably predicted by noah long before any examples or experiences of such things had occurred. centuries after the degradation of canaan had been predicted, his descendants were powerful, prosperous, and colonizing the shores of the world. but god foresaw, and compelled their ancestor to foretell, the corruption of the blood which would reduce his descendants to be servants of servants to their brethren; and now the ruins of their cities, and of the people descended from canaan, are proverbial alike in the libraries and slave markets of the world. but on the other hand, the colonization of the world by the descendants of japhet was as particularly predicted by noah as the degradation of the canaanites; and this can not be called a prediction of destruction, but rather of great prosperity: "god shall enlarge japhet." every emigrant ship which discharges its cargo at new york, and every new prairie farm in america, and every sheep ranch in australia, and every new cattle kraal in south africa fulfills the prediction: "he shall dwell in the tents of shem." the various greek, roman, english, and russian empires of asia attest the truth. from the volga to the amour, and from hong kong to singapore, and from the ganges to the indus, japhet to-day dwells in the tents of shem. . the prophecies of the bible are not vague general denunciations of natural decline and extinction to all the nations of the world, which, if they were merely the exposition of a universal _natural_ law of national death, they would be; nor yet the application of any such natural and inevitable law to some particular nation, denouncing its destruction, without any specification of time, manner, instrument, or cause of its infliction. they are all the applications of _moral law_--sentences pronounced on account of national wickedness. in every case the prophecy charges the crimes, and specifies the punishment, selected by the judge of all the earth. the nations selected as examples of divine justice are as various as their sentences are different; covering a space as long as from eastport to san francisco, and climes as various as those between canada and cuba; peopled by men of every shade of color and degree of capacity, from the negro servant of servants, to the builders of the coliseum, and the pyramids. they minutely describe, in their own expressive symbols, the nations yet unfounded, and kings unborn, who should ignorantly execute the judgments of the lord. they predict the futures of over thirty states, _no two of which are alike_; each prediction embracing a large number of minute particulars, any one of which was utterly beyond the range of human sagacity. to predict that a man will die may require no great sagacity; but to tell the year of his death, that he will die as a criminal, allege the crime for which he will be sentenced, the time, place, and manner of his execution, and the name of the sheriff who will execute the sentence, is plainly beyond the skill of man. such is the character of bible predictions. zedekiah's sentence was thus pronounced; and thus, too, the sentences of nations doomed to ruin for their crimes are recorded in the bible, that men may know that the mouth of the lord hath spoken them. if, for instance, a prophet should declare that new york should be overturned, and become a little fishing village, and that her stones and timber, and her very dust, should be scraped off and thrown into the east river; that philadelphia should become a swamp, and never be inhabited, from generation to generation; that columbus should be deserted, and become a hog-pen; that louisville should become a dry, barren desert; and new orleans be utterly consumed with fire, and never be built again; that learning should depart from boston, and no travelers ever pass through it any more; that new england should become the basest of the nations, and no native american ever be president of the union, but that it should be a spoil and a prey to the most savage tribes; and that the russians should tread washington under foot for a thousand years; but that god would preserve pittsburg in the midst of destruction--and if all these things should come to pass, would any man dare to deny that the prophet spake not the dictates of human sagacity, or the calculations of genius, but the words of god? to attempt to illustrate the divine wisdom displayed in a system of connected predictions, covering the destiny of the nations of the world, and extending from the dawn of history to the end of time, by presenting two or three instances of the fulfillment of specific predictions, would be something like exhibiting a fragment of a column as a monument of the skill of the architect of a temple; yet, as such a fragment may excite the curiosity of the traveler to visit the structure whence it was taken, i shall present two or three prophecies in which specific predictions are given, concerning the _geographical, political, social, and religious condition_ of three of the great nations of antiquity--_egypt, judea, and babylon_--the fulfillment of which is spread over the surface of empires and the ruins of cities, patent to all travelers at the present hour, and abundantly attested in many volumes.[ ] could human sagacity have calculated that egypt--the most defensible country in the world, bounded on the south by inaccessible mountains, on the east by the red sea, on the west by the trackless, burning desert; able to defend the mouths of her river with a powerful navy, and to drown an invading army every year by the inundation of the nile; which had not only maintained her independence, but extended her conquests for a thousand years past, whose victorious king, apries, had just sent an expedition against cyprus, besieged and taken gaza and sidon, vanquished the tyrians by sea, mastered phoenicia and palestine, and boasted that not even a god could deprive him of his possessions--egypt, which had given arts, sciences, and idolatry to half the world, and which had not risen to the full height of its world-wide fame, or the extent of its influence for twenty-five years after the prediction[ ]--that egypt should be invaded, conquered, spoiled, become a prey to strangers and evermore to strangers, never have a native prince, sink into barbarism, renounce idolatry, and become famous for her desolations? yet the bible predictions are specific on all these matters: "_i will make the rivers dry, and sell the land into the hand of the wicked: and i will make the land waste, and all that is therein, by the hand of strangers: i the lord have spoken it. thus saith the lord god; i will also destroy the idols, and i will cause the images to cease out of noph; and there shall be no more a prince of the land of egypt._"[ ] let infidels read the fulfillment of these predictions, as described by infidels: "such is the state of egypt. deprived twenty-three centuries ago of her natural proprietors, she has seen her fertile fields successively a prey to the persians, the macedonians, the romans, the greeks, the arabs, the georgians, and at length the race of tartars distinguished by the name of the ottoman turks. the mamelukes, purchased as slaves and introduced as soldiers, soon usurped the power and selected a leader. if their first establishment was a singular event, their continuance is not less extraordinary; they are replaced by slaves brought from their original country."[ ] says gibbon: "a more unjust and absurd constitution can not be devised than that which condemns the natives of the country to perpetual servitude under the arbitrary dominion of strangers and slaves. yet such has been the state of egypt about five hundred years. the most illustrious sultans of the baharite and beyite dynasties were themselves promoted from the tartar and circassian bands; and the four and twenty beys, or military chiefs, have ever been succeeded, not by their sons, but by their servants."[ ] mehemet ali cut off the mamelukes, but still egypt is ruled by the turks, and the present ruler (ibrahim pasha) is a foreigner. it is needless to remind the reader that the idols are cut off. neither the nominal christians of egypt, nor the iconoclastic moslem, allow images to appear among them. the rivers, too, are drying up. in one day's travel forty dry water-courses will be crossed in the delta; and water-skins are needed now around the ruined cities whose walls were blockaded by greek and roman navies. "_it shall be the basest of the kingdoms; neither shall it exalt itself any more above the nations: for i will diminish them, that they shall no more bear rule over the nations._"[ ] every traveler will attest the truth of this prediction. the wretched peasantry are rejoiced to labor for any who will pay them five cents a day, and eager to hide the treasure in the ground from the rapacious tax-gatherer. i have seen british horses refuse to eat the meal ground from the mixture of wheat, barley, oats, lentiles, millet, and a hundred unknown seeds of weeds and collections of filth, which forms the produce of their fields. for poverty, vermin, and disease, egypt is proverbial. let us hear a scoffer's testimony, however: "in egypt there is no middle class, neither nobility, clergy, merchants, nor landholders. a universal air of misery in all the traveler meets points out to him the rapacity of oppression, and the distrust attendant upon slavery. the profound ignorance of the inhabitants equally prevents them from perceiving the causes of their evils, or applying the necessary remedies. ignorance, diffused through every class, extends its effects to every species of moral and physical knowledge. nothing is talked of but intestine troubles, the public misery, pecuniary extortions, and bastinadoes."[ ] the objector perhaps will allege in extenuation the modern improvements now in progress, the suez canal, the railroads, the steamboats on the nile, the bridge across the nile at cairo, and the sugar and cotton plantations. but if these were as evident tokens of progress in egypt, as they would be in america, they would not in the least invalidate the facts of the past degradation of egypt for centuries. but these speculations of the khedive are of no advantage to the people; rather, on the contrary, do they afford him additional opportunities of exacting forced labor from the miserable peasants. i have seen the population of several villages, forced to leave their own fields in the spring, to march down to an old, filthy canal, near cairo, and almost within sight of the gate of the palace, men, and women, and little boys, and girls, like those of our sabbath-schools, scooping up the stinking mud and water with their hands, into baskets, carrying them on their heads up the steep bank, beaten with long sticks by the taskmasters to hasten their steps; while steam dredges lay unused within sight. egypt is still the basest of the nations. here, then, we have conclusive proof of the fulfillment at this day of four distinct, specific, and improbable bible predictions: concerning the country, the rulers, the religion, and the people of egypt. let us note now a distinct and totally different judgment pronounced against the transgressors of another land. pre-eminent in inflicting destruction on others, her retribution was to be extreme. degradation and slavery were to be the portion of the learned egyptians, but utter extinction is the doom of mighty babylon. it is written in the bible concerning the land where the farmer was accustomed to reap two hundred-fold: "_cut off the sower from babylon, and him that handleth the sickle in the time of harvest. * * * every purpose of the lord shall be performed against babylon, to make the land of babylon a desolation without an inhabitant. * * * behold the hindermost of the nations shall be a wilderness, a dry land, and a desert. * * * because of the wrath of the lord it shall not be inhabited, but it shall be wholly desolate._"[ ] proofs in abundance of the fulfillment of these predictions present themselves in every volume of travels in assyria and chaldea. "those splendid accounts of the babylonian lands yielding crops of grain of two and three hundred fold, compared with the modern face of the country, afford a remarkable proof of the _singular desolation_ to which it has been subjected. the canals at present can only be traced by their decayed banks. the soil of this desert consists of a hard clay, mixed with mud, which at noon becomes so heated with the sun's rays, that i found it too hot to walk over it with any degree of comfort."[ ] "that it was at some former period in a far different state is evident from the number of canals by which it is traversed, now dry and neglected; and the quantity of heaps of earth, covered with fragments of brick and broken tiles, which are seen in every direction--the indisputable traces of former cultivation."[ ] "the abundance of the country has vanished as clean away as if the besom of desolation had swept it from north to south; the whole land, from the outskirts of babylon to the farthest stretch of sight, lying a melancholy waste. _not a habitable spot appears for countless miles._"[ ] as the desolation of the country was to be extraordinary, so the desolation of the city of babylon was to be remarkable. when the prophet wrote, its walls had been raised to the height of three hundred and fifty feet, and made broad enough for six chariots to drive upon them abreast. from its hundred brazen gates issued the armies which trampled under foot the liberties of mankind, and presented their lives to the nod of a despot, who slew whom he would, and whom he would allowed to live. twenty years' provisions were collected within its walls, and the world would not believe that an enemy could enter its gates. nevertheless, the prophets of god pronounced against it a doom of destruction as extraordinary as the pride and wickedness which procured it. tyre, the london of asia, was to _become a place for the spreading of nets_,[ ] and the infidel volney tells us its commerce had declined to _a trifling fishery_; but even that implies some few resident inhabitants. rabbah, of ammon, was to become _a stable for camels and a couching place for flocks_.[ ] lord lindsay reports that "he could not sleep amidst its ruins for the bleating of sheep, that the dung of camels covers the ruins of its palaces, and that the only building left entire in its acropolis is used as a sheepfold."[ ] yet sheepfolds imply that the tents of their arab owners are near, and that some human beings would occasionally reside near its ruins. but desolation, solitude, and utter abandonment to the wild beasts of the desert is the specific and clearly predicted doom of the world's proud capital. the most expressive symbols are selected from the desert to portray its desertion. "_babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the chaldees' excellency, shall be as when god overthrew sodom and gomorrah. it shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation: neither shall the arabian pitch tent there; neither shall the shepherds make their fold there: but wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there. and the wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their desolate houses, and dragons in their pleasant palaces._"[ ] every traveler attests the fulfillment of this strange prediction. "it is a tenantless and desolate metropolis," says mignon; who, though fully armed, and attended by six arabs, could not induce them by any reward to pass the night among its ruins, from the apprehension of evil spirits. so completely fulfilled is the prophecy, "_the arabian shall not pitch his tent there._" the same voice which called camels and flocks to the palaces of rabbah, summoned a very different class of tenants for the palaces of babylon. rabbah was to be a sheepfold, babylon a menagerie of wild beasts; a very specific difference, and very improbable. one of the later persian kings, however, after it was destroyed and deserted, repaired its walls, converted it into a vast hunting-ground, and stocked it with all manner of wild beasts; and to this day the apes of the spice islands, and the lions of the african deserts, meet in its palaces, and howl their testimony to the truth of god's word. sir r. k. porter saw two majestic lions in the mujelibe (the ruins of the palace), and fraser thus describes the chambers of fallen babylon: "there were dens of wild beasts in various places, and mr. rich perceived in some a strong smell, like that of a lion. bones of sheep and other animals were seen in the cavities, with numbers of bats and owls." various destructions were predicted for babylon. "_i will make it a habitation for the bittern, and pools of water_,"[ ] says one prophecy. "_her cities are a desolation, a dry land, and a wilderness_,"[ ] says another. how can such contradictions be true? says the scoffer. but the scoffer's contradiction is a fact. god can cause the most discordant agencies to agree in effecting his purpose. babylon is alternately an overflowed swamp, from the inundations of the obstructed euphrates, and an arid desert, under the scorching rays of an eastern sun. says mignon: "morasses and ponds tracked the ground in various places. for a long time after the subsiding of the euphrates great part of this place is little better than a swamp." at another season it was "a dry waste and burning plain." even at the same period, "one part on the western side is low and marshy, and another an arid desert."[ ] another, and widely different agent, to be employed in the destruction of the great center of tyranny and idolatry, is thus specifically and definitely indicated in the prediction: "_behold, i am against thee, o destroying mountain, saith the lord, which destroyest all the earth: and i will stretch out my hand upon thee, and roll thee down from the rocks, and will make thee a burnt mountain. and they shall not take of thee a stone for a corner, nor a stone for foundations; but thou shalt be desolate forever, saith the lord._"[ ] "there is one fact," says fraser, "in connection with the most remarkable of these relics (the birs nimrod), which we can not dismiss without a few more observations. all travelers who have ascended the birs have taken notice of the singular heaps of brick-work scattered on the summit of this mound, at the foot of the remnant of the wall still standing. to the writer they appeared the most striking of all the ruins. that they have undergone the most violent action of fire is evident from the complete vitrification which has taken place in many of the masses. yet how a heat sufficient to produce such an effect could have been applied at such a height from the ground is unaccountable. they now lie on a spot elevated two hundred feet above the plain, and must have fallen from some much more lofty position, for the structure which still remains, and of which they may be supposed originally to have formed a part, bears no marks of fire. the building originally can not have contained any great proportion of combustible materials, and to produce so intense a heat by substances carried to such an elevation would have been almost impossible, for want of space to pile them on. nothing, we should be inclined to say, short of the most powerful action of electric fire, could have produced the complete, yet circumscribed, fusion which is here observed. although fused into a solid mass, the courses of bricks are still visible, identifying them with the standing pile above, but so hardened by the power of heat, that it is almost impossible to break off the smallest piece; and, though porous in texture, and full of air-holes and cavities, like other bricks, they require, on being submitted to the stone-cutter's lathe, the same machinery as is used to dress the hardest pebbles."[ ] the doom of nineveh, the great rival and predecessor of babylon, was also predicted as the result of two apparently contradictory agencies--an overrunning flood and a consuming fire. but both these antagonistic elements conspired to devour her. the river, with an overrunning flood, swept away a large portion of the walls. the besiegers entered through the breach, and set the city on fire. the charcoal, burnt beans, and slabs of half-calcined alabaster, in the british museum, demonstrate the fulfillment of the prediction. egypt was to be reduced to slavery and degradation. babylonia to utter barrenness and desolation; but a different and still more incredible doom is pronounced in the bible upon judea and its people. the land was to be emptied of its people, and remain uncultivated, retaining all its former fertility, while the people were to be scattered over all the earth, yet never to lose their distinct nationality, nor be amalgamated with their neighbors: "_i will make your cities waste, and bring your sanctuaries unto desolation, and i will not smell the savor of your sweet odors. and i will bring the land into desolation: and your enemies which dwell therein shall be astonished at it. and i will scatter you among the heathen, and will draw out a sword after you: and your land shall be desolate, and your cities waste. then shall the land enjoy her sabbaths, as long as it lieth desolate, and ye be in your enemies' land; even then shall the land rest, and enjoy her sabbaths._"[ ] "_until the cities be wasted without inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land be utterly desolate, and the lord have removed men far away, and there be a great forsaking in the midst of the land. but yet in it shall be a tenth, and it shall return, and shall be eaten: as a teil-tree, and as an oak, whose substance is in them, when they cast their leaves._"[ ] "_the generation to come, of your children that shall rise up after you, and the stranger that shall come from a far land, shall say, * * * wherefore hath the lord done thus unto this land? what meaneth the heat of this great anger?_"[ ] it is superfluous to adduce proof of the undeniable and acknowledged fulfillment of these predictions, but as an example of the way in which god causes scoffers to fulfill the prophecies, let us again hear volney: "i journeyed in the empire of the ottomans, and traversed the provinces which were formerly the kingdoms of egypt and syria. i enumerated the kingdoms of damascus and idumea, of jerusalem and samaria. this syria, said i to myself, now almost depopulated, then contained a hundred flourishing cities, and abounded with towns, villages, and hamlets. what has become of so many productions of the hand of man? what has become of those ages of abundance and of life? _great god! from whence proceed such melancholy revolutions? for what cause is the fortune of these countries so strikingly changed? why are so many cities destroyed?_ why is not that ancient population reproduced and perpetuated? a mysterious god exercises his incomprehensible judgments. he has doubtless pronounced a secret malediction against the earth. he has struck with a curse the present race of men in revenge of past generations."[ ] the malediction is no secret to any who will read the twenty ninth chapter of deuteronomy; nor is the avenging of the quarrel of god's covenant confined to the sins of past generations. the philosopher who would understand the fates of cities and empires should read the prophecies. the word of god specifies no less distinctly and definitely the destiny of the jewish than of the babylonian capital, but fixes on a widely different kind of destruction. babylon was never to be built again, but devoted to solitude; busy tyre to become a place for spreading nets; the caravans, which once brought the wealth of india through petra, were to cease, and the doom was to "cut off him that passeth by and him that returneth." but jerusalem, it was predicted, should long feel the miseries of a multitude of oppressors, should never enjoy the luxury of a solitary woe, but "_be trodden down of the gentiles_."[ ] saracens, tartars, turks, and crusaders, gentiles from every nation of the earth, fulfilled the prediction of old, even as hosts of pilgrims from all parts of the earth do at this day. so minute and specific are the predictions of scripture, that the fate of particular buildings is accurately defined. one temple to the living god, and only one, raised its walls in this world, which he had made for his worship. its frequenters perverted it from its proper use of leading them to confess their sinfulness, to seek pardon through the promised savior to whom its ceremonies pointed, and to learn to be holy, as the god of that temple was holy. they hoped that the holiness of the place would screen them in the indulgence of pride, formality, and wickedness. the temple of the lord, instead of the lord of the temple, was the object of their veneration. but the doom went forth. "_therefore for your sakes shall zion be plowed as a field, and jerusalem shall become as heaps, and the mountain of the house like the high places of the forest._" history has preserved, and the jews to this day curse the name of the soldier, terentius rufus, who plowed up the foundations of the temple. it long continued in this state. but the emperor julian the apostate conceived the idea of falsifying the prediction of jesus, "_behold your house is left unto you desolate_,"[ ] and sent his friend alypius, with a roman army, and abundant treasure, to rebuild it. the jews flocked from all parts to assist in the work. spades and pickaxes of silver were provided by the vanity of the rich, and the rubbish was transported in mantles of silk and purple. but they were obliged to desist from the attempt, for "horrible balls of fire breaking out from the foundations with repeated attacks, rendered the place inaccessible to the scorched workmen, and the element driving them to a distance from time to time, the enterprise was dropped."[ ] such is the testimony of a heathen, confirmed by jews and christians. the inclosures of the mosque of omar, forbidding them all access to the spot on which it stood, leave it desolate to the jews to this day. i have seen them (in ) kissing a few large stones, supposed to belong to its foundations or sub-structures, from the outside; for which miserable privilege they were obliged to pay their oppressors. on approaching the spot from the zion gate, right across mount zion to the temple ruins, our way lay through a plowed field of young barley, and gardens of cauliflowers hedged with enormous rows of cactus. to this day zion is plowed as a field. . no sane man can believe that such minute and accurate predictions of various and improbable events could be the result of human calculations; yet there is another feature of the bible prophesies still farther removed beyond the reach of human sagacity, and that is, remarkable and unaccountable _preservation amidst the general ruin_. if, as skeptics allege, destruction is the natural and inevitable doom, then preservation is supernatural and miraculous--a miracle of divine power controlling nature; and its prediction is a miracle of divine wisdom. now the prophecies of the bible contain several very definite, and widely different predictions of the preservation of people and cities from the general destruction. we shall refer in this case also to those of whose fulfillment there can be no manner of doubt, for the facts are palpable and undeniable at the present day. the prediction of the character and fate of the arabs stands out a remarkable contrast to the predictions of the destruction of the surrounding nations. of their ancestor, ishmael, it was predicted: "he will be a wild man; his hand shall be against every man, and every man's hand against him; and he shall dwell in the presence of all his brethren."[ ] the nomad and warlike habits of the sons of ishmael are here distinctly predicted; and the singular anomaly which exempts them alone, of all the people of the earth, from the law, "they that take the sword, shall perish by the sword." the unconquered arab laughs alike at the persian, greek, roman, turkish, and french invaders of his deserts, levies tribute on all who enter his territory, and dwells to-day, a free man, in the presence of all his brethren, as god foretold. of the israelitish nation god predicted, that it should be a peculiar, distinct people, separate from the other nations of the world: "_lo, the people shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among the nations._"[ ] in apparent contradiction to this separation, he further threatened to punish them for their sins, by dispersing them over the world: "_i will scatter you among the heathen, and will draw out a sword after you._"[ ] "_for lo, i will command, and i will sift the house of israel among all nations, like as corn is sifted in a sieve, yet shall not the last grain fall upon the earth._"[ ] it was further threatened, as if to make sure of their national destruction: "_and among these nations shalt thou find no ease, neither shall the sole of thy foot have rest: but the lord shall give thee there a trembling heart, and failing of eyes, and sorrow of mind: and thy life shall hang in doubt before thee; and thou shalt fear day and night, and shall have none assurance of thy life._"[ ] contrary to all appearances, and in spite of all this dispersion and persecution, it is predicted that israel shall still exist as a nation, and be restored to the favor of god, and that prosperity which ever accompanies it: "_and yet for all that, when they be in the land of their enemies, i will not cast them away, neither will i abhor them, to destroy them utterly, and to break my covenant with them: for i am the lord their god._"[ ] here are four distinct predictions, of national peculiarity, universal dispersion, grievous oppression, and remarkable preservation. the fulfillment is obvious, and undeniable. you need no commentary to explain it. go into any clothing-store on western row, or into the synagogue in broadway, and you will see it. the infidel is sorely perplexed to give any account of this great phenomenon. how does it happen that this singular people is dispersed over all the earth, and yet distinct and unamalgamated with any other? how does it happen that for eighteen hundred years they have resisted all the influences of nature, and all the customs of society, and all the powers of persecution, driving them toward amalgamation, and irresistible in all other instances? in the face of the power of the chinese empire, in spite of the tortures of the spanish inquisition, amid the chaos of african nationalities, and the fusion of american democracy, in the plains of australia, and in the streets of san francisco, the religion, customs, and physiognomy of the children of israel are as distinct this day as they were three thousand years ago, when moses wrote them in the pentateuch, and shishak painted them on the tombs of medinet abou. how does the infidel account for it? it will not do to allege the favorite story about purity of blood and caucasian race; for the question is, how does it happen that this people, and this people alone, have kept the blood pure; while all other races are so mingled that no other race can be found pure on earth? besides, lest any should suppose such a cause sufficient for their preservation, another nation, descended from the same father and the same mother--the children of jacob's twin brother--has utterly perished, and there is not any remaining of the house of esau. human sagacity, with all the facts before its face, can not give any rational account of the causes of this anomaly. it can not tell to-day why this people exists separate from, and scattered through all nations, from kamschatka to new zealand; how, then, could it foretell, three thousand years ago, this singular exception to all the laws of national existence? while the sun and moon endure, the nation of israel shall exist as god's witness to god's word, an undeniable proof that the mouth of the lord hath spoken it. a very peculiar feature of the desolation of israel was the _desolation_, but not the _destruction_ of the cities. in most cases of the desolations of war, the cities have been burned and the buildings destroyed. there is no shelter for man or beast in the mounds of rubbish which cover the ruined cities of assyria. where the buildings have not been destroyed, or have been rebuilt, they have again been inhabited; as we see in the cases of rome, constantinople, jerusalem, and many others. but on the cities of israel it was written that god's curse should go forth "till the cities should be wasted without inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land be left utterly desolate." but for a long time the literal fulfillment of this prediction was not witnessed, as the cities on this side the jordan had been mostly reduced to ruins. the richest and most populous part of the land, however, was the land of bashan; where, in a territory of about thirty miles by twenty, sixty cities still remain standing to attest the wonderful fertility of the soil and industry of the people. "and though the vast majority of them are deserted, _they are not ruined_. * * * many of the houses in the ancient cities of bashan are perfect, as if only finished yesterday. the walls are sound, the roofs unbroken, the doors, and even the window shutters in their places."[ ] from two hundred to five hundred houses have been found perfect in some of these cities; and from the roof of the castle of salcah, dr. porter counted thirty towns and villages dotting the plain, many of them perfect as when first built; "yet for more than five centuries there has not been an inhabitant in one of them." so sure is every word of god. take another instance of preservation, so remarkable amid the surrounding destruction, that it arrested the attention and admiration of the author of the decline and fall of the roman empire, skeptic and scoffer though he was. the seven churches of seven of the most considerable cities of asia were then, as the churches of christ still are, the salt of the earth. ten righteous men would have averted god's judgments from sodom. jesus pronounced the sentences of these churches seventeen hundred and sixty years ago, and the present condition of the cities attests the divine authority of the record containing them. they are various and specific. three were to be utterly destroyed. against two no special threatening is denounced. to the remaining two promises of life and blessing are given. ephesus, famous for its magnificence, the busy avenue of travel, the seat of the temple of diana, long the residence of an apostle, and afterward of christian bishops--"one of the eyes of asia"--as it stood first on the roll of cities, first receives the doom of abused privileges: "_i will remove thy candlestick out of its place, unless thou repent._" says gibbon: "the captivity and ruin of the seven churches of asia was consummated (by the ottomans) a. d. ; and the barbarous lords of ionia and lydia still trample on the monuments of classic and christian antiquity. in the loss of ephesus the christians deplored the fall of the first angel, and the extinction of the first candlestick of the revelation. _the desolation is complete_, and the temple of diana or the church of mary will equally elude the search of the curious traveler."[ ] since gibbon's day the foundations of the temple have been discovered twelve to fourteen feet below the soil; but no church of christ remains to illuminate the minds of the few squalid and lazy dwellers in the village of aisayalouk. one cobbler's stall represented the whole manufacturing industry of ephesus; and four boys playing a game like drafts, with pebbles, in front of it seemed the only public likely to patronize its theater, as i took note of its people and their occupations, in . then leaving the storks in their nests, on the top of the ruined arches of its great aqueduct, to proceed toward the ruins of the great theater, we tried in vain to procure horses or asses for the ladies; found the only road so filled with water from the recent rains as to be impassable, and were fain to plunge on foot through the plowed fields till we reached the elevation on which it was erected. here we surveyed its rock-hewn seats, capable of accommodating an audience larger than that of all the theaters of new york; but there was no longer a voice to cry, "great is diana of the ephesians!" the sea has forsaken the harbor, which is now a pestilential morass. we passed through the ruins of the custom-house, now miles inland, and found a single turkish soldier on guard. the peasants who cultivate some parts of the plain come from distant villages, and fever, filth, and beggary reign in ephesus. had the twenty thousand patrons of the drama, in the thirty-one theaters of new york, honored the theater of laodicea with their presence, its polite citizens would have accommodated them all on the reserved seats, retiring themselves to ten thousand less commodious sittings, and to two less gigantic theaters. while yet busy in the erection of their splendid places of public amusement, jesus said, "_i will spew thee out of my mouth._" "the circus, and three stately theaters of laodicea, are peopled with wolves and foxes," says gibbon. the church was spewed out of christ's mouth, and the city too. it has been overturned by earthquakes, and is now nothing but a series of magnificent ruins, from which, however, ample evidence may be collected of its former magnificence. those of the aqueduct, the theater, and the amphitheater, are remarkable; in the latter an inscription has been found showing that it was in course of erection when the lord dictated the warning to its people. but the warning was unheeded, and now the whole space inside the city walls is strewn with fragments of columns and pedestals. a lydian capitalist once deposited in the vaults of sardis more specie than is now in circulation in this whole continent. but jesus said, "_thou hast a name that thou livest and art dead. if, therefore, thou shalt not watch, i will come upon thee as a thief, and thou shalt not know what hour i will come upon thee._" "sardis," says gibbon, "is a miserable village." a later writer (durbin) tells us that the turks say, "every one who builds a house in sardis dies soon, and avoid the spot." arundell, in his account of his visit to the seven churches, says: "if i were asked what impresses the mind most strongly on beholding sardis, i should say, its indescribable _solitude_, like the darkness of egypt, that could be felt. so deep the solitude of the spot, once the lady of kingdoms, produces a feeling of desolate abandonment in the mind which can never be forgotten." connect this feeling with the message of the apocalypse to the church of sardis, "thou hast a name that thou livest, and _art dead_, and then look around and ask, where are the churches? where are the christians of sardis? the tumuli beyond the hermus reply, '_all dead!_'--suffering the infliction of the threatened judgment of god for the abuse of their privileges. let the unbeliever, then, be asked, is there no truth in prophecy?--no reality in religion?" only twenty-seven miles north of this desolate metropolis, the manufactories of thyatira dispatch weekly to smyrna, cloths, as famous over asia for the brilliancy and durability of their hues as those which lydia displayed to the admiration of the ladies of philippi. two thousand two hundred greek christians, two hundred armenian, and a protestant church under the care of the missionaries of the american board of commissioners of foreign missions, assemble every sabbath to commemorate the resurrection of him who said to the church of thyatira: "_i will put upon you no other burden; but that which ye have already hold fast till i come._" the fragrant citron (_bergamot_) still flourishes around the birthplace of galen; but the ruins of the famous library of , manuscripts are far less durable memorials of the city of booksellers than those beautifully dressed skins, which, taking their name (_pergamena_) from the place of their manufacture, will preserve the name and fame of pergamos as long as parchment can preserve man's memorials, or god's predictions. though famous for fragrance, physic, and philosophy, pergamos was infamous for idolatry, licentiousness, and persecution; yet still endeared to jesus as the scene of the martyrdom of faithful antipas, and the dwelling-place of a hidden church; and widely different sentences are recorded against those opposite classes. the public memorials are to perish, but the hidden word to endure. "the fanes of jupiter and diana, and venus and esculapius (worshiped under the symbol of a live snake), were prostrate in the dust, and where they had not been carried away by the turks to cut up into tombstones or pounded into mortar, the corinthian columns and the ionic, the splendid capitals, the cornices and the pediments, all in the highest ornament, were thrown in unsightly heaps,"[ ] is the comment on the threatening of jesus, "_i will fight against them_--the idolaters--_with the sword of my mouth_." the , greek and armenian christians, and even the , turkish inhabitants of the modern pergamos, have received hundreds of copies of the promise, "_to him that overcometh will i give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth, saving he that receiveth it._" but whether the hidden church of pergamos shine forth or not, gibbon was inaccurate in stating, in the face of facts, that "the god of mohammed without a rival is invoked in the mosques of pergamos and thyatira." god's providence is as discriminating as his prophecy, though unbelief may overlook both. we have noted here instances of the prediction of remarkable destruction to sardis, ephesus, and laodicea; of continued existence to pergamos and thyatira; let us now note a prediction of remarkable escape and preservation from the universal doom. if it requires no inspiration to prophecy destruction--the universal fate of humanity, according to the infidel--surely it requires more than human skill to say that any city shall escape this universal fate, and more than human power to avert this destruction. of philadelphia, but twenty-five miles distant from the ruins of sardis, jesus said, and the bible records the prophecy: "_i know thy works: behold, i have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it: for thou hast a little strength, and hast kept my word, and hast not denied my name. behold, i will make them of the synagogue of satan, which say they are jews, and are not, but do lie; behold, i will make them to come and worship before thy feet, and to know that i have loved thee. because thou hast kept the word of my patience, i will also keep thee from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon all the world, to try them that dwell upon the earth. behold, i come quickly: hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown. him that overcometh will i make a pillar in the temple of my god; and he shall go no more out: and i will write upon him the name of my god, and the name of the city of my god, which is new jerusalem, which cometh down out of heaven from my god: and i will write upon him my new name._" "philadelphia alone," says gibbon, "has been saved by prophecy, or courage. at a distance from the sea, forgotten by the emperors, encompassed on all sides by the turks, her valiant sons defended their religion and their freedom alone for fourscore years, and at length capitulated with the proudest of the ottomans. among the greek colonies and churches of asia, philadelphia is still erect--_a column in a scene of ruins_--a pleasing example that the paths of honor and safety may be the same." in the pages of this eloquent writer it would be hard to discover another instance of unqualified hearty commendation of soldiers or sufferers for christianity and liberty, such as gibbon here bestows on philadelphia's valiant sons. but it was written, "_i will make them come and worship before thy feet_," and the skeptic and scoffer must fulfill the word of jesus; even as the unbelieving mohammedan also does, when he writes upon it the modern name, allah sehr--_the city of god._ _a majestic solitary pillar_, of high antiquity, arrests the eye of the traveler, and reminds the worshipers in the six modern churches of philadelphia of the beauty and faithfulness of the prophetic symbol. heaven and earth shall pass away, but jesus' word shall not pass away. improbable to human sagacity as this preservation must have seemed, the resurrection of a fallen city is more utterly beyond man's vision. in the bible, however, tribulation and recovery were foretold to smyrna: "_fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison that ye may be tried; and ye shall have tribulation ten days. be thou faithful unto death, and i will give thee a crown of life._" "the populousness of smyrna is owing to the foreign trade of the franks and armenians," says the scoffer. no matter to what it is owing, he who dictated the bible foresaw it, and made no mistake in foretelling it. says arundell: this, the other eye of asia, is still a very flourishing commercial city, one of the very first in the present turkish empire in wealth and population, containing , inhabitants. the continued importance of smyrna may be estimated from the fact that it is the seat of a consul from every nation in europe. the prosperity of smyrna is now rather on the increase than the decline, and the houses of painted wood, which were most unworthy of its ancient fame and present importance, are rapidly giving way to palaces of stone rising in all directions; and, probably, ere many years have passed, the modern town may not unworthily represent the ancient city, which the ancients delighted to call the crown of ionia. commercial activity and architectural beauty, however, are but a small part of the glorious destiny of the community to which jesus says, "i will give thee a crown of life." mark twain suggests that the prophecy refers to the church, rather than to the city; but forgets to remind us that the church of christ is well represented and crowned with life in smyrna. god's predictions regard the vital part of communities, the spiritual forces; these, vigorous and outspreading, secure the material progress. close the bible house, printing presses, and schools of america, and real estate would not be worth much more than in asia. the lord christ rules this world. his blessing has revived both the church and the city of smyrna, according to his promise. in i found its harbor busy with coasting craft and ocean steamers, and its railroad doing a brisk business. smyrna is a live city. deliverance from the curse of sin, and communion with the lord of life, alone can secure either a nation's or an individual's immortality. smyrna possesses the gospel of salvation. several devoted english and american missionaries proclaim salvation to its citizens. from its printing presses thousands of copies of the word of life issue to all the various populations of the turkish empire. a living church of christ in smyrna holds forth, for the acceptance of the dying nations around her, that crown of life promised and granted by the word of god, not to her only, but to all who love his appearing and his kingdom. . this is the grand distinction of god's word of prophecy, _that it is the word of life_. it is the only word which promises life, the only word which bestows it on fallen humanity. recognizing no inevitable law of destruction but the sentence of god, no invariable law of nature superior to the counsel of jehovah, nor any progress of events which his almighty arm can not arrest and reverse, it points a despairing world to sin as the cause of all destruction, to satan as the author of sin, to ungodly men in league with him as the foes of god and man, and to christ pledged to perpetual warfare with such until the last enemy be destroyed. this word of prophecy tells us, that the battle-fields messiah has won are earnests of that great victory; points to the columns which he has preserved erect amid scenes of ruin, as assurances that he is able to save to the uttermost all that come unto god by him; goes to the graveyards where fallen smyrnas, idolatrous saxons, debased sandwich islanders, and cannibal new zealanders have buried the image of the living god, and in jesus' name proclaims, "_i am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live_;" and, amid the very ruins of destroyed cities, and the crumbling heaps of their perished memorials, beholds the assurances that satan's rule of ruin shall not be perpetual, anticipates the day when the course of sin and misery shall be reversed, and teaches adam's sons to face the foe, and chant forth that heaven-born note of victorious faith, "_oh, thou enemy! destructions are come to a perpetual end._" come forth, trembling skeptic, from the cave of thy dark invariable experience of death and destruction, and from the vain sparks of thy misgiving hopes of an ungodly eternity to come less miserable than the past, and lift thine eyes to this heavenly sunrising on the dark mountain tops of futurity, the like of which thou didst never dream of in all thy pantheistic reveries. search over all the religions of the world--the hieroglyphics of egypt, the arrow-headed inscriptions of assyria, the classic mythologies of graceful greece and iron rome, the monstrous shasters of thine indian pundits, or the more chaotic clouds of thy german philosophies--in none of them wilt thou ever find this divine thought, _an end of destructions--a perpetual end_. cycles of ruin and renovation, and of renovation and ruin, vast cycles, if you will, but evermore ending in dire catastrophies to gods and men--an everlasting succession of death and destructions--is the fearful vista which all the religions of man, and thine own irreligion, present to thy terrified vision. but thou wast created in the image of the living god, and durst not rest satisfied with any such prospect. now i come in the name of the lord to tell thee, that "god so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him _should not perish, but have everlasting life_;" and i demand of thee that thou acknowledge this promise of life everlasting to be the word of that living god, and to show cause, if any thou hast, why thou dost relinquish thy birthright, and spurn the gift of everlasting life which is in christ jesus our lord? but, if thou hast no sufficient cause why thou shouldest choose death rather than life, then hear, and your soul shall live, while i relate the promise which god hath made of old to our fathers, and hath fulfilled to us, their children, by raising up his son, jesus christ, from the dead, and sending him to bless you, by turning away every one of you from your iniquities. for there can be no deliverance from misery and destruction but by means of delivery from sin and satan. it is quite in agreement with the manner of our deliverance from any of the evils of our fallen condition, that our deliverance from the power of sin and satan be effected by the agency of a deliverer. our ignorance is removed by the knowledge of a teacher, our sickness by the skill of a physician, the oppressed nation hails the advent of a patriotic leader, and oppressed humanity acknowledges the fitness and need of a divine deliverer, even by the ready welcome it has given to pretenders to this character, and by the longing desire of the wisest and best of men for a divinely commissioned savior; a desire implanted by the great prophecy, which stands at the portal of hope for mankind, in the very earliest period of our history, that "_the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head_," and so leave man triumphant over the great destroyer. the prophecies regarding the messiah are so numerous, pointed, various, and improbable, as to set human sagacity utterly at defiance; while they are also connected so as to form a scheme of prophecy, which gradually unrolls before us the advent, the ministry, the death, resurrection, and ascension of the lord, the progress of his gospel over all the world, and the blessed effects it should produce on individuals, families, and nations. it closes with a view of the second coming of jesus to conquer the last of his enemies, and take possession of the earth as his inheritance. i can only lop off a twig or two from this blessed tree of life, in the hope that the fragrance of the leaves may allure you to take up the bible, and eat abundantly of its life-giving promises. as i have in the previous chapters abundantly proved the veracity of the new testament history, i shall now with all confidence refer to its account of the birth, life, and death of jesus, as illustrating the prophecies. the time, the place, the manner of his birth, his parentage and reception, were plainly declared, hundreds of years before he appeared. when herod had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he demanded of them where christ should be born, and they said unto him, "in bethlehem of judea, for thus it is written by the prophet: _and thou bethlehem, in the land of judah, art not the least among the princes of judah: for out of thee shall come a governor, that shall rule my people israel._" the first verse of this chapter records the fact, "now when jesus was born in bethlehem of judea." the throne of judah was to be occupied by strangers, and the line of native princes was to cease upon the coming of this governor, and not till his coming: "_the scepter shall not depart from judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, until shiloh shall come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be._" on the day of his crucifixion the rulers of the jews made this formal and public announcement of the fact, "we have no king but cæsar." he was to address a class of people whom no other religious teacher had condescended to notice before, and very few save those sent by him ever since: "_the spirit of the lord god is upon me; because the lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek: he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound._" hear jesus' words: "come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and i will give you rest. go and show john again those things which ye do hear and see: the blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, _and the poor have the gospel preached to them_. and blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me." yet, notwithstanding his feeding of thousands, and healing of multitudes, and teaching of the lowest of the people, it was foretold he should be unpopular: "_he is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not._" the brief records are: "then all the disciples forsook him and fled." "then began peter to curse and to swear, saying, i know not the man." "pilate saith unto them, ye have a custom, that i should release unto you one at the passover: will ye therefore that i release unto you the king of the jews? then cried they all again, saying, not this man, but barabbas. now barabbas was a robber." all the prophets agree in predicting that for the sins of his people, and to atone for their guilt, he should be put to death by a shameful public execution: "_in the midst of the week messiah shall be cut off, but not for himself. he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors. they pierced my hands and my feet._" the record says: "the son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many." "and when they were come to the place which is called calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left. then said jesus, _father, forgive them; for they know not what they do._" the one grand unparalleled fact, one which demands the hope of dying men for a victory over the great destroyer, and a resurrection from the tomb--the fact that one man born of a woman died, and did not see corruption, but rose again from the dead and went up into heaven, and dieth no more--forms the theme of many a prophetic psalm of triumph: "_thou wilt not leave my soul in hell, nor wilt thou give thine holy one to see corruption. thou wilt show me the path of life. thou wilt make me full of joy with thy countenance. thou hast ascended on high. thou hast led captivity captive._" often did jesus predict this prodigy before friend and foe: "_sir, we remember that that deceiver said, when he was yet alive, after three days i will rise again._" the last chapters of the gospels relate the proofs by which he convinced his incredulous disciples that the prophecy was fulfilled: "behold my hands and my feet, that it is i myself. handle me and see, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have. and when he had thus spoken, he showed them his hands and his feet. and while they yet believed not for joy, and wondered, he saith unto them, have ye here any meat? and they gave him a piece of broiled fish, and of an honey comb. and he took it and did eat before them; and said unto them, thus it is written, and thus it behooved christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day; and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations, beginning at jerusalem. and ye are witnesses of these things. and behold i send the promise of my father upon you, but tarry ye in the city of jerusalem until ye be endued with power from on high. and he led them out as far as to bethany, and he lifted up his hands and blessed them. and while he was blessing them he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven. and while they looked steadfastly toward heaven, as he went up, behold two men stood by them in white apparel, which said, ye men of galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven." with your own eyes you shall see the fulfillment of this prophecy. every eye shall see him. the clouds of heaven shall then reveal the vision now sketched on the page of revelation: "and i saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away, and there was found no place for them. and i saw the dead, small and great, stand before god; and the books were opened; and another book was opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works. and the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them; and they were judged every man according to their works. and death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. this is the second death. and whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire. and i saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea. and i john saw the holy city, new jerusalem, coming down from god, out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. and i heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, behold the tabernacle of god is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and god himself shall be with them, and be their god. and god shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying: neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away. and he that sat upon the throne said, _behold, i make all things new._ and he said unto me, write, for these words are true and faithful." footnotes: [ ] jewish church, , . the bible, . [ ] de die natali, c. , cited in pusey on daniel, . [ ] isaiah, chap. xlvi. - . [ ] newton on the prophecies, and keith on the prophecies, are to be found in all respectable libraries. the former contains valuable extracts from ancient historians; the latter from the journals and engravings of travelers. [ ] wilkinson's ancient egyptians, i. . herodotus, ii. . [ ] ezekiel, chap. xxx. [ ] volney's travels, i. , . [ ] decline and fall, chap. lix. [ ] ezekiel, chap. xxix. [ ] volney, i. . [ ] jeremiah, chaps. l. and li. [ ] mignon's travels, . [ ] trans. bombay lit. soc. i. . [ ] porter's babylonia, ii. . [ ] ezekiel, chap. xxvi. [ ] ezekiel, chap. xxv. [ ] lindsay's travels, ii. , . [ ] isaiah, chap. xiii. [ ] isaiah, chap. xiv. [ ] jeremiah, chap. li. [ ] mignon, . [ ] jeremiah, chap. li. [ ] fraser's mesopotamia, page . [ ] leviticus, chap. xxvi. [ ] isaiah, chap. vi. [ ] deuteronomy, chap. xxix. [ ] volney's ruins of empires, book i. [ ] luke, chap. xxi. [ ] micah, chap. iii. matthew, chap. xxii. [ ] ammianus marcellus, d chap. i. [ ] genesis, chap. xvi. . [ ] numbers, chap. xxiii. [ ] leviticus, chap. xxvi. [ ] amos, chap. ix. [ ] deuteronomy, chap. xxviii. [ ] leviticus, chap. xxvi. [ ] porter's giant cities of bashan, passim. [ ] decline and fall, chap. lxiv. [ ] macfarlane's seven apocalyptic churches. chapter ix. moses and the prophets. in the foregoing chapters we have found, that we have great need of god's teaching; that he has sent his son, jesus christ, to show us the way of life; that the gospel preached by him and his apostles has proved itself the power of god, by saving men from their sins; and that this gospel is truly recorded in the new testament. from these facts, already settled, we proceed, according to our plan of investigation, to examine those which may be more obscure; to examine the old testament by the light of the new. the great majority of jews and christians have always believed, that the world was in as great need of god's teaching before the coming of christ as it has been since; that god did put his words into the mouths of certain persons, called prophets; and that he caused them to tell them truly to their neighbors; that he enabled these prophets to make predictions of future events beyond the skill of man to calculate, and to do miracles which the power of man could not perform, as proofs that they spake the word of god; that he caused them truly to record in writing a great many of these revelations, and so much of the history of the times in which, and of the people to whom, they were given, as was needful for a right understanding of them; that he has so managed matters since, as that these revelations and narratives have been faithfully preserved in the books of the old testament; that we are bound to believe these revelations to be true, not because we can otherwise demonstrate their truth, but because god, who can not lie, has declared it; and that we are bound to do the things they command, not merely because we see them to be right, but because god commands us. it is needful to consider the divine authority of the old testament distinctly from that of the new, not only because it is a distinct subject in itself, and because our plan of investigation leads us backward from the known and established fact of the divine authority of the new testament to the discovery or disproof of the like character in the old; but because a great many persons admit, in words at least, that christ was a teacher sent from god, who, either in so many words, or in effect, deny the divine authority of the old testament. some of the modern rationalists have revived the creed of the gnostics of the first century--that the hebrew jehovah was a being of very different character from the deity revealed by jesus christ. they will extol to the skies the world-wide benevolence, compassion and kindness of the gospel of christ, in contrast with the alleged national pride, bigotry, and exclusiveness of the hebrew prophets. others are desirous of appearing remarkably candid in bestowing on the old testament a liberal commendation as a collection of religious tracts of merely human origin, and of various degrees of merit; some of them of extraordinary literary excellence, well suited to the infancy of the human intellect, and highly useful in their time in raising men from fetichism and idolatry to the worship of one god; but which, containing many errors along with this grand truth, have been set aside by the more perfect teachings of christ and his apostles, much in the same way as the old ptolemaic astronomy was displaced by the discoveries of newton. others still are willing to acknowledge the old testament as inspired, provided we will allow shakespeare and the koran to be inspired also. besides all these, there are several scores of scholars anxious to conceal its nakedness under theories of inspiration made and trimmed in a great many styles, but all cut from the same doctrine, to wit, that god revealed his truth aright to moses and the prophets, but they went wrong in the telling of it. now, all these notions are refuted by the fact, that god is the author of the bible. when we say that god is the author of the bible, and that it carries with it a divine authority because it is the word of god, we do not mean that god is the author of every saying in it, and that every sentiment recorded in it is god's mind, any more than we mean to make d'aubigne responsible for every sentiment of priests, popes and monks which he has faithfully recorded in his history of the reformation. on the contrary, we find, in the very beginning of the bible, a very full expression of the devil's sentiments recorded in the devil's own words--_ye shall not surely die_--and they are not one whit less devilish and lying, though recorded in the bible, than when expounded by any modern universalist preacher. but we mean that it is very true that the devil was the preacher of that first universalist sermon: and that god thought it needful to let mankind know the shape of the doctrine, the character of the preacher, and the consequences of listening to error; and therefore directed moses to record it truly for the information of all whom it may concern. so there are many other sayings of wicked men, and even of good men, recorded in the bible, which are very false; but the bible gives a true record of them, by god's direction, that we may not be ignorant of satan's devices. nor, when we say that god directed the prophets what to write, and how to write it, so that they did not go wrong in the writing of his word, do we mean that he also so guided every piece of their behavior, as that they never went wrong in doing their own actions; nor that the sins of the saints, recorded in the bible, are anything the less sinful for being recorded there, or for being performed by men who ought to have known better. there is not a perfect man upon the earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not. if the bible had left the faults of its writers undiscovered it would not have been a true history. but these very writers of the bible tell us their own transgressions, under the direction of the spirit of god; a thing writers in general are very shy about. moses tells us how he spake unadvisedly with his lips, and was punished for it. david's penitential psalms record the bitter tears he wept over his transgression; tears which could not wash out the sentence against the man after god's own heart--_the sword shall never depart from thy house_. an overburdened people, a rotten court, a falling empire, continual strife, a family of scolding women, and a foolish son--might have been considered sufficient marks of god's displeasure, without causing the wisest of men to pen, and publish to the world, such a minute record of his madness, folly and misery, as we find in ecclesiastes. but these shipwrecked mariners were divinely directed to pile up the sad memorials of their errors on the reefs where they were wrecked, as beacons of warning to all inexperienced voyagers on life's treacherous sea. the light-house is built by the same authority as the custom-house, and is even more necessary. now let us take note of the objects of our investigation. we are not in search of the literary beauty or poetic inspiration of the bible; but we inquire by what right does it command our obedience? nor are we about to inquire whether, when we have tried the bible at the tribunal of our reason, we shall give it a diploma to commend it to the patronage of other critics; but whether it comes to us attested by such evidence of being the word of god, that our reason shall reverently bow down before it as a higher authority, and seek light from it by which to judge of all spiritual and moral matters. attempts are continually made to confuse these great questions, by concessions of the literary excellence of the bible, on the part of those who deny its divine authority. for instance, one of the modern oracles of infidelity says, and his admirers incessantly repeat the grand discovery: "the writings of the prophets contain nothing above the reach of the human faculties. here are noble and spirit-stirring appeals to men's conscience, patriotism, honor and religion; beautiful poetic descriptions, odes, hymns, expressions of faith almost beyond praise. but the mark of human infirmity is on them all, and proofs or signs of miraculous inspiration are not found in them."[ ] but what do the toiling millions of earth care about beautiful poetic descriptions of a heaven and a hell that have no reality? or what does it signify to you or me, reader, that the bible raises its head far above the other cedars of earthly literature? if its top reaches not to heaven, can it make a ladder long enough to carry us there? the bible contains predictions beyond the reach of the human faculties, as we have fully proved. these predictions at least are from god, and have no mark of human infirmity on them. it does not at all meet this question to grant that the bible is inspired, just as every work of genius is inspired; nor to profess that they believe the bible to be from god, just as every pure and holy thought, and every good work, proceed from him. when the assertors of the divine authority of the bible speak of it as inspired, they mean that it is so as no other book is; and when they speak of it as coming from god, they mean that it does not come simply as a gift of god's bounty, as the soldier's land-warrant comes from the government; but that it comes like the laws of congress, carrying authority with it to command our obedience. we feel no interest whatever in the discussion of an inspiration, "like god's omnipotence, not limited to the few writers claimed by the jews, christians and mohammedans, but as extensive as the race;"[ ] or perhaps as extensive as all creation, and leading us to regard even "the solemn notes of the screech owl" as inspired.[ ] what manner of use could the bible be to an ignorant soul groping its way to truth and holiness, or to a dying sinner hastening to the judgment seat of god, if it were true, that "the bible's own teaching on the subject is that everything good in any book, person or thing, is inspired? milton and shakespeare, and bacon and the canticles, the apocalypse and the sermon on the mount, and the eighth chapter of the romans are all inspired. how much inspiration they respectively contain must be gathered from their results."[ ] this liberal grant of inspiration, alike to moses and mohammed, to christ and to shakespeare, is evidently a denial of divine authority to any of them. if hamlet, and the sermon on the mount, and the koran, are all of a like divine authority, or all alike without any, it is merely a matter of taste whether i worship at niblo's or the tabernacle, or keep a harem in my house or a prayer-meeting. most men, however, find it hard to believe that christ and mohammed taught exactly the same religion, or that the church and the theater are precisely equal and alike in their influences on the heart and life; and so they reject several of these inspired men, and cleave to the one they like best. whereas, if this theory be true, they ought not to act in such a disrespectful way toward any inspired man; but ought to attend the church, the theater and the harem with equal regularity, and serve god, mammon and belial with equal diligence. "oh," it is replied, "they are not all inspired in the same degree. it does not follow that because byron, and shakespeare, and paul are all inspired, that their writings will produce exactly the same results, or that they are alike suitable for every constitution and temper. how much inspiration they severally possess must be determined by their results. the tree is known by its fruits; and experience is the price of truth." but truth may be bought too dear. i am sick and need some medicine, but know not exactly what kind, or how much to take. "here," says my rationalist friend, "is a whole drug store for you. every drawer, and pot, and bottle is full of medicine. help yourself." but, my good sir, how am i to know what kind will suit me? there are poisons here, as well as medicines; and i can not tell the difference between arsenic and calomel. one of my neighbors died the other day from swallowing oxalic acid instead of glauber's salts. be kind enough to put the poisons on one shelf, and the medicines on the other, or, at least, to label them, so that i may know which to choose and which to refuse. "oh," says my rationalist friend, "this distinction between medicines and poisons is all an antiquated, vulgar prejudice. what you call poisons are really medicines. medical virtue is not confined to the few specifics recognized by the homeopathics, the regular faculty, or the hydropathics, but is as extensive as the world. everything on earth has a medical virtue; but how much, and of what sort, must be determined by experience. in fact, you must try for yourself whether any particular drug will kill you, or cure you. so here is the whole drug store to begin your cure with." a valuable gift, truly! "in the day we eat thereof, our eyes will be opened, and we shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." i think, reader, you and i will let somebody else try that experiment. "why should men throw away their common sense, and swallow everything as inspired?" says another friend of the rationalistic school. "god has given us reason to discern between good and evil, and commanded us to use it. _prove the spirits, whether they be of god._ _i spake as to wise men._ _judge ye what i say_, is the language of scripture. the right of private judgment is the inalienable inheritance of protestants. i am for examining the bible according to the principles of reason and truth. 'that only is to be regarded as true and valid which is matter of personal conviction.' the old testament is in many places contrary to my convictions of truth and reason. i find that it consists of a great variety of treatises of various degrees of merit. even in the same book it presents often strange contrasts--sublime moral precepts on one page; on the next, solemn requirements of frivolous ceremonies, utterly unworthy of god; or solemn narrations of miraculous interferences with the established course of nature, which, taken literally, are absolutely incredible. the judicious reader must therefore discriminate between those divine precepts of morality which were infused into the minds of the hebrew sages, and those jewish prejudices which their education and character inclined them to regard as equally important; and he must divest the narrative of facts as they actually occurred, from the national legends and traditions which the compilers of the pentateuch added to adorn the history." this, it will be seen, at once raises another and very important question, namely: by what standard are the writings of the old testament to be judged? or rather it settles the question by taking it for granted, that every inquirer is to judge them according to his own notions of reason and truth. but this does not help me out of my difficulty; for it supposes me already to possess the knowledge, and the virtue, which a revelation from god is needed to communicate. if i am able, by my own reason, to construct a perfect standard of morals to judge the bible by, what need have i for the bible revelation? and if i have the right to refuse obedience to any commands i may judge frivolous or unreasonable, before i know whether they came from god or not, and am bound to obey only those which agree with my notions of right, what authority has the law of god? a revelation from god which should submit its truths to be judged by the ignorance, and its commands by the inclinations, of sinful men, would by that very submission declare its worthlessness. the use of a divine revelation is either to tell us some truth of which we are ignorant, or to enjoin some duty to which we are disinclined. besides, it is not possible to make any such dissection of the moral precepts of the bible, from the miraculous history which forms their skeleton, as will leave them either truth or authority. it is the miraculous history that gives sanction to the divine morality, and without it the ten commandments would have no more hold on any man's conscience than the wise saws which poor richard says. take, for instance, one of the first and most important of the bible moralities--the sacredness of marriage--which is wholly based upon a narrative of events utterly unparalleled; and, if judged by the usual course of nature, perfectly incredible. the original difference in the formation of man and woman, and god's making at first one man and one woman, and joining them together with his blessing, constitute the reasons, and consecrate the pledge of marriage. "_for this cause shall a man leave his father and mother_--although the claims of the parental relation are very strong--_and cleave to his wife_--with whom it may be he has but a few weeks' acquaintance--_and they two shall be one flesh_. _what therefore god hath joined together let no man put asunder._" but if the cause had no existence, save in the brain of some antediluvian novel-writer, and god did not so unite them, the consequence is only a notion also, and any man may leave his wife whenever he likes. by far the most incredible narrative in the bible is contained in the first verse: "_in the beginning god created the heavens and the earth._" all the other miracles recorded in it sink into familiarity compared with this stupendous display of the supernatural. to the believer of this first great miracle none of its subsequent narratives can seem incredible. but it is precisely upon this unexampled and incredible narrative that the whole structure of bible morality is built. if this extraordinary narrative be rejected as false, all the moral precepts of the bible are not worth a feather. the morality of the bible, then, stands or falls with its history of god's supernatural works among men. it has been argued, that no amount of testimony can authenticate accounts of miracles; since a miracle, being a violation of the laws of nature, is contradicted by an unalterable experience, but only supported by fallible human testimony. but every step of this sophism is in error. a miracle can not be proven to be any more a violation of the laws of nature, than the existence of the nature regulated by laws. it may be more unusual, but not more supernatural. the restoration of life to a dead man is no greater violation of the laws of nature than the first bestowal of life on dead matter. were the resurrections as common as childbirths nobody would consider them violations of the laws of nature. moreover, our knowledge of the laws of nature is not based upon my experience, or yours, but upon the testimony of our teachers; which, so far from being uniform and invariable as to the supremacy of the commonplace in nature, is perfectly conclusive as to the repeated occurrence of the miraculous. the miracles of scripture are better authenticated than the facts of science. scientific men talk a great deal of nonsense about the laws of nature, as if they were the only agents known in this world. but every man knows that he himself possesses the power to control the laws of nature, by bringing a higher law to arrest a lower; as when the power of vegetation arrests the law of gravitation, and sends the drop of rain which had trickled down the outside of the bark of the pine, climbing up again a hundred feet; or as when the power of animal life converts a hundred weight of grass into a leg of mutton; or as when the power of the human intellect transforms a pound of zinc into telegrams, or a ton of niter and sulphur into death and destruction. now if man can thus control and use the laws of nature for human purposes, why can not the god who made him so cunning do as much? aye, and as much more as god is greater than man? but we are told that no testimony can prove that any wonderful work has been wrought by god. "no testimony can reach to the supernatural; testimony can apply only to apparent sensible facts; testimony can only prove an extraordinary, and perhaps inexplicable, phenomenon or occurrence; that it is due to supernatural causes is entirely dependent on the previous belief or assumption of the parties."[ ] but when christ said, "if i cast out devils by the spirit of god, then the kingdom of god is come unto you;" or when he said, at the grave of lazarus, to martha, "said i not unto thee that if thou wouldest believe thou shouldest see the glory of god?" can we not believe our lord's testimony, that he cast out devils, and raised the dead, by the direct intervention of god? he appeals to his miracles as evidences of his divine authority: "the works that i do in my father's name, they bear witness of me." "if i do not the works of my father, believe me not. but if i do though ye believe not me, believe the works; that ye may know and believe that the father is in me, and i in him."[ ] now i demand to know whether this testimony of our lord is not to be believed? and whether he does not directly claim to work miracles by the immediate power of god? the testimony of the man whom god authenticates, by enabling him to do such miracles as those of moses and of christ, is conclusive as to the power by which they are wrought. so you read in exodus iii. that god commissioned moses to work miracles as signs of his divine commission, and seals of his testimony recorded in the bible. if we proceed now to examine the facts of this history, it is evident, that neither your reason or mine, nor our personal convictions, can be any rule of what is true and valid. the most that reason can say about history is, that the story seems probable; but so does any well-written novel; or that it is improbable; but truth is often stranger than fiction; and every genuine history relates wonderful events. neither does our personal knowledge enable us to tell what was the original historical fact, how much was added by the hebrew prejudices of moses, and which are the legends with which it was afterward adorned; for neither you nor i were there to see. nor can any two of those critics, who have undertaken to divide the facts from the fables according to their personal convictions of what is true and valid, agree upon any common principle of gleaning, or in gathering in their results. and if they could, the crop would not be worth barn-room; for the only conclusion in which they seem at all likely to agree is, that the story of creation in the beginning of the book is a myth, like one of ovid's metamorphoses; and that the prophecy of the resurrection, at the end, is another; and that there are a great many legends in the middle. now, if so, why winnow such chaff? but while the jewish people exist as a distinct race, it is impossible rationally to deny some extraordinary origin of their extraordinary character and customs; and the bible is the only history which pretends to tell it. the utter failure of rationalistic criticism to give any rational account of the facts which must be admitted to account for the existence of the jews as a distinct people, is ludicrously apparent in the attempts generally made to explain the miraculous narratives of the bible. the tree of good and evil was a poisonous plant, like the poison oak, or the machineal tree, under which our first parents fell asleep, and dreamed about the temptation, and the fall. the shining face of moses was the natural effect of electricity. zechariah's vision was the smoke of the lamps of the golden candlestick in the temple. the wise men of the east were some peddlers who presented toys to the child jesus; and the star which went before, their servant carrying a torch. the angels who ministered to christ in his temptation were a caravan bearing provisions. the transfiguration was an electric storm. the plagues of egypt, the passage of the red sea, and the miracles of the desert, were merely natural phenomena, dextrously used by moses and aaron to suit their purpose. it is alleged that these enthusiastic patriots, full of the superstitions of an early age, which attributed all prodigies to god, and placed all heroes under his guidance, succeeded by their fiery eloquence in inspiring their captive countrymen with the love of liberty; and had political dexterity enough to create a faction in their favor in the egypt cabinet. then taking advantage of a fortunate succession of calamities arising from natural causes--such as an extraordinary rising of the nile, in consequence of which it was more deeply colored than usual with the red mud of nubia, and overflowed the country to a greater extent than usual, leaving on its retreat numerous ponds, which, of course, bred swarms of frogs and gnats, and raised malaria, spreading various sicknesses over the land, both to man and beast; a devastating visit of locusts, the well-known scourge of africa; a remarkable thunder-storm, accompanied with hail, causing great havoc of growing crops, as such hail-storms always do; followed by the chamsin, or dust-storm from the desert, darkening the air with clouds of dust and sand; and by an extraordinary mortality, the natural result of these various causes--they persuaded the superstitious egyptians that these calamities were tokens of the displeasure of the god of the hebrews, and improved the opportunity to escape, while the resources of the egyptians were exhausted, and their minds confounded by these various misfortunes. leading them to that part of the red sea south of suez, where a succession of shoals stretch across from the egyptian to the arabian side, they crossed safely at low water, while the egyptian army perished by the rising of the tide; and the israelites betaking themselves to a wandering, pastoral life in the wilderness of arabia, lived, as the bedouins do at this day, on the milk of their flocks and the manna which was spontaneously produced by the tamarisk trees of sinai; where they remained until they had framed a civil and religious code, and whence they prosecuted their conquests in various directions for fifty years, until their invasion of palestine. this is the sum of what, with various modifications, rationalist writers and preachers present us, as the genuine historic basis of the mosaic narrative. it really does seem to have been very fortunate for the israelites that so many misfortunes should happen to fall upon their oppressors, all in one season, and just at the time that men of such cleverness as moses and aaron were among them; and that the egyptians should luckily have imbibed the superstition, that all nature was under the direction of a supreme moral governor, who was able and willing to wield all the elements for the punishment of oppressors. it was also very lucky for these poor, overworked, and oppressed slaves--the class which in all other ages and countries suffers most from hard times--that they should have escaped unhurt by these calamities; for if they had suffered by them as well as the egyptians, they could not have persuaded them that god favored israel. here one can not but wonder that these learned egyptians, whose colleges of priests were planted on the banks of the nile, and who had made the climate, soil, and productions of their native land their constant study, should have been so ignorant of these natural causes of the plagues--so easily discovered nowadays by anybody who makes a summer trip to egypt--as to be terrified into emancipating their slaves by a stormy season. just imagine to yourself a couple of abolitionist lecturers proceeding to lexington and commanding the slaveholders of kentucky to liberate their slaves immediately, on pain of the ohio being muddy during high water, and the swamps of the river-bottom being full of frogs and musquitoes! but this interpretation does not reach the climax of absurdity till our rationalist punch, by way of signalizing his deliverance from egyptian bondage, makes pharaoh and his army forget that the tide ebbs and flows in the red sea, raises the tide over a shoal faster than cavalry could gallop from it, gathers an annual crop of twenty millions of bushels of manna from the thorn-bushes of sinai, and feeds three millions of men, women, and children for forty years upon purgative medicine!!! "we must then give up the problem as insoluble; for if reason be insufficient to give authority to the bible, and criticism fails to discover its truth, how are we to know that it possesses either?" just as you would discover the truth of any other history, or the authority of any other law. you do not say, "the tale of the successive swellings of the catawba, the yadkin, and the dan--three times in a fortnight, in february, , immediately after the american army had retreated across these rivers, preventing cornwallis and the british forces from crossing till the little handful of weary and famished patriots had escaped--savors of the marvelous and leans so much toward the superstition of a special providence, that it must be rejected as not historical." you inquire if there be sufficient testimony to the fact. you do not say, "the revised statutes present internal evidence of being a collection of political tracts by various authors, written at different times, differing also in style, and of various degrees of merit, many of them contrary to my inmost personal convictions; therefore i can not acknowledge them as true and valid." you simply ask if this be a true copy of the laws passed by the legislature and signed by the governor? our inquiry about the truth of the history, and the authority of the laws of the bible, must be of the same kind--an inquiry after testimony. is this book genuine or a forgery? is it a true history or a lying romance? have we any testimony on the subject? but it is alleged that the book contains in itself evidence of having been written in an unscientific age, and in an unhistorical manner; and, particularly, that its statements of the creation of the world, and of mankind, only six thousand years ago, are refuted by the discoveries of geology; which show us, that the world is many millions of years old, and that man has been on this world at least one hundred thousand years. in support of this last assertion, geologists refer to the remains of the lake dwellings in switzerland; to skeletons of men found in caves, with bones of animals now extinct; to flint tools and weapons found in gravel beds, said to be of remote antiquity; to bones found deep in the mississippi bottom; and to the monuments of egypt. in replying to this objection, we have first to say that we have elsewhere, in this volume, shown that the bible nowhere alleges that god created the earth only six thousand years ago, but in many places emphatically affirms the contrary. in the second place, as to the antiquity of man, the bible nowhere says, that adam was the first human being whom god created; nor that he and his posterity were the only intelligent beings occupying this world before our tenancy of it; nor that we are even now the exclusive occupants. on the contrary, it makes very distinct allusions to other races, capable of assuming serpentine, swinish, and human bodies, and of meddling disastrously in earthly affairs in former times; though, as it does not profess to teach us truths which do not concern us, it gives us no narration of the creation or history of pre-adamite animals or men. but there is no more ground of objection against the bible for neglecting to give us a history of pre-adamite men, if there were such men, than for neglecting to describe the pre-adamite animals, or the coal measures, or the nebulæ, or the climate, soil, population, and politics of jupiter. the bible has one great object--to teach men how to be holy and happy; and it can not be shown that the chronicles of the pre-adamites, if they kept chronicles of their alleged savage state, would help us in the acquisition of holiness. no discoveries, then, which geologists may make of pre-adamite races of men, can at all affect the credit of moses' account of the creation of adam, and of the history of his family. they may fill museums, if they please, with their flint arrow-heads and axes, they may pile up pyramids of stone mortars, they may perhaps some day discover an old-world bronze railroad, and bronze-clad or copper-bottomed steamboats, they may produce pre-adamic electric, aeronautic engines, and magnetic sewing machines, or bone needles, we care not which; and we will admire them, and confess that they are very curious, and perhaps very old; but unless they can show that adam was descended from these old-world folks, we have no biblical quarrel with them. like moses, we will let them rest in peace. but we would remark, thirdly, that no such discoveries have yet been made. no human bone, implement, or monument, has yet been discovered which can be proved to be more ancient than adam, or nearly so ancient. there is not a single indisputable fact to show, that any of the tools, bones, or monuments; alleged in this discussion, is of any specific date whatever, save that the danish bogs came down to the date of the danish invasion of ireland in the eleventh century; the burnt corn of the swiss lake dwellings was probably that which julius cæsar describes the helvetians as burning preparatory to their invasion of gaul; and the monuments of egypt, for which bunsen claimed twenty thousand years, are now acknowledged by the best egyptologists to reach not quite to b. c. as to the bone found at the base of the bluff at memphis, it was not found _in situ_, and probably was washed out of some indian grave at the top, and buried in the _debris_. the abbeville skull[ ] _had a fresh tooth in it_, for which thirty-five thousand years was claimed, until examination by a competent committee exposed the deception. where there is a good paying demand for pre-adamite skulls, there will always be a good supply. dr. dowler calculates the age of a skeleton of an indian, found at the depth of sixteen feet in digging the gas works at new orleans, at fifty thousand years; while the u. s. coast surveying department show that the whole delta is not more than four thousand four hundred years old. these gross errors, which affront our common sense, wherever we are able to test geological calculations, fill us with mistrust of their allegations of evidence, which, from the nature of the case, we can not test. of this class is the discovery of human bones in caves containing the bones of cave bears, rhinocerii, mammoths, and other extinct animals. the argument is that man and these animals lived at the same time. very well, what time was that? there is no evidence to show that it was a hundred thousand years ago. the siberian hunters fed their dogs on the flesh of a mammoth they found frozen in mud bluffs at the mouth of the lena, and its hair and wool are now in the museum of st. petersburg. dr. warren's _mastodon giganteus_ had some bushels of pine and maple twigs, in excellent preservation, in its stomach, when exhumed in orange county, new york; and you may see for yourself the vegetable fiber found in its teeth in his museum in boston.[ ] does any one believe that the vegetable fiber and maple twigs have kept their shape one hundred thousand years? the mammoth found in the ditch of the tezcucoco road must have fallen in after the incas had dug that ditch. the indians have a tradition that their fathers hunted a huge deer with a hand on his face, which slept leaning against the trees. and there is good geological reason for believing that the final extinction of the mammoth, the european rhinoceros, and their contemporaries, was caused by the change of climate in northern europe, asia, and america, caused by the elevation of these northern lands, which has been going on since the tenth century, and which, about three centuries ago, closed the polar sea, rendering greenland uninhabitable. the juxtaposition, then, of the bones of man and extinct animals is no proof of the remote antiquity of either. and no proof has been made from the nature or depth of the overlying deposits. the shape, size, and general character of the skulls alleged to be of such remote antiquity give no countenance to the theory of man's brutal origin; which is the great thing to be gained by giving him a remote antiquity. the enghis skull is in no way inferior to many good modern indian skulls; and the man of mentone stood six feet one in his stocking soles (if he wore stockings), having a good john bull head between his shoulders, with a facial angle equal to that of generals grant or von moltke; and in fact being a fine old gallic gentleman, all of the good old times. geologists, however, lay stress on the cumulative character of the evidence they produce; owning that no single fact is conclusive, but claiming that credence should be given to the accumulation of facts. but no accumulation of ciphers will amount to anything. all the alleged facts are found to be fatally defective either in authenticity or definiteness. no multitude of doubts can assure us of the certainty of a fact or assertion. the evidence for the pre-adamite antiquity of man is only a gathering of facts doubtful, and wholly indeterminate, without any element of proof of remote antiquity.[ ] but there is a source of evidence of the most undeniable character, to which we may appeal for a decision of the subject. the law of population is as certain as any other law of nature; and it tends to the regular increase of mankind. population tends to double itself every twenty-five years, as we see in the united states. in less favored countries the rate is not so rapid. in europe it doubles every fifty years; and nowhere in less than two centuries. and the result is, that if the human race had existed on this earth under existing laws of nature, as the evolutionists allege, for one hundred thousand years, not only must they have multiplied until their bones would have covered the earth, and filled the sea, but, as sir john herschel shows, they would have formed a vertical column, having for its base the whole surface of the earth, and for its height three thousand six hundred and seventy-four times the sun's distance from the earth![ ] the existing population of the globe corresponds pretty well to the natural increase of three pairs in forty centuries, which is something near to the bible chronology. the laws of population, then, inexorably refuse the indefinite, or even the remote antiquity of mankind, and vindicate moses as a writer of truthful history. the alleged anachronisms of the pentateuch have been adduced as testimony that it could not have been written till long after the time of moses. these alleged anachronisms are generally the insertion of a modern name of a city instead of the ancient name, or an explanatory addition which would not have been necessary in the days of moses. now if all these cases could be proved, they would at most only show that the scribes who copied the manuscripts in later ages had inserted these explanatory changes or additions, under proper authority. everybody's common sense will tell him, that moses did not narrate his own death in the last chapter of deuteronomy; but it is none the less true though joshua, or some other prophet, added that postscript. but hengstenberg has[ ] examined these alleged anachronisms in detail, and shown that the objectors allow themselves to interpolate into the text a meaning of their own in order to show the inaccuracy of the bible. for instance, genesis xii. , "the canaanite was then in the land," they maintain could only be written after the canaanites had been driven out. they interpolate _still_, which is not in the text. but they entirely mistake the meaning of the passage, which refers to an earlier statement of the same fact, chapter x. , to show that abraham, the heir of the promise, came as a stranger and a pilgrim to a land preoccupied by a powerful people, who are again mentioned, chapter xiii. , for the purpose of showing how lot and abraham came to be so crowded as to separate. another of the prominent instances is the name of the ancient city of hebron, which, in the book of joshua, is said to have been anciently called kirjath-arba. but numbers xiii. , which states that hebron was built seven years before zoan in egypt, and was the residence of ahiman, sheshai, and talmai, the sons of anak, shows that the writer was well acquainted with the history of the place, and genesis xxxv. shows that hebron was the first name, and that it had two other names added to it, both after the time of abraham, since mamre was his contemporary, and the anakim lived centuries later. this may stand for a specimen of the alleged anachronisms of the pentateuch. but now comes bishop colenso with his slate and pencil to demonstrate to us that, no matter who wrote it, or by what external authority it is commended, the pentateuch is so full of arithmetical errors, and of impossible narratives, in its accounts of common affairs, as well as in its miraculous stories, that not only is it not the word of god, but that it is not even a truthful history, and stands self-convicted of being a collection of fables. of course, if that can be proved, there is an end of the matter, though it would still seem strange that it should have been left for the bishop to discover moses' ignorance of arithmetic, and of camp-life among the arabs. nevertheless the very novelty of a bishop assaulting the bible in such a style has secured for him a large number of readers, many of them ignorant enough to believe his assertions, though too indolent to test his calculations, or even to read the passages he criticises. this renders some notice of his criticisms necessary according to our plan of considering objections according to their popularity, rather than according to their merit. for, on examining the bishop's objections to the bible, they are all found to arise from want of science, want of sense, or ignorance of scripture--an inability to read the scriptures in their original hebrew, or even to cite them correctly in english. in some criticisms he contrives to compile these three kind of blunders into a single chapter, making a mosaic of very amusing reading indeed. of course we can only give specimens of his peculiar style of attack on the bible; for to expose all his blunders would require some volumes as large as his own. but we shall select illustrative instances of the bishop's blunders from each of the departments indicated above. as a specimen of the bishop's blunders in science, let us take the first which he offers--his attempt to convict moses of a contradiction to geology in his account of the deluge. bishop colenso declares that the bible teaches that the deluge was universal, and that this is contradicted, among other things, by certain geological discoveries, in auvergne, of volcanic cones of light cinders, which would have been swept away by any such flood. aye, if they had only been there at that time! but eli de beaumont, a learned geologist, not convicted of so many blunders as the bishop, alleges that the whole of the system of teanarus, including the elevation of stromboli, and Ætna, has been formed since the catastrophe of the principal alps; and that the volcanoes of auvergne and the vivarrus are of post-adamic origin.[ ] so the bishop's geology does not contradict what he thinks the bible says after all. on the contrary, so far from geology contradicting a universal deluge, the best geologists speak of every part of the earth having been repeatedly under the sea, and they collect its fossils on the tops of the mountains. but the bishop ought to know that hundreds of years ago, before geology was born, some of the most learned bishops and theologians of his own church, as well as some of the chief scholars of the dissenters, following the most learned of the hebrew rabbis, did not believe that the bible taught that the deluge was universal. for instance, bishop stillingfleet, in his great work, _origines sacra_, says: "i can not see any urgent necessity from the scriptures to assert that the flood did spread over all the surface of the earth. that all mankind, those in the ark excepted, were destroyed by it, is most certain, according to the scriptures. the flood was universal as to mankind, but from thence follows no necessity at all of asserting the universality of it as to the globe of the earth, unless it be sufficiently proved that the whole earth was peopled before the flood; which i despair of ever seeing proved." matthew poole says: "where was the need of overwhelming those regions of the earth in which there were no human beings? it would be highly unreasonable to suppose that mankind had so increased before the deluge as to have penetrated to all the corners of the earth. it is indeed not probable that they had extended themselves beyond the limits of syria and mesopotamia. absurd it would be to affirm that the effects of the punishment, inflicted upon men alone, applied to those places in which there were no men. if, then, we should entertain the belief that not so much as the hundredth part of the globe was overspread with water, still the deluge would be universal; because the extirpation took effect upon all the part of the globe then inhabited." nor does the language of the bible necessarily convey the idea that the whole surface of the globe was covered with water. dathe, professor of hebrew (in his _opuscala ad crisin_, edited by rosenmuller, ), says: "interpreters do not agree whether the deluge inundated the whole earth or only the regions then inhabited. i adopt the latter opinion. the phrase _all_ does not prove the inundation to have been universal. it appears that in many places _kol_ is to be understood as limited to the thing or place spoken of. hence all the animals introduced into the ark were only those of the region inundated." but the most literal rendering of the language of moses does not necessitate our belief that when he says that the waters covered the whole earth, _arets_, he meant the whole globe. the common bible meaning of this word is land, country, or region, as the perpetually recurring phrases, the land, _arets_, of havilah, the land of nod, the land of ethiopia, the land of goshen, the land of egypt, the land of canaan, which occurs three hundred and ninety times, may convince every reader beyond the possibility of mistake. how now, from this word being used by moses, could this learned bishop conclude that he necessarily meant to describe the globe? moses says, "the waters prevailed upon and covered the whole country." the bishop translates, "covered the whole globe;" evidently in order to make moses commit a blunder. but reference is made to the expression, "all the high hills under the whole heavens were covered;" which the bishop will have it meant all the mountains under the moon. but the popular use of the word "heavens," in moses' day, had as little reference to universal space, as the word earth, or land, had to the whole globe. it meant simply the visible heavens over any place; and its extent was defined by the extent of the earth those visible heavens covered. thus moses himself defines it, deuteronomy iv. : "ask from the one side of heaven unto the other." deuteronomy xxviii. : "thy heaven over thee shall be as brass." deuteronomy ii. : "this day i will begin to put the fear of thee upon the nations that are under the whole heaven." and so commonly throughout the bible, "the clouds of heaven," "the fowls of heaven," refer to the optical heavens. such is the meaning in genesis. noah describes the deluge as it appeared to him, as covering all the hills within the horizon of observation, and moses copies noah's log-book. the geologist adds his testimony to the existing evidences of the recent submergence of a large region of persia and turkey around the caspian sea, and its subsequent elevation. but it is no part of our business to show in what way god produced the deluge. geology shows us, however, that the submergence of parts of the earth beneath the sea, and their subsequent elevation, is the most common of all geological phenomena; almost all existing continents and islands having been submerged. the bishop is as far behind the age in his astronomy as in his geology. he blindly follows the infidels of the last century in their attack on joshua's miracle, arresting the sun and moon, as inconsistent with their science; which taught the immobility of the sun and moon, it seems, and was entirely ignorant of the modern discovery of the grand motions of the fixed stars, including our sun, and of the dependence of all the planets, including our earth and moon, upon that grand motion for the motive power of their revolutions.[ ] one wonders from what college the bishop came out ignorant of facts known to the boys of american common schools. a great many of the bishop's blunders are occasioned by want of sense. the process is very simple. the sacred history is very brief. only the headings of things are recorded. much must be supplied by the common sense of the reader. the manners of the east are very different from ours. three thousand years have greatly changed the face of the country. ignore all this, and interpret the pentateuch as though it consisted of the letters of our own correspondent, and you will find difficulties on every page. such is the style of colenso's criticism. assume that moses gives a full and complete chronicle of all events which have happened since the creation, and then dispute the recorded facts because it can easily be shown he omitted many. but the bishop has not the honor of discovering this method, or of founding this school of criticism. we have heard village critics of the loom and the forge discuss such questions as are handled by colenso, and the essays and reviews, and often with much more acuteness and penetration. with what _eclat_ has our village critic unhorsed the itinerant preacher with the inquiry, what became of the forks belonging to the nine and twenty knives which ezra brought back from babylon? but was, alas! himself routed in the moment of triumph by the inquiry as to the sex of the odd clean beasts of noah's sevens. how often has our village blacksmith critic requested a sermon upon the genealogy of melchizedek, which the minister agreed to furnish when our blacksmith could tell him the foundry which manufactured tubal cain's hammer and anvil. lot's wife, the witch of endor, jonah's whale, the sundial of ahaz, and the population of nineveh, were all duly discussed, together with the bodies in which the angels dined with abraham. did the loaves and fishes miraculously multiply in numbers, or increase in size? where did the angel get the flour to bake the cake for elijah? did our lord catch the fish by net, or by miracle, which he used in the lord's dinner on the shore of the sea of galilee. but _the_ question--which we marvel beyond measure that the bishop overlooks--always was, where did cain get his wife? this is the fundamental question for such critics. the difficulty, it will be perceived, lies across the very threshold of the history. how did he stumble over it without record of his misadventure? it recurs, however, on every page. if the bishop will only answer that question, and introduce us politely to cain's wife, i will engage that she will answer most of these other difficult questions. had seth a wife? how could noah and his three sons build a ship larger than the great eastern? we can imagine the roars of laughter with which the bigger school-boys will greet the serious exhibition of their old tests of dullness, in a printed book, and by a learned bishop, as objections to the inspiration of the bible. but the bishop does actually devote chapter v. to the impossibility of moses addressing all israel; chapter vi. to the extent of the camp compared with the priest's duties; chapter xx. to the grave difficulty of the three priestly families consuming the offerings of some millions of people; which surely to a bishop of the church of england should not be an unparalleled feat. such chapters enable us to appreciate the mental caliber of our critic, and excuse us from argument with a man incapable of interpreting popular phrases. he would prove the associated press dispatches all a myth, because it is impossible for the house of commons to appear at the bar of the house of lords--six hundred men to stand on four square yards of floor; for mcclellan to address the army of the potomac, which extended along a line of thirty miles; for grant and sherman--two men--to capture vicksburg and thirty thousand prisoners! manifestly impossible. the most specious of all the sophistry spread over the volume is that contained in the seventeenth chapter, regarding the increase of jacob's family, of seventy persons, to a nation of two or three millions, in egypt, during the two hundred and fifteen years to which he confines the bondage. but it is only another case of cain's wife. the pentateuch gives us the list of jacob's children and their wives, but makes no formal mention in that place of their servants and retainers. these, in abraham's times, amounted to three hundred fencible men, or a population of fifteen hundred; who would have increased in jacob's time to several thousands, capable of defending the border land of goshen against the marauding bedouin. and this population could easily increase to the three millions of the exodus, at the same ratio in which the population of the united states is now increasing; so that it is a mere superfluity of naughtiness for the bishop to deny what the sacred historian so emphatically asserts: "that the people were fruitful, and increased abundantly, and multiplied, and the land was filled with them." but the bishop utterly ignores the people of the _clan_, and taking his slate and pencil ciphers out the impossibility of jacob's _family_ amounting to so many. and yet it is not impossible that in the four hundred and thirty years which the sacred historian so precisely asserts as the period of their sojourn in egypt, exodus xii. , the family alone might have multiplied as fast as the family of the famous jonathan edwards, which, in a hundred years after his death, numbered two thousand souls. peter cartwright, the venerable methodist minister, celebrated his eighty-seventh birthday on the first of september, , at pleasant plains, sangamon county, illinois, surrounded by one hundred and twenty children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. now, if this family of two persons could so increase in eighty-seven years, why could not jacob's family, of seventy persons, increase in equal ratio? in that case, even in the two hundred and fifteen years to which the bishop limits the sojourn in egypt, the israelites would have amounted to over eight millions. if it be objected that this was a case of special blessing, we answer that the israelites are expressly asserted to have been specially and wonderfully multiplied. there is, therefore, no improbability in moses' numbers. the bishop ascribes to moses another of his own blunders; this time, however, in reading his bible in plain english, which correctly translates the hebrew--exodus xiii. . the lord commands moses and israel to "sanctify to him every male that openeth the womb, both of man and beast," from the time of the death of the first-born of the egyptians. the impropriety of _ex post facto_ legislation, the reason assigned for this law, and the grammatical meaning of the language in the present tense, all combine to show that the law is prospective; and the number of the first-born, twenty-two thousand two hundred and seventy-five, afterward given in numbers, shows plainly that this is the meaning, being about the proper increase of thirteen months. but the bishop strangely blunders into the notion that this is the number of all the first-born of israel; only about one in forty-five or fifty, and therefore argues against the historical veracity of the pentateuch. a good many of the bishop's blunders arise in this way from misreading his bible. he makes another blunder of this kind, and as usual charges it on moses, in his misreading of leviticus xxiii. , as if directing israel to make booths of palm branches and willows at the feast of tabernacles, instead of bearing the palms of victory in triumph into the temple of god. the son of the chief rabbi of london ridicules the bishop's hebrew scholarship here, saying that any jewish child could have set him right; but had he read even his english translation carefully he need not have blundered here. in connection with the subject of the numbers of the people we notice his tacit assumption--that moses records everything necessary for a statistical table--in his criticisms on the numbers of the danites and levites, chapters xviii. and xvi.; and on judah's family, chapter ii. he takes it for granted that because the exodus took place in the lifetime of the fourth generation of some of the sons of jacob, therefore there were none but four generations born in the two hundred and fifteen years to which he confines the bondage, and none but those whose names are recorded. this is a blunder of the same sort as if he should mistake the list of the british peerage for a census of all the families of great britain, and calculate the average duration of human life by the ages of the duke of wellington and lord palmerston. but here we have a wonderful instance of the providence which often makes objectors refute themselves. the chapter on judah's family (ii.) shows that in forty-two years judah had grandchildren ten or twelve years old; as many syrians, persians, and hindoos have at this day. but if six generations could thus be born in syria, or india, in a century, why not in egypt? and chronicles vii. , enumerates ten generations of the sons of ephraim; giving ample opportunity for the biblical increase. another set of the bishop's blunders is occasioned by his utter ignorance of camp-life, especially among the arabs. in chapter viii. he assumes that all the people had tents, and the bishop orders them made of leather. but he concludes they could not possibly get them, nor if they had them could they carry them. by and by he provides them with two millions of cattle, however; and it is likely each of them had a skin, and was able to carry it for a while, while the hebrews dwelt in the booths of the encampments they still commemorate in the feast of tabernacles. but the word "tents" is the common phrase for any kind of shelter in scripture, including even houses in the expression, "to your tents, o israel," used in the days of david. in chapter ix. he discusses the probability of their obtaining arms in egypt. a week with one of the union armies would show him how speedily freedmen can provide themselves with arms and learn tactics; and a short residence in ireland would teach him the utter impossibility of preventing a discontented people from arming themselves even with firearms; much more when every grove furnished artillery. he protests that all egypt could not furnish lambs enough for the passover; because in natal an acre will only graze one sheep, forgetting that moses was not raising sheep in natal, but in the best of the land of goshen, which, if as fertile as the county of dorset in england, would easily keep five millions of sheep. in chapter x. he insists on the impossibility of giving warning of the passover, and subsequent march, in one day, to a population as large as london, scattered over two or three counties. has he forgotten the straws carried over all ireland in one night, and the chupatties of the indian mutiny? the negro insurrection of charleston was known by the negroes of louisiana two days before their masters received the intelligence by mail. critics know little of the power of the love of freedom. but there is no reason for the bishop's supposition that all the preparations for leaving were made in one day, save his own mistake of the hebrew of exodus xii. , as referring to the night of the day on which god spake to moses, instead of the night of the day of which he was speaking, as the slightest reflection on the context shows. in chapter xi. the bishop assumes the functions of major-general, and masses his army--rank, and file, wagon train, hospital, commissariat, contrabands, droves of cattle, and camp followers--into a mass of fifty front and twenty-two miles long. very naturally he gets into a tremendous jam, out of which we have no intention of extricating him; merely remarking that bishops do not make good generals, and that arab sheikhs do not march in that way. they scatter themselves and their cattle over the whole country for forty or fifty miles, and have no confusion; and attend moreover to moses' sanitary camp regulations, in their several encampments. in chapter xii. he exerts himself to starve the cattle for want of pasture and water; garbling moses' account of the wilderness for that purpose, deuteronomy viii. , "beware that thou forget not jehovah, thy god, who led thee through the great and terrible wilderness, wherein were fiery serpents, and scorpions, _where there was no water_." here he stops, as if this was all that referred to the subject. but when we turn to the passage, we find that he omits the most material part of the speech. for moses goes on to say, in the hearing of all israel, who could certainly have contradicted him had the fact not been well known to them, "who brought thee forth water out of the rock of flint." moses' account is quite self-consistent, and the bishop's garbling of it is dishonest. there were districts of arabia so dry and sterile that but for this miraculous supply both men and beasts had perished; but the greater part of the country was simply uninhabited pasture land, sufficiently productive even now to support several arab tribes; and much better wooded and watered then. the monuments of egypt abundantly testify the number and power of its shepherd kings, who pastured their flocks upon it in their successive invasions of egypt. the bishop says, chapter xiii., that the climax of inconsistencies between facts and figures is reached when we come to the notice by the lord to israel, contained in exodus xxiii. , "i will not drive them, the canaanites, out from before thee in one year, lest the land become desolate, and the beasts of the field multiply against thee." the argument is that a population of two millions was assigned to a territory of only eleven thousand square miles; and consequently would be more dense than the population of the agricultural region of england, where there is no danger of wild beasts multiplying. but the objection is again based on a blunder, and a garbling of the text of scripture. had the bishop done himself and his readers the justice to complete the passage which he has half cited, by inserting the next two verses, he could have read verse thirty-one: "and i will set thy bounds from the red sea even to the sea of the philistines, and from the desert unto the river," _i. e._, the euphrates, as other passages show, genesis xv. . that is to say, a territory five hundred miles long by one hundred miles broad, or fifty thousand square miles, was to be occupied by two millions of people. that is about the present population, and all travelers testify that three-fourths of it lies desolate. prof. porter saw seventy deserted towns and villages in bashan alone. but for the rifle and gunpowder the wild beasts would now overpower the inhabitants. by a wonderful providence, contemporaneously with these attacks, the lord has raised up an army of scholars, travelers, and archæologists, whose explorations illustrate the bible in a remarkable manner, throwing new light upon its history, poetry, and prophecy. it is refreshing to turn from the cavils of ignorant criticism to the clear light of discovered facts and imperishable monuments. the bible history has recently received a wonderful amount of illustration and confirmation from the researches of scholars and discoverers amid the ruins of egypt, persia, and assyria; completely exploding the theory that this history was a comparatively recent composition, written long after the events which it records, and betraying its want of genuineness by the anachronisms and errors of description of historical and natural events with which it abounds. wherever it differed from the statements of any greek, or other heathen historian, it was forthwith alleged that moses was wrong, and the profane author was right; and for a long time nobody could bring any evidence on the other side, because there were no contemporary records; the oldest heathen historian being a thousand years later than moses. but by some strange inspiration, the lord set a multitude of explorers to work upon the monuments of egypt, deciphering the hieroglyphics which had so long puzzled the world, digging into the mounds which had for centuries covered the ruined palaces and cities of persia and assyria, and bringing to europe ship-loads of recovered statues, marbles, cylinders, mummies, obelisks, papyrii, covered with all manner of pictures and inscriptions, civil, religious, and political, contemporary with the bible history, and setting the best scholars of europe to decipher and translate them. they are only, as yet, in the middle of their labors, but already so much has been discovered as to warrant the assertion that before they have finished they will furnish full corroboration of all the great outlines of old testament history. egypt was the first to come forward in furnishing her quota of commentary to the corroboration of the books of moses. hengstenberg's _egypt and the books of moses_, wilkinson's _ancient egyptians_, and osburn's _monumental history of egypt_, furnish almost a commentary upon moses' account of egyptian affairs, confirming every biblical allusion to egypt as historically correct, and revealing to us even the natural causes of the seven years high nile and plenteous harvests; in the overflow of the great central lake in nubia wearing away the embankment; and of the seven years subsequent low nile and famine, by the drought consequent on this immense drainage. the very titles of joseph as, "director of the full and empty irrigating canals," "steward of the granaries," etc. etc., are still to be read on his tomb at sakkarah,[ ] and much more of the same sort. f. newman ridicules the bible narrative of shishak's expedition against rehoboam as a mere fictitious embellishment of an otherwise tame narrative;[ ] but egyptologists, like stuart, poole, and brugsch, have examined the inscription of shishak, at karnak, and allege that it fully corroborates the scripture history.[ ] some of the most obscure portions of the bible, which have long been stumbling-blocks to commentators and historians, are now thus illuminated by the light of modern discoveries of monuments and inscriptions found in the ruins of the ancient cities of persia and assyria, upon which they in turn cast such light as to enable the discoveries of layard and rawlinson to assume an intelligible coherency. the tenth and eleventh chapters of genesis, written a thousand years before herodotus or manetho, and which rationalistic commentators were so long "unable to verify by their own consciousness," and which were therefore consigned to the realm of mythology, are now acknowledged by the first scholars and discoverers to stand at the head of the page of reliable history, and to form the basis of all scientific ethnography. the diversity of languages among mankind seems not to have attracted the attention of the greek philosophers. when modern inquirers began to investigate the matter, they were well-nigh confounded by the multitude of dialects and languages. the labor of three generations of scholars has been expended upon philology, the most ancient monument of mankind. and the result is that all the various languages of earth have at length been classified under three tongues--the shemitic, the aryan, and the turanian. but this most recent discovery of comparative philology was narrated by moses thirty centuries ago, with the historical account of the origin of the division of the primeval family into three separate colonies, colonizing the earth after their families and after their tongues.--genesis x. . the discovery of this coincidence fills bunsen with astonishment. "comparative philology," he says, "would have been compelled to set forth as a postulate the supposition of some such division of languages in asia, especially on the ground of the relation of the egyptian language to the shemitic, even if the bible had not assured us of the truth of this great historical event. it is truly wonderful; it is a matter of astonishment; it is more than a mere astounding fact that something so purely historical, and yet divinely fixed--something so conformable to reason, and yet not to be conceived of as a mere natural development--is here related to us out of the oldest primeval period, and which now for the first time, through the new science of philology, has become capable of being historically and philosophically explained." the brief, yet definite, assertions of the hamitic origin of the old empire of babylon, and of an asiatic cush or ethiopia, which have been so repeatedly charged against the bible as blunders, even by some profound scholars, have been vindicated by the recent discoveries in the mounds of chaldea proper of multitudes of inscriptions in a language which sir h. rawlinson affirms "is decidedly cushite or ethiopian," and the modern languages to which it makes the nearest approaches are those of southern arabia and abyssinia. the old traditions have then been confirmed by comparative philology, and both are side lights to scripture. * * * "the primitive race which bore sway in chaldea proper is demonstrated to have belonged to this ethnic type."[ ] "the conquest of palestine is recorded on the annals of sennacherib, and the cylinder of tiglath-pileser describes his invasion of palestine. the names of jehu, of amaziah, of hezekiah, of omri, ahaz, and uzziah have been made out. _the very clay which sealed the treaty between the kings of judah and assyria, with the impresses of their joint seals upon it, is preserved in the nineveh gallery._ the library of assurbanipal, in twenty thousand fragments, contains among other scientific treatises, such as astronomical notices, grammatical essays, tables of verbs, genealogies, etc., an historico-geographical account of babylonia and the surrounding countries. as far as these fragments have been translated, the district and tribal names given in the bible correspond very closely with them."[ ] but this is not the only illustration and confirmation which these old assyrian monuments offer to the sacred writings. from the first invasion of the assyrians, under tiglath-pileser, to the restoration of israel from babylon, and the rebuilding of the temple, under darius, the bible history is full of references to the assyrian, babylonian, and persian monarchies, and their affairs with israel and judah. and the inscribed tablets, cylinders, and temple tablets, and statues, are full of references which directly or indirectly elucidate and corroborate the bible history, attesting to skeptics the truthfulness of its wonderful narrative; the very stones of nineveh, and the ruined palaces of babylon and assyria, crying out in vindication of the veracity of the bible. already so much has been discovered as to fill several volumes, to which we must refer the reader for details.[ ] one of the alleged historical errors greatly insisted on by rationalistic commentators was the statement by daniel, that belshazzar was king of babylon when it was taken by the medo-persians, and that he was slain at the storming of the city. herodotus and berosus had stated that nabonnidus was king, and that he was not in the city then, but was afterward taken prisoner and treated generously by cyrus. these accounts seemed contradictory; and as herodotus and berosus were generally esteemed respectable historians, the rationalists ridicule daniel as an erroneous writer of history. but one of sir h. rawlinson's discoveries has vindicated the prophet, and also explained how the historians were truthful too. w. taylor, one of rawlinson's assistants, discovered an inscribed cylinder in ur of the chaldees containing an account of the reign of this very nabonnidus, which sir henry describes in a letter to the _athenæum_, ( , page ): "the most important facts, however, which they disclose are that the eldest son of nabonnidus was named bel-shar-ezar, and that he was admitted by his father to a share in the government." this name is undoubtedly the belshazzar of daniel, and thus furnishes a key to the explanation of that great historical problem which has hitherto defied solution. we can now understand how belshazzar, as _joint-king_ with his father, may have been governor of babylon when the city was attacked by the combined forces of the medes and persians, and may have perished in the assault which followed; while nabonnidus, leading a force to the relief of the place, was defeated, and was obliged to take refuge in borsippa, capitulating after a short resistance, and being subsequently assigned, according to berosus, to an honorable retirement in carmania. a minute coincidence also is thus brought to light, showing the accuracy of the inspired historian in one of the details of his narrative. belshazzar elevates him to the position of grand vizier, or prime minister, which, under ordinary circumstances, would be the _second_ place of dignity in the empire. but daniel represents the king as raising him to the _third_ place, which we now see to be strictly correct, since belshazzar himself was the second in rank. thus the weapons discharged against the bible ever recoil upon the heads of its assailants. not only among the monuments of the great historic nations do we now discover corroborations of scripture, the records and monuments of even obscure nations are most strangely turning up and being discovered, after lying unnoticed for centuries, as if god had reserved their testimony for the time when it would be needed and valued. the bible does not refer to the history of the surrounding nations, save in connection with their relations to israel; but it is surprising to see how many of these references are corroborated by recent discoveries. the bible, for instance, describes[ ] omri as establishing a kingdom with his capital at samaria, and he and his son, ahab, making war on mesha, king of moab, conquering him and making him pay an annual tribute of one hundred thousand lambs and one hundred thousand rams, with the wool. but it came to pass that when ahab was dead that the king of moab rebelled against the king of israel. now amid the perpetual wars of the petty kingdoms of asia, and after the utter extirpation of the moabitish nation, the chances were millions to one against our recovering any historical monuments whatever of that people; and almost infinite against recovering any which should coincide with the half dozen allusions to them in the bible. but mr. klein discovered in the ruins of dibon, one of the ancient cities of moab, and capt. warren recovered, the fragments of the now famous moabite stone, on which, in the old samaritan characters, we read: "i, mesha, son of jobin, king of moab. my father reigned over moab thirty years, and i reigned after my father. i erected this altar unto chemosh, who granted me victory over mine enemies, the people of omri, king of israel, who, together with his son, ahab, oppressed moab a long time--even forty years,"[ ] etc. but space forbids even the enumeration of the corroborations of bible history from the days of abraham to the time of the first census of the roman empire, when cyrenius was governor of syria the second time. in every instance where its monuments have spoken of biblical affairs they have confirmed the accuracy of the bible history. the history of great britain, or of the united states, is not more authentic than, and not so accurate as, the long line of history recorded in the bible. no important error has been proven in any of its historical statements of the world's history for forty centuries. this accuracy contrasted with the acknowledged errors of the best historians, is proof to every candid mind of divine direction and help to the sacred writers. sweeping away, then, these cobwebs, we open the volume and form our opinion of its genuineness and authenticity from its own internal evidences--its nature and contents--and from the way in which it was used by the hebrew nation. it is important at the outset to know how long these documents have undoubtedly existed. no one denies that they were in existence eighteen hundred years ago. indeed, the first literary attack on them which has been recorded was made about that time; and josephus' defense of the scriptures against apion still exists. the very same writings which the protestant churches now acknowledge as canonical, and none other, were then acknowledged to be of divine authority by the jews. it is true they bound their bibles differently from ours, but the contents were the very same. they made up their parchments of the thirty-nine books in twenty-two rolls or volumes, one for every letter of their alphabet; putting judges and ruth, the two books of samuel, the two books of kings, the two books of chronicles, ezra and nehemiah, jeremiah's prophecy and lamentations, and the twelve minor prophets, in one volume respectively. they also distinguished the five books of moses as, _the law_; the psalms, proverbs, ecclesiastes, and song of solomon as, _the psalms_; and all the remainder as, _the prophets_.[ ] moreover, it is well known that two hundred and eighty-two years before the christian era, these writings were translated into greek and widely circulated in all parts of the world. they were, in fact, not only popular, but received as of divine authority by the jews at that time, read in their synagogues in public worship, and regarded with sacred reverence. how did they come to receive them in this manner? these writings were not only acknowledged by the jews; their bitterest enemies--the samaritans--owned the divine authority of the five books of moses, and preserve an ancient copy of them, differing in no essential particular from the hebrew version, to this day. the samaritans always bore to the hebrews such a relation as mohammedans do to christians, and the hebrews returned the grudge with interest: "for the jews have no dealings with the samaritans." these heathen babylonians, four centuries or more before the christian era, were somehow induced to receive the pentateuch as of divine authority, and to frame some sort of religion upon it. their enmity to the jews is conclusive proof that, since that time, neither jews nor samaritans have altered the text; else the manuscripts would show the discrepancy. these books are not such as any person would forge to gain popularity, or to make money by. there is nothing in them to bribe the good opinion of influential people, or catch the favor of the multitude. on the contrary, their stern severity, and unsparing denunciation of popular vice and profitable sin must have secured their rejection by the jewish people, had they not been constrained by undeniable evidence to acknowledge their divine authority. they set out with the assertion of the divine authority of the law of moses, and everywhere sharply reprove princes, priests, and people for breaking it. the prophets, so far from seeking popularity, are foolhardy enough to denounce the bonnets, hoops, and flounces of the ladies, and to cry, woe! against the regular business of the most respectable note-shavers,[ ] to croak against the march of intellect, and shake public confidence in the prosperity of their great country,[ ] to ally themselves with fanatic abolitionists, and introduce agitating political questions into the pulpit; crying, _woe to him that useth his neighbor's service without wages, and giveth him not for his work._[ ] to crown all, they organized abolition clubs to procure immediate emancipation, and published incendiary proclamations in the cities of the slaveholders,[ ] and, strange to say, they were allowed to escape with their lives; and their writings were held sacred by the children of those very men and women they so unsparingly denounced; a conclusive proof that the calamities they predicted had compelled them to acknowledge these prophets as the heralds of god. the proof must have been conclusive, indeed, which compelled the jews to acknowledge the writings of the prophets as sacred. another very striking feature of these writings is, their mutual connection with each other. they were written at various intervals, during a period of a thousand years' duration, by shepherds and kings, by prophets and priests, by governors of states and gatherers of sycamore fruit; in deserts and in palaces, in camps and in cities, in egypt and syria, in arabia and babylon; under the iron heel of despotic oppression, and amid the liberty of the most democratic republic the world ever saw; yet, circumstances, and lapse of time, they ever hold to one great theme, always assert the same great principles, and perpetually claim connection with the writers who have preceded them. there is nothing like this in the histories of other nations. two centuries will work such changes of opinion, that you can not find nowadays any historian who approves the sentiments of pepys or clarendon, whatever use he may make of their facts. but the historians of the bible not only refer to their predecessors' writings, but refer to them as of acknowledged divine authority. thus the very latest of these books gives the weight of its testimony to the first--"_and they set the priests in their divisions, and the levites in their courses for the service of god, which is at jerusalem, as it is written in the book of moses._"[ ] and daniel spake of the books of moses as well known when he says, "_therefore the curse is poured upon us, and the oath that is written in the law of moses the servant of god._"[ ] the shortest book in the old testament--the prophecy of obadiah, consisting only of twenty sentences--contains twenty-five allusions to the preceding histories and laws. the last of the prophets shuts up the volume with a command to "_remember the law of moses._" in fact, just as the epistles prove the existence and acknowledged authority of the gospels; so do the prophets prove the existence and acknowledged authority of the law of moses. they were acknowledged not merely by one generation of the jewish people, but by the nation during the whole period of its national existence; and they are of such a character, that they must then, and now, be taken as one whole--all accepted, or all rejected together. the reader of the old testament will speedily find that these writings are not merely a connected history of the nation, of great general interest, like bancroft's or macaulay's, but of no such special interest to any individual as to force him, by a sense of self-interest, or the danger of loss of liberty or property, to correct their errors. on the contrary, every farmer in palestine was deeply concerned in the truth and accuracy of the bible; for it contained not only the general boundaries of the country, and of the particular tribes, like the survey of the maine boundary, or of mason and dixon's line, but it delineated particular estates, also, and was, in fact, the report of the surveyor-general, deposited in the county court for reference, in case of any litigation about sale or inheritance of property.[ ] the genealogies of the tribes and families were also preserved in these writings; and on the authenticity and correctness of these records, the inheritance of every farm in the land depended; for as no lease ran more than fifty years, every farm returned to the heirs of the original settler at the year of jubilee.[ ] thus every jewish farmer had a direct interest in these sacred records; and it would be just as hard to forge records for the county courts of ohio, and pass them off upon the citizens as genuine, and plead them in the courts as valid, as to impose at first, or falsify afterward, the records of the commonwealth of israel. this will appear more clearly when we consider that they contained also the laws of the land--the constitution of the united states of israel, with the statutes at large--according to which every house, and farm, and garden in the whole country was possessed, every court of justice was guided,[ ] every election was held, from the election of a petty constable, to that of governor of the state,[ ] and the militia enrolled, mustered, officered, and called out to the field of battle.[ ] these laws prescribed the way in which every house must be built, regulated the weaver in weaving his cloth, and the tailor in making it, and the cooking of every breakfast, dinner and supper eaten by an israelite over the world, from that day to this.[ ] now, let any one who thinks it would be an easy matter to forge such a series of documents, and get people to receive and obey them, try his hand in making a volume of acts of assembly, and passing it off upon the people of ohio for genuine. let him bring an action into one of the courts, and persuade the judges to give a decision in his favor, upon the strength of his forged or falsified statutes, and then he may hope to convince us that the laws of moses are simply a collection of religious tracts, which came to be held sacred through lapse of time, nobody knows how or why. nor were these laws, and the usages thus established, common, and such as the people would be ready easily to adopt. on the contrary, moses repeatedly asserts, and all ancient history shows, that they were quite peculiar to the hebrew people then; and they are to this day confined to the republics which, like our own, have drawn their ideas from the bible. it is enough to name the common law and trial by jury; the armed nation; the right of free public assembly, free speech, free passport, and free trade; the election of civil, judicial, and military officers by universal suffrage; the division of the land in fee-simple among the whole people; the rights of women to hold real estate in their own right, to speak in public assemblies, and to prophetic functions; and the support of religion by the voluntary offerings of the people. our own republic resembles israel as a daughter her mother. the land of liberty was the bible country. the first republic which the world ever saw was designed by almighty god, and revealed to the world in the bible, and by the example of the united states of israel. from that pattern our forefathers copied all the grand features of our glorious republic--the equitable distribution of the land, in fee-simple, among the people; securing them, by the jubilee, against the introduction of feudal tenure, and landlordism; the abolition of a standing army, and the defense of the country by the militia; the election of all officers, civil and military, from the town constable, and the justice of the peace, up to the president of the republic, the lord jehovah himself, by universal suffrage--and the federal union of the twelve tribes into one nation, with township, county, and state governments, with a common law, common schools, and the equality of all citizens before the law; the right of naturalization; sanitary and social institutions, such as modern philanthropists are only beginning to dream of, for the elevation of the people; and all this avowedly held in trust for all mankind, as a fountain of blessings for all the families of the earth. no such ideas of liberty, equality, and fraternity, ever existed among the wisest heathen nations--the egyptians, persians, greeks, or romans. on the face of the whole earth there never was, and there is not to-day, a free republic outside of the light and liberty of the bible. the so-called republics of athens and rome were hideous aristocracies, and tyrannies. from the bible the men of the continental congress learned the grand truth, which they emblazoned on the forefront of their immortal declaration of independence, "that all men are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness;" thus planting the rights of man upon the only immovable basis--the throne of the eternal god. but there were other features of the mosaic legislation so far in advance of the ideas of our modern materialism as not to have been even yet suggested in our social congresses, nor even dreamt of by our most advanced christian philanthropists, in their endeavors after the elevation of the masses. moses' idea was the prevention of pauperism, and of the conflict between labor and capital, and of the gambling speculating fever, and the formation of an independent, intelligent, joyous, religious, healthy, and thrifty people, well-bred, well-fed, well-lodged, able to fight their foes on the battle-field, to reap their ridge on the harvest-field, to enjoy the blessings of healthy families, and to rejoice before the lord. a volume would be needed to develop the social bearings of the laws of the hebrews. we can only suggest for consideration the laws regarding inalienability of the homestead, and the bankrupt law; the laws of marriage and inheritance; the laws of servitude and wages; the sanitary laws regarding building, clothing, bathing, eating, and contagion; the protection of the rights of animals; the dispersion of the educated class; and the three great national festivals, during which the whole people were released from the labors of the field, and of the kitchen, and enjoyed during the eight summer days of each picnic such an excitement of social enjoyment, religious fervor, and political patriotism, as modern christendom anticipates in the millennium, but which neither church nor state has, as yet, systematically attempted to nurture. that the hebrews did not obey the law, and so did not enjoy the happiness obedience would have secured, is only what god foresaw, and foretold repeatedly, with solemn warning of the disastrous degradation to which disobedience to god's laws must ever reduce man. nevertheless, even their very imperfect conformity to these institutions gave them such superiority of blood and breeding to their ungodly neighbors, that they have survived the most powerful nations, and, in spite of dispersion, exile, disfranchisement, and persecution, they exist as a distinct people, superior intellectually, commercially, and morally to all the heathen nations at this day. how much higher had been their position had they fully obeyed the law. our argument is, that this law of liberty, equality, fraternity, and religion, was worthy of our father in heaven, and a seed of blessing to all the families of the earth. to a jew living before the coming of christ, the unanimous testimony of his nation, confirmed by all the commemorative observances of the sacrifices, the passover, the sabbath, and the jubilee, by the reading of the law and the prophets, and the singing of the historical psalms in the temple and the synagogues, by the execution of the laws of moses in the courts, and by the very existence of his nation as a distinct people, separate from all the other nations--could leave no doubt that laws so peculiar and beneficent must have been enacted by a wisdom superior to that of man, and their observance imposed by divine authority; nor that the miracles by which these laws were authenticated, and the national existence of the people of israel was secured, were genuine, and divine. the chain of historical and internal evidence is too strong to be broken, while the jewish nation exists. but yet this historical and internal evidence of the authority of the old testament is but the smallest part of that which we possess, who have the testimony of christ on this subject. for this testimony removes the question from the mists of antiquity, and even from the debatable ground of historic certainty, and resolves the whole process of searching for, and comparing and examining a host of second-hand witnesses, into the easy and certain one of hearing the author himself say, whether he acknowledges this book to be his or not. christians receive the old testament as the word of god, because jesus says so. now, reader, it is of the utmost importance that you should stop just here, and give a plain, confident answer to these questions: dost thou believe upon the son of god? is jesus the messiah of whom moses in the law, and the prophets, did write? are you perfectly satisfied of the truth of the new testament, and willing to venture your eternal salvation upon the words of christ contained in it? for, if not, of what use is it for you to trouble yourself about the old testament? you might as well waste your time in examining the genuineness of the bills of a broken bank; they may be genuine or they may be forgeries; but who cares? they will never be paid. if the first promises of the bank of heaven, to send the messiah eighteen hundred years ago, have been fulfilled, its other paper may be also valuable; if not, it must be equally worthless. if the new testament be not of divine authority, you may place the prophets on the same shelf with the poems of ossian; and then follows the serious consequence, that there is not a grain of hope left for you or for any man on earth. if jesus be indeed an almighty savior, and if he has indeed risen from the dead, then, through the power of his mighty love, your filthy soul may be washed from its sins, and your mortal body may be raised from the rottenness of the grave. but if christ be not risen, you are yet in your sins. you have no notion that any of the gods of the heathen, or the precepts of the koran, can purify your heart. you know well that infidelity never sanctified any of your comrades. conscience tells you that you are not any better now than you were a year ago, but worse. you are yet in your sins; and in them you must live and die! aye, while your immortal soul lives, while the laws of human nature continue, you must carry those brands of infamy on your character, and daily progress from bad to worse; sinking deeper and deeper in the contempt of all intelligent beings; and, were there no other avenger, in the remorse and despair of your own mind, you must experience the horrors of perdition. jesus, able to save to the uttermost, all that come unto god by him, is your only hope. there is none other name given under heaven among men whereby we must be saved. if his gospel be true, you may be saved; if it is false, you must be damned. if you have the shadow of a doubt of the truth of the new testament, go over the subject again; re-read the former chapters of this book; pray to god for light and truth; above all, read the book again and again; and if, in your case, as in that of one of the most famous teachers of german neology--de wette--the careful study of the new testament impels you to rush through all the mists of doubt to the higher standpoint of a lofty faith, and the sunshine of real religion; and if with him you can now say, "only this one thing i know, that in no other name is there salvation than in the name of jesus christ the crucified, and that for humanity there is nothing higher than the incarnation of deity set before us in him, and the kingdom of god established by him,"[ ] you may then go on with your inquiry into the divine authority of the old testament. with the master himself before you, the author, the inspirer, by whom, and for whom, the prophets spake, and to whom all the scriptures point, you will not think of wasting time in examining second-hand evidence; but go direct to jesus himself. his testimony will not be merely so much additional testimony--another candle added to the chandelier by whose light you have perused the evidences of the scriptures; it will shine out on your soul as the light of the sun of righteousness with healing on his wings. every word from his lips will awaken in your heart the voice from heaven, "_this is my beloved son. hear him._" what saith christ, then, respecting the old testament? the moment you open the new testament to make this inquiry, you are met by a reference to the old. "_the book of the generation of jesus christ, the son of david, the son of abraham_," is its formal title; and the most cursory perusal tells you that you have taken up, not a separate and independent work, which you can profitably peruse and understand without much reference to some foregoing volumes--as one might read abbott's life of napoleon without needing at the same time to study the history of the crusades--but that you have taken up a continuation of some former work--the last volume in fact of the old testament--and that you can not understand even the first chapter without a careful reading of the foregoing volumes. before you have finished the first chapter you meet with the most unequivocal assertion of the harmony of the gospels and the prophecies, and of the divine authority of both--"_now all this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the lord by the prophet_," etc. the whole tenor of the new testament corresponds to this beginning, teaching that the birth, doctrine, miracles, life, death, resurrection, ascension, and second coming of the lord, are the fulfillments of the old testament promises and prophecies; of which no less than a hundred and thirty-nine are expressly quoted, beginning with moses and ending with malachi. we can not explain this by saying, with the mythical school of interpreters, that this was merely the opinion of the writers of the gospels and of the jews of their age; whose longings for the messiah led them to imagine some curious coincidences between the events of christ's life and the utterances of these ancient oracles to be ready fulfillments; and that christ did not deem it needful in all cases to undeceive them. for to suppose that christ--the truth--would sanction or connive at any such sacrilegious deception, is at once to deprive him, not only of his divine character, but of all claim to common honesty. so far from the jews longing for any such events as those which fulfilled the prophecies, they despised the messiah in whom they were fulfilled, and refused to believe in him; and his disciples were as far from the gospel ideal of the messiah, when jesus needed to reproach them with, "_o fools, and slow of heart, to believe all that the prophets have spoken._"[ ] it was not the jews, nor yet the disciples, but the lord himself who perpetually insisted on the divine authority of the old testament as the _word_ of his father, and the sufficient attestation of his own divine character, after this manner: "_ye have not his word abiding in you; for whom he hath sent, him ye believe not. search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me. * * * had ye believed moses, ye would have believed me: for he wrote of me. but if ye believe not his writings, how shall ye believe my words?_"[ ] his first recorded sermon contains a remarkable and solemn attestation to the divine authority of the old testament, and of his own relation to it as its substance and supporter, "_think not that i am come to destroy the law, and the prophets: i am not come to destroy, but to fulfill. for verily i say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled._"[ ] the whole of this discourse is an exposition of the true principles of the old testament, stripping off the rubbish by which tradition had made void the law of god, and enforcing its precepts by the sanction of his divine authority. and in one of his last discourses after his resurrection: "_beginning at moses, and the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself. * * * and he said unto them, these are the words which i spake unto you, while i was yet with you, that all things must be fulfilled which were written in the law of moses, and in the prophets, and in the psalms, concerning me. then opened he their understanding, that they might understand the scriptures._"[ ] in this distinct enumeration of the whole of the scriptures of the old testament; in the assertion that they all treated of him, and that their principal predictions were fulfilled in him; and in his bestowal of divine illumination to enable them to understand these divine oracles--we have such an indorsement of their character by the truth himself, as must command the faith and obedience of every believer in him. had no objections been raised against particular doctrines or features of the old testament, we should stop here; perfectly satisfied with the attestations to the truth of its history, given by the continual references, and to the authority of its precepts, by the solemn formal declarations of the son of god. but some popular objections to its completeness and perfection demand a brief notice. . the general character of the old testament being then ascertained beyond doubt, our first inquiry must be as to the integrity and completeness of the collection. for it is manifest that their divine authority being admitted, any attempt to add to them any human writings, or to take away those which were from god, would be a crime so serious in its consequences, that it could not escape the notice of him who severely rebuked even the verbal traditions by which the jews made void the law of god. now we are told by some that a great many inspired books have been lost; and they enumerate the prophecy of enoch; the book of the wars of the lord; the book of joshua; the book of iddo the seer; the book of nathan the prophet; the acts of rehoboam; the book of jehu, the son of hanani; and the five books of solomon, on trees, beasts, fowls, serpents, and fishes; which are alluded to in the bible. if the case were so, it is difficult to see what objection could be raised against the divine authority of the books we have, because of the divine authority of those we have not; for it is not supposed that one divinely inspired book would contradict another. nor yet can we see how the loss of these books should disprove their inspiration, much less the inspiration of those which remain, any more than the want of a record of the multitude of words and works of jesus himself which were never committed to writing,[ ] should be an argument against the divine authority of the sermon on the mount. it will hardly be asserted that god is bound to reveal to us everything that the human race ever did, and to preserve such records through all time, or lose his right to demand our obedience to a plain revelation of his will; or that we do well to neglect the salvation of our own souls until we obtain an infallible knowledge of the acts of rehoboam. but there is not the shadow of a proof that any of these were inspired books, or that some of them were books at all. the bible nowhere says that enoch wrote his prophecy, or that solomon read his discourses on natural history; nor of what religious interest they would have been to us any more than the hard questions of the queen of sheba, and his answers to them. though the loss of these ancient chronicles may be regretted by the antiquarian, the christian feels not at all concerned about it; knowing as he does, on the testimony of christ, that the holy scriptures, as he and his apostles delivered them to us, contain all that we need to know in order to repent of our sins, lead holy lives, and go to heaven; and that we have the very same bible of which jesus said: "_they have moses and the prophets; let them hear them. * * * if they hear not moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead._"[ ] . another objection is, that the religion of the old testament was essentially different from that of the new. it is at once acknowledged, that the light which christ shed on our relations to god, and to our brethren of mankind, is so much clearer than that of the old testament that we see our duties more plainly, and are more inexcusable for neglecting them, than those who had not the benefit of christ's teaching. and no objection can be raised against god for not sending his son sooner, or for not giving more light to the world before his coming, unless it can be shown that he is debtor to mankind, and that they were making a good use of the light he gave them. so that the question is not, did god give as full and expanded instructions to the church in her infancy as he has given in her maturity? but, did he give instructions of a different character? it is not, did christ reveal more than moses? but, did christ contradict moses? and here, at the very outset, we are met by christ's own solemn formal disclaimer of any such intention: "_think not that i am come to destroy the law and the prophets. i am not come to destroy, but to fulfill._" and as to the actual working of the christian religion, when paul is asked, "_is the law then against the promises of god?_"[ ] he indignantly replies, "_god forbid!_" but it is urged, "judaism is not christianity. you have changed the sabbath, abolished the sacrifices, trampled upon the rules of living, eating, and visiting only with the peculiar people, you neglect the passover, and drop circumcision, the seal of the covenant, all on the authority of christ. do you mean to say that these are not essential elements of the old testament religion?" undoubtedly. outward ceremonies of any kind never were essential parts of religion. "_i will have mercy and not sacrifice_," is an old testament proverb, which clearly tells us that outward ceremonies are merely means toward the great end of all religion. "_the law_," says the holy ghost, by the pen of paul, "_was our schoolmaster to bring us to christ_." the bread of heavenly truth is served out to god's children now on ten thousand wooden tables, instead of one brazen altar; but it is made of the same corn of heaven, it is dispensed by the same hand of love, to a larger family, it is true, but received and eaten in the exercise of the very same religious feelings, by any hearer of the gospel in new york, as by abraham on moriah. by faith in christ the sinner now is justified, "_even as abraham believed god, and it was imputed to him for righteousness._" so says one who knew both law and gospel well. "_do we then make void the law through faith? god forbid! yea, we establish the law!_" the epistles to the romans and to the hebrews are just demonstrations of this truth, that the law was the blossom, the gospel the fruit. but it is alleged that the religion of the old testament could not but be defective, as it wanted the doctrines of immortality and the resurrection; of which, it is alleged, the old testament saints were ignorant. it were easy to prove, from their own words and conduct, that job, abraham, david, and daniel, were not ignorant of these great doctrines.[ ] but the manner in which our lord proves the truth of the resurrection, by a reference to it as undeniably taught in the old testament, must ever silence this objection. "_but as touching the resurrection of the dead, have ye not read that which was spoken unto you by god, saying, i am the god of abraham, the god of isaac, and the god of jacob? god is not the god of the dead, but of the living._"[ ] . but it is objected the hebrew jehovah tolerated and approved polygamy, slavery, and divorce; and, in general, a low code of morals among the hebrews. but we demand to know what standard of morals our objectors adopt? that of the ancient oriental world in which israel lived? then the laws of jehovah were very far in advance of that age. the slave had his blessed sabbath rest secured to him; which is more than modern civilization can secure for her railway slaves; his master was forbidden to treat him cruelly; and the maid-servant's honor was protected by the best means then known; while the sacred writings held up for example the primitive example of marriage, interposed the formality of a legal document before divorce, and elevated the family far above the degraded state of the heathen around them. but the objector falls back on the morals of christendom, the civilization of the nineteenth century, and judges the laws of moses by that standard. very well. this is simply to say that our ideas have been raised to the standard of christianity; and then the objection is that the laws of moses are not so spiritual and elevated as the precepts of christ. our lord himself asserts the same thing. he says moses tolerated divorce because of the hardness of the people's hearts; but from the beginning it was not so. and paul (hebrews viii. , ) alleges the imperfection of moses' law as a good reason for the introduction of a better covenant. the bible itself then recognizes an advance from good to better, the path of the just shining more and more unto the perfect day. but then it is asked, is god the author of an imperfect law? could god give a defective code of morals? the question entirely misses the design of god's revelation as a process of educating his children. suppose we ask, could god speak hebrew--a language so defective in philosophical terms? god must condescend to the mental, and even, in some degree, to the moral level of mankind if he is to reach us at all. all education must begin low, and rise from step to step. the a, b, c of morals must be first learned. the whole analogy of providence shows this to be god's method of procedure. the kingdom of god is like the growing seed; first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear. gradual, and even slow, progress is the law of nature. our modern civilization, which is so proudly invoked, is very far indeed from any such perfection as might enable us to look down upon moses' legislation with contempt. we have only to name our standing armies and conscriptions; our national promises to pay debts, which no one ever expects to pay; our laws regarding drunkenness, and our revenues derived from the licenses for the sale of liquors; the utter failure of our attempts to put down betting, gambling, and stock and gold speculations, prostitution, bribery, frauds, and plundering of the public funds; to convince ourselves that there are many things law can not do, even in this nineteenth century of civilization. our little progress, such as it is, has not been made all at once, or by one great advance. god gives mankind blessings by degrees. he gave the mariner's compass to the fourteenth century, the printing press and america to the fifteenth, the bible in the vulgar tongue to the sixteenth, parliamentary government to the seventeenth, the steam engine to the eighteenth, railroads and the telegraph to the nineteenth. one might as well cavil at his providence for not giving the hebrews sewing machines, hoe's printing presses, and daily newspapers, when they entered into canaan, as for delaying to give them the elements of christian civil law, and social life, before they were able to value and to use them. as it was, moses' law was so far in advance of their own ideas of propriety, and so far in advance of those of all the people around them, that they were continually falling back from it, and rebelling against it, and subjecting themselves to the discipline which god had threatened for disobedience. thus they were kept ever looking upward to a higher model. their transgressions must be confessed as sins, and atoned for by bloody sacrifices, declaring the transgressor worthy of death. their consciences were educated to the idea of holiness, an idea utterly wanting among the heathen; and the law became a powerful motive power, urging them to higher and holier lives, and preparing them to receive the higher and holier example and precepts of christ. the imperfection, then, of the law of moses, so far from being an evidence of the human origin of the bible, is a mark of the infinite wisdom of the great lawgiver in adapting his legislation to the condition of his people; and while tolerating for the time then present an imperfect state of society, just as at this time he tolerates a christendom far below the gospel standard, yet implanting in the minds of his people principles of righteousness and love which were certain eventually to raise them to the high level of the kingdom of god. this, then, is simply an instance of the general law of divine development. . again, however, it is contended, "that the morality of the old testament was narrow and bigoted; requiring, indeed, the observance of charity to the covenant people, but allowing israel to hate all others as enemies, and as well expressed in the text, _thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thine enemy._"[ ] but let it be noticed, that this is no text of scripture, nor does our lord so quote it. he does not say it is so written, but, _ye have heard it said by them of old time_. the first part is god's truth; the second is the devil's addition to it, which christ clears away and denounces. it were easy to quote multitudes of passages from the old testament, commanding israel to show kindness to the stranger, and a whole host of promises, that in them all the families of the earth should be blessed; any one of which would sufficiently refute the foolish notion, that the morality of the old testament was geographical, and its charity merely national. but the simple fact, that the most sublime sanction of world-wide benevolence which ever fell even from the lips of christ himself, was uttered by him as the sum and substance of the teachings of the old testament, conclusively confutes this dogma. the golden rule was no new discovery, unless its author was mistaken, for he says: "_therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them_: for this is the law and the prophets."[ ] he declares the very basis and foundation of the whole old testament religion to be those eternal principles of godliness and charity, which he quotes in the very words of the law: "_then one of them, which was a lawyer, asked him a question, tempting him, and saying, master, which is the great commandment in the law? jesus said unto him, thou shalt love the lord thy god with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. this is the first and great commandment. and the second is like unto it, thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. on these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets._"[ ] the law and the prophets, then, taught genuine world-wide benevolence, christ being witness; and the moral law of the old testament is the moral law of the new testament, if we may believe the lawgiver. . still, it is alleged, "it can not be denied that the writers of the old testament breathed a spirit of vindictiveness, and imprecated curses on their enemies, utterly at variance with the precepts of the gospel, which command us to bless and curse not; and even in their solemn devotions uttered sentiments unfit for the mouth of any christian; nor that their views of the character of god were stern and gloomy, and that they represented the hebrew jehovah as an unforgiving and vengeful being, utterly different from the kind and loving father whom christ delighted to reveal." this, if the truth were told, is the grand objection to the old testament. the holy and righteous sin-hating god, presented in its history, is the object of dislike. the god who drowned the old world, destroyed sodom and gomorrah by fire from heaven, commanded the extermination of the lewd and bloody canaanites, thundered his curses against sinners of every land and every age, saying, "_cursed be he that confirmeth not all the words of this law to do them_," requiring all the people to say _amen_,[ ] is not the god whom universalists can find in their hearts to adore. a mild, easy, good-natured being, who would allow men to live and die in sin without any punishment, would suit them better. they try to think that he is altogether such an one as themselves, and an approver of their sin. but it is worth while to inquire whether the father of our lord jesus christ be in this respect anything different from the hebrew jehovah, or whether the gospel has in the least degree lessened his displeasure against iniquity. paul thought not that he was a different person, when he said: "_we know him who hath said, vengeance belongeth unto me, i will recompense, saith the lord._"[ ] jesus thought not that he was more lenient to sinners when he cried, "_woe unto thee, chorazin! woe unto thee, bethsaida! * * * thou, capernaum, which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be brought down to hell * * * it shall be more tolerable for the land of sodom in the day of judgment, than for thee._"[ ] it is not in the old testament, but in the new, that we are told that jesus himself shall come "_in flaming fire taking vengeance on them that know not god, and that obey not the gospel of our lord jesus christ; who shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the lord, and from the glory of his power._"[ ] it is not an old, bigoted hebrew prophet giving a vision of the hebrew jehovah, but the beloved disciple who leaned on jesus' breast, picturing the savior himself, who says: "_he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood; and his name is called the word of god. and the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean. and out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations; and he shall rule them with a rod of iron; and he treadeth the wine-press of the fierceness and wrath of almighty god._"[ ] let no man imagine that the new testament offers impunity to the wicked, or that the old testament denies mercy to the repenting sinner, or that christ exhibited any other god than the god of abraham, isaac and jacob--the same hebrew jehovah who _commands the wicked to forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and to return unto the lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our god, for he will abundantly pardon_.[ ] it is exceedingly strange that those who dwell upon the paternal character of god, as a distinctive feature of christ's personal teaching, should have forgotten that the hymns of the old testament church, a thousand years before his coming, were full of this endearing relation; that it was by the first hebrew prophet that the hebrew jehovah declared, "_israel is my son, even my first-born; and i say unto thee, let my son go, that he may serve me_;"[ ] and that by the last of them he urges israel to obedience by this tender appeal: "_if i be a father, where is mine honor?_"[ ] it was not christ, but david--one of those gloomy, stern, hebrew prophets--who penned that noble hymn to our father in heaven, which christ illustrated in his sermon on the mount: "the lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and plenteous in mercy. he will not always chide, neither will he keep his anger forever. he hath not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities; for as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy to them that fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us. like as a father pitieth his children, so the lord pitieth them that fear him."--psalm ciii. it is utter ignorance of the old testament which prompts any one to imagine that it presents any other character of god than "_the lord, the lord god, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty._"[ ] this is the name which god proclaimed to moses, and this is the character which he proclaimed in christ, when he cried on the cross: "_my god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me? but thou art holy, o thou that inhabitest the praises of israel._"[ ] justice and mercy are united in christ dying for the ungodly. it is untrue to say that the prophets of the old testament were actuated by a spirit of malice, or of revenge for personal injuries as such, in praying for, or prophesying destruction on the inveterate enemies of god and his cause.[ ] of all scripture characters, david has been most defamed for vindictiveness; but surely never was man more free from any such spirit, than the persecuted fugitive, who, with his enemy in his hand in the cave, and his confidential advisers urging him to take his life, cut off his skirt instead of his head; and on another occasion prevented the stroke which would have smitten the sleeping saul to the earth, and sent back even the spear and the cruse of water, the trophies of his generosity. when cursed himself, and defamed as a vengeful shedder of blood by the benjamite, he could restrain the fury of his followers, protect the life of the ruffianly traitor, and thus appeal to god as the witness of his innocence: "o lord, my god! if i have done this, if there be iniquity in my hands, if i have rewarded evil to him that was at peace with me, yea i have delivered him that without cause was mine enemy."[ ] it is true that he does bitterly curse several living persons; of whom it is observable that some had done him no sort of personal injury; as doeg the edomite--the nana sahib of his day--who anticipated the scenes of cawnpore, in the streets of nob, by mercilessly butchering unoffending men, helpless women, and innocent babes. but surely no friend of humanity can imagine that it is improper that the chief magistrate of israel, anointed for the very purpose of being a terror to evil doers, should express his righteous indignation against such atrocities; nor confound such public execration with the petty gnawings of private revenge. still less can the fearer of god doubt the propriety of his expressing by the mouth of his prophet, that displeasure he signally displayed by his providence, scathing and blasting the accursed wretch into a terror to all bloody and deceitful men who shall read their own warning in his doom. "god shall likewise destroy thee forever, he shall take thee away and pluck thee from thy dwelling, and root thee out of the land of the living."[ ] we have the most solemn assurance, that every one of the historical incidents of scripture is recorded for our instruction, and that every prophecy gives a lesson to all ages. "_now all these things happened unto them for ensamples: and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come._"[ ] the imprecations of the bible against individual sinners are the gibbets on which these malefactors are hung up for warning to all men to flee the crimes that brought them to that fate. it is put beyond the possibility of doubt, by the combined testimony of the lord and his apostles, that by far the greater number of the curses which david uttered, he spoke in the person of christ himself, of whom he was a type; and with direct reference to the crimes and punishment of his enemies. thus the sixty-ninth psalm, and the one hundred and ninth, pre-eminently the cursing psalms, are most explicitly and repeatedly asserted by christ, by peter, and by john, to belong to christ, and to express his very words: "_this scripture must needs have been fulfilled, which the holy ghost by the mouth of david spake before concerning judas, which was guide to them that took jesus. * * * for it is written in the book of psalms, let his habitation be desolate, and let no man dwell therein. and, his bishopric let another take._"[ ] if any one feels reluctant to imagine that such cursings should fall from the lips of the merciful savior, let him remember that the most awful curse which shall ever fall on the ears of terrified men shall be pronounced by jesus himself, "_depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels._"[ ] the solemn facts of the bible will not accommodate themselves to our likes and dislikes. christ loves righteousness and hates iniquity; in the bible he takes leave to say so, and he expects his people to share his feelings, and to be willing to express them on fit occasions. personal revenge, and curses for mere personal injuries, are forbidden in the new testament as well as in the old. but it was an apostle of jesus christ who cried, "_if any man love not the lord jesus christ, let him be accursed. though we or an angel from heaven bring any other gospel unto you, let him be accursed._"[ ] nor until we can in some measure feel this holy indignation against sin, and this burning desire to see all tyranny, superstition, bribery, licentiousness, and profanity, crushed and banished from the earth, can we pray in truth "_thy kingdom come._" still less can we be prepared for the rejoicings of heaven over the conquest of the enemies of god and man: "_rejoice over her, thou heaven, and ye holy apostles and prophets, for god hath avenged you on her._" reader, you hope to go to heaven; but it may be a different place from what you dream of. did you ever study the employment of the saints there? are you washed from your sins? is your mind purified from your carnal notions? unless a man be born again he can not see the kingdom of god. are your likes and dislikes, your sentiments and sympathies, your understanding and your will, all brought into subjection to christ? can you heartily love and adore a sin-hating, sin-avenging god? or do you shrink back in terror or dislike from god's denunciations of wrath against the wicked? would your benevolence lead you to deal alike with the righteous and the wicked; and to abhor the thought of destroying them that destroy the earth? then how will you join in the hallelujahs of heaven; for god's judgments are the themes of thanksgiving and praise from saints and angels there, and this is their song: "_hallelujah, salvation, and glory, and honor, and power, unto the lord, our god, for true and righteous are his judgments; for he hath judged the great whore, which did corrupt the earth with her fornication, and hath avenged the blood of his servants at her hands. and again they said, hallelujah! and her smoke rose up for ever and ever. and the four and twenty elders and the four living creatures fell down and worshiped god that sat on the throne, saying, amen! hallelujah! and a voice came out of the throne, saying, praise our god, all ye his servants; and ye that fear him, both small and great. and i heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, hallelujah!_ for the lord god omnipotent reigneth."[ ] and now, if this be the character of god, if he be indeed one who hates iniquity, and punishes impenitent sinners, we need not wonder that those who spake his word should utter imprecations, either in the old testament or in the new; but rather bless the mercy which warns before justice strikes, which hangs the red lantern over the abyss, and which seeks by the terrors of the lord to persuade men from perdition. the curses of the bible are denounced against the enemies of god, with the design of showing sinners their danger, and leading them to repentance. the conclusion, then, of our investigation is, that the old testament is the word of god no less than the new; that it is in no respect contrary to it; that all its parts--the law and the prophets, and the psalms--are of divine authority; that all its contents were written by divine direction, whether prophecy or history, ceremony or morality, promise or threatening, curses or blessings. it is of the old testament principally that the holy ghost declares: "_all scripture is given by inspiration of god, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness; that the man of god may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works._"[ ] footnotes: [ ] parker's absolute religion, p. . [ ] parker's discourses on religion, p. . [ ] macknight's doctrine of inspiration, p. , and seq. [ ] macknight's doctrine of inspiration, p. , etc. [ ] essays and reviews, page . [ ] john, chap. x. , . [ ] annual of scientific discovery, , p. . annual cyclopædia, , p. . [ ] mastodon giganteus, boston, , p. . [ ] for a fuller discussion of the subject, and references to the authorities, which our space here forbids, i must refer the curious reader to the _princeton review_, vol. xl. no. , where i have noticed every fact bearing on the subject up to that date; merely adding that no new fact, establishing man's remote antiquity, has been established up to this date, september , . [ ] familiar lectures, page . [ ] authenticity of the pentateuch, ii. . [ ] creation's testimony to its god. london, , page . [ ] see this subject more fully discussed in chapter xii., telescopic views of scripture. [ ] osburn's monumental history. [ ] hebrew monarchy, . [ ] prof. rawlinson's modern skepticism, . [ ] ancient monarchies i. . [ ] w. r. cooper, secretary biblical archæological society, in _faith and free thought_, page . [ ] rawlinson's illustrations of scripture. [ ] kings, chap. iv. chronicles, chap. xx. [ ] recovery of jerusalem, page , gunsberg's essay. [ ] josephus against apion, book i. sect. . horne's introduction chap. ii. sect. . [ ] isaiah, chap. iii. . ezekiel, chap. xviii. . [ ] jeremiah, chaps. xxi., and xxii. . [ ] jeremiah, chap. xxii. . [ ] jeremiah, chap. xxxiv. [ ] ezra, chap. vi. . [ ] daniel, chap. ix. . [ ] joshua, chaps. xiii.-xix. [ ] chronicles, chaps. i.-ix. leviticus, chap. xxv. [ ] exodus, chap. xxi. . deuteronomy, chap. i. ; chap. xix. [ ] exodus, chap. xviii. . [ ] deuteronomy, chap. xx. numbers, chap. x. . [ ] deuteronomy, chap. xxii. , , . leviticus, chap. xi. [ ] preface to exposition of the apocalypse. [ ] luke, chap. xxiv. . [ ] john, chap. v. , , , . [ ] matthew, chap. v. , . [ ] luke, chap. xxiv. throughout. [ ] john, chap. xx. . [ ] luke, chap. xvi. . [ ] galatians, chap. iii. . [ ] job, chap. xix. . psalm xvi. . hebrews, chap. xi. - . daniel, chap. xii. , . [ ] matthew, chap. xxii. , . [ ] matthew, chap. v. . [ ] matthew, chap. vii. . [ ] matthew, chap. xxii. - . [ ] deuteronomy, chap. xxvii. . [ ] hebrews, chap. x. . [ ] matthew, chap. xi. [ ] thessalonians, chap. i. [ ] revelation, chap. xix. [ ] isaiah, chap. lv. [ ] exodus, chap. iv. . [ ] malachi, chap. i. [ ] exodus, chap. xxxiv. [ ] psalm xxii. [ ] timothy, chap. iv. . [ ] psalm vii. [ ] psalms vii. and lii. and samuel, chaps. xvi., xxi. and xxii. [ ] corinthians, chap. x. [ ] john, chap. ii. ; chap. xv. ; chap. xix. . acts, chap. i. . [ ] matthew, chap. xxv. . [ ] galatians, chap. i. . corinthians, chap. xvi. . revelation, chaps. xix., xx. and xxi. [ ] revelation, chaps. xix., xx. and xxi. [ ] timothy, chap. iii. , . chapter x. infidelity among the stars. a little or superficial knowledge of philosophy may incline a man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion.--bacon. when skeptics, who are determined not to believe in the bible, find the historical evidences of its genuineness, authority, and inspiration, impregnable against the assaults of criticism, they turn their attention to some other mode of attack, and of late years have selected their weapons from the physical sciences. the argument thus raised is, that the bible can not be the word of god, because it asserts facts contrary to the teachings of science. of this warfare voltaire may be considered the leader, in his celebrated attack on the chemical processes recorded in scripture; in which he exposed himself to the ridicule of all the chemists and metallurgists in europe, by denying the possibility of dissolving the golden calf; the solution of gold being actually found in every gilder's shop in paris, and known even to coiners and forgers, for hundreds of years before he made this notable discovery. the result was ominous. the whole circle of the sciences has been ransacked for such arguments, and especially has every new discovery been hailed by skeptics as an ally to their cause, until further acquaintance has demonstrated that the stranger, too, was in alliance with religion. thus, when a few years ago, geology began to upheave his titanic form, he was eagerly greeted as a being undoubtedly not of celestial, but rather of subterranean, or even of infernal origin, willing to employ his gigantic powers in the assault upon heaven, and able to overwhelm the bible and the church under the ruins of former worlds. but now that skeptics have discovered the proofs he gives of the presence of the almighty on this world of ours, they are getting shy of his acquaintance, and are cultivating the society of some still more juvenile visitors from the chambers of animal magnetism and biology. the same scene will doubtless be acted over again; and these infantile strangers, when able to give distinct utterance to the facts of their developed consciousness, will bear testimony to the truth of god. such objections to the bible are very rarely brought forward by truly scientific men. it is a phenomenon, like the advent of a great comet, to find a man profoundly versed in science attack the bible. your third or fourth rate men of learning attain distinction in this field. an anti-bible writer or lecturer has generally been promoted to that high eminence from the school-room, or the editorial sanctum of an unsuccessful newspaper; or his patients have not sufficiently appreciated his physic; or he has failed in getting a patent right for his wonderful perpetual motion; or possibly he has enlarged his practical knowledge of science in the laboratory of some college, or has had his head turned by being asked to hear the mathematical recitations during the sickness of some professor. but to hear of men like galileo, kepler, boyle, newton, and leibnitz, or lyell, mantell, herschel, agassiz, hitchcock, faraday, balbo, nichol, or rosse, heading an attack upon christianity, would be an unprecedented phenomenon. such men are profoundly impressed with the thorough agreement between the facts of nature rightly observed, and the declarations of the bible rightly interpreted. it is equally rare to hear of a specialist in any department of science assume atheistic ground in that department; though a few of that class are willing to believe that some other department of science, of which they have no personal knowledge, favors infidelity. even huxley, with all his nonsense about the identical composition of the protoplasm of the mutton chop, and that of the lecturer, denies, and disproves, spontaneous generation, and votes in the london school board for the reading of the bible. the leading infidel writers, such as comte and spencer, are not distinguished by any personal scientific researches and discoveries; they are merely collectors and retailers, at second-hand, of other men's discoveries. the original scientific explorers and discoverers are few and modest. nevertheless, the other class, being both the most numerous and the most noisy, make up by loquacity for their deficiency of science, and counterbalance their ignorance by their assurance. such writers, assuming that they have outstripped all the philosophers of former days, will tell you how foolishly david, and kepler, and bacon, and newton, and herschel dreamed of the heavens declaring the glory of the lord, and the firmament showing his handiwork; "while at the present time, and for minds properly familiarized with true astronomical philosophy, the heavens display no other powers than those of natural laws, and no other glory than that of hipparchus, of kepler, of newton, and of all who have helped to discover them." theology belongs only to the infancy of the human intellect; metaphysical philosophy is the amusement of youth; but the full-grown man has learned to relinquish both religion and reason, and comes to the "positive state of science in which the human mind, acknowledging the impossibility of obtaining absolute knowledge, abandons the search after the origin and destination of the universe, and the knowledge of the secret causes of phenomena." the crown of modern science is ultimately to be placed upon the brow of atheism; but long before that eagerly desired achievement, the old bible theology is to be buried beyond the possibility of a resurrection, under mountains of natural laws, and monuments of scientific discovery. these assertions, confidently made, and perseveringly reiterated in the ears of ungodly men ignorant of the facts, of impetuous youths eager to throw off the restraints of religion, of christians weak in the faith, and even poured into the unsuspecting mind of childhood, produce the most painful results; and it becomes the imperative duty of the bishops of the church of christ not to allow them to pass unchallenged, but to convince the gainsayers, and stop the mouths of these unruly and vain talkers; or, if that be not possible, to make their folly manifest to all men. the implements for such a service are well tried and abundant, and the difficulty lies only in making a proper selection. at first view, the extinction of religion by science seems very unlikely. it is as unlikely that any thing that an infidel says about religion should be true, as that a blind man should describe the sun correctly, or even read a chapter accurately, with the book open before him? i shall show you presently that learned infidels make the grossest blunders respecting the plainest scripture records of scientific facts. it is very unlikely that infidels, who lay no claim to prophetic inspiration, should make any predictions about religion more reliable than those they have been telling so abundantly for two hundred years past, respecting the immediate overthrow of christianity and the bible; which, nevertheless, has been going on conquering new kingdoms every year, its missionaries outstripping scientific ardor in exploring the mysteries of african geography, honorably receiving the prizes which the infidel volney instituted for philological proficiency, and printing bibles from voltaire's printing-press. and it is very unlikely that these physical sciences, so long worshipers in the temple of god, should now become impious; as unlikely as that hitchcock, or mccosh, or hodge, or barnes should now, in their old days, renounce the bible, and blaspheme god. what! astronomy, and zoology, and botany, and ethnography, that were suckled at the breast of the bible, raise their hands against the mother that bore them! incredible! these sciences made an early profession of religion; taught sabbath-school in the days of job, zophar, and elihu; wrote sacred poetry, and were licensed to preach, in the days of solomon; poured forth prophetic raptures in the days of uzziah, jotham, ahaz, and hezekiah; wrote volumes on the politics of christianity in babylon, and painted glorious visions of the victories of the lamb of god, and dazzling views of the landscapes of paradise restored, in patmos; employed the gigantic intellect of newton, the elegant pen of paley, the eloquence of chalmers, herschel's heaven-piercing eye, and miller's muscular arm, to guard the outer courts of the sanctuary, while they sung sublime anthems to the music of david's harp within. have they now, after such a life of devotion, relinquished all these sublimities and beatitudes, taken lodgings in the sty, and renounced their faith in god, and hope of heaven, for the infidel maxim, "let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die?" god forbid! on the contrary, all matured science glorifies its creator. as a specimen of the testimony of matured science to religion, let us look at the progress of astronomy, as it has successively swept away one atheistic theory after another, answered anti-bible objections, and illustrated promises couched in heavenly figures, long incomprehensible to the church. if, in order to present something like a fair outline of the bearings of astronomy on modern atheism, we should have occasion to repeat, expand, and illustrate some things already introduced in previous chapters, the repetition won't hurt us. a good story is nothing the worse for being twice told; and the story of our opponents is nothing but a ceaseless repetition of the atheism of twenty centuries. the progress of astronomical science has swept away the alleged facts on which all systems of atheism have been based. . _it has refuted the fundamental dogma of atheism, that the universe is infinite, and therefore self-existent._ the assertion is confidently made by atheists and pantheists, that the universe has no boundaries; not merely none which we can see, but that it actually fills all immensity; suns succeeding suns, and firmament clustering beyond firmament, throughout infinite space. it is indispensable for the atheist not only to assert, but to prove this to be the fact, if he would convince himself, or any other person, that the universe had no creator, but exists by the necessity of its own nature; for that which exists by the necessity of its own nature must exist in all time, and in every place. no reason can be given why self-existent suns, planets, and moons should exist in any one portion of space, and not exist in any other similar portion of space. for if such a reason could be given, that reason must show a cause for their existence in the one place, and their non-existence in another; and that cause must have existed before the universe, and must have been a cause sufficient to produce the effect. this sufficient cause includes ability to produce, wisdom to arrange, and force to put in motion all the powers of the universe; qualities which reside only in an intelligent being. this is the cause which the bible asserts when it says, "in the beginning god created the heavens and the earth," and which atheists deny when they assert that "the universe is eternal and infinite." now, this fundamental article of the creed of infidels is utterly incapable of proof. if the fact were really so, they never could prove it. they acknowledge no revelation from an infinite understanding, but found their belief on the knowledge of a number of finite and ignorant beings. before they are competent to pronounce upon the extent of the universe, they must explore it thoroughly; which, when they shall have done, they will have demonstrated that it has boundaries, seeing they have discovered them; but, if they have not thoroughly explored the universe, they can not say that it is infinite, because they do not know. the very utmost, then, which could possibly be asserted on the matter would be, not that the universe has no boundaries, but that man has never reached them. as in the case of ocean soundings, if we can not find bottom, we are not therefore to conclude that there is none, but that our line is not long enough, or our lead not heavy enough to reach it. it were a logical absurdity to say, that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts--that any number of finite parts could compose an infinite universe. each sun or planet is a finite object, and any possible number of them can be counted in a sufficient time. it is impossible that any number can be infinite; for we are not using the word infinite here in the loose sense in which it is used by mathematicians, when they speak of an infinite series; that is, a series which, though it has no end, has a beginning; but in the strict sense of something having neither beginning nor end. a beginning of the universe, either in space or time, is the very thing the atheist denies. the same objection applies to the allegation, that infinite space is full of ether, air, gas, nebulæ, or any other kind of matter. it is an assertion incapable of proof; and therefore thoroughly unscientific; as all infidel theories are. but if it could be proven that every part of space accessible to our telescopes is full of an ether whose undulations transmit light, as we believe it can, that would be only a proof of the finitude of matter. that ether consists of parts whose movements can be measured and numbered; and no possible multitude of such parts can amount to the infinite. while reason thus enables us to show this dogma of the infinity of the universe to be theoretically improbable, and logically irrational, science has lately taken a more decisive step, and demonstrated it to be actually false. the universe has boundaries, and we have seen them. the proof is simple, and easily demonstrable. that broad band of luminous cloud which stretches across the heaven, called the milky way, consists of millions of stars, so small and distant that we can not see the individual stars, and so numerous that we can not help seeing the light of the mass; just as you see the outline of the forest at a distance, but are unable to distinguish the individual trees. besides this mass of stars to which our solar system belongs, there are thousands of smaller similar clouds in various parts of the heavens, which have successively been shown to consist of multitudes of stars. but all around these star-clouds the clear blue sky is discovered by the naked eye. now, it is easy to perceive, that if all the regions of infinite space were filled either with self-luminous suns, or planets capable of reflecting light, or luminous nebulæ, or comets of gaseous consistency, at such distances as the milky way, or any other star-cloud demonstrates to be safe and practicable, we should see no blue sky at all; but the whole vault of heaven would present that whitish light resulting from the mingling of the rays of multitudes of stars, planets, and comets, which the milky way does actually exhibit. no matter how small or how distant these stars, _if they were only infinitely numerous_, it is impossible that there could be any point in the heavens unilluminated by their rays, even although the stars themselves were invisible to our eyes, or even to our telescopes. the whole heaven would be one vast milky way. or rather, as humboldt reasons, "if the entire vault of heaven were covered with innumerable strata of stars, one behind the other, as with a widespread starry canopy, and light were undiminished in its passage through space, the sun would be distinguished only by its spots, the moon would appear as a dark disc, and amid the general blaze not a constellation would be visible."[ ] it would appear also to follow, as a necessary consequence, that such an infinite multitude of blazing suns must generate a heat compared with which the general conflagration would be cool and comfortable. but the telescope shows us a state of matters vastly different from this. it shows us, in fact, that space, so far from being occupied with suns and stars, is mostly empty. our universe is only a little island in the great ocean of infinite space. though the telescope discovers multitudes of stars where the naked eye sees none, yet they are, in far the greater number of instances, "_seen projected on a perfectly dark heaven, without any appearance of intermixed nebulosity_."[ ] and even through the milky way, and the other nebulæ, the telescope penetrates, through "_intervals absolutely dark, and completely void of any star, of the smallest telescopic magnitude_."[ ] it may assist us to understand the full import of this declaration, to remember that lord rosse's large telescope clearly defines any object on the moon's surface as large as the custom house. its power of penetrating space surpasses our power of imagination, but is represented by saying, that light, which flashes from san francisco to london quicker than you can close your eye and open it again, requires _millions of years_ to travel to our earth from the most distant star-cloud discoverable by this telescope.[ ] if a galaxy like this of ours existed anywhere within this amazing distance, that telescope would discover its existence. it has, in fact, augmented the universe visible to us, , , times, and thus made us feel that not merely this world, which constitutes our earthly all, and yon glorious sun, which shines upon it, but all the host of heaven's suns, and planets, and moons, and firmaments, which our unaided eyes behold, are but as a handful of the sand of the ocean shore compared with the immensity of the universe. but ever, and along with this, it has shown us the ocean as well as the shore, and revealed boundless regions of darkness and solitude stretching around and far away beyond these islands of existence. the telescope, then, enlarges and confirms our views of the extent of the unoccupied portions of space. if there were only one dark point of the heavens no larger than the apparent magnitude of the smallest star, this one unoccupied space would sufficiently disprove the infinity of the universe, inasmuch as there would be a portion of space of boundless length, and of a diameter not less than the diameter of the earth's orbit, say , , miles, in which stars might exist, as they do in its borders, but yet do not. but the argument becomes utterly overwhelming, when the attempt is made to calculate the proportion of space occupied by the stars to that left unoccupied. whether we take herschel's computation, that the nebulæ cover one two hundred and seventieth part of the superficies of the visible heaven,[ ] or struve's supposition of the existence of a star subtending no measurable angle, in every part of the visible sky as large as the surface of the moon, the vast disproportion of the universe, to the space in which it is placed, forces itself upon our notice. for, upon the largest of these computations, the proportion of existence to empty space is mathematically proved to be not greater than as the cube of one to the cube of two hundred and sixty-nine; that is to say, there is room for , , such universes as this of ours in that small part of infinite space open to the view of herschel's telescopes. but when we come to consider the vastness of these regions of darkness, over which no light has traveled for twenty millions of years, and remember also that astronomers have looked clear through the nebulæ, and find that they bear no more cubical proportion to the infinite darkness behind them than the sparks of a chimney do to the extent of the sky against which they seem projected, so far from imagining the universe to be infinite, we stand confounded at its relative insignificance, and are convinced that it bears no more proportion to infinite space than a fishing-boat does to the atlantic ocean. there is no possible evasion of this great fact, by any contradictory hypothesis. it can not be objected "that stars may exist at infinite distances, whose light has not yet reached the limits of our universe." if they do, they did not exist from eternity, for there is no possible distance over which light could not have traveled, during eternal duration. but their eternal existence is the very thing which the atheist is concerned to prove. grant that infinite space is filled with worlds _which had a beginning_, and their necessary existence instantly falls, and we are compelled to seek for a cause of their beginning of existence; that is to say, a creator. nor will it answer the purpose to say, "that for anything we know to the contrary, these dark regions may be filled with dark stars." if the fact were so, it is equally fatal to the dogma of self-existence. some stars shine; others are dark. why so? wherefore this difference? variety is an effect, and demands a prior cause. were there only two stars in the sky, or two substances on the earth, and those unlike in any particular, that plurality, and that variety, would prove that they could not be infinite or self-existent, but dependent upon some cause for their existence, and for their variety of form. but we do know many things contrary to the notion that the dark regions of infinite space may be full of dark stars. light is not the only indication of the presence of a star. the attraction of gravity, which is wholly independent of light, is a proof quite as certain and satisfactory to the astronomer. the presence of stars and planets too faint to be discovered by the naked eye, and of one, the planet neptune,[ ] as far distant from the planet disturbed by its attraction as the earth is from the sun, was ascertained, and its place pointed out by adams and le verrier, _before it was seen_. if the dark interplanetary spaces, then, were full of dark attracting bodies, the perturbations of the other planets would discover their existence. so the presence of some invisible stars at much greater distances from their visible associates has been discovered by bessel,[ ] and it is quite possible that a dark firmament may yet be discovered, containing as great a number of dark stars as we now behold of luminaries; another group of islets in the ocean of infinite space. but the very facts which will prove their existence will disprove their infinity; for we can know their presence only by their perturbation of the proper motions of the visible stars; but if infinite space were full of dark bodies, the visible stars would have no room to move at all. it is easily demonstrable, that if infinite space were filled with dark stars, the equilibrium and coherence of our galaxy, and of all other clusters of stars, would be destroyed. the existence of nebulæ, and clusters, and the revolutions of the binary stars, are conclusive proof that the dark parts of infinite space are not full of dark attracting bodies. nor can the atheist here raise his usual argument from unknown facts, and say that, "far beyond the range of our most powerful telescopes, a boundless expanse of firmaments may exist." it concerns not our present argument whether such exist or not. whatsoever discoveries may be made to eternity, of firmaments, ten thousand times ten thousand times larger than we now behold, _they can never bear the smallest proportion to the infinite space in which they exist_. beyond these islets will extend gulfs and oceans immeasurable. our argument, however, has no concern with the unknown possible, but with the actual fact--visible to the naked eye and confirmed by the telescope--that there is a portion of space in which millions of universes such as this might exist with safety, yet they do not. worlds, therefore, do not exist by the necessity of their own nature, wherever there is room for them, but must have had some pre-existent, external, and supernatural cause of their existence in this place and not in other places. this implies choice--will--god. the physical refutation of the self-existence of the universe is completed by the discovery, _that all the orbs of heaven, as well as the earth, are in motion, and that an orderly and regulated motion_.[ ] the fact need not be illustrated, for it is not denied. the consequence is inevitable. that which is self-existent must be unchangeable; for change is an effect, and demands a cause; and the cause must exist before the effect, and produce it. whatsoever is changeable, then, is a product of a prior cause, and so not self-existent. but every part of the universe is changeable, for it is in motion, which is a change of place; and, therefore, is not self-existent, but the product of a prior cause. professor fick, who was some time since called from zurich to fill the professorship of physiology at wurzburg, and who is known by his experiments on muscular physics, in a recent work on the transformation of force, brings out the argument in proof of the non-eternity of our universe in a new form. he shows that heat is continually being lost by radiation; and when mechanical force is converted into heat _some_ of that heat can never be brought back to be mechanical force. and as this change from mechanical force to heat is ever going on, all force must at last turn into heat, in which case all difference of temperature would be lost and universal stagnation and death would be the result. he then concludes in the following words, which we quote from _nature_, macmillan's weekly: "we are come to this alternative; either in our highest, or most general, our most fundamental scientific abstractions some great point has been overlooked; or the universe will have an end, and must have had a beginning; could not have existed from eternity, but must at some date, not infinitely distant, have arisen from something not forming part of the chain of natural causes, _i. e._, must have been created."[ ] to this it has been replied, that motion is the normal condition of matter; arising from the force of gravitation, acting in and upon the various bodies composing the universe; and mathematical calculations have been attempted to show how vortices, and spiral motions, could be produced by the force of gravitation, and the mutual resistances of the atoms originally composing the universe. but this attempt is easily seen to be a failure. the attraction of gravitation alone can not possibly produce any such motion as we behold in the heavens; nor can it originate, nor sustain, any kind of eternal motion whatever. for the attraction of gravitation is always in right lines; but there is no rectilinear motion in the heavens; all celestial motions are curvilinear. nor can the attraction of gravitation account for the maintenance of any kind of eternal motion. its tendency is to draw all bodies to the center of gravity, and to keep them there, in one vast heap, by the force of their mutual attraction; thus bringing all motion to an eternal rest. to this it is now replied that motion is the equivalent of light, heat, electricity, and chemical reaction; all of which are convertible into motion. these are properties of matter, and inseparable from it, and so as eternal as itself. we have already disproved the eternity of matter; but if, for the sake of argument, it were granted, yet would not the regulated and orderly motions of the universe be thereby accounted for. for these forces either exactly balance the force of gravitation, or they do not. if they do not, and their repulsion prevails, by even the slightest degree, the particles of matter had been driven away into infinite space millions of years ago, and suns, and planets, and atheistic philosophers, would have vanished like the baseless fabric of a vision. but if the attraction of gravitation had prevailed, by even the weight of an ounce, long ages ago sun, moon and stars would have rushed together into one vast mountain mass, whose attraction would have been so great, that no living creature could move upon its surface, and whose parts would be compressed into a density compared with which quicksilver would be lighter than cork. but if, on the other hand, it be alleged, that these inherent forces of matter exactly balance its power of gravitation--with which they have no other apparent relation--then the argument is irresistible, that these grains of sand and drops of water and globes of granite being unequal to such calculations, there was some calculating engineer at work arranging the motions of the stars. no mechanical law is a sufficient cause for this motion. to allege that a power of orderly, regulated motion--and there is no other sort of motion in heaven or earth--is an inherent property of matter, is simply to insult our common sense, and overturn the foundation of all reason. for we have no knowledge of matter, and can have none, more certain than we have of the constitution of our own minds, which requires us to trace up every change among material objects to _the energy and will of a person_ capable of planning and effecting the change. to refer us to the law of gravity is not to give us a cause for the motions of the heavenly bodies, but only a _name_; for law is only _a rule of action_. we demand a lawgiver--an agent--a _force_, capable of producing effects. when the law of projectiles makes a cannon-ball, and projects it, we will believe that the law of gravity made the worlds, and moves them. "descending within the mind's interior chambers, i find no conviction so sure of the existence of an external world, as is my belief in the reality of _power_--of something that sustains succession, and causes order. again, then, whence this idea, and what is it? what this attribute with which i endow material laws, and raise them into _forces_? now, in my apprehension, the strictest scrutiny can not obtain for these inquiries any reply save one; we _primarily_ connect the idea of _power_ with no change or movement, except an act or determination of the free will; but from such acts, that idea is inseparable. if, therefore, in order to explain the progress of material things, we require the agency of _efficient causes_, is not this a direct and solemn recognition--through all form and transiency--of the necessity of an _ever-present creative power_; a power requisite and necessary to uphold--to renew the universe every moment--or, rather, to prolong creation by the persistence of the creative act? and, in very truth, startling though it be, such is the only and ultimate scientific idea of the divine omnipresence. law is not even the almighty's minister; the order of the material world, however close and firm, is not merely the almighty's ordinance. the _forces_, if so we name them, which express that order, are not powers which he has evolved from the silences, and to whose guardianship he has committed all things, so that he himself might repose. no! above, below, around, _there_ is god; there his universal presence, speaking to finite creatures, in finite forms, a language which only the living heart can understand. in the rain and sunshine; in the soft zephyrs; in the cloud, the torrent, and the thunder; in the bursting blossom, and the fading branch; in the revolving season, and the rolling star; there is the infinite essence, and the mystic development of his will."[ ] . _scientific astronomy inexorably demolishes the atheistic scheme for the arrangement of the solar system by accident, commonly known as buffon's cosmogony._ "buffon supposed that the force of a comet falling obliquely on the sun has projected to a distance a torrent of the matter of which it is composed, as a stone thrown into a basin causes the water which it contains to splash out. this torrent of matter, in a state of fusion, has broken into several parts, which have been arrested at different distances from the sun, according to their density, or the impetus they received. they then united in spheres, by the effect of the motion of rotation, and condensing by cold, have become opaque and solid planets and satellites."[ ] this formation of worlds by accident, it is true, gave no reason for the form of their orbits, for their rotation on their axes, in one direction, and that, too, the direction of their motion, nor for several other matters, of which infidels make little account, but about which plain men like to ask, namely: where did the sun come from? what melted it down into a fluid state, fit to be splashed about? where did the comet come from? and who threw it with so correct an aim through infinite space as exactly to hit the sun _in an oblique direction_. creation, it seems, was nearly missed, after all. this chaotic theory never gained much respect from men of science, though its simplicity speedily opened its way among the vulgar, and it has ever been a favorite with the most ignorant class of infidels, numbering thousands of warm advocates, even at the present day. it was thought to be very much corroborated by the discovery of the asteroids, and their supposed formation by the explosion of a larger body. there is a certain proportion observed in the distances of the orbits of the planets from each other--a breadth or gauge, as it were, on the celestial railroad. but there was the breadth of a track between the orbits of mars and jupiter on which no train ran, and this vacancy excited the curiosity of astronomers. in the first seven years of this century, three very small planets were discovered, running near this track; and dr. olbers, the discoverer of pallas, finding that they were nearly in the same track, and sometimes crossed each other, and that they were diminutively small--bearing about the same proportion to a regular planet which a hand-car does to a freight train--imagined that they were formed by the explosion of a large planet; that the boiler of the large locomotive had burst, the fragments had all lighted upon the track again, in the shape of hand-cars, and the hand-cars had magnanimously resolved to keep running, and do the business of the line; and that, as there must have been material enough in the original planet to make some thousands of them, more would be discovered by watching two depots, at the crossings of the tracks, in the constellations virgo and the whale, where they must all pass. in fact, he did himself find another, very near one of these nodes; more recently many others have been found; and astronomers now expect to hear of one or two more every year. at first sight his theory seemed strengthened by every new discovery. it is true, reflecting men could not help wondering at such a marvelously regular explosion as would produce beautiful little orderly planets, going so regularly too, and all by accident. they never heard of the blowing up of a palace producing cottages, or the explosion of a steamboat throwing off the hurricane deck in the shape of whaleboats, or the bursting of a locomotive producing model engines, or even hand-cars. however, as the theory removed god out of sight, it was generally accepted and freely used by infidels, to show that the world had no need of a creator. but astronomers saw, that as each new asteroid had a track of its own, and ran to a different terminus, and the roads in which they ran were of different gauges and grades--one little asteroid, pallas, running up and down a track inclined thirty-five degrees, just as speedily as the others--every new discovery increased the difficulty of accounting for their origin by explosion. but the discovery of the planet hygeia, at a vast distance from the others, utterly overturned the explosion theory. loomis says: "the difficulties in the way of our regarding these small planets, as fragments of a single body, were well nigh-insuperable before the discovery of hygeia. this last discovery has probably given the death-blow to the theory of olbers. the orbit of hygeia completely incloses the orbits of several of the asteroids, its perihelion distance--that is, its least distance from the sun--exceeding the aphelion--or greatest distance--of flora by _twenty-five millions of miles_. _no change of position of the orbits could, therefore, bring these orbits to a coincidence._"[ ] the matter has been finally settled by the greatest of modern mathematicians, le verrier, who has subjected the eccentricities, distances, and inclinations of the orbits of the asteroids to a mathematical investigation, the result of which is as follows: "in the present state of things, these eccentricities and these inclinations are totally incompatible with olbers' hypothesis, which supposed that the small planets--some of which were discovered even in his day--were produced from the wreck of a larger star, which had exploded. the forces necessary to launch the fragments of a given body in such different routes (whose existence we should be obliged to suppose) would be of such an improbable intensity, that the most limited mathematical knowledge could not but see its absurdity." he concludes the memoir by advancing four propositions, "which forever annihilate olbers' hypothesis."[ ] . _the progress of astronomical discovery has utterly refuted the notion of creation by natural law, known as the development theory, or the nebular hypothesis._ scientific infidels knew that there was too much order and regularity in the motions of the planets to allow any rational mind to ascribe these motions to accident, according to buffon's notion. they saw that these movements must be regulated by law. la place, an eminent mathematician, saw that there are at least five great regularities pervading the system, for which buffon's theory gave no reason: . the planets all move in elliptical orbits, nearly circular. they might, on the contrary, have been as elongated as those of comets. . they revolve in orbits nearly in the plane of the sun's equator. they might have revolved in orbits inclined to it at any angle, or even in the plane of his poles. . they revolve around the sun all in the same direction, which is the direction of his rotation on his axis. . they rotate on their axes, also, so far as known, in the same direction. . the satellites (with the exception of those of uranus) revolve around their primary planets, and also rotate on their axes, in the same normal direction. it was evident, even to the believers in chance, that so many regularities were not produced by accident. la place found, by computing the chances by the formula of probabilities, that the chances were two millions to one against these regularities happening by chance, _and four millions to one in favor of these motions having a common origin_. the grand phenomenon being a motion of rotation in the whole system, of which the rotation of the sun is the central part, he thought if he could account for this, he could explain all the rest. he set out by supposing, that the sun and planets originally existed as a vast cloud of gaseous matter, intensely heated--a vast fire-mist--placed in a region of space much cooler, and that this cloud, by gradual cooling, and the pressure of its parts, settled down into solid forms. it was supposed that some portions of this cloud would begin to cool sooner than others, and so become solid sooner, and that the hot gas, rushing to the solid part, would form a vortex, which would set the cloud in motion around its center. as the speed of its rotation would increase, and the outside condense and grow solid before the inside, the cloud would whirl off the rings of solid matter, which would keep revolving in the same orbits in which they were cast off, and would revolve faster and faster as they grew cooler and more solid, till they broke up, by the force of their velocity, into smaller pieces; which fragments, in their turn, repeated the process, until the present number of planets and their satellites was produced.[ ] this theory differs from buffon's much as a low pressure engine, deriving most of its power from the condenser, differs from one of high pressure. la place does not explode the boiler to make his planets, but merely runs his train so fast as to break an axle every now and then, when the wheel runs off with the velocity it has got, and keeps its track as well as if it had an engineer to guide it, grows into a little locomotive by dint of running, and after a while breaks an axle too--breaking is a hereditary failing of these suns and planets that had no god to make them--and the wheels thus thrown off supply it with moons and rings, like saturn's. the illustration is not nearly so absurd as the theory, inasmuch as a locomotive is an incomparably less complicated contrivance than a planet. however the nonsense was cradled in the halls of philosophy by means of antiquity, and distance. as no fiction was too marvelous for the credence of the greek, if it were only a hundred years old, or located beyond the euxine, so to our development philosopher any impossibility may be accepted, if it can only be dissolved into gas, and located a good many millions of miles away; and to make it an article of faith on which he will risk his soul, it is only necessary to give it a remote antiquity. no papist ever insisted more on antiquity as the solvent of all absurdity. antiquity, distance, and expansion are his trinity, with which all absurdities become scientific facts. herschel had discovered numbers of nebulæ, or luminous clouds, in the distant heavens shining with a distinct light, but which, with the highest magnifying power he could apply, presented no trace of stars. some nebulæ, it is true, his largest telescope resolved, like our own milky way, into beds of distinct stars; but there were others--for instance, one in the belt of orion--visible to the naked eye as a cloud, but which his forty feet telescope only displayed as a larger cloud, without any shape of stars. now, reasoning upon the matter, he found that if these nebulæ were composed of stars as large as those distinctly visible, they must be immensely distant to be indistinguishable by his telescope, and exceedingly numerous and close together to give a cloud of light visible to the naked eye. in fact, the suns of those firmaments must be so close to each other as to present a blaze of glory, and complexities of revolution inconceivable to the dwellers on earth. but as this daring idea seemed incredible, even to his giant mind, he thought the appearance of these nebulæ might be more rationally accounted for by supposing that they were not stars at all, but simply clouds of gaseous matter, like the matter of comets, from which he supposed that stars were formed by a long process of condensation and solidification. he thought this theory was favored by the fact, that nebulæ are generally seen in those portions of the heavens that are not thickly strewn with stars; and also by the various forms of these clouds. some were merely loose clouds, without any definite form; others seemed gathering toward the center. in some, of a roundish, or oval form, the central mass seemed well defined. in a few, the process seemed nearly complete, a bright star shining in the midst of a faint nebulous halo. here, then, it was said, we see the whole progress of the growth of stars; their development from the gaseous nebulous fluid into solid, brilliant suns. la place accepted herschel's discoveries as conclusive proof of the truth of his theory, and it was generally accepted by the scientific world. oddly enough, infidels seem not to have noticed that those appearances of _condensation toward the center_, which seemed to herschel so strongly in favor of his theory of the nebulous fluid, were diametrically opposed to la place's requirements of _condensation at the circumference_; and these two contradictory notions were supposed to support each other, and to furnish a solid basis for the development hypothesis. this theory, as stated by herschel, and expounded by nichol, dick, and other christian writers, _is not necessarily atheistical_. on the contrary, they allege that it furnishes us with greater evidences of the power of god, and gives us higher ideas of his wisdom, to suppose a system of creation by development, under natural law, than by a direct exercise of his will. undoubtedly, had god so pleased he could have made suns from fire-mists, according to some plan which his infinite wisdom could devise, and his omnipotent power could execute; but it is beyond the possibilities even of omniscience and omnipotence to make worlds, or to make anything but nonsense, according to la place's plan. had god so pleased, to make firmaments grow as forests do, and if he should please to enable us to discover such celestial growth in some distant part of heaven, we should have the same kind of evidence of his being, power, wisdom, and goodness in this creation by natural law which we now have from his providence by natural law, in the growth of the fruits of the earth, and as much greater an amount of it as the heavens are greater than the earth. the first beginning of primeval elements demands a creator. the contrivance of the law of development proclaims a contriver. the force by which it operates--whether that of gravity or chemical reaction--must be the force of an agent. _the development theory, then, fails to account for the origin of the universe, or even of our own world._ herbert spencer, its most eloquent expounder, admits this. he says: "it remains only to point out that while the genesis of the solar system, and of countless other systems like it, is thus rendered comprehensible, the ultimate mystery continues as great as ever. the problem of existence is not solved; it is simply removed farther back. the nebular hypothesis throws no light on the origin of diffused matter; and diffused matter as much needs accounting for as concrete matter. the genesis of an atom is not easier to conceive than the genesis of a planet. nay, indeed, so far from making the universe a less mystery than before, it makes it a greater mystery. creation by manufacture is a much lower thing than creation by evolution. a man can put together a machine, but he can not make a machine develop itself. the ingenious artisan, able as some have been, so far to imitate vitality as to produce a mechanical piano-forte player, may in some sort conceive how, by greater skill, a complete man might be artificially produced; but he is unable to conceive how such a complex organism gradually arises out of a minute, structureless germ. that our harmonious universe once existed potentially as formless, diffused matter, and has slowly grown into its present organized state, is a far more astonishing fact than would have been its formation after the artificial method vulgarly supposed. those who hold it legitimate to argue from phenomena to noumena, may rightly contend that the nebular hypothesis implies a first cause as much transcending 'the mechanical god of paley,' as this does the fetish of a savage."[ ] the nebular hypothesis, then, can not exist without god. however, as it seems to remove him to a great distance from this present world, both in space and time, it has become popular with atheists. the nebular hypothesis, as presented by atheists, _imagines a state of primeval matter as simple, or homogeneous, of which science presents no example, in heaven or on earth_. this homogeneous condition of matter is the very foundation of the theory. spencer reasons at great length, that all progress is from the simple to the differentiated. and it is indispensable for the atheists to prove that the primeval world was composed of matter perfectly simple and homogeneous. if they alleged that it was composed of several ingredients, nobody would believe them that this compound was eternal. there is no conviction of common sense stronger than that every compound has been put together by some compounder. they could not persuade a child that a plum pudding made itself, or that a steamship filled with passengers existed so from eternity, much less a planet with a much larger crew and company. they therefore alleged that the first matter of the universe was perfectly homogeneous and simple. when common people objected that no such thing was to be seen in this world nowadays, since all things here--stones, water, air, earth, plants, animals--are compounded and built up out of a great variety of matters, they claimed that this is the result of the growth of our planet; but that the nebulæ, which astronomers see far away in the sky, are young suns and planets, just beginning to condense, and that the gas they consist of is the genuine, simple, homogeneous matter out of which this world, and all worlds, originally made themselves. they thought the nebulæ were so very far away that nobody would ever go there to see and come back to contradict them; and so they were quite safe in pointing to them as examples of homogeneous matter. now one does not see, if the nebula had been exactly what the development men assert--_simple, homogeneous matter_--_how they could ever have made such a composite world as this out of it_, or indeed how they could make anything but itself out of it. no chemical actions or reactions can begin in a simple substance; there must always be at least two simple substances to make a compound. heating or cooling a simple substance will never make it a compound. you may heat water in a boiler and cool it again as often as you please, but your heating and cooling will never make coffee out of it, unless you put coffee into it. so you may heat and cool your simple nebula to all eternity, but you will never get coffee out of it, much less coffee and coffee-pot, china and company, with the biscuits and butter; all which, and a great deal more, our philosophers contrive to churn out of the primeval homogeneous nebula. but the progress of science has enabled us to show that the nebulæ, far from being simple, homogeneous matter, are compounded of as many ingredients as the flame of your lamp or gas light, which is combined of half a score of different substances. by the discovery of spectrum analysis we are able to analyze the chemical composition of the most distant flames, to tell whether they proceed from solids or gases in a state of combustion, and what are the gases and minerals consumed in them. as space forbids the details of this discovery here, i can only state the results, namely that some of the nebulæ consist of clouds of small solid stars, of which the nebula in orion is an instance; but others consist of flames of gases, in all cases compound, and showing, besides the oxygenated flame, the lines which declare the presence of hydrogen, and of several metals. thus it is proved, that no such eternal, homogeneous nebulæ are to be found in heaven, and consequently nobody could ever make worlds out of a substance which had no existence. this theory of development was always _a mere notion, a castle in the air_, and never could be anything more. to say that it was mere moonshine would be to give it far too respectable a standing; for moonshine has a real existence, and may be seen and felt. but nobody ever saw or felt a homogeneous nebula. indeed, its inventor never pretended that he, or anybody else, ever saw one; or saw it sailing off into moons, and planets, and suns, or ever would see any such thing. no scientific man has ever pretended that it was an established fact, or anything more than a theory, a notion. young people, who are invited to hazard their souls on the strength of this miscalled scientific theory, should remember that it is not science, which means something a man knows, but merely a theory, which is some notion which he imagines. _it is an unsatisfactory notion._ it does not answer the purpose of its inventors. as we have already seen, it gives us no account of the origin of the homogeneous matter of the nebula. it gives no answer to the questions, how did it get to be so hot, while all the space around it was so cold? is the fire that heated it burning still, or is it exhausted for want of fuel? were the germs of all the plants and animals in it while it was blazing at a white heat? if they were, how did they escape being burnt to ashes? if they were not, where did they come from? for there was nothing but that nebula then in existence. did it contain within itself all the principles of things, all the forces now found in the worlds which grew out of it? if so, how came they there? if not, how did attraction, and repulsion, vegetable life, animal life, intellect, and free will, work themselves into that cloud of homogeneous gas? professor tyndall thus exposes the absurdity of the supposition that the nebula contained the elements of mind: "for what are the core and essence of this hypothesis? strip it naked and you stand face to face with the notion that not alone the more ignoble forms of animalcular or animal life, not alone the noble forms of the horse and lion, not alone the exquisite and wonderful mechanisms of the human body, but the human mind itself--emotion, intellect, will, and all these phenomena, were once latent in a fiery cloud. surely the mere statement of such a notion is more than a refutation."[ ] _it was only one of several contradictory notions._ thus a writer in the _atlantic monthly_, so far from accepting the notion that the sun and earth are solidifying and cooling down, as explanatory of the facts revealed by astronomy and geology, infers the very contrary from the acknowledged facts, namely, that we are coming up to the nebular condition, rather than developing from it. he writes as follows: "the earth is progressing by excessively slow changes toward the solar and nebulous condition. its history is a repetition of the solar, and a time must arrive when the surface, becoming incandescent, will be obscured only by casual dark pits in a brilliant atmosphere, a _souvenir_ of the present darkness of the crust; yet during a certain period, within fixed limits of gravitating force and heat of mass, the human race may continue to exist; progressing, we may suppose, in force and fineness of organization. the race will perish, perhaps, in the order of nature, by failure or insufficient number of offspring, a principal cause of the extinction of superior races. the earth must become lone and voiceless long before the incandescence of the crust. science may follow it into the condition of an attendant star, and then of an expanding nebula. "in the cosmos all movements are cyclical, and recurrent, without change, save interchange among forms of motion. a universe which is, in its total, the same to-day as yesterday, and always, would appear idle and dull if it were not the footstool of divine force, upon which the creative will maintains a certain equipoise, necessary to the continued production of spiritual forms." _it is an impracticable notion, contrary to the first principle of mechanics, that action and reaction are equal._ the grand requirement of the system--power to work the engine--can never be raised by la place's, nor by any other mechanical plan. the cooling cloud of fire-mist is simply a very big machine, and no machine can generate power to work itself. if la place could have somehow or other got power for the motion of rotation outside of his cloud, he might have made it revolve, and scatter off great lumps of the lightest outside stuffs, as your grindstone scatters off drops of water when you turn it rapidly; but, having no such power, his theory is a plan to make the grindstone turn itself. it is, therefore, precisely of the same value as any one of the hundred of ingenious schemes for creating power by machinery, of the perpetual motion men, in defiance of the first law of mechanics, that action and reaction are equal. moreover, he proposes to raise the power by making the gas cool at one part of the surface faster than at another, and so to make a vortex around that spot, which would set the whole mass to revolving. but no conceivable reason can be alleged why the homogeneous mass should begin to cool at one place faster than another, or indeed why an eternally hot mass should ever begin to cool at all. but, letting that pass, to make the required vortex for the rotation of the whole mass, it should not begin to cool at any part of the surface, but at the center, where, as every engine driver who ever saw a condenser, and every woman who ever cooled a dish of mush knows, it could not possibly begin to cool till the outside mass had become cold; and so no motion could be produced. this is so well known in the machine shops that it is rare to find a machinist own the theory. but even a more fatal objection has been raised by one of the most eloquent expounders of the theory. mr. spencer shows us that the mass, condensing under the influence of gravitation, so far from cooling _must necessarily evolve heat_. he is perfectly clear and decided on this matter, _that the condensing mass could never, by any possibility, begin to cool, but must begin to heat, and go on heating till it burst out in a blaze_. he says: "heat must inevitably be generated by the aggregation of diffused matter into a concrete form; and throughout our reasonings we have assumed that such generation of heat has been an accompaniment of nebular condensation."[ ] "while the condensation and the rate of rotation are progressively increasing, the approach of the atoms necessarily generates _a progressively increasing temperature_. as this temperature rises light begins to be evolved, and ultimately there results a revolving sphere of fluid matter radiating intense light and heat--a sun."[ ] this, it will be perceived, is exactly the reverse of the original nebular theory of a cooling globe, or spheroid of homogeneous nebular matter, diffused by intense heat, and cooling down into suns, and moons, and planets. so far as the spencer system is accepted, it displaces la place's theory, and the inventor accordingly works out a new theory of his own, and equally inconsistent with known facts and principles. but as mr. spencer candidly owns that his scheme can neither generate matter nor force, as we have already seen, it needs no further discussion in this connection. the fact is simply this, a chemical perpetual motion is as impossible as a mechanical one. the discovery of the convertibility of forces shows this. the development theory of the generation of motion by processes of the self-heating or the self-cooling of the machine, or by chemical actions and reactions, is, in its last analysis, only a big perpetual motion humbug. even were the rotation, and the cooling process, to take place, as is supposed, _no such results would proceed from these combined operations as the case requires_; for, according to the theory, as the cooling and contracting rings revolve in the verge of a vortex of fluid less dense than themselves, one of these two results must take place: either, as is most probable, from their exceeding tenuity, the rings will break at once into fragments, when, instead of flying outward, they will sink toward the center, and, as long as they are heavier than the surrounding fluid, _they will stay there_; and, as the cooling goes on on the outside, so will the concentration of the heavier matter, till we have _one_ great spheroid, with a solid center, liquid covering, and gaseous atmosphere. a vortex will never make, nor allow to exist beyond its center, planets heavier than the fluid of which it is composed. the other alternative, and the one which la place selected, was the supposition that the cooling and contracting rings did not at first break up into pieces, but retained their continuity; but, contrary to all experience and reason, he supposed that these cooling rings kept contracting and widening out from the heated mass, at the same time. the only fluid planetary rings which we can examine--those of saturn--have been closing in on the planet since the days of huygens, and eventually will be united with the body of the planet. every boy who has seen a blacksmith hoop a cart-wheel has learned the principle, that a heated ring contracts as it cools, and in doing so presses in upon the mass around which it clings. but, according to this nebular notion, the fire-mist keeps cooling and shrinking up, while the rings, of the very same heat and material, keep cooling faster, and widening out from it; a piece of schismatical behavior without a parallel among solids or fluids, either in heaven or earth, or under the earth. plateau's illustration of the mode in which centrifugal force acts in overcoming molecular attraction, has been cited as a demonstration of the truth of the nebular hypothesis. the conditions, however, are entirely different. by means of clock-work he caused a globule of oil to rotate in a mixture of alcohol and water _of the same density_, thus entirely getting rid of the power of gravitation; and by increasing the velocity he caused it to flatten out into a disc, and finally to project a multitude of minute drops, which continued their revolutions so long as the fluid in which they floated kept revolving by the motion of the rotating spindle, _the divergent drops, the central mass, and the surrounding fluid, being all the while of the same density_. but the essential conditions of the nebular theory are, that _the central mass_ exert an attraction of gravitation upon all its parts, and _therefore be denser than the surrounding ether or empty space_, and that _the cooling and contracting rings be of a different density from the rest of the mass_. their divergence from the more fluid portion is supposed to arise from their growing denser. and reclus shows[ ] that the divergent drops owe their existence to the _expansion_, not to the _contraction_, of the globule of oil. this experiment, then, contradicts the theory, so far as it is applicable. plateau himself never adduced this experiment in support of the nebular theory; but having, by way of illustration, spoken of the revolving drops as satellites, and finding that expression misunderstood, he corrected the error in a subsequent paper. he says: "it is clear that this mode of formation is entirely foreign to la place's cosmogonic hypothesis; therefore we have no idea of deducing from this little experiment, which only refers _to the effects of molecular attraction_, and _not to those of gravitation_, any argument in favor of the hypothesis in question; an hypothesis which _in other respects we do not adopt_."[ ] _it was always contrary to the facts of astronomical science._ it has accordingly been repudiated by the most eminent astronomers. sir john herschel declares that the appearance of those groups, or clusters, of stars, supposed to be formed by the condensation of nebulæ is quite different from that depicted by this theory, and that no traces of the ring-making process is visible among them. he thus describes the appearances of these groups; exactly the contrary of that demanded by the theory, which he emphatically disclaims, from the presidential chair of the british association for the advancement of science. "if it is to be regarded as demonstrated truth, or as receiving the smallest support from any observed numerical relations which actually hold good among the elements of the primary orbits, i beg leave to demur. assuredly it receives no support from the observation of the effects of sidereal aggregation as exemplified in the formation of globular and elliptic clusters, supposing them to have resulted from such aggregation. for we see this cause working out in thousands of instances, to have resulted, _not_ in the formation of a single large central body, surrounded by a few smaller attendants disposed in one plane around it, but in systems of infinitely greater complexity, consisting of multitudes of nearly equal luminaries, grouped together in a solid elliptic or globular form. so far then as any conclusions from our observations of nebulæ can go, the result of agglomerative tendencies _may_ indeed be the formation of families of stars of a general and very striking character, but we see nothing to lead us to presume its further result to be the surrounding of those stars with planetary adherents."[ ] _this theory is contradicted by the peculiarities of our solar system._ the orbits of the comets being inclined at all angles to the sun's equator, are often out of the plane of his rotation, and so in the way of the theory. the moons of uranus revolve in a direction contrary to all the other bodies, and fly right into the face of the theory. according to the nebular theory, the outer planets, first cast off from the sun, ought to be lighter than those nearer him, as these had longer pressing near the middle of the mass; and the sun himself, having been pressed by the weight of all the rest of the system, should be the densest body of the whole. and the author of _the vestiges of creation_, in expounding the theory, manufactures a set of facts to suit it, and tells his readers that the planets exhibit a progressive diminution in density from the one nearest the sun to that which is most distant. our solar system could not have lasted thirty years had that been the case. the earth, venus, and mars, are nearly of the same density. uranus is more dense than saturn, which is nearer the sun. neptune is more dense than either. the sun, which ought to be the heaviest of all, according to the theory, is only one-fourth the density of the earth. la place himself has demonstrated that these densities and arrangements are indispensable to the stability of the system. but they are plainly contradictory to his theory of its formation.[ ] the palpable difference of luminosity between the sun and the planets, which, as they are all made of the very same materials, and by the same process, according to this theory, ought to be equally self-luminous, is in itself a self-evident refutation of the nebular hypothesis, or of any other process of creation by mere mechanical law. "the same power, whether natural or supernatural, which placed the sun in the center of the six primary planets, placed saturn in the center of the orb of his five secondary planets; and jupiter in the center of his four secondary planets; and the earth in the center of the moon's orbit; and, therefore, had this cause been a blind one, _without contrivance or design_, the sun would have been a body of the same kind with saturn, jupiter, and the earth; that is, _without light or heat_. why there is one body in our system qualified to give light and heat to all the rest, i know no reason, but because the author of the system thought it convenient." so says the immortal newton.[ ] the great expounder of modern science--humboldt--is equally explicit in enumerating the decisive marks of choice and will in the construction of the solar system, and in contemptuously dismissing the notion of development and creation by natural law from the halls of science. "up to the present time, _we are ignorant, as i have already remarked, of any internal necessity--any mechanical law of nature_--which (like the beautiful law which connects the square of the periods of revolution with the cube of the major axis) represents the above-named elements--the absolute magnitude of the planets, their density, flattening at the poles, velocity of rotation, and presence or absence of moons--of the order of succession of the individual planetary bodies of each group, in their dependence upon the distances. although the planet which is nearest the sun is densest--even six or eight times denser than some of the exterior planets: jupiter, saturn, uranus, and neptune--the order of succession in the case of venus, the earth, and mars, is very irregular. the absolute magnitudes do, generally, as kepler has already observed, increase with the distances; but this does not hold good when the planets are considered individually. mars is smaller than the earth; uranus smaller than saturn; saturn smaller than jupiter, and succeeds immediately to a host of planets, which, on account of their smallness, are almost immeasurable. it is true, the period of rotation generally increases with the distance from the sun; but it is in the case of mars slower than in that of the earth, and slower in saturn than in jupiter."[ ] "_our knowledge of the primeval ages of the world's physical history does not extend sufficiently far to allow of our depicting the present condition of things as one of development._"[ ] sir david brewster adds his testimony as follows: "geology does not pretend to give us any information respecting the process by which the nucleus of the earth was formed. some speculative astronomers indeed have presumptuously embarked in such an inquiry; but there is not a trace of evidence that the solid nucleus of the globe was formed by secondary causes, such as the aggregation of attenuated matter diffused through space; and the _nebular theory_, as it has been called, though maintained by a few distinguished names, has, we think, been overturned by arguments which have never been answered. sir isaac newton, in his four celebrated letters to dr. bentley, has demonstrated that the planets of the solar system could not have been thus formed and put in motion round a central sun."[ ] . _astronomy not only exposes the folly of past cosmogonies, but demonstrates the impossibility of framing any true theory of creation, and thus refutes all future cosmogonies._ the grand error of all cosmogonies lies in the arrogant assumption, on which every one of them must be founded, _that the theorist is acquainted with all substances, and all forces in the universe_, and with all the modes of their operation; not only at the present period, and on this earth, but in all past ages, and in worlds in widely different, and utterly unknown situations; for, if he be ignorant of any substance, or of any active force in the universe, his generalization is avowedly imperfect, and necessarily erroneous. that unknown force must have had its influence in framing the world. its omission, then, is fatal to the theory which neglects it. a theory of creation, for instance, which would neglect the attraction of gravitation would be manifestly false. but there are other forces as far reaching, whose omission must be equally fatal; for instance, the power of repulsion. a conviction of this truth has given rise to a constant effort to simplify matters down to the level of our ignorance, by reducing all substances to one, or at most two simple elements, and all forces to the form of one universal law; but the progress of science utterly blasts the attempt. instead of simplifying matters, the very chemical processes undertaken with that view revealed new substances, and every year increases our knowledge of nature's variety. no scientific man now dreams of one primeval element. in the same way, astronomy, which, it was boasted, would enable us to account for all the operations of the universe, by reducing all motion to one mechanical law, has revealed to us the existence of other forces as far reaching as the attraction of gravitation, and more powerful; and substances whose nature and combinations are utterly unknown. but every cosmogony is just an attempt to simplify matters, by ignoring the existence of these unknown substances, and mysterious forces; a process which science condemns, as utterly unphilosophical and absurd. astronomy has shown us _our ignorance of the substances_, or _materials_, _of our own little globe_. it has demonstrated that the whole body of the earth must have an average density equal to iron. as the rocks near the surface are much lighter, those toward the center must be heavier than iron, to make up this density. of what, then, do they consist? the geologist says he does not know. no geologist ever saw them. no mortal ever will see them, and report their chemical constitution, their dip, and the arrangement of their strata, to the american association for the advancement of science. the very utmost "we can say is that they are unlike anything with which we are acquainted." very well; then be pleased to have the decency to abstain from telling us how the world was made, when you don't know what it is made of. the sun's heat, at its surface, is , times greater than at the surface of the earth, but a tenth of this amount, collected in the focus of a lens, dissipates gold and platinum in vapor. when the most vivid flames which we can produce are held up in the blaze of his rays, they disappear. if a cataract of icebergs, a mile high, and wider than the atlantic ocean, were launched into the sun with the velocity of a cannon-ball, the small portion of the sun's heat expended on our earth would convert that vast mass into steam as fast as it entered his atmosphere without cooling its surface in the least degree. "the great mystery, however, is to conceive how so enormous a conflagration (if such it be) can be kept up. every discovery in chemical science here leaves us completely at a loss, or rather seems to remove farther the prospect of probable explanation."[ ] yet, the sun is the nearest of the fixed stars, and by far the best known, and most nearly related to us. in fact, we are dependent on his influences for life and health. but if the theorist _can not tell his substance, or the nature and cause of the light and heat he sends us_, how can he presume so far on the world's credulity as to present a theory of his formation? "astronomical problems accumulate unsolved upon our hands, because we can not, as mechanicians, chemists, or physiologists, experiment on the stars. are they built of the same material as our planet? are saturn's rings solid, or liquid? has the moon an atmosphere? are the atmospheres of the planets like ours? are the light and heat of the sun begotten of combustion? and what is the fuel which feeds these unquenchable fires? these are questions, which we ask, and variously answer, _but leave unanswered after all_."[ ] but, till he can answer these, and a thousand questions like these, let no man presume to describe the formation of these unknown orbs. comets constitute by far the greatest number of the bodies of our solar system. arago says seven millions frequent it, within the orbit of uranus.[ ] they are the largest bodies known to us, stretching across hundreds of millions of miles. they approach nearer to this earth than any other bodies, sometimes even involving it in their tails, and generally exciting great alarm among its inhabitants. but the nature of the transparent luminous matter of which they are composed is utterly unknown. as they approach the sun, they come under an influence directly the opposite of attraction. the tail streams away from the sun, over a distance of millions of miles, _and yet the rate of the comet's motion toward the sun is quickened_, as though it were an immense rocket, driven forward by its own explosion. further, while the body of the comet travels toward the sun, sometimes with a velocity nearly one-third of that of light, the tail sends forth coruscations in the opposite direction, with a much greater velocity. the greatest velocity with which we are acquainted on earth is the velocity of light, which travels a million of times faster than a cannon-ball, or at the rate of , miles per second; but here is a substance capable of traveling twenty-three times faster, and here is a force propelling it, twenty-three times greater than any which exists on earth. its existence was first discovered by the coruscations of the comet of . "in less than one second, streamers shot forth, to two and a half degrees in length; they as rapidly disappeared, and issued out again, sometimes in proportions, and interrupted, like our northern lights. afterward the tail varied, both in length and breadth; and in some of the observations, the streamers shot forth from the whole expanded end of the tail, sometimes here, sometimes there, in an instant, two and a half degrees long; _so that within a single second they must have shot out a distance of , , miles_."[ ] similar exhibitions of this unknown force were made by the comet of , by halley's comet, and several others. in these amazing disclosures of the unknown forces of the heavens, do we not hear a voice rebuking the presumption of ignorant theorists, with the questions, knowest _thou_ the ordinances of heaven? canst _thou_ set the dominion thereof in the earth? hear one of the most distinguished of modern astronomers expound the moral bearings of such a discovery: "the intimation of a new cosmical power--i mean of one so unsuspected before, but which yet can follow a planet through all its wanderings--throws us back once more into the indefinite obscure, and checks all dogmatism. how many influences, hitherto undiscovered by our ruder senses, may be ever streaming toward us, and modifying every terrestrial action. and yet, because we had traced one of these, we have deemed our astronomy complete! deeper far, and nearer to the root of things, is that world with which man's destiny is entwined."[ ] we can have no reason, save our own self-sufficient arrogance, to believe that the discovery of these two forces exhausts the treasures of infinite wisdom. humboldt thus well refutes the folly of such an imagination: "the imperfectibility of all empirical science, and the boundlessness of the sphere of observation, render the task of explaining the forces of matter by that which is variable in matter, an impracticable one. what has been already perceived, by no means exhausts that which is perceptible. if, simply referring to the progress of science in our own times, we compare the imperfect physical knowledge of robert boyle, gilbert, and hales, with that of the present day, and remember that every few years are characterized by an increasing rapidity of advance, we shall be better able to imagine _the periodical and endless changes which all physical sciences are destined to undergo. new substances and new forces will be discovered._"[ ] thus, all true science, conscious of its ignorance, ever leads the mind to the region of faith. its first lesson, and its last lesson, is humility. it tells us that every cosmogony, which the children of theory so laboriously scratch in the sand, must be swept away by the rising tide of science. when we seek information on the great questions of our origin and destiny, and cry, "where shall wisdom be found, and what is the place of understanding?" the high priests of science answer, in her name, "it is not in me; the measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea." we receive this honest acknowledgment as an inestimable boon. we are saved thereby the wearying labor of a vain and useless search after knowledge which lies not in her domain. we come down to the bible with the profound conviction that science can give us no definite information of our origin, no certainty of our destiny, and but an imperfect acquaintance with the laws which govern this present world. if the bible can not inform us on these all-important questions, we must remain ignorant. science declares she can not teach us. the word of god remains, not merely the best, but absolutely the only, the last resource of the anxious soul. the bible gives us no theory of creation. it simply asserts the fact, that "in the beginning god created the heaven and the earth," but does not tell us _how_ he did so. the knowledge could be of no use to us, for he never means to employ us as his assistants in the work of creation. nor could we understand the matter. the force by which he called the worlds into being, and upholds them in it, exists in no creature. "he stretcheth forth the heavens alone. he spreadeth abroad the earth by himself." "he upholdeth all things by the word of his power." but it presents anxious, careworn, humbled souls with something infinitely more precious than cosmogonies; even an explicit declaration of the love toward them of him who made these worlds. "thus saith the lord, thy redeemer, and he who formed thee from the womb: i am the lord, who maketh all things; who stretcheth forth the heavens alone, and spreadeth abroad the earth, by myself." "he healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds. he telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names. great is our lord, and of great power; his wisdom is infinite!" yes, the creator of heaven and earth, who upholds all things by the word of his power, became a man like you, and dwelt on earth, and suffered the sorrow, the shame, the pain, the death, that sinful man deserved; and when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down at the right hand of the majesty on high. from that heavenly throne his voice now sounds, reader, in your ear, "come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and _i will give you rest_." footnotes: [ ] cosmos iii. . [ ] herschel's outlines, chap. xvii. sec. . [ ] cosmos iii. . [ ] nichol's architecture of the heavens, th ed. p. . [ ] cosmos iv. . [ ] nichol's contemplations on the solar system, xxx. [ ] cosmos iii. . [ ] herschel's outlines of astronomy, chap. xvi. [ ] _new york evangelist_, may , . [ ] nichol's architecture of the heavens, th edition, . [ ] pontecoulant in _system of the world_, p. . [ ] progress of astronomy, . [ ] memoirs of the french academy, by m. le verrier; from _the annual of scientific discovery_, for , p. . [ ] herschel's outlines of astronomy, p. , ed. of . [ ] illustrations of universal progress, page . [ ] fragments of science and scientific thought, p. . [ ] illustrations of progress, page . [ ] illustrations of progress, page . [ ] the earth, page . [ ] taylor's scientific memoirs, vol. v., cited in mccosh's typical forms and special ends in creation, p. . [ ] opening address to the british association, . [ ] taking water as the unit of density, mercury is . ; venus, . ; earth, . ; mars, . ; saturn, . ; uranus, . ; neptune, . ; the sun, . .--cosmos iv. p. . [ ] newton's optics, iv. p. . [ ] cosmos, iv. p. . [ ] cosmos, iii. p. . [ ] more worlds than one, p. . [ ] herschel's outlines, vi. sect. . [ ] dr. george wilson, f. r. s. e., in edinburgh phil. journal, v. p. . [ ] somerville's connection of the physical sciences, p. . [ ] dick's sidereal heavens, chap. xx. [ ] nichol's solar system, p. . [ ] cosmos, iii. p. . chapter xi. daylight before sunrise. in the last chapter we saw astronomy demonstrating our need of a revelation from god. in this we shall see how it illustrates and confirms that revelation. seen through the telescope, the bible glows with celestial splendor. even its cloudy mysteries are displayed as clouds of light, and its long misunderstood phrases are resolved, by a scientific investigation, into galaxies of brilliant truths, proclaiming to the philosopher that the book which describes them is as truly the word of god as the heavens which it describes are his handiwork. if, once in a century, a profound practical astronomer is found denying the inspiration of the bible, he will either acknowledge, or discover himself, not familiar with its contents. for the most part, the charges brought against the bible, of contradicting the facts of astronomy, are based upon misstatements and mistakes of its teachings, and so do not fall within the range of the telescope, or the department of the observatory. the sabbath-school teacher, and not the astronomer, is the proper person to correct such errors. a few months' instruction in the bible class of any well-conducted sabbath-school would save some of our popular anti-bible lecturers from the sin of misrepresenting the word of god, and the shame of hearing children laugh at their blunders. a favorite field for the display of their knowledge of science, and ignorance of the art of reading, by our modern infidels, is the bible account of creation, in the first chapter of genesis, which is alleged to be utterly irreconcilable with the known facts of astronomy and geology. leaving the latter out of view, for the present, the astronomical objections may all be arranged under four heads. first: that the bible account of the creation of man, only some six or seven thousand years ago, must be false; because the records of astronomical observations, taken more than seventeen thousand years ago, by the hindoos and egyptians, are still in existence, and have been verified. second: that the light of some of the stars, now shining upon us, and especially of some of the distant nebulæ, must have left them millions of years ago, to have traveled over the vast space which separates them from us, and be visible on our globe now; whereas, the bible teaches that the universe was created only some six or seven thousand years ago. third: that the bible represents god as creating the sky a solid crystal, or metallic sphere, or hemisphere (they are not agreed which), to which the stars are fastened, and with which they revolve around the earth; which every school-boy knows to be absurd. fourth: that the bible represents god as creating the sun and moon only two days before adam, and as creating light before the sun, which is also held to be absurd. . the first of these objections--that the hindoos and egyptians made astronomical observations thousands of years before adam, and that the accuracy of these observations has been verified by modern calculations--_is simply untrue_. no such observations were ever made. the pretended records of such have been proved, in the case of the hindoo astronomy, to be forgeries, and in the case of the egyptian records, blunders of the discoverers. there is not an authentic uninspired astronomical observation extant for two thousand years after adam. the objection, however, is worth noticing, and its history worth remembering, as a specimen of the way in which ignorant men swallow impudent falsehoods, if they only seem to contradict the word of truth. when the labors of oriental scholars had made the vedas and shasters--the sacred books of the hindoos--accessible to european philosophers, a wonderful shout was raised among infidels. "here," it was said, "is the true chronology. we always knew that man was not a degenerate creature, fallen from a higher estate, some few thousand years ago, but that he has existed from eternity, in a constant progress toward his present lofty position; and now we have the most authentic records of the most ancient and civilized people in the world--the people of india--reaching back for millions of years before the mosaic cosmogony, and allowing ample time for the development of the noble savage into the cultivated philosopher. these records have every mark of truth, giving minute details of events, and histories of successive lines of princes; and, moreover, record the principal astronomical facts of the successive periods--eclipses, comets, positions of stars, etc.--which attest their veracity. henceforth, the hebrew records must hide their heads. neither as poetry nor history can they pretend to compare with the vedas." the hindoo shasters were accordingly, for a time, in high repute, among people who knew very little about them. even dr. adam clarke was so far led away with the spirit of the age, as to pollute his valuable commentary by the insertion of the _gitagovinda_, after the chaldee targum on the song of solomon; where the curious reader can satisfy himself as to the scientific value of such pantheistic dotings. by the infidels of britain and america they were appealed to as standard works of undoubted authority; and hundreds, who declared that it was irrational credulity to believe in the bible, risked their souls on the faith of the vedas, _of which they never had read a single sentence_! now, when we remember that these veracious chronicles reach back through _maha yugs_ of , , years of mortals, a thousand of which, or , , , , make a _kalpa_ or one day of the life of brahma, while his night is of the same duration, and his life consists of a hundred years of such days and nights, about the middle of which period the little span of our existence is placed; that among the facts of the history are the records of the seven great continents of the world, separated by seven rivers, and seven chains of mountains, four hundred thousand miles high (reaching only to the moon); of the families of their kings, one of whom had a hundred sons, another only ten thousand, another sixty thousand, who were born in a pumpkin, nourished in pans of milk, reduced to ashes by the curse of a sage, and restored to life by the waters of the ganges; and that among the astronomical observations, by which the accuracy of these extraordinary facts is confirmed, are accounts of deluges, in which the waters not only rose above the tops of earth's mountains, but above the seven inferior and three superior worlds, _reaching even to the pole star_[ ]--we may well wonder at the faith which could receive all this as so true, that on the strength of it they rejected the miracles of the bible as false. even voltaire ridiculed these stories. but a visionary man, named baillie, calculated the alleged observations backward, and found them sufficiently correct to satisfy him that all the rest of the story was equally true. it never seems to have occurred to him, that if he could calculate eclipses _backward_, so could the hindoos. it is just as easy to calculate an eclipse, or the position of a planet, backward as forward. if i watch the motion of the hands of a clock accurately, and find that the little hand moves over the twelfth of a circle every hour, and the large hand around the circle in the same time, and that the large hand, now at noon, covers the little one, i can calculate, that at sixteen minutes and a quarter past three it will nearly cover it again; but then, it is just as easy to count that the two hands were covered at sixteen minutes and a quarter before nine that morning, or that they were exactly in line at a. m. if my clock would keep going at the same rate for a thousand years, i could predict the position of the hands at any hour of the twenty-ninth of march, of the year ; but it is evident that the very same calculation applied the other way would show the position that the hands would have had a thousand years ago, or five thousand years ago, just as well. and if i were to allege that my clock was made by tubal cain, before the flood, and for proof of the fact declare, that on the first of january, b. c., at o'clock p. m., i had seen the two hands directly in line, and some wiseacre were to calculate the time, and find that at that hour the hands ought to have been just in that position, and conclude thence that i was undoubtedly one of the antediluvians, and the clock no less certainly a specimen of the craft of the first artificer in brass and iron, the argument would be precisely parallel to the infidel's argument from the tirvalore tables, and the astronomy of the vedas. but suppose my clock ran a little slow; say half a minute in the month, or so; or that it was made to keep sidereal time, which differs by a little from solar time, and that i did not know exactly what the difference was; it is evident that on a long stretch of some hundreds or thousands of years, i would get out of my reckoning, and the hands would not have been in the positions i had calculated. now, this was just what happened with the brahmins and their calculations. the clock of the heavens keeps a uniform rate of going, but they made a slight mistake in the counting of it; and so did their infidel friends. but our modern astronomers have got the true time, set their clocks, and made their tables by it; and on applying these tables to the pretended hindoo observations, find that they are all wrong, and that no such eclipses as they allege ever did occur or possibly could have happened in our solar system.[ ] so the hindoo astronomy is now consigned to the same tomb with the hindoo chronology and cosmogony, except when a missionary, on the banks of the ganges, exhibits it to the pupils of his english school, as a specimen of the falsehoods which have formed the swaddling bands of pantheism. failing in the attempt to substitute brahminism for christianity, infidels beat a retreat from india, and went down into egypt for help. here they made prodigious discoveries of the scientific and religious truths believed by the worshipers of dogs and dung beetles, recorded upon the coffins of holy bulls, and the temples sacred to crows and crocodiles. the age was favorable for such discoveries. napoleon and his savans cut out of the ceiling of a temple, at denderah, in egypt, a stone covered with uncouth astronomical, astrological, and hieroglyphic figures, which they insisted was a representation of the sky at the time the temple was built; and finding a division made between the signs of the crab and the lion, and marks for the sun and moon there, they took it into their heads that the sun must have entered the zodiac at that spot, on the year this zodiac was made; and, calculating back, found that must be at least seventeen thousand years ago. hundreds of thousands visited the wonderful antediluvian monument, in the national library, in paris, where it had been brought; and where infidel commentators were never wanting to inform them that this remarkable stone proved the whole bible to be a series of lies. a professor of the university of breslau published a pamphlet, entitled _invincible proof that the earth is at least ten times older than is taught by the bible_. scores of such publications followed, and for forty years infidel newspapers, magazines, and reviews kept trumpeting this great refutation of the bible. from these it descended to the vulgar, with additions and improvements; and it is now frequently alleged as proving that "ten thousand years before adam was born, the priests of egypt were carving astronomy on the pyramids." there is scarcely one of my french or german readers who has not heard of it. it did not shake the skeptic's credulity in the least that no two of the savans were agreed, by some thousands of years, how old it was--that they could not tell what the egyptian system of astronomy was--_and that none of them could read the hieroglyphics which explained it_. whatever might be doubtful, of one thing they were all perfectly sure, that it was far older than the creation. but in the curious egyptian astronomy was studied, and it appeared that the sun and moon were so placed on the zodiac to mark the beginning of the year there; and the dividing line fenced off one half of the sky under the care of the sun, while the other was placed under the moon's patronage. then it was discovered that the positions of the stars were represented by the pictures of the gods whose names they bore--jupiter, saturn, etc.--and by calculating the places of these pictures back, it was found that this zodiac represented their places in the year of our lord ; the year of the birth of nero, a great temple-builder and repairer. finally, champollion learned to read the hieroglyphics, and the names, surnames, and titles of the emperors tiberius, claudius, nero, and domitian were found on the temple of denderah; and on the portico of the temple of esneh, which had been declared to be a few thousand years older than that of denderah, were found the names of claudius and antoninus pius; while the whole workmanship and style of building have satisfied all antiquarians that these buildings were erected during the declining days of art in the roman empire. the roman title, _autocrat_, engraved on the zodiac itself, attests its antiquity to be not quite two thousand, instead of seventeen thousand years. but, not satisfied with merely demolishing the batteries of infidelity, astronomy has been employed to ascertain the dates of numbers of events recorded on egyptian monuments to have happened to one or other of the pharaohs, "beloved of ammon, and brother of the sun," when such a star was in such a position. mr. poole has spent years in gathering such inscriptions, and in calculating the dates thus furnished. the astronomer royal, at greenwich, mr. airy, has reviewed the calculations, and finds them correct. wilkinson, the great egyptologist, agrees with their conclusions. and the result is, that _the astronomical chronology of the egyptian monuments sustains the bible chronology_.[ ] geology comes forward to confirm the testimony of her elder sister, and assures us, that the alleged vast antiquity of the egyptian monuments is impossible, as it is not more than , years since the soil of egypt first appeared above water, as a muddy morass.[ ] the learned adrian balbo thus sums up the whole question: "no monument, either astronomical or historical, has yet been able to prove the books of moses false; _but with them, on the contrary, agree, in the most remarkable manner, the results obtained by the most learned philologists and the profoundest geometricians_."[ ] . to the second objection--that astronomers have discovered stars whose light must have been millions of years traveling to this earth, and that consequently these stars must have existed millions of years ago, and therefore the bible makes a false declaration when it says the universe was created only some six or seven thousand years ago--i reply by asking, _where does the bible say so?_ "what," says our objector, "is not that the good old orthodox doctrine of christians and commentators? do they not unanimously denounce geologists and astronomers as heretics, for asserting the vast antiquity of the earth?" we shall see presently that no such unanimity of denunciation has ever existed, and that some of the most ancient and learned christian commentators taught the antiquity of the earth, from the bible, before geology was born. but that is not the question before us just now. we are not asking what the good old orthodox doctrine of christians, or the unanimous opinion of commentators may have been; but what is the reading of the bible--_what does this book say?_--not, "what does somebody think?" "well," replies our objector, "does not the bible say, in the first of genesis, that god created the heavens and the earth in six days, and adam on the sixth; and are not chronologists agreed that that was not more than seven thousand years ago, at the very utmost?" if the bible had said that god created the heavens and the earth in six days, and that the end of that period was only seven thousand years ago, it would by no means follow that the beginning of it was only a few hours before that; for every bible reader knows, that the most common use of the word _day_, in scripture, is to denote, not a period of twenty-four hours, but a period of time which may be of various lengths.[ ] in this very narrative (genesis ii. ) it is used to denote the whole period of the six days' work: "in the day the lord god made the earth and the heavens." does it mean just twenty-four hours there? in the first of genesis, its duration is defined to consist of "the evening and the morning." before our infidel chronologist finds out the bible date of creation, he must be able to tell us _of what length was the evening which preceded the first morning_, and with it constituted the first day? god has of set purpose placed stumbling-blocks for scoffers at the entrance and the exit of the bible, as a rebuke to pride and vain curiosity.[ ] the duration of the seventh day is also hidden from man. it is god's sabbath, on which he entered when he ceased from the work of creation, a rest which still continues, and which he invites us to enter into (hebrews iv. - ) as a preparation for the eternal rest. god's rest day has already lasted six thousand years, and no man can tell how much longer it may last. perhaps his working days were each as long. but if our objector had read the bible attentively, he would have seen that it _does not say that god created the heavens and the earth in six days_. before it begins to give any account of the six days' work, it tells us of a previous state of disorder; and going back beyond that again, it says: "_in the beginning_, god created the heavens and the earth." it is as self-evident that this _beginning_ was before the six days' work, as that the world must have existed before it could be adjusted to its present form. how long before, the bible does not say, nor does the objector pretend to know. it may have been as many millions of years as he assigns to the stars, or twice as many, for anything he knows to the contrary. he must have overlooked the first two verses of the bible, else he had never made this objection; which is simply a blunder, arising from incapacity to read a few verses of scripture correctly. but it is replied, "does not the bible say, in the fourth commandment, 'in six days the lord made heaven, and earth, and the sea, and all that in them is,'" etc.? true. but we are speaking just now of a very different work--the work of _creation_. if any one does not know the difference between _create_ and _make_, let him turn to his dictionary, and webster will inform him that the primary literal meaning of _create_ is, "to produce; to bring into being from nothing; to cause to exist." the example he gives to illustrate his definition is this verse, "in the beginning god _created_ the heavens and the earth." but the primary meaning of _make_ is, "to compel; to constrain;" thence, "to form of materials;" and he illustrates the generic difference between these two words by a quotation from dwight: "god not only _made_, but _created_; he not only made the work, but the materials." both words are as good translations of the hebrew originals, _bra_, and _oshe_, as can be given. if any of my readers has not a dictionary he can satisfy himself thoroughly as to the different meanings of these two words, and of their equivalents in the original hebrew, by looking at their use in his bible. thus, he will find _create_ applied to the creation of the heavens and the earth, in the beginning, when there could have been no pre-existent materials to make them from; unless we adopt the atheistic absurdity, of the eternity of matter--that is to say, _that the paving stones made themselves_.[ ] then it is applied to the production of animal life--verse twenty-one--which is not a product or combination of any lifeless matter, but a direct and constant resistance to the chemical and mechanical laws which govern lifeless matter: "god created great whales, and every living creature that moveth."[ ] next it is applied to the production of the human race, as a species distinct from all other living creatures, and not derived from any of them. "god _created_ man in his own image."[ ] it is in like manner applied to all god's subsequent bestowals of animal life and rational souls, which are directly bestowed by god, and are not in the power of any creature to give. "thou sendest forth thy spirit: they are _created_." "remember now thy _creator_, in the days of thy youth."[ ] in all these instances, the use of the word determines its literal meaning to be what webster defines it: "to bring into being from nothing." the metaphorical use of the word is equally expressive of its literal meaning, for it is applied to the production of new dispositions of mind and soul utterly opposite to those previously existing. "create in me a clean heart;" which god thus explains: "a new heart will i give you, and a new spirit will i put within you; and i will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and i will give you an heart of flesh."[ ] the hebrew word _bra_ has as many derivative meanings as our english word _create_; as we speak of "creating a peer," "long abstinence creating uneasiness," etc.; but these no more change the primitive idea in the one case than in the other. from this word _create_, the bible very plainly distinguishes the words _make_ and _form_, using them as the complement of the former, in many passages which speak of both creation and making. thus, man was both created and made. his life and soul are spoken of as a creation; his body as a formation from the dust; his deputed authority over the earth also implies a primal creation, and subsequent investiture; and so both terms are applied to it. so the words _make_ and _form_ are applied to the production of the bodies of animals from pre-existing materials, while animal life is ever spoken of as a product of creative power. but, that we may see that these processes are distinct, and that the words which express them have distinctive meanings, _the author of the bible takes care to use them both_ in reference to this very work, in such a way that we can not fail to perceive he intends some distinction, unless we suppose that he fills the bible with useless tautologies. for instance, "on the seventh day, god rested from all his work, which god _created_ and _made_." "these are the generations of the heavens and the earth, when they were _created_; in the day the lord god _made_ the earth and the heavens." "but now thus saith the lord that _created_ thee, jacob, and he that _formed_ thee, o israel." "for thus saith the lord that _created_ the heavens, god himself, that _formed_ the earth, and _made_ it; he hath established it; he _created_ it not in confusion; he _formed_ it to be inhabited."[ ] in all these passages _creation_ is clearly distinguished from _formation_ and _making_, if the bible is not a mass of senseless repetitions. if _create_, and _make_, and _form_, have all the same meaning, why use them all in the same verse? these, and many similar passages, show that the bible teaches the work of _creation_--calling things into being--to be previous to and distinct from the work of _making_--forming of materials already created. between these two widely different processes--of the original creation of the universe, and the subsequent preparation of the habitable earth, by the six days' work--two intervening periods are indicated by scripture, both of indefinite length. the first of these is that which intervened between the original creation and the period of disorder indicated in the second verse. the second is that disordered period during which the earth continued without form and void. that original chaos which some would find in the second verse, never had any existence, save in the brains of atheistic philosophers. it is purely absurd. god never created a chaos. man never saw it. the crystals of the smallest grain of sand, the sporules of the humblest fungus on the rotten tree, the animalculæ in the filthiest pool of mud, are as orderly in their arrangements, as perfect after their kind, and as wisely adapted to their station, as the angels before the throne of god. and as man never saw, so he has no language to describe, a state of original disorder; for every word he can use implies a previous state of regularity; as disorder tells of order dissolved; confusion of previous forms melted together. so the poets who have tried to describe a chaos have been obliged to represent it as the wreck of a former state. both the bible language and the bible narrative correspond to the philosophy and philology of the case; for, by the use of the substantive verb, in the past tense, implying progressive being, according to the usual force of the word in hebrew, we are told literally, "the earth _became_ without form and void." god did not create it so, but after it was created, and by a series of revolutions not recorded, it became disordered and empty. the holy spirit takes care to explain this verse, by quoting it in jeremiah iv. , as the appropriate symbolical description of the state of a previously existing and regularly constituted body politic, reduced to confusion by the calamities of war. again, he explains both the terms used in it in isaiah xxxiv. , by using them to describe, not the rude and undigested mass of the heathen poet, but the wilderness condition of a ravaged country, and the desolate ruins of once beautiful and populous cities: "he will stretch out upon it the line of _confusion_, and the stones of _emptiness_." in both these cases the previous existence of an orderly and populous state is implied. and finally, we are expressly assured, that the state of disorder mentioned in the second verse of genesis i., was not the original condition of the earth--isaiah xlv. --where the very same word is used as in genesis i. , "he created it not, _teu_, _disordered_, in _confusion_." the period of the earth's previous existence in an orderly state, or that occupied by the revolutions and catastrophes which disordered its surface, is not recorded in scripture. the second period is that of disorder, which must have been of some duration, more or less, and is plainly implied to have been of considerable length, in the declaration that "the spirit of the lord moved"--literally, _was brooding_ (a figure taken from the incubation of fowls)--"upon the face of the waters." but no portion of scripture gives any intimation of the length of this period. if, then, astronomers and geologists assert that the earth was millions, or hundreds of millions of years in process of preparation for its present state, by a long series of successive destructions and renovations, and gradual formations, _there is not one word in the bible to contradict that opinion_; but, on the contrary, very many texts which fully and unequivocally imply its truth. but, as the knowledge of the exact age of the earth is by no means necessary to any man's present happiness, or the salvation of his soul, it is nowhere taught in the bible. god has given us the stars to teach us astronomy, the earth to teach us geology, and the bible to teach us religion, and neither contradicts the other. this is no new interpretation evoked to meet the necessities of modern science. the jewish rabbins, and those of the early christian fathers who gave any attention to criticism, are perfectly explicit in recognizing these distinctions. the doctrine of the creation of the world only six or seven thousand years ago is a product of monkish ignorance of the original language of the bible. but clement of alexandria, chrysostom, and gregory nazianzen, after justin martyr, teach the existence of an indefinite period between the creation and the formation of all things. basil and origen account for the existence of light before the sun, by alleging that the sun existed, but that the chaotic atmosphere prevented his rays from being visible till the first day, and his light till the third.[ ] augustine, in his first homily, represents the first state of the earth, in genesis i. , as bearing the same relation to its finished state, that the seed of a tree does to the trunk, branches, leaves, and fruit. horsley, edward king, jennings, baxter, and many others, who wrote during the last two centuries, but before the period of geological discovery, explained the second verse substantially as did bishop patrick, a hundred and fifty years ago. "how long all things continued in confusion, we are not told. _it might have been, for anything that is here revealed, a very great while._"[ ] some persons, however, have supposed that the chaos of the second verse succeeded immediately to the creation of the first, and that the six days' work in like manner followed that instantaneously, or at least after a very brief interval, because the records of these cycles are connected by the word _and_, which, they think, precludes the idea of any lengthened periods or intervals. but the slightest reflection upon the meaning of the word will show that _and_ can not of itself be any _measure_ of time, its use being to indicate merely _sequence_ and _connection_. when used historically, it always implies an interval of time; for there can be no succession without an interval; but the length of that interval must be determined from the context, or some other source. a very cursory perusal of the bible, either in english or hebrew, will show that very often in its brief narratives, the interval indicated by _and_, and its hebrew originals, is a very long time. the descent of jacob and his children into egypt is connected with the record of their deaths, in the very next verse, by this word _and_, which thus includes nearly the lifetime of a generation. that event, again, is connected with a change of dynasty in egypt, and the oppression and multiplication of the israelites there, recorded in the next verse, by the same word, _vau_, _and_; while the period over which it reaches was over two hundred years.[ ] so in the brief record of the family of adam, after reciting the birth of seth, the historian adds, in the next verse, "and to seth also was born a son, and he called his name enos;" while the interval thus indicated by the word _and_ was a hundred and five years. the command to build the ark, recorded in the last verse of the sixth chapter of genesis, is connected with the command to enter into it, in the first verse of the seventh chapter, by this same word _and_, although we know, from the nature of the case, that the interval required for the construction of such a huge vessel must have been considerable; and from the third verse of the sixth chapter, we learn that it was a hundred and twenty years. so the births and deaths of the antediluvians are connected by this same word _and_, throughout the fifth chapter of genesis; while the interval, as we see from the narrative, was often eight or nine hundred years. the descent of the holy spirit upon christ, to qualify him for judging the world, is connected with the actual discharge of that office, in the destruction of antichrist by the breath of his mouth, by this word _and_,[ ] although the interval has been over eighteen hundred years. if in the records of the generations of mortal men, the word _and_ is customarily employed as a connecting link in the narrations of events separated by an interval of hundreds of years, it is quite consistent with the strictest propriety of language to employ it, with an enlargement proportioned to the duration of the subject of discourse, to connect intervals of millions, in the narrative of the generations of the heavens and the earth. the bible uniformly attributes the most remote antiquity to the work of creation. so far from supposing man to be even approximately coeval with it, the emphatic reproof of human presumption is couched in the remarkable words, "where wast thou, when i laid the foundations of the earth?" in majestic contrast with the frail human race, moses glances at the primeval monuments of god's antiquity, as though by them he could form some faint conceptions even of eternity, and sings, "before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the universe, even from everlasting to everlasting thou art god."[ ] the very word here used, _the beginning_, is in itself an emphatic refutation of the notion that the work of creation is only some six or seven thousand years old. geologists have been unable to invent a better, and have borrowed from the bible this very form of speech, to designate those strata beyond which human knowledge can not penetrate--_the primary formations_. but, with far greater propriety, the holy spirit uses this word with regard to ages, compared with which the utmost range of the astronomer's or geologist's reasonings is but as the tale of yesterday. for this word, in bible usage, marks the last promontory on the boundless ocean of eternity; the only positive word by which we can express the most remote period of past duration. it is not a date--a point of duration. it is a period--a vast cycle. it has but one boundary; that where creation rises from its abyss. created eye has never seen the other shore. it is that vast period which the bible assigns to the manifestations of the word of god, "whose goings forth have been of old, from everlasting." carrying our astonished gaze far back beyond the era of his creature, man, and ages before the "all things" that were made by him, the bible places this _beginning_ on the very shore of the eternity of god, when it declares, "_in the beginning_ was the word, and the word was with god, and the word was god."[ ] thus, both by the use of the imperfect tense, _was_, denoting continued existence, and by the connection of this _beginning_ with the eternity of the word, does the bible teach us to dismiss from our thoughts all narrow views of the period of duration employed in manifesting the glory of the self-existent eternal one, and to raise our conceptions to the highest possible pitch, and then to feel, that far beyond the grasp of human calculation lies that _beginning_ which includes the years of the right hand of the most high, and is even used as one of the names of the eternal: "i am the beginning _and the ending, saith the lord, who is, and who was, and who is to come_--the almighty."[ ] in another bible exhibition of the eternity of the son of god, we are conducted from that _beginning_, downward, stage by stage, from those periods of remote antiquity prior to the formation of water, the upheaval of the mountains, the alluvial deposits, the subsidence of the existing sea basins, and the adornment of the habitable parts of the earth, to that comparatively recent event, the existence of the sons of men. our ideas of the eternity of the love of christ are thus enhanced, by the vastness of the ages which stretch out between the human race and that beginning when he was, as it were, "the lamb slain from before the foundations of the world." "the lord possessed me _in the beginning of his way_, _before his works of old_. i was set up from everlasting, _from the beginning, or ever the earth was_. when there were no depths, i was brought forth; when there were no fountains, abounding with water; before the mountains were settled, before the hills, was i brought forth; while as yet he had not made the earth, nor the fields, nor the highest part of the dust of the world when he prepared the heavens, i was there; when he described a circle upon the face of the deep; when he established the clouds above; when he strengthened the fountains of the deep; when he gave to the sea his decree, that the waters should not pass his commandment; when he appointed the foundations of the earth: then was i by him, as one brought up with him; and i was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him: rejoicing in the habitable parts of his earth; and my delights were with the sons of men."[ ] let the geologist, then, penetrate as deeply as he can into the profundities of the foundations of the earth, and bring forth the monuments of their hoary antiquities: we will follow with the most unfaltering faith, and receive with joy these proofs of his eternal power and godhead. let the astronomer raise his telescope, and reflect on our astonished eyes the light which flashed from morning stars, on the day of this earth's first existence, or even the rays which began to travel from distant suns, millions of years ere the first morning dawned on our planet: we will place them as jewels in the crown of him who is the bright and morning star. they shall shed a sacred luster over the pages of the bible, and give new beauties of illustration to its majestic symbols. but never will geologist penetrate, much less exhaust, the profundity of its mysteries, nor astronomer attain, much less explore, the sublimity of that beginning revealed in its pages; for eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, either the antiquity, or the nature, or the duration of the things which god hath prepared for them that love him. human science will never be able to reach the bible era of creation. it is placed in an antiquity beyond the power of human calculation, in that sublime sentence with which it introduces mortals to the eternal: "_in the beginning god created the heavens and the earth._" . the third objection we have named is equally unfounded. _the bible nowhere teaches that the sky is a solid sphere, to which the stars are fixed, and which revolves with them around the earth._ i know that infidels allege that the word _firmament_, in the first chapter of genesis, conveys this meaning. it does not. neither the english word, nor the hebrew original, has any such meaning. as to the meaning of the english word, i adhere to the dictionary. infidels must not be allowed to coin uncouth meanings for words, different from the known usage of the english tongue, for which webster is undeniable authority. his definition of _firmament_ is, "the region of the air; the sky, or heavens. in scripture, the word denotes an expanse--a wide extent; for such is the signification of the hebrew word, coinciding with _regio_, _region_, and _reach_. the original, therefore, does not convey the sense of solidity, but of stretching--extension. the great arch or expanse over our heads, in which are placed the atmosphere and the clouds, and in which the stars _appear_ to be placed, and are _really_ seen." the word _firmament_, then, conveys no such meaning as the infidel alleges, to any man who understands the english tongue. no hebrew speaking man or woman ever did, or ever could understand the original hebrew word _reqo_ in any other sense than that of _expanse_; for the verb from which it is formed means to extend, or spread out, as even the english reader may see, by a few examples of its use, in the following passages of scripture; where the english words by which the verb _reqo_ is expressed, are marked in italics. "then did i beat them small as the dust of the earth, and did stamp them as the mire of the street, and _did spread them abroad_." "the goldsmith _spreadeth it over_ with gold." "thus saith the lord: he that created the heavens, and stretched them out; he that _spread forth_ the earth." "i am the lord, that maketh all things; that stretcheth forth the heavens alone, and _spreadeth abroad_ the earth by myself." "to him that _stretcheth out_ the earth above the waters." "the censers of these sinners against their own souls, let them _make them broad_ plates, for a covering for the altar. _and they were made broad._" "hast thou with him _spread out_ the sky;"[ ] or, in humboldt's elegant rendering, "the pure ether, _spread_ (during the scorching heat of the south wind) as a melted mirror over the parched desert."[ ] we might refer to the opinions of lexicographers, all unanimous in ascribing the same idea to the word; but the authorities given above are conclusive. the meaning, then, of the hebrew word rendered firmament is so utterly removed from the notion of compactness, or solidity, or metallic or crystalline spheres, that it is derived from the very opposite; the fineness or tenuity produced by processes of expansion. science has not been able to this day to invent a better word for the regions of space than the literal rendering of the original hebrew word used by moses--_the expanse_. the inspired writers of the new testament, though they found the world full of all the absurdities of the greek philosophy, and their greek translations of the bible continually using the word _stereoma_, which expressed these notions, _never used it_ but once, and then not for the sky, but for the _steadfastness of faith_ in christ. their thus using it once shows that they were acquainted with the word, and its proper meaning, and that their disuse of it was intentional; while their disuse of it, and choice of another word to denote the heavens, proves decisively that they disapproved of the absurdity which it was understood to express. now, whether you account for this fact by admitting their inspiration, or by alleging that they drew their language from the hebrew original, and not from the greek translation, it is in either case perfectly conclusive as to the scriptural meaning of the word. indeed, it is marvelous how any man who is familiar with his bible, and knows that the scriptures usually describe the sky by metaphors conveying the very opposite ideas to those of solidity or permanence--as, "stretched out like a curtain," "spread abroad like a tent to dwell in," "folded up like a vesture," and the like--should allow himself to be imposed on by the impudent falsehood of voltaire, that the bible teaches us that the sky is a solid metallic or crystal hemisphere, supported by pillars. those beautiful figures of sacred poetry in which the universe is represented as the palace of the great king, adorned with majestic "pillars," and "windows of heaven," whence he scatters his gifts among his expectant subjects in the courts below, have been grossly abused for the support of this miserable falsehood. we are assured, that so ignorant was moses of the true nature of the atmosphere, and of the origin of rain, that he believed and taught that there was an ocean of fresh water on _the outside_ of this metal hemisphere, which covered the earth like a great sugar-kettle, bottom upward, and was supported on pillars; and at the bottom of the ocean were trap-doors, to let the rain through; which trap-doors in the metal firmament are to be understood, when the bible speaks of the windows of heaven. now, the bottom of an ocean is an odd place for windows, and a trap-door is rather a strange kind of watering-pot; and if moses put the ocean of fresh water on the _outside_ of his metal hemisphere, he must have changed his notions of gravity materially from the time he planned the brazen hemisphere for the tabernacle, which he turned mouth upward, and put the water in the _inside_. while such writers are quite clear about the metal trap-doors and the ocean, they have not yet fully fathomed the construction and arrangement of the pillars. whether the bible teaches that they are "pillars of salt," like lot's wife, or of flesh and blood, like "james, cephas, and john," or such "iron pillars and brazen walls" as jeremiah was against the house of israel--whether they consisted of "cloud and fire," like the pillar moses describes in the next book as floating in the sky over the camp of israel, or are "pillars of smoke," such as ascend out of the wilderness--whether they are those "pillars of the earth which tremble" when god shakes it, or "the pillars of heaven which are astonished at his reproof"--whether they are the pillars of the earth and its anarchical inhabitants, which asaph bore up, or are composed of the same materials as paul's "pillar and basis of the truth," or the pillars of victory which christ erects "in the temple of god"[ ]--they have not yet decided. whether the hebrews understood these pillars to be arranged on the outside of the metal hemisphere, and if so, to imagine any use for them there; or in the inside, and in that case whether they kept the sky from falling upon the earth, or only supported the earth from falling into the sky, these learned men are by no means agreed. having trampled the pearl into fragments, their attempts to combine them into another shape are more amusing than successful; and it is hard to say which of the seven opinions ascribed to the bible by infidel commentators is least probable. that opinion, however, will, doubtless, after more vigorous and protracted rooting, be discovered and greedily swallowed amid grunts of satisfaction; an appropriate reward of such laborious stupidity. the absurdities of the greek philosophers were not drawn from the bible. had the greeks read the bible more, they would have preserved the common sense god gave them a great deal longer, and would not, while professing themselves to be wise, have become such fools as to adore blocks and stones, and dream of metal firmaments. but they turned away their ears from the truth, and were turned unto such fables as infidels falsely ascribe to the bible. a thousand years before the cycles and epicycles of the ptolemaic astronomy were invented, and before learned greeks had learned to talk nonsense about crystal spheres, and trap-doors in the bottom of celestial oceans, the writers of the bible were recording those conversations of pious philosophers concerning stars, and clouds, and rain, from which galileo derived the first hints of the causes of barometrical phenomena. the origin of rain, its proportion to the amount of evaporation, and the mode of its distribution by condensation, could not be propounded by humboldt himself with more brevity and perspicuity than they are expressed by the idumean philosopher: "he maketh small the drops of water; they pour down rain according to the vapor thereof, which the clouds do drop and distill upon man abundantly. also, can any understand the spreadings of the clouds, or the noise of his tabernacles?"[ ] the cause of this rarefaction of _cold water_ is as much a mystery to the british association as it was to elihu; and even were all the mysteries of the electrical tension of vapors disclosed, "the balancings of the clouds" would only be more clearly discovered to be, as the bible declares, "the wonderful works of him who is perfect in wisdom." but the gravity of the atmosphere, the comparative density of floating water, and its increased density by discharges of electricity, were as well known to job and his friends as they are to the wisest of our modern philosophers. "he looketh to the ends of the earth, and seeth under the whole heaven, _to make weight to air, and regulate waters by measure, in his making a law for the rain, and a path for the lightning of thunder_."[ ] three thousand years before the theory of the trade winds was demonstrated, or before maury had discovered the rotation and revolutions of the wind-currents, it was written in the bible, "the wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about to the north. _and the wind returneth again, according to his circuits._"[ ] thousands of years before newton, galileo, and copernicus were born, isaiah was writing about the "orbit of the earth," and its insignificance in the eyes of the creator of the host of heaven.[ ] job was conversing with his friends on the inclination of its axis, and its equilibrium in space: "he spreadeth out the north over the empty space, and hangeth the earth upon nothing."[ ] so far from entertaining the least idea of the waters of the atmosphere being contained either on the outside or the inside of a metal or solid hemisphere, the writers of the bible never once use, even figuratively, any expression conveying it. on the contrary, the well-known scriptural figures for the fountains of the rain, are the soft, elastic, leathern waterskins of the east, "the bottles of the clouds," or the wide, flowing shawl or upper garment wherein the people of the east are accustomed to tie up loose, scattering substances.[ ] "he bindeth up the waters in his thick cloud, and the cloud is not rent under them." "who hath bound the waters in a garment;" "as a vesture thou shalt change them;" or the loose, flowing curtains of a royal pavilion; or the extended covering of a tent: "his pavilion around him were dark waters, and thick clouds of the skies;" "the spreadings of the clouds, and the noise of his tabernacle;" "he spread a cloud for a covering."[ ] instead of the notion of a single ocean, the "number of the clouds" is proverbial in the scriptures[ ] for a multitude; and in direct opposition to the permanence of a vast metallic arch, the chosen emblems of instability and transitoriness, and of the utmost rapidity of motion, suitable even for the chariot of jehovah, are selected from the heavens.[ ] in short, there is not the slightest vestige of any foundation in scripture for the notions long afterward introduced by the greek philosophers. yet christians, who have read these passages of scripture over and over again, allow themselves to give heed to infidels, who have not, asserting, without the shadow of proof, that moses taught absurdities which were not invented for a thousand years after his death. the bible gives hints of many profound scientific truths; it teaches no absurdities; _and, instead of countenancing the notion that the sky is a solid metal hemisphere, it teaches, both literally and figuratively, directly the contrary_. . we come now to the fourth objection, _that the bible represents god as creating light before the sun_, which is supposed to be an absurdity, _and as creating the sun, moon, and stars only two days before adam_. this is the only astronomical objection to the bible account of creation which has any foundation of scripture statement to rest upon; but we shall soon see that here, also, infidels have not done themselves the justice of reading the bible with attention. i have already corrected that confusion of ideas and carelessness of perusal which confounds the two distinct and different words, _create_ and _make_, so as to make both mean the same thing. god _created_ the heavens, as well as the earth, _in the beginning_; a period of such remote antiquity that, in bible language, it stands next to eternity. the sun and moon then came into being. through what changes they passed, or when they were endowed with the power of giving light to the universe, the bible nowhere declares; but on the fourth day, it tells us, they _were made lights_, or, literally, _light-bearers_, to this earth. the comparatively insignificant place allotted to the stars, in the narrative of this earth's formation, corresponds, with the strictest propriety, to the nature of the discourse; which is not an account of the system of the universe, but of the process of preparation of this earth for the abode of man. compared with the influences of "the two great light-bearers," those of the stars are very insignificant; since the sun sheds more light and heat on the earth in one day, than all the fixed stars have done since the creation of adam. it is evident, from the words, that moses is not speaking either of their original creation, or of their actual magnitude, but of their appointment and use in relation to us, when he says, "and god made two great light-bearers (the greater light-bearer to rule the day, and the lesser light bearer to rule the night), and the stars. and god set them in the firmament of the heavens, to give light upon the earth, and to rule over the day and the night, and to divide the light from the darkness." neither here nor elsewhere does he say they were _created_ at this time, but in all the subsequent references uses other words, such as "prepared," "divided," "made," "appropriated," "made for ruling," "gave;" a studious omission, which shows that the author of the bible had not forgotten how long it was since he had called them into being. _the bible, then, does not say that god created the sun and stars only two days before adam._ another correction of careless bible reading is necessary, that we may be satisfied about what the bible _does not say_, ere we begin to defend what it does say. the bible does not say, nor lead us to believe, that the darkness spoken of in the second verse of the first of genesis had existed from eternity. darkness is not eternal; it requires the exercise of creative power for its production. light is the eternal dwelling of the word of god.[ ] the darkness which brooded over our earth, at the period of its formation, is very plainly described in the bible as a temporary phenomenon, incident to, and necessary for, the birth of ocean. it is confined by the adverb of time, _when_, to the period of condensation, upheaval, and subsidence, occupied by the birth of that gigantic infant, "_when_ it burst forth as though it had issued from the womb; _when_ i made the cloud a garment for it, and thick darkness a swaddling band for it, and broke up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors."[ ] the sun may have shone for millions of years before upon the earth, or might have been shining with all his brilliance at that very time, while not a single ray penetrated the thick darkness of the vapors in which earth was clothed. but whether or not, darkness must, from its very nature, be limited, both in space and time. to speak of infinite and eternal darkness is as unscriptural as it is absurd. the source of light is uncreated and eternal.[ ] further--if my readers are not tired with these perpetual corrections of careless reading and mistaken meaning--the light called into existence in the third verse of the first chapter of genesis is as evidently a different word from _the two lights_ spoken of in the fourteenth verse, as the singular is different from the plural; and the thing signified by it is as distinct from the things spoken of in the fourteenth verse, as the abstract is from the concrete; as, when i say of the first, "light travels , miles per second," but mean a totally distinct subject when i say, "extinguish the lights." the hebrew words are even more palpably different, the word for _light_, in the third verse, being _aur_, while the words for _the lights_, in the fourth day's work, are _maurt_ and _at emaur_; words as distinct in shape and sense as our english words, _light_ and _the lighthouses_. the locality of the light of the third verse is, moreover, wholly different from that of the light-bearers of the fourteenth verse. that was placed on earth--these in heaven. it was of the earth alone the writer was speaking, in the second verse; the earth alone is the subject of the following verses. it was the darkness of earth that needed to be illuminated; but there is not the remotest hint, in any portion of scripture, that any other planet or star was shrouded in gloom at this time. but, on the contrary, we are most distinctly informed that the wonders which god was performing in this world at that very time were distinctly visible amid the cheerful illumination of other orbs, "when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of god shouted for joy,"[ ] as this earth emerged from its temporary darkness. it was not from the light of heaven, but out of this darkness of earth, that god, who still draws the lightning's flash from the black thunder-cloud, commanded the light to shine.[ ] and it was upon this earth, and not throughout the universe, that it produced alternate day and night. to extend this command for the illumination of the darkened earth, so as to mean the production of light in general, and the lighting of the most distant telescopic, and even invisible stars--which are neither specified in the command itself, nor by any necessity of language or scripture implied in it, but, on the contrary, excluded, by the express scripture declarations of the pre-existence of light, and of morning stars--is an outrage alike against all canons of criticism, laws of grammar, and dictates of common sense. the command, "let there be light," had respect to this earth only. the bible does represent this earth as illuminated at a time when the sun was not visible from its surface--perhaps not visible at all. now, if any one will undertake to scoff at the bible for speaking of light without sunshine, or of the sun shining upon a dark earth--as infidels abundantly do--we demand that he tell us, what is light, and how is it connected with the sun? if he can not, let him cease to scoff at matters too high for him. if he can tell us, he knows that the retardation of encke's comet, which every year falls nearer and nearer the sun, has discovered the existence of an attenuated ether in the expanse or firmament; and that the experiments of arago on the polarization of light have finally demonstrated that our sensation of light is exerted by a series of vibrations or undulations of this fluid,[ ] he will then be able to perceive the propriety with which the author of light and of the bible speaks, not of _creating_ light, as if it were a material substance, but of _forming_ or commanding its display. and he will be better able to comprehend the beauty and scientific propriety with which he selected the active participle of the verb _to flow_, as the name for the undulations of this fluid; for the primary meaning of the hebrew verb _ar_ is, _to flow_, or, when used as a noun, _a flood_. "it shall be cast out and drowned, as by the _flood_ of egypt."[ ] and of the like import are the nouns, _iar_ and _aur_, formed from it. "who is this that covereth up like a _flood_, whose waters are moved like the rivers?"[ ] the philosopher, even though he be a skeptic, will cease to mock the bible when he reads there, that years ago its author termed light _the flowing--the undulation_. "in the words of the 'son of god,' and the 'son of man,' no less than in his works, with all their adaptation to the circumstances of the times and persons to whom they were originally delivered, are things inexplicable--concealed germs of an infinite development, reserved for future ages to unfold."[ ] to the man of learning and reflection, this progressive fullness, and unfathomable depth of the scripture, is a most conclusive proof that it was dictated by him in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. but the ignorant scoffers--the great majority--will mock on, and speak evil of the things they know not. their mockery is founded on two assumptions, which they believe to be irrefutable; that the sun is the only possible source of light to the earth; and that it is impossible for the sun to exist without illuminating the earth. unless they can _prove_ both of these assumptions to be true, they can not prove the bible account of creation to be false, nor even show it to be impossible. neither of these assumptions can possibly be proved true; for none of them can explore the universe, to discover the sources of light, nor put the sun through every possible experiment, to discover that his light is an inseparable quality. the only thing infidels can truly allege against the bible account of the origin of light is, _their ignorance of the process_. the argument is simply this: "god could not cause light without sunshine, _because i don't know how he did it_. nor _can i understand_ how the sun shone on a dark earth; therefore, it is impossible." these arguments from ignorance need no other answer than the questions, do you know how the sun shines at all? is your ignorance the measure of god's wisdom? but i shall demonstrate the utter falsehood of both these assumptions, by showing the actual existence of many sources of light besides the sun, and the perfect possibility of the existence of the sun without sunshine, and of sunshine without any light reaching the earth. thus, both the alleged _impossibilities_ upon which the argument against the truth of the bible is based will be removed, and the gross ignorance of natural science displayed by professedly scientific scoffers at the bible exposed. light, so far from being solely derived from the sun, exists in, and can be educed from, almost any known substance. even children are familiar with the light produced by the friction of two pieces of quartz; and no one needs to be informed how light may be produced by the combustion of inflammable substances. but the number of these substances is far greater than is generally supposed, and light can be produced by processes to which we do not generally apply the idea of burning. resins, wool, silks, wood, and all kinds of earths and alkalies, are capable of emitting light in suitable electrical conditions; so that the surface of our earth may have been a source of light in past ages, as it even now is,[ ] near the poles and the equator, flashing its aurora borealis and aurora australis, and sending out its belts of zodiacal light,[ ] far into the surrounding darkness. schubert, quoted by kurtz, says: "may not that polar light, which is called the aurora of the north, be the last glittering light of a departed age of the world, in which the earth was inclosed in an expanse of aerial fluid, from which, through the agency of electric magnetic forces, streamed forth an incomparably greater degree of light, accompanied with animating warmth, almost in a similar mode to what still occurs in the luminous atmosphere of our sun?" again, the metallic bases of all the earths are highly inflammable. a brilliant flame can be produced by the combustion of water. all the metals can be made to flash forth lightnings, under suitable electric and magnetic excitements. the crystals of several rocks give out light during the process of crystallization. thousands of miles of the earth's surface must once have presented the lurid glow of a vast furnace full of igneous rocks. even now, the copper color of the moon during an ellipse shows us that the earth is a source of light.[ ] the mountains on the surface of venus and the moon, and the continents and oceans of mars, attest the existence of upheaval and subsidence, and of volcanic fires, capable of producing such phenomena, and of course of sources of light in those planets, such as exist on the earth. we know, then, most certainly, that there are many other bodies capable of producing light besides the sun. that god could command the light to shine out of darkness, and convert the very ocean into a magnificent illumination, the following facts clearly prove. "capt. bonnycastle, coming up the gulf of st. lawrence, on the seventh of september, , was roused by the mate of the vessel, in great alarm, from an unusual appearance. it was a starlight night, when suddenly the sky became overcast, in the direction of the high land of cornwallis county, _and an instantaneous and intensely vivid light, resembling the aurora, shot out of the hitherto gloomy and dark sea_, on the lee bow, which was so brilliant that it lighted everything distinctly, even to the mast-head. the light spread over the whole sea, between the two shores, and the waves, which before had been tranquil, now began to be agitated. capt. bonnycastle describes the scene as that of _a blazing sheet of awful and most brilliant light_. a long and vivid line of light, superior in brightness to the parts of the sea not immediately near the vessel, showed the base of the high, frowning, and dark land abreast; the sky became lowering, and more intensely obscure. long tortuous lines of light showed immense numbers of large fish, darting about as if in consternation. the topsail yard and mizzen boom were lighted by the glare, as if gas-lights had been burning directly below them; and until just before daybreak, at four o'clock, the most minute objects were distinctly visible."[ ] the other assumption, that the sun could not possibly have existed without giving light to the earth, is contradicted by the most familiar facts. the earth and each of the planets might have been, and most probably were, surrounded by a dense atmosphere, through which the sun's rays could not penetrate. it is not at all necessary to prove that such was the fact. i am only concerned to prove the _possibility_; for the infidel's objection is founded on the presumed _impossibility_ of the coexistence of a dark earth and a shining sun. any person who has ever been in pittsburg, glasgow, or the manufacturing districts of england, and has seen how the smoke of even a hundred factory chimneys will shroud the heavens, can easily comprehend how a similar discharge, on a larger scale, from the thousands of primeval volcanoes,[ ] would cover the earth with the pall of darkness. by the eruption of a single volcano, in the island of sumbawa, in , the air was filled with ashes, from java to celebes, darkening an area of more than , square miles; and the darkness was so profound in java, three hundred miles distant from the volcano, that nothing equal to it was ever witnessed in the darkest night.[ ] those who have witnessed the fogs raised on the banks of newfoundland, in the gulf of st. lawrence, and in the bay of san francisco, by the mingling of currents of water of slightly different temperatures, can be at no loss to conceive the density of the vapors produced by the boiling of the sea around and over the multitude of volcanoes[ ] which have produced the countless _atolls_ of the pacific, and by the vast upheavals of thousands of miles of heated rocks of the primary formations into the beds of primeval oceans. while such processes were in progress, it was impossible but that darkness should be upon the face of the deep.[ ] even now, a slight change of atmospheric density and temperature would vail the earth with darkness. we see this substantially done every time that god "covereth the light with clouds, and commandeth it not to shine by the cloud that cometh betwixt," although the sun continues to shine with all his usual splendor. to understand how there may be a day without sunshine, we need only conceive the whole earth temporarily enveloped in the vapors of the unastronomical atmosphere of peru, thus described by humboldt: "a thick mist obscures the firmament in this region for many months, during the period called _tiempo de la garua_. not a planet--not the most brilliant stars of the southern hemisphere--are visible. it is frequently almost impossible to distinguish the position of the moon. if, by chance, the outline of the sun's disc be visible during the day, it appears devoid of rays, as if seen through colored glasses. according to what modern geology has taught us to conjecture concerning the ancient history of our atmosphere, its primitive condition in respect to its mixture and density _must have been unfavorable to the transmission of light_. when we consider the numerous processes which, in the primary world, may have led to the separation of the solids, fluids, and gases around the earth's surface, the thought involuntarily arises, _how narrowly the human race escaped being surrounded with an untransparent atmosphere_, which, though not greatly prejudicial to some classes of vegetation, would yet have completely vailed the whole of the starry canopy. all knowledge of the structure of the universe could then have been withheld from the inquiring spirit of man."[ ] the sun, then, may have shone with all his brilliancy, for thousands of years, and a single ray never have penetrated the darkness upon the face of the deep. but we will go further, and show that so far from light being an essential property of suns, it is a very variable attribute, and that in several cases suns have ceased, and others begun, to shine, before our eyes. the fixed stars are self-luminous bodies, similar to our sun, only immensely distant from us. their numbers, magnitudes, and places, are known and recorded. but new stars have frequently flashed into view, where none were previously seen to exist; and others have gradually grown dim and disappeared, without changing their place; and a few which had disappeared have reappeared in the same spot they formerly occupied; while others have changed their color since the era of astronomical observation. in short, there is no permanence in the heavens, any more than on the earth; but a perpetual progress and change is the destiny of suns and stars, of which the most conspicuous indication is the variability of their powers of giving light, of which i shall transcribe a few instances. "on the eleventh of november, , as the illustrious danish astronomer, tycho, was walking through the fields, he was astonished to observe a new star in the constellation cassiopea, beaming with a radiance quite unwonted in that part of the heavens. suspecting some delusion about his eyes, he went to a group of peasants, to ascertain if they saw it, and found them gazing at it with as much astonishment as himself. he went to his instrument, and fixed its place, from which it never after appeared to deviate. for some time it increased in brightness--greatly surpassed sirius in luster, and even jupiter. it was seen by good eyes in the daytime; a thing which happens only to venus, under very favorable circumstances; and at night it pierced through clouds which obscured the rest of the stars. after reaching its fullest brightness, it again diminished, passed through all degrees of visible magnitude, assuming in succession the hues of a dying conflagration, and then finally disappeared." "it is impossible to imagine anything more tremendous than a conflagration that could be visible at such a distance."[ ] astronomers now recognize a class of such _temporary stars_, which have appeared from time to time in different parts of the heavens, blazing forth with extraordinary luster, and after remaining awhile, apparently immovable, have died away, and left no trace.[ ] twenty-one of such appearances of new suns are on record.[ ] still further, many familiar suns have ceased to shine. "on a careful re-examination of the heavens, _many stars are found to be missing_."[ ] "there are many well authenticated cases of the disappearance of old stars, whose places had been fixed with a degree of certainty not to be doubted. in october, , sir william herschel observed a star, no. in flamstead's catalogue, in the constellation hercules. in the same star was observed by the same astronomer, but since that time no search has been able to detect it. the stars and of the same catalogue, both of the fourth magnitude, have likewise disappeared. in may, , sir john herschel missed the star no. , in the constellation virgo, which has never since been seen. examples might be multiplied, but it is unnecessary."[ ] the demonstration of the variableness of the light-giving power of suns is completed by the phenomena of the class called _variable stars_; though the best astronomers are now agreed that _variability, and not uniformity_, in the emission of light, is the general character of the stars.[ ] but the variations which occur before our eyes impress us more deeply than those which require centuries for their completion. sir john herschel has observed, and graphically described, one such instance of variation of light. "the star eta argus has always hitherto been regarded as a star of the second magnitude; and i never had reason to regard it as variable. in november, , _i saw it, as usual_. judge of my surprise to find, on the sixteenth of december, that _it had suddenly become a star of the first magnitude_, and almost equal to rigel. it continued to increase. rigel is now not to be compared with it. it exceeds arcturus, and is very near equal to alpha centauri, being, at the moment i write, the fourth star in the heavens, in the order of brightness."[ ] it has since passed through several variations of luster. humboldt gives a catalogue of twenty-four of such stars whose variations have been recorded. "a strange field of speculation is opened by this phenomenon. here we have a star fitfully variable to an astonishing extent, and whose fluctuations are spread over centuries, apparently in no settled period, and with no regularity of progression. what origin can we ascribe to these sudden flashes and relapses? what conclusions are we to draw as to the comfort or habitability of a system depending for its supply of light and heat on such an uncertain source? speculations of this kind can hardly be termed visionary, when we consider that, from what has been before said, we are compelled to admit a community of nature between the fixed stars and our own sun; and when we reflect, that geology testifies to the fact of extensive changes having taken place, at epochs of the most remote antiquity, in the climate and temperature of our globe; changes difficult to reconcile with the operation of secondary causes, such as a different distribution of sea and land, but which would find an easy and natural explanation in a slow variation of the supply of light and heat afforded by the sun himself."[ ] "i can not otherwise understand alterations of heat and cold so extensive as at one period to have clothed high northern latitudes with a more than tropical luxuriance of vegetation, and at another to have buried vast tracts of europe, now enjoying a genial climate, and smiling with fertility, under a glacier crust of enormous thickness. such changes seem to point to causes more powerful than the mere local distribution of land and water can well be supposed to have been. in the slow secular variations of our supply of light and heat from the sun, _which, in the immensity of time, may have gone to any extent, and succeeded each other in any order, without violating the analogy of sidereal phenomena which we know to have taken place_, we have a cause, not indeed established as a fact, but readily admissible as something beyond a bare possibility, fully adequate to the utmost requirements of geology. a change of half a magnitude on the luster of our sun, regarded as a fixed star, spread over successive geological epochs--now progressive, now receding, now stationary--_is what no astronomer would now hesitate to admit as a perfectly reasonable and not improbable supposition_."[ ] the most eminent astronomers are perfectly unanimous in their deductions from these facts. they regard _variability as the general characteristic of suns and stars, our own sun not exempted_. "we are led," says humboldt, "by analogy to infer, that as the fixed stars _universally_ have not merely an apparent, but a real motion of their own, so their surfaces or luminous atmospheres are generally subject to those changes (in their "light process") which recur, in the great majority, in extremely long, and therefore unmeasured, and probably undeterminable periods, or which, in a few, recur without being periodical, as it were, by a sudden revolution, either for a longer or a shorter time." and he asks, _why should our sun differ from other suns?_ in reference to the extinction of suns, he says: "what we no longer see is not necessarily annihilated. it is merely the transition of matter into new forms--into combinations which are subject to new processes. dark cosmical bodies may, by a renewed process of light, again become luminous."[ ] in confirmation of the fact adduced in support of this view, by la place, "that those stars which have become invisible, after having surpassed jupiter in brilliancy, have not changed their place during the time they continued visible," he adds, "the luminous process has simply ceased." bessel asserts[ ] that, "_no reason exists for considering luminosity an essential property of these bodies._" and nichol sums up the matter in the following emphatic words: "no more is light _inherent_ in the sun than in tycho's vanished star; and with it and other orbs, a time may come when, through the consent of all the powers of nature, he shall cease to be required to shine. _the womb which contains the future is that which bore the past._"[ ] here, then we behold astronomy presenting to our observation facts and processes so similar to those which revelation presents to our faith, that all those men who are most profoundly versed in her lore, reasoning solely from the facts of science, and without any reference to the bible, unanimously conclude that there was such a state of darkness and confusion before our era, as the bible declares--that its causes were most probably such as the bible implies--and that the sudden illuminating of dark bodies, and their extinction, and even re-illumination, are facts so perfectly well authenticated as matters of observation in regard to other suns, that no reasonable man can hesitate to believe any credible assurance that our sun has passed through such a process. with what feelings, then, are we to regard men who, in defiance of the most common facts, and in contradiction to the demonstrations of science, blaspheme the god of truth as a teacher of falsehood, because he speaks of light distinct from that of the sun? surely, such men are those whom he describes as "having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of god, through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their hearts. in whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them that believe not."[ ] these facts, of the sudden kindling of stars, their gradual passage through all the hues of a dying conflagration, and their final extinction, and present blackness of darkness, are facts of fearful omen to the enemies of god. they are the original threatenings of heaven, whence the fearful language of bible warning is derived. they attest its truth, and illustrate its import. the favorite theory of the unbeliever is the uniformity of nature. "where," says he, "is the promise of christ's coming to judgment; for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were since the beginning of the world?" but the telescope dispels the illusion, exhibits the course of nature as a succession of catastrophes, displays the conflagration of other worlds, and the extinction of their suns, before our eyes, and asks, _why should our sun differ from other suns?_ it is not the preacher, but the philosopher, who has turned prophet, when--looking back on the period when the siberian elephant and rhinoceros were frozen amid their native jungle, and icebergs visited the plains of india--he proclaims, "_the womb that bore the past contains the future._" the threatenings of god's word are invested with a mantle of terrible literality by the facts we have been contemplating. raised at the day of resurrection, in these bodies, and with these senses, and this capability of rejoicing in the light, and shuddering and pining amid outward gloom, physical darkness will be the terrible prison of those who chose darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. the father of lights shall withdraw his blessed influences from the hearts, the dwellings, the eyes, of those who say to him, "depart from us, for we desire not the knowledge of thy ways." the sun shall cease to vivify god's corn, and wine, and oil, which ungodly men consume upon their lusts. the moon shall cease to shine upon the robber's toil, and the stars to illumine the adulterer's path. the light of heaven shall cease to gild the field of carnage, where men perform the work of hell. in the very midst of your worldliness and business, unbeliever, when you are in all the engrossment of buying and selling, and planting and building, and marrying and giving in marriage, without warning or expectation, "the sun shall go down at noon, and the stars shall be darkened in the clear day." as in the warning and example given to the enemies of the lord in egypt, thick darkness, that may be felt, shall wind its inevitable chains around you, preventing your escape from the judgment of the great day, and giving you a fearful foretaste of that "blackness of darkness for ever" of which you are now forewarned in the word of truth. "the sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from the heavens, and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken; and then shall appear the sign of the son of man in the heavens, and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn; and they shall see the son of man coming in the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory." "cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." "hear ye, and give ear; be not proud, for the lord hath spoken. give glory to the lord, your god, before he cause darkness, and before your feet stumble upon the dark mountains; and while ye look for light, he turn it into the shadow of death, and make it gross darkness." "i am the light of the world; he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."[ ] footnotes: [ ] duff's india, . [ ] somerville's connection of the physical sciences, p. . [ ] poole's horæ egyptiacæ. [ ] henri l'egypte pharonique. [ ] atlas ethnographique, eth. i. [ ] see cruden's concordance, art. _day_. [ ] dan., chap. xii. . job, chap. xxxviii. . col., chap. ii. . [ ] chap. i. _did the world make itself?_ [ ] genesis, chap. i. . [ ] genesis, chap. i. . [ ] psalm civ. . eccl., chap. xii. . [ ] psalm li. . ezekiel, chap. xxxvi. . [ ] genesis, chap. ii. - . isaiah, chap. xliii. - ; chap. xlv. , . [ ] wiseman's lectures on the connection of science and revealed religion, - . [ ] commentary on genesis, i. . [ ] exodus, chap. i. , . [ ] isaiah, chap. xi. , . [ ] psalm xc. [ ] john, chap. i. . [ ] revelation, chap. i. . [ ] proverbs, chap. viii. . [ ] samuel, chap. xxii. . isaiah, chap. xl. ; chap. xliv. ; chap. xlii. . psalm cxxxvi. . numbers, chap. xvii. . job, chap. xxxvii. . [ ] cosmos v. , p. . [ ] genesis, chap. xix. . exodus, chap. xiii. ; chap. xxxiii. . jeremiah, chap. i. . galatians, chap. ii. . song, chap. iii. . job, chap. ix. ; chap. xxvi. . psalm lxxv. . timothy, chap. iii. . revelation, chap. iii. . [ ] job, chap. xxxvi. . [ ] job, chap. xxviii. --literal reading. [ ] ecclesiastes, chap. i. . [ ] isaiah, chap. xl. [ ] job, chap. xxvi. . [ ] ruth, chap. iii. . [ ] job, chap. xxxviii. ; chap. xxvi. ; chap. xxxviii. ; chap. xxxvi. . psalm cv. ; lxxvii. . [ ] isaiah, chap. xliv. . jeremiah, chap. iv. . job, chap. xxxviii. . proverbs, chap. xxx. . [ ] ecclesiastes, chap. xi. . psalm civ. . matthew, chap. xxix. . [ ] isaiah, chap. xlv. . john, chap. i. . daniel, chap. ii. . timothy, chap. vi. . [ ] job, chap. xxxviii. , . literally, _in my making_, etc. [ ] revelation, chap. xxi. ; chap. xxii. . isaiah, chap. lx. . [ ] job, chap. xxxviii. . [ ] corinthians, chap. iv. . [ ] somerville's connection of the physical sciences, sec. - . [ ] amos, chap. viii. . [ ] jeremiah, chap. xlvi. . genesis, chap. xli. - . see parkhurst's hebrew lexicon, sub voce. [ ] neander. [ ] cosmos, vol. i. p. . [ ] annual of scientific discovery. . [ ] cosmos, vol. i. p. . nichol's solar system, . [ ] somerville's connection of physical sciences, . [ ] cosmos, vol. i. p. . [ ] lyell's principles of geology, . [ ] cosmos, vol. i. p. . [ ] cosmos, vol. i. pp. , . [ ] cosmos, vol. iii. p. . [ ] nichol's solar system, . connection of physical sciences, . [ ] herschel's outlines, sec. . [ ] cosmos, vol. viii. p. . [ ] herschel's outlines, sec. . [ ] mitchell's planetary and stellar worlds, . [ ] cosmos, vol. iii. p. . [ ] astronomical observations, . [ ] herschel's outlines, sec. . [ ] astronomical observations, . [ ] cosmos, vol. iii. pp. - . [ ] cosmos, vol. iii. p. . [ ] solar system, . [ ] ephesians, chap. iv. . corinthians, chap. iv. . [ ] matthew, chap. xxiv. . john, chap. viii. . jeremiah, chap. xiii. . matthew, chap. xxii. and chap. xxv. . chapter xii. telescopic views of scripture. no kind of knowledge is more useful to man than the knowledge of his own ignorance; and no instrument has done more to give him such knowledge than the telescope. faith is the believing of facts we do not know, upon the word of one who does. if any one knows everything, or thinks he does, he can have no faith. a deep conviction of our own ignorance is, therefore, indispensable to faith. the telescope gives us this conviction in two ways. it shows us that we see a great many things we do not perceive, tells us the size and the distances of those little sparks that adorn the sky, and leads us to reason out their true relations to our earth. then it tells us, that what we see is little of what is to be seen; that our knowledge is but a drop from the great ocean, a rush-light sparkling in the vast darkness of the unknown. it tells us, that we do not see right, and that we do not see far; and that there may be things, both in heaven and earth, not dreamed of in our philosophy. further, it confirms the bible testimony concerning the facts of its own province, by removing all improbability from some of its most wonderful narratives, attesting the accuracy of its language, and confirming, by some of its most recent discoveries the truth of its statements. our space will only allow us to select five illustrations of the tendency of faith in the telescope, to produce faith in the bible. . one of the latest astronomical discoveries throws light upon one of the most ancient scientific allusions of the bible, and one which has perplexed both commentators and geologists; _that which hints at the second causes of the deluge_. not that it is at all needful for us to be able to tell where god almighty procured the water to drown the ungodly sinners of the old world, before we believe his word that he did so; unless, indeed, somebody has explored the universe, and knows that there is not water enough in it for that purpose, or that it is so far away that he could not fetch it; for, as to the fact itself, geology assures us that all the dry land on earth has been drowned, not only once, but many times. it is not the province of the commentator, but of the geologist, to account for the phenomenon. several solutions of the difficulty of finding water enough for the purpose have been proposed. one of these supposes that some of the internal caverns of the earth are filled with water, which, when heated by neighboring volcanic fires, would expand one twenty-third of its bulk, and flow out, and raise the ocean. when the volcanic fire was burnt out, and the water cooled, it would of course contract to its former dimensions, and the ocean recede. these caverns they suppose to be meant by "the fountains of the great deep," in genesis vii. . but the bible describes another, and plainly a very important source of the waters of the deluge, in the rain which fell for forty days and forty nights. at present, all the water in our atmosphere comes from the sea, by evaporation; and the quantity is too insignificant to cover the globe to any considerable depth. divines and philosophers were perplexed to give any adequate explanation of this language, and considered it simply as noah's description of the appearance of things as viewed from the ark, rather than an accurate explanation of the actual causes of the deluge. now, it is certainly true, that the bible does describe things as they appear to men. it is, however, beginning to be discovered, that these popular appearances are closely connected with philosophical reality. our purblind astronomy and prattling geology may be as inadequate to expound the mysteries of the bible philosophy as was the incoherent science of strabo and ptolemy. the experience of another planet, now transacting before our eyes, admonishes us not to limit the resources of omnipotence by our narrow experience, or to suppose that our young science has catalogued all the weapons in the arsenal of the almighty. the planet saturn is surrounded by a revolving belt, consisting of several distinct rings, containing an area a hundred and forty-six times greater than the surface of our globe, with a thickness of a hundred miles. from mechanical considerations it had been proved, that these rings could not be of a uniform thickness all around, else when a majority of his seven moons were on the same side, the attraction would draw them in upon him, on the opposite side; and once attracted to his surface, they could never get loose again, if they were solid.[ ] it was next ascertained that the motions of the moons and of the rings were such, that if the inequality was always in the same place, the same result must follow; so that the ring must be capable of changing its thickness, according to circumstances. it must be either composed of an immense number of small solid bodies, capable of shifting freely about among themselves, or else be fluid. finally, it has been demonstrated that this last is the fact; that the density of this celestial ocean is nearly that of water; and that the inner portion, at least, is so transparent, that the planet has been seen through it.[ ] "the ring of saturn is, then, a stream or streams of fluid, rather denser than water, flowing about the primary."[ ] the extraordinary fact, which shows us how god can deluge a planet when he pleases, i give not in the words of a divine, but of a philosopher, whose thoughtless illustration of scripture is all the more valuable, that it is evidently unintentional. "m. otto struve, mr. bond, and sir david brewster, are agreed that saturn's third ring is fluid, that this is not of very recent formation, and that it is not subject to rapid change. and they have come to the extraordinary conclusion, that the inner border of the ring has, since the day of huygens, been gradually approaching to the body of saturn, and that we may expect, sooner or later--perhaps in some dozen years--to see the rings united with the body of the planet. _with this deluge impending, saturn would scarcely be a very eligible residence for men, whatever it might be for dolphins._"[ ] knowing, as we most certainly do, that the fluid envelopes of our own planet were once exceedingly different from the present,[ ] here is a possibility quite sufficient to stop the mouth of the scoffer. let him show that god did not, or prove that he could not, suspend a similar series of oceans over the earth, or cease to pronounce a universal deluge impossible. . that sublime ode, in which deborah describes _the stars in their courses as fighting against sisera_[ ] has been rescued from the grasp of modern scoffers, by the progress of astronomy. it has been alleged as lending its support to the delusions of judicial astrology; by one class desiring to damage the bible as a teacher of superstition, and by another to help their trade. the bible reader will doubtless be greatly surprised to hear it asserted, that the bible lends its sanction to this antiquated, and, as he thinks, exploded superstition. he knows how expressly the bible forbids god's people to have anything to do with it, or with its heathenish professors. "thus saith the lord, learn not the way of the heathen, and be not dismayed at the signs of heaven, for the heathen are dismayed at them."[ ] and they will be still more surprised to learn, that those who object against the bible, that it ascribes a controlling influence to the stars, are firm believers in reichenbach's discovery of _odyle_; an influence from the heavenly bodies so spiritual and powerful, that they imagine it able to govern the world, instead of god almighty.[ ] the passage thus variously abused is a description, in highly poetic strains, of the battle between the troops of israel and those of sisera; of the defeat of the latter, and of an earthquake and tempest, which completed the destruction of his exhausted troops. the glory of the victory is wholly ascribed to the lord god of israel; while the rain, the thunder, lightning, swollen river, and "the stars in their courses," are all described, in their subordinate places, as only his instruments--the weapons of his arsenal. "lord, when thou wentest out of seir, when thou marchedst out of the field of edom, the earth trembled, and the heavens dropped, the clouds also dropped down water; the mountains also melted from before the lord, even that sinai, from before the lord god of israel." then, after describing the battle, she alludes to the celestial artillery, and to the effects of the storm in swelling the river, and sweeping away the fugitives who had sought the fords: "they fought from heaven; the stars in their courses fought against sisera; the river kishon swept them away; that ancient river, the river kishon."[ ] after describing some further particulars the hymn concludes with an allusion to the clearing away of the tempest and the appearance of the unclouded sun over the field of victory: "so let all thine enemies perish, o lord; but let them that love thee be as the sun, when he goeth forth in his might." where is there the least allusion here to any controlling influence of the stars? you might just as well say, "the bible ascribes a controlling influence over the destinies of men, to the river kishon;" for they are both spoken of, in the same language, as instruments in god's hand for the destruction of his enemies. but it is objected, "even by this explanation you have the bible representing the stars as causing the rain." not so fast. if a man were very ignorant, and had never heard of anything falling from the sky but rain, he might think so. and if the bible did attribute to the stars some such influence over the vapors of the atmosphere, as experience shows the moon to possess over the ocean, are you able to demonstrate its absurdity? deborah, however, when she sang of the stars _in their courses_ fighting against sisera, was describing a phenomenon very different from a fall of rain--was, in fact, describing a fall of ærolites upon the army of sisera. multitudes of stones have fallen from the sky, and not less than five hundred such falls are recorded. "on september , , a few minutes before midday, while the sky was perfectly serene, a violent detonation was heard in the department of the lot and garonne. this was followed by three or four others, and finally by a rolling noise, at first resembling a discharge of musketry, afterward the rumbling of carriages, and lastly that of a large building falling down. stones were immediately after precipitated to the ground, some of which weighed eighteen pounds, and sunk into a compact soil, to the depth of eight or nine inches; and one of them rebounded three or four feet from the ground." "a great shower of stones fell at barbatan, near roquefort, in the vicinity of bordeaux, on july , . a mass fifteen inches in diameter penetrated a hut and killed a herdsman and bullock. some of the stones weighed twenty-five pounds, and others thirty pounds." "in july, , a large ball of fire fell from the clouds, at shahabad, which burned five villages, destroyed the crops, and killed several men and women."[ ] astronomers are perfectly agreed as to the character of these masses, and the source whence they come. "it appears from recent astronomical observations that the sun numbers among his attendants not only planets, asteroids, and comets, but also immense multitudes of meteoric stones, and shooting stars."[ ] Ærolites are, then, really stars. they are composed of materials similar to those of our earth; the only other star whose materials we can compare with them. they have a proper motion around the sun, in orbits distinct from that of the earth. they are capable of emitting the most brilliant light, in favorable circumstances. some of them are as large as the asteroids. one, of , tons weight, passed within twenty-five miles of the earth, at the rate of twenty miles a second. a fragment of it reached the earth.[ ] "that ærolites were called _stars_ by the ancients is indisputable. indeed, anaxagoras considered the stars to be only stony masses, torn from the earth by the violence of rotation. democritus tells us, that invisible dark masses of stone move with the visible stars, and remain on that account unknown, but sometimes fall upon the earth, and are extinguished, as happened with the stony star which fell near aegos potamos."[ ] when deborah, therefore, describes the _stars in their courses_ as fighting against sisera, it is an utterly unfounded assumption to suppose that she has any allusion to the baseless fancies of an astrology everywhere condemned by the religion she professed, when a simple and natural explanation is afforded by the fact, that stars do fall from the heavens to the earth, and _that they do so in their courses_, and just by reason of their orbital motion; and that the ancients both knew the fact, and gave the right name to those bodies. let no reasonable man delude himself with the notion that god has no weapons more formidable than the dotings of astrology, till he has taken a view of the arsenals of god's artillery, which he has treasured up against the day of battle and of war. here it may be well to notice the illustration which the remarkable showers of meteors, particularly those of november, , shed upon several much ridiculed texts of scripture. scientific observation has fully confirmed and illustrated the scientific accuracy of the bible in such expressions as, "the stars shall fall from heaven;" "there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp;" "and the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig-tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind." whatever political or ecclesiastical events these symbols may signify, there can be no question, now, that the astronomical phenomenon used to prefigure them is correctly described in the bible. most of my readers have seen some of these remarkable exhibitions; but for the sake of those who have not, i give a brief account of one. "by much the most splendid meteoric shower on record, began at nine o'clock, on the evening of the twelfth of november, , and lasted till sunrise next morning. it extended from niagara and the northern lakes of america, to the south of jamaica, and from ° of longitude, in the atlantic, to ° of longitude in central mexico. shooting stars and meteors of the apparent size of jupiter, venus, and even the full moon, darted in myriads toward the horizon, _as if every star in the heavens had darted from their spheres_." they are described as having been as frequent as the flakes of snow in a snow-storm, and to have been seen with equal brilliancy over the greater part of the continent of north america.[ ] the source whence these meteors proceed is distinctly ascertained to be, as was already remarked with regard to the ærolites, a belt of small planetoids, revolving around the sun in a little less than a year, and in an orbit intersecting that of the earth, at such an angle, that every thirty-three years, or thereabouts, the earth meets the full tide on the twelfth of november. these meteors are true and proper stars. "all the observations made during the year agree with those of previous years, and confirm what may be regarded as sufficiently well established: the cosmical origin of shooting stars."[ ] . the language of the bible with respect to _the circuit of the sun_ is found to have anticipated one of the most sublime discoveries of modern astronomy. true to the reality, as well as to the appearance of things, it is scientifically correct, without becoming popularly unintelligible. there is a class of aspirants to gentility who refuse to recognize any person not dressed in the style which they suppose to be fashionable among the higher classes. a glasgow butcher's wife, in the highlands, attired in all the magnificence of her satins, laces, and jewelry, returned the courteous salute of the little woman in the gingham dress and gray shawl with a contemptuous toss of the head, and flounced past, to learn, to her great mortification, that she had missed an opportunity of forming an acquaintance with the queen. so a large class of pretenders to science refuse to become acquainted with bible truth, because it is not shrouded in the technicalities of science, but displays itself in the plain speech of the common people to whom it was given. they will have it, that because its author used common language, it was because he could not afford any other; and as he did not contradict every vulgar error believed by the people to whom he spoke, it was because he knew no better; and because the hebrews knew nothing of modern discoveries in astronomy, geology, and the other sciences, and the bible does not contain lectures on these subjects, the god of the hebrews must have been equally ignorant, and the bible consequently beneath the notice of a philosopher. you will hear such persons most pertinaciously assert, that moses believed all the absurdities of the ptolemaic astronomy; that the earth is the immovable center, around which revolve the crystal sphere of the firmament, and the sun, and moon, and stars, which are attached to it, after the manner of lamps to a ceiling; and that he, and the world generally in his day, had not emerged from the grossest barbarism and ignorance of all matters of natural science. yet these very people will probably tell you, in the same conversation, of the wonderful astronomical observations made by the egyptians, ten thousand years before the days of adam! so beautiful is the consistency of infidel science. but when you inquire into the source of their knowledge of the philosophy of the ancients, you discover that they did not draw it from the writings of moses, of which they betray the grossest ignorance, nor of any one who lived within a thousand years of moses' time. voltaire is their authority for all such matters. he transferred to the early asiatics all the absurdities of the later greek philosophers, and would have us believe that moses, who wrote before these greeks had learned to read, was indebted to them for his philosophy. of the learning of the ancient patriarchs voltaire does not tell them much, for a satisfactory reason. yet it might not have required much learning to infer, that the eyes, and ears, and nerves of men who lived ten times as long as we can, must have been more perfect than ours; that a man who could observe nature with such eyes, under a sky where stoddart now sees the ring of saturn, the crescent of venus, and the moons of jupiter, with the naked eye,[ ] and continue his observations for eight hundred years, would certainly acquire a better knowledge of the appearance of things than any number of generations of short-lived men, called away by death before they have well learned how to observe, and able only to leave the shell of their discoveries to their successors; that unless we have some good reason for believing that the mind of man was greatly inferior, before the flood, to what it is now, the antediluvians must have made a progress in the knowledge of the physical sciences, during the three thousand years which elapsed from the creation to the deluge, much greater than the nations of europe have effected since they began to learn their a, b, c, about the same number of years ago; and that though noah and his sons might not have preserved all the learning of their drowned contemporaries, they would still have enough to preserve them from the reproach of ignorance and barbarism; at least until their sons have succeeded in building a larger ship than the ark, or a monument equal to the great pyramid. the astronomer royal of scotland[ ] has demonstrated, that in this imperishable monument, erected four thousand years ago, the builders, who took care to keep it alone, of all the buildings of egypt, free from idolatrous images or inscriptions, recorded with most laborious care, in multiples of the earth's polar diameter, a metric system, including linear and liquid measures, and a system of weights based on a cubical measure of water of uniform temperature; which uniform temperature they took the utmost care to preserve. he shows further, that they were acquainted with the precession of the equinoxes, with the density of the earth, and with the earth's distance from the sun; or at least calculated it at what proves to be nearly a mean of our discordant calculations; and that they were acquainted with problems just beginning to attract the attention of the science of europe. when we know that the chaldeans taught the egyptians the expansive power of steam, and the induction of electricity by pointed conductors; that from the most remote antiquity the chinese were acquainted with decimal fractions, electro-magnetism, the mariner's compass, and the art of making glass; that lenses have been found in the ruins of nineveh, and that an artificial currency was in circulation in the first cities built after the flood;[ ] that astronomical observations were made in china, with so much accuracy, from the deluge till the days of yau, b. c. , that the necessary intercalations were made for harmonizing the solar with the lunar year, and fixing the true period of - / days; and that similar observations were conducted to a like result within a few years of the same remote period, in babylon;--if the reader does not conclude that the world may have forgotten as much ancient lore during eighteen hundred years of idolatrous barbarism before the coming of christ, as it has learned in the same number since, he will, at least, satisfy himself that the ancient patriarchs were not ignorant savages.[ ] "whole nations," says la place, "have been swept from the earth, with their languages, arts, and sciences, leaving but confused masses of ruins to mark the place where mighty cities stood. their history, with a few doubtful traditions, has perished; _but the perfection of their astronomical observations marks their high antiquity, fixes the periods of their existence, and proves that even at that early time they must have made considerable progress in science_."[ ] the infidel theory, that the first men were savages, is a pure fiction, refuted by every known fact of their history. that, however, is not the matter under discussion. we are not inquiring now, what moses and the prophets _thought_, but what the author of the bible _told them to say_. the scribe writes as his employer dictates. "i will put my words in thy mouth," said god to jeremiah. "my tongue is as the pen of a ready writer," said david. the prophets began, not with "thus saith isaiah," but "thus saith the lord." unless the word of god was utterly different from all his other works, it must transcend the comprehension of man in some respects. the profoundest philosopher is as ignorant of the cause of the vegetation of wheat as the mower who cuts it down; but their ignorance of the mysteries of organic force is no reason why the one may not harvest, and the other eat and live. just so god's prophets conveyed previous mysteries to the church, of the full import of which they themselves were ignorant; even as daniel heard but understood not. the prophets, to whom it was revealed, that they did not minister to themselves, but to us, inquired and searched diligently into the meaning of their own prophecies; which meaning, nevertheless, continued hid for ages and generations.[ ] if the prophets of the old economy might be ignorant of the privileges of the gospel day, of which they prophesied, at god's dictation, they might very well be ignorant, also, of the philosophy of creation, and yet write a true account of the facts, from his mouth. let us suppose, then, that the ancient hebrews and their prophets were, if not quite as ignorant of natural science as modern infidels are pleased to represent them, yet unacquainted with the discoveries of herschel and newton; and, as a necessary consequence, that their language was the adequate medium of conveying their imperfect ideas, containing none of the technicalities invented by philosophers to mark modern scientific discoveries; and that god desired to convey to them some religious instruction, through the medium of language; must we suppose it indispensable for this purpose that he should use strange words, and scientific phrases, the meaning of which would not be discovered for thirty-three hundred years? could not dr. alexander write a sabbath-school book, without filling it full of such phrases as "right ascension," "declination," "precession of the equinoxes," "radius vector," and the like? or, if some wiseacre did prepare such a book, would it be very useful to children? perhaps even we, learned philosophers of the nineteenth century, are not out of school yet. how many discoveries are yet to be made in all the sciences; discoveries which will doubtless render our fancied perfection as utterly childish to the philosophers of a thousand years hence as the astronomy of the greeks seems to us; and demand the use of technical language, which would be as unintelligible to us as our scientific nomenclature would have been to aristotle. if god may not use popular speech in speaking to the people of any given period, but must needs speak the technical language of perfect science, and if science is now, and always will be, of necessity, imperfect, we are led to the sage conclusion, that every revelation from god to man must always be unintelligible! does it necessarily follow, that because the author of the bible uses the common phrases, "sun rising," and "sun setting," in a popular treatise upon religion, that therefore he was ignorant of the rotation of the earth, and intended to teach that the sun revolved around it? he is certainly under no more obligation to depart from the common language of mankind, and introduce the technicalities of science into such a discourse, than mankind in general, and our objectors in particular, are to do the like in their common conversation. now, i demand to know whether they are aware that the earth's rotation on its axis is the cause of day and night? but do you ever hear any of them use such phrases as "earth rising," and "earth setting?" but if an infidel's daily use of the phrases, "_sun rising_," "_sun setting_," and the like, does not prove, either that he is ignorant of the earth's rotation as the cause of that appearance, or that he intends to deceive the world by those phrases, why may not almighty god be as well informed and as honest as the infidel, though he also condescends to use the common language of mankind? do you ever hear astronomers, in common discourse, use any other language? i suppose lieut. maury, and herschel, and le verrier, and mitchell, know a little of the earth's rotation; but they, too, use the english tongue very much like other people, and speak of sunrise and sunset; yet nobody accuses them of believing in the ptolemaic astronomy. hear the immortal kepler, the discoverer of the laws of planetary revolution: "we astronomers do not pursue this science with the view of altering common language; but we wish to open the gates of truth, without affecting the vulgar modes of speech. we say with the common people, 'the planets stand still, or go down;' 'the sun rises, or sets;' meaning only that so the thing appears to us, although it is not truly so, as all astronomers are agreed. how much less should we require that the scriptures of divine inspiration, setting aside the common modes of speech, should shape their words according to the model of the natural sciences, and by employing a dark and inappropriate phraseology about things which surpass the comprehension of those whom it designs to instruct, perplex the simple people of god, and thus obstruct its own way toward the attainment of the far more exalted end to which it aims." it is evident, then, that god not only may, _but must_, use popular language in addressing the people, in a work not professedly scientific; and that if this popular language be scientifically incorrect, such use of it neither implies his ignorance nor approval of the error. but it may be worthy of inquiry whether this popular language of mankind, used in the bible, be scientifically erroneous. if the language be intended to express an absolute reality, no doubt it is erroneous to say the sun rises and sets; but if it be only intended to describe an appearance, and the words themselves declare that intention, it can not be shown to be false to the fact. now, when the matter is critically investigated, these phrases are found to be far more accurate than those of "earth rising," and "earth setting," which infidels say the author of the bible should have used. for, as up and down have no existence in nature, save with reference to a spectator, and as the earth is always down with respect to a spectator on its surface, neither rising toward him, nor sinking from him, in reality, nor appearing to do so, unless in an earthquake, the improved phrases are false, both to the appearance of things, and to the cause of it. whereas, our common speech, making no pretensions to describe the causes of appearances, can not contradict any scientific discovery of these causes, and therefore can not be false to the fact; while it truly describes all that it pretends to describe--the appearance of things to our senses. and so, after all the outcry raised against it by sciolists, the vulgar speech of mankind, used by the author of the bible, must be allowed to be philosophical enough for his purpose, and theirs; at least till somebody favors both with a better. though we are in no way concerned, then, to prove that every poetical figure in scripture, and every popular illustration taken from nature, corresponds to the accuracy of scientific investigation, before we believe the bible to be a revelation of our duty to god and man, yet it may be worth while to inquire, further, whether we really find upon its sacred pages such crude and egregious scientific errors as infidels allege. we have seen in the last chapter, that they are not able to read even its first chapter without blundering. indeed, they generally boast of their ignorance of its contents. it is a very good rule to take them at their word, and when they quote scripture, to take it for granted _that they quote it wrong_, unless you know the contrary. the first thing for you to do when an infidel tells you the bible says so and so, is to get the book, and see whether it does or not. you will generally find that he has either misquoted the words, or mistaken their meaning, from a neglect of the context; or perhaps has both misquoted and mistaken. then, when you are satisfied of the correct meaning of the text, and he tells you that it is contrary to the discoveries of science, the next point is to ask him, _how do you know?_ you will find his knowledge of science and scripture about equal. both these tests should be applied to scientific objections to the bible, as they are all composed of equal parts of biblical blunders, and philosophical fallacies. in the objection under consideration, for instance, both statements are wrong. the bible does not represent the earth as the immovable center of the universe, or as immovable in space at all. it does not represent the sun and stars as revolving around it. nor are the facts of astronomy more correctly stated. it is not the bible, but our objector, that is a little behind the age in his knowledge of science. if we inquire for those texts of scripture which represent the earth as the immovable center of the universe, we shall be referred to the figurative language of the psalms, the book of job, and other poetical parts of scripture, which speak of the "foundations of the earth," "the earth being established," "abiding for ever," and the like, when the slightest attention to the language would show _that it is intended to be figurative_. the accumulation of metaphors and poetical images in some of these passages is beautiful and grand in the highest degree; but none, save the most stupid reader, would ever dream of interpreting them literally. take, for instance, psalm civ. - , where, in one line, the world is described as god's house, with beams, and chambers, and foundations; but in the very next line the figure is changed, and it is viewed as an infant, covered with the deep, as with a garment. "bless, the lord, o my soul. o lord my god, thou art very great; thou art clothed with honor and majesty: who coverest thyself with light, as with a garment; who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain; _who layeth the beams of his chambers upon the waters_: who walketh upon the wings of the wind: who maketh his angels spirits: his ministers a flaming fire: _who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be removed for ever_. thou coveredst it with the deep, as with a garment: the waters stood above the mountains." but if any one is so gross as to insist on the literality of such a passage, and to allege that it teaches the absolute immobility of the earth, let him tell us what sort of immobility the third verse teaches, and how a building could be stable, the beams of whose chambers are _laid upon the waters_--the chosen emblems of instability. "he hath founded it upon the seas: he hath established it upon the floods," says the same poet, in another psalm--xxiv . this, and all other expressions quoted as declaring the immobility of the earth _in space_, are clearly proved, both by the words used, and the sense of the context, to refer to an entirely different idea: namely, _its duration in time_. thus, ecclesiastes i. , "one generation passeth away, and another cometh; but the earth abideth forever," is manifestly contrasting the duration of earth with the generations of short-lived men, and has no reference to motion in space at all. again, in psalm cxix. - , our objectors find another bible declaration of the immobility of the earth in space: "for ever, o lord, thy word is settled in heaven; thy faithfulness is unto all generations; thou hast established the earth, and it abideth. _they continue to this day_, according to thine ordinances." the same permanence is here ascribed to the heavens (to which, as our objectors argue, the bible ascribes a perpetual revolution) as to the earth. the next verse explains this permanence to be _continuance to this day_; durability, not immobility. that the word _establish_ does not necessarily imply fixture, is evident from its application, in proverbs viii. : "he _established_ the clouds," the most fleeting of all things. nor is the hebrew word _kun_ (whence our english word, cunning), inconsistent with motion; else, the psalmist had not said that "a good man's footsteps are _established_ by the lord."[ ] "he _established_ my goings." wise arrangement is the idea, not permanent fixture. the same remarks apply to psalm xciii. ; xcvi. ; chronicles xvi. , and many other similar passages. "the world is established, that it can not be moved; thy throne is established of old: thou art from everlasting." where the establishment, which is contrasted with the impossible removal, and which explains its import, is evidently not a local fixing of some material seat, in one place, but the everlasting duration of god's authority. the idea is not that of position in space, at all, but of continued duration. space does not allow us to quote all the passages which refer to this subject; but after an examination of every passage in the bible usually referred to in this connection, and of a multitude of others bearing upon it, i have no hesitation in saying, that it does not contain a single text which asserts or implies the immobility of the earth in space. the notion was drawn from the absurdities of the greek philosophy, and the superstitions of popery, but was never gathered from the word of god. but it is alleged that other passages of scripture do plainly and unequivocally express the motion of the sun, and his course in a circuit; as, for instance, the nineteenth psalm: "in them he hath set a tabernacle for the sun, which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race. his going forth is from the end of heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it." and again, in the account of joshua's miracle, in the tenth chapter of his book, it is quite evident that the writer supposed the sun to be in motion, in the same way as the moon, for he commanded them both to stand still: "sun, stand thou still upon gibeon, and thou moon in the valley of ajalon. and the sun stood still, and the moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies." now, it is said, if the writer had known what he was about, he would have known that the sun was already standing still, and would have told the earth to stop its rotation. and if the earth had obeyed the command, we should never have heard of the miracle; for, as the earth rotates at the rate of a thousand miles an hour, the concussion produced by such a stoppage would have projected joshua, and israelites, and amorites, beyond the moon, to pursue their quarrel among the fixed stars. when we hear men of some respectability bring forward such stuff, we are constrained to wonder, not merely were they ever at school, but if they ever traveled in a railroad car, or whether they suppose their hearers to be so ignorant of the most common facts as to believe that there is no way of bringing a carriage to a stand but by a sudden jerk, or that god is more stupid than the brakeman of an express train. we will do them the justice, however, to say, that they did not invent it, but merely shut their eyes, and opened their mouths, and swallowed it for philosophy, because they found it in the writings of an infidel scoffer, and of a neological professor of theology[ ]--an edifying example of infidel credulity! let it be noticed, that in neither of these texts, nor in any other portion of scripture, does the bible say a single word about the revolution of the sun _round the earth_, as the common center of the universe; on which, however, the whole stress of the objection is laid. the passages do not prove what they are adduced to prove. they speak of the sun's motion, and of the sun's orbit, _but they do not say that the earth is the center of that orbit_. these texts, then, do not prove the author of the bible ignorant of the system of the universe. the objection is based upon utter ignorance of one of the most important and best attested discoveries of modern astronomy; the grand motion of the sun and solar system through the regions of space, and the dependence of the rotation of all the orbs composing it, upon that motion. it is not the author of the bible who is ignorant of the discoveries of modern astronomy--when he speaks of the orbit of the sun, and his race from one end of the heavens to the other, and of the need of a miraculous interposition to stop his course for a single day--but his correctors, who have ventured to decry the statements of a book which commands the respect of such astronomers as herschel and rosse, while ignorant of those elements of astronomy which they might have learned from a perusal of the books used by their children in our common schools. for the benefit of such, however, i will present a brief explanation of the grounds upon which astronomers are as universally agreed upon the belief of the sun's motion around a center of the firmament, as they are upon the belief of the revolution of the earth round the sun. when you are passing in a carriage, at night, through the street of a city lighted up by gas-lamps in the streets, and lights irregularly dispersed in the windows, or passing in a ferry-boat, from one such city to another, at a short distance from it, you observe that the lights which you are leaving appear to draw closer and closer together, while those toward which you are approaching widen out, and seem to separate from each other. if the night were perfectly dark, so that you could see nothing but the lights, you could certainly know not only that you were in motion, but also to what point you were moving, by carefully watching their appearances. so, if all the fixed stars were absolutely fixed, and the sun and planets, including our earth, were moving in any direction--say to the north--then the stars toward which we were moving would seem to widen out from each other, and those which we were leaving would seem to close up; so that the space which appeared between any two stars in the south, in a correct map of the heavens, a hundred years ago, would be smaller, and that between any two stars in the north would be larger, than the space between the same stars upon a correct map now. now, such changes in the apparent positions of stars are actually observed. the stars do not appear in the same places now as they did a hundred years ago. the fixed stars, then, are either drifting past our solar system, which alone remains fixed; or, the fixed stars are all actually at rest, and our sun is drifting through them; or, our solar system and the so-called fixed stars are both in motion. one or other of these suppositions must be the fact. the first is simply the old ptolemaic absurdity, only transferring the center of the universe to the sun. the second is contrary to the observed fact, that multitudes of the stars, which were supposed to be fixed, are actually revolving around each other, in systems of double, triple and multiple suns. and both are contrary to the first principles of gravitation; for, as every particle of matter attracts every other, directly as the mass, and inversely as the square of the distance, if any one particle of matter in the universe is in motion, the square of its distance from every other particle varies, and its attraction is increased in one direction, and diminished in another; and so every particle of matter in free space, as far as the force of gravitation extends, will be put in motion too. but our earth, and the planets, and the double and triple stars, are in motion, and the law of gravitation extends to every known part of the universe; therefore every known particle of matter in the universe is in motion too, our sun included. the third supposition, then, is most indisputably true; our solar system, and all the heavenly bodies, are in motion. to this conclusion all the observed facts conform. the bible does say that the sun moves, and moves in a curve. all mathematicians prove that it must of necessity do so. all astronomers assert that it does so. the unanimous verdict of the scientific world is thus rendered by nichol: "_as to the subject itself, the grand motion of the sun, as well as its present direction, must be received now as an established doctrine of astronomy._"[ ] but the discovery was anticipated, three thousand years ago, by the author of the bible. but, as will readily be perceived, the difficulty of determining either the direction or the rate of this motion is immensely increased in this case; for we are now not like persons riding in a carriage, watching the fixed lights in the street to determine our direction and rate of progress; but we are watching the lamps of a multitude of carriages, moving at various distances, and with various velocities, and, for anything we can tell at first sight, in various directions. we are on board a steamer, and are watching the lights of a multitude of other steamers, also in motion; and it is not easy to find out, in the darkness, how either they or we are going. if each were pursuing its own independent course, without any common object or destination, the confusion would be so great that we could learn nothing of the rate or direction either of our own motion or theirs. but astronomers are not content to believe that the universe is governed by accident. the whole science is based upon the assumption, that a presiding mind has impressed the stamp of order and regularity upon the whole cosmos. they are deeply convinced that god's law extends to all god's creation; that all his works display his intelligence, as well as his power, and proceed according to a wise plan. having seen that all the stellar motions previously known are orderly motions, in circular or elliptical orbits, and that the most of the solid bodies belonging to our own system revolve in one direction, they reasoned from analogy, that this might be the case with the sun and the fixed stars, and went to work with great diligence, to see whether it was or not; and, by comparing a great multitude of observations, ancient and modern, made both in the northern and southern hemispheres, and on all sorts of stars, they have come to the conclusion, that our sun, and all the bodies of the solar system, are flying northward, at the rate of three millions three hundred and thirty-six thousand geographical miles a day--five thousand times faster than a railway express train--toward the constellation hercules, in r. a. ° dec. °. further, as the direction of this motion is slowly and regularly changing, just as the direction of the head of a steamer in wearing, or of a railway train running a curve, it is certain that the sun is moving, not in a straight line, but in a curve. the revolution of the sun in such an orbit was known to the author of the bible when he wrote, "_his circuit_ is to the end of heaven." the direction of the circumference of a circle being known, that of its center can be found; for the radius is always a tangent to the circumference, and the intersection of two of these radii will be the center; so that, if we certainly knew the sun's orbit to be circular, or nearly so, we could calculate the center. but as we do not certainly know its form, we can not certainly calculate the center; we can only come near it. and as we know that the line which connects the circumference with the center of the sun's orbit, runs through the group of stars known as the pleiades, or the cluster; and as all the stars along that line seem to move in the same direction--a different direction from that of the stars in other regions, just as they must do if they and we were revolving around that group--argelander and others have concluded, with a high degree of probability, that the grand center around which the sun and our firmament revolve, is that constellation which the author of the bible, more than three thousand years ago, called _kyme_--_the pivot_. it would require a greater knowledge of electro-magnetism than most of my readers possess, to explain the connection of the earth's rotation with the sun's grand movement. i will merely state the facts. electro-magnetism is induced by friction. the regions of space are not empty, but filled with an ether, whose undulations produce light; and this ether is sufficiently dense to retard the motions of comets. the friction, produced by the rapid passage of the sun and solar system through this ether, must be immense, and is one source of electricity, and the principal source of electro-magnetism. this kind of electricity differs from the other kinds, in that _its action is always at right angles to the current, and tends to produce rotation in any wheel, cylinder, or sphere, along whose axis it flows_.[ ] the sun, and all the planets, traveling in the direction of their poles, the current is of course in the direction of the axis; and the result is, that while the sun moves along his grand course, he and all the bodies of the system will rotate, by the influence of the electro-magnetism generated by that motion; and if he stops, his and their rotation stops too. day and night on earth are produced by the sun's motion causing the earth's rotation. you can see the principle illustrated by the child who runs along the street with his windmill, to create a current, which will make it revolve. the author of the bible made no mistake when, desiring to lengthen the day, he commanded the sun to stand still. it is not the creator, but his correctors, who are ignorant of the mechanism of the universe. thus, these long-misunderstood and much-assailed scriptures are not only vindicated, but far more than vindicated, by the progress of astronomical discovery. it not only proves the language of the bible to be correct; it assures us that it is divine. the same hand which formed the stars to guide the simple peasant to his dwelling, at the close of day, and to lead the mighty intellects of newton and of herschel among the mysteries of the universe, formed those expressions which, to the peasant's eye, describe the apparent reality, and, to the astronomer's reason, demonstrate the reality of the appearance of the heavens, and are thus, alike to peasant and philosopher, the _oracles of god_. nor is this the only instance of such bible oracles. thousands of years before philosophers knew anything of the formation of dew, moses described it exactly, and noticed how it differed from the rain which drops down, while the dew evaporates. "my doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall _distill_ as the dew."--deuteronomy xxxii. . solomon described the cycloidal course of the wind, and recorded it in ecclesiastes long before admiral fitzroy's discovery; as he also anticipated the doctrine of aqueous circulation in his pregnant proverb: "unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again."--ecclesiastes i. . job declared the law of pneumatics when he declared that "god maketh _weight_ for the winds." long before madler, the celebrated russian astronomer, published his remarkable opinion: "i regard the pleiades as the central group to the whole astral system, and the fixed stars, even to its outer limits, marked by the milky way; and i regard alcyone as that star of all others, composing the group which is favored by most of the probabilities as being the true central sun of the universe," moses tells us they were known as "the hinge, or pivot," of the heavens; and god asks, "canst thou bind the secret influences of the pleiades?" though peter was no geologist, and probably incapable of calculating the ratio of the central heat, he tells us that the heavens and the earth are "reserved unto fire," literally, "stored with fire." equally in advance of modern medical science, thousands of years before our modern discoveries, the author of the bible declared that "the life is in the blood," and spoke of the slow combustion of starvation exactly in the language of the most recent physiology, "they shall be _burnt_ with hunger, and devoured with burning heat."--deuteronomy xxxii. . here we have scientific truth not discovered for centuries by our men of science, but revealed by prophets--scientific discovery, in advance of science--predictions of the future progress of the human intellect, no less than revelations of the existing motions of the stars. he who wrote these oracles knew that the creatures to whom he gave them would one day unfold their hidden meaning (else he had not so written them), and in the light of scientific discovery, see them to be as truly divine predictions of the advance of science, as the prophecies of jeremiah and ezekiel, read among the ruins of thebes or babylon, are seen to be predictions of the ruin of empires. man's discoveries fade into insignificance in the presence of such unfolding mysteries; and we are led to our bibles, with the prayer, "open mine eyes, that i may behold wondrous things out of thy law." . the ancient charter of the church was written in the language of one of the most recent astronomical discoveries, thirty-six hundred years before herschel and rosse enabled us to understand its full significance: "he brought him forth abroad, and said unto him, _look now toward heaven, and tell the stars, if thou be able to number them: and he said unto him, so shall thy seed be._"[ ] the scenery was well calculated to impress abraham's mind with a sense of the ability of christ to fulfill a very glorious promise, by a very improbable event; but the illustration was as well calculated as the promise to test the character of that faith which takes god's word as sufficient evidence of things not seen; for, if the promise was a trying test of faith, so was the illustration. before this, god had promised that his seed should be as the dust of the earth; and afterward he declared it should be as the sand of the seashore; the well-known symbol of a multitude beyond all power of calculation. to couple the stars of heaven with the sand upon the seashore in any such connection as to imply that the stars too were innumerable, or that their number came within any degree of comparison with the ocean sands, must have seemed to abraham in the highest degree mysterious, even as it has appeared to scoffers, in modern times, utterly ridiculous; for, though the first glance at the sky conveys the impression that the stars are really innumerable, the investigations of our imperfect astronomy seem to assure us that this is by no means the case. and, as the patriarch sat, night after night, at his tent door, and, in obedience to the command of christ, counted the stars, and made such a catalogue of them as his chaldean preceptors had used, he would very speedily come to the conclusion, that so far as he could see, they were by no means innumerable; for the catalogue of hipparchus reckons only one thousand and twenty-two as visible to one observer, and the whole number visible in both hemispheres by the naked eye does not exceed eight thousand.[ ] and even if we suppose, that these old patriarchs had better eyes, as we know they had a clearer sky, than modern western observers, and that abraham saw the moons of jupiter, and stars as small, still the number would not seem in the least degree comparable with the number of the sands upon the seashore--whereof a million are contained in a cubic inch,[ ] a number greater than the population of the globe in a square foot,[ ] while the sum total of the human race, from adam to this hour, would not approach to the aggregate of the sands of a single mile. though the stars of a size too small to be visible to our eyes, are much more numerous than the larger stars, yet even up to the range of view possessed by ordinary telescopes, they are by no means innumerable. in fact, they are counted and registered, and the number of the stars of the ninth magnitude, which are four times as distant as the most distant visible to our eyes--so distant that their light is five hundred and eighty-six years in traveling toward us--is declared to be exactly thirty-seven thousand seven hundred and thirty-nine. abraham's sense and abraham's faith must have had many a conflict on this promise, as the faith and the sense of many of his children, especially the scientific portion of them, have since, when reading such portions as this; and those other scriptures which represent it as an achievement of omniscience, that "he telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names."[ ] it is indeed remarkable how god delights to test the faith of his people, and to stumble the pride of fools, by presenting this mysterious truth, of the innumerable multitude of the stars, in every announcement of the wonderful works of him who is perfect in wisdom. infant astronomy stretched out her hands to catch the stars, and count them. many a proud infidel wondered that moses could be so silly as to suppose he could not count the stars, and the believer often wondered what these words could mean. but faith rests in the persuasion of two great truths: "god is very wise," and "i am very ignorant." the increase of knowledge, by widening the boundaries of our ignorance, seemed for a time to render the difficulty even greater. the increased power of herschel's telescope, and his discovery of the constitution of the milky way, mark an era in the progress of astronomy, and enlarge our views of the extent of the universe, to an extent inconceivable by those who have not studied the science. where we see only a faint whitish cloud stretching across the sky, herschel's telescope disclosed a vast bed of stars. at one time he counted five hundred and eighty-eight stars in the field of his telescope. in a quarter of an hour, one hundred and sixteen thousand passed before his eye. in another portion, he found three hundred and thirty-one thousand stars in a single cluster.[ ] he found the whole structure of that vast luminous cloud which spans the sky, "to consist entirely of stars, _scattered by millions, like glittering dust_, on the background of the general heavens." yet still it was not supposed to be at all impossible to estimate their numbers. even this distinguished astronomer, a few years ago, computed it at eight or ten millions. schroeter allowed twenty degrees of it to pass before him, and withdrew from the majestic spectacle, exclaiming, "what omnipotence!" he calculated, however, that the number of the stars visible through one of the best telescopes in europe, in , was twelve millions; a number equaled by a single generation of abraham's descendants, far below the power of computation, and utterly insignificant, as compared with the sands of the sea. had our powers of observation stopped here, the great promise must still have seemed as mysterious to the astronomer, as it once seemed to the patriarch. but if either the father of the faithful, or the father of sidereal astronomy, had deluded himself with the notion, that he fully comprehended either the words or the works of him who is wonderful in counsel, and excellent in working, and argued thence that, because the revealed words and the visible works seemed not to correspond, they were really contradictory, he would have committed the blunder of modern infidels, who assume that they know everything, and that as god's knowledge can not be any greater than theirs, every scripture which their science can not comprehend must be erroneous. the grandest truths, imperfectly perceived in the twilight of incipient science, serve as stumbling-blocks for conceited speculators, as well as landmarks on the boundaries of knowledge to true philosophers, who will ever imbibe the spirit of newton's celebrated saying: "i seem to myself like a child gathering pebbles on the shore, while the great ocean of knowledge lies unexplored before me;" or the profound remark of humboldt: "what is seen does not exhaust that which is perceptible." but the progress of science was not destined merely to coast the shore of this ocean. in , lord rosse, and a band of accomplished astronomers, commenced a voyage through the immensities, with a telescope which has enlarged our view of the visible universe to one hundred and twenty-five million times the extent before perceived, and displayed far more accurately the real form and nature of objects previously seen. herschel's researches into the architecture of the heavens, which have justly rendered his name immortal as the science he illustrated, had revealed the existence of great numbers of _nebulæ_--clouds of light--faint, yet distinct. he supposed many of these to consist of a luminous fluid, pretty near to us; at least, comparatively so; for to believe that they were stars, so far away as to be severally invisible in his forty feet telescope, while yet several of these clouds are distinctly seen by the naked eye, involved the belief of distances so astounding, and of multitudes so incredible, and of a degree of closeness of the several stars so unparalleled by anything which even he had observed, that his imagination and reason failed to meet the requirements of such a problem. the supposition was, however, thrown out by this gigantic intellect, that these clouds might be firmaments; that the bible word _heavens_ might be literally plural; and more than that, he labored in the accumulation of facts which tended to confirm it. he disclosed the fact, that several of these apparent clouds, which, to very excellent telescopes, displayed only a larger surface of cloudy matter, did, in the reflector of his largest telescope, display themselves in their true character, as globular clusters, consisting of innumerable multitudes of glorious stars; and, moreover, that, stretching away far beyond star, or milky way, or nebulæ, he had seen, in some parts of the heavens, "a stippling," or uniform dotting of the field of view, by points of light too small to admit of any one being steadily or fixedly examined, _and too numerous for counting_, were it possible so to view them! what are these? millions upon millions of years must have elapsed ere that faint light could reach our globe, from those profundities of space, though it travels like the lightning's flash. if they are stars, the sands of the seashore are as inferior in numbers as the surface of earth is inferior in dimensions to the arch of heaven. but if these faint dots and stipplings are not single stars!--if they are star-clouds--galaxies--firmaments, like our milky way--our infinity is multiplied by millions upon millions! imagination pants, reason grows dizzy, arithmetic fails to fathom, and human eyes fear to look into the abyss. no wonder that this profound astronomer, when a glimpse of infinity flashed on his eye, retired from the telescope, trembling in every nerve, afraid to behold. and yet this astounding supposition is a literal truth; and the light of those suns, whose twilight thus bowed down that mighty intellect in reverent adoration, now shines before human eyes in all its noonday refulgence. one of the most remarkable of these nebulæ--one which is visible to a good eye in the belt of orion--has been disclosed to the observers at parsontown as a firmament; and minute points, scarce perceptible to common telescopes, blaze forth as magnificent clusters of glorious stars, so close and crowded, that no figure can adequately describe them, save the twin symbol of the promise, "the sand by the seashore," or "the dust of the earth." "there is a minute point, near polaris," says nichol, "so minute, that it requires a good telescope to discern its being. i have seen it as represented by a good mirror, blazing like a star of the first magnitude; and though examined by a potent microscope, clear and definite as the distinctest of these our nearest orbs, when beheld through an atmosphere not disturbed. nay, through distances of an order i shall scarcely name, i have seen a mass of orbs compressed and brilliant, so that each touched on each other, _like the separate grains of a handful of sand_, and yet there seemed no melting or fusion of any one of the points into the surrounding mass. each sparkled individually its light pure and apart, like that of any constituent of the cluster of the pleiades."[ ] "the larger and nearer masses are seen with sufficient distinctness to reveal the grand fact decisive of their character, viz: that they consist of multitudes of closely related orbs, forming an independent system. in other cases we find the individual stars by no means so clearly defined. through effect, in all probability, of distance, the intervals between them appear much less, the shining points themselves being also fainter; while the masses still further off _may be best likened to a handful of golden sand, or, as it is aptly termed, star dust_; beyond which no stars, or any vestige of them, are seen, but only a patch or streak of milky light, similar to the unresolved portions of our surrounding zone."[ ] to say, then, that the stars of the sky are actually innumerable is only a cold statement of the plainest fact. hear it in the language of one privileged to behold the glories of one out of the thousands of similar firmaments: "the mottled region forming the lighter part of the mass (the nebula in orion) is a very blaze of stars. but that stellar creation, now that we are freed from all dubiety concerning the significance of those hazes that float numberless in space, how glorious, how endless! behold, amid that limitless ocean, every speck, however remote or dim, a noble galaxy. lustrous they are, too; in manifold instances beyond all neighboring reality--beyond the loftiest dream which ever exercised the imagination. the great cluster in hercules has long dazzled the heart with its splendors, but we have learned now that among circular and compact galaxies, a class to which the nebulous stars belong, there are multitudes which infinitely surpass it--nay, that schemes of being rise above it, sun becoming nearer to sun, until their skies must be one blaze of light--a throng of burning activities! but, far aloft stands orion, the pre-eminent glory and wonder of the starry universe! judged by the only criticism yet applicable, it is perhaps so remote that its light does not reach us in less than fifty or sixty thousand years; and as at the same time it occupies so large an apparent portion of the heavens, how stupendous must be the extent of the nebula. it would seem almost as if all the other clusters hitherto gauged were collected and compressed into one, they would not surpass this mighty group, _in which every wisp--every wrinkle--is a sand-heap of stars_. there are cases in which, though imagination has quailed, reason may still adventure inquiry, and prolong its speculations; but at times we are brought to a limit across which no human faculty has the strength to penetrate, and where, as now, at the very footstool of the secret throne, we can only bend our heads, and silently _adore_. and from the inner adyta--the invisible shrine of what alone is and endures--a voice is heard: "hast thou an arm like god? canst thou thunder with a voice like him? canst thou bind the sweet influences of the pleiades, or loosen the bands of orion? canst thou bring forth mazzaroth in his seasons? canst thou guide arcturus and his sons?[ ] he telleth the number of the stars: he calleth them all by their names. great is our lord, and of great power; his understanding is infinite."[ ] thus, nobly does science vindicate scripture, and display the wisdom and power of the lord of hosts, whose kingdom extends through all space, and endures through all duration. he who called these countless hosts of glorious orbs into being is abundantly able to multiply, to an equally incalculable number, the humble sands which line the oceans of terrestrial grace, the brilliant stars which shall yet adorn the heavens of celestial glory. all, of every nation, who shall partake of abraham's faith, are abraham's children. they are christ's, and so abraham's seed, and heirs, according to this promise.[ ] when the great multitude, which no man can number, out of every nation, and tongue, and people, stand before the throne of god, and cause the many mansions of our father's house to re-echo the shout, "salvation to our god which sitteth on the throne, and to the lamb," the answering hallelujahs of the most distant orbs shall expound the purport of that solemn oath to abraham and abraham's seed: "by myself have i sworn, saith the lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, that in blessing i will bless thee, and _in multiplying i will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and as the sand which is upon the seashore_."[ ] . it is not probable that the mysteries of the distant heavens, _or of those future glories of the redeemed which the bible employs them to symbolize_, will ever be fully explored by man, or adequately apprehended in the present state of being. but it is most certain that god would not have employed the mysteries of astronomy so frequently as the symbols of the mysteries of the glory to be revealed, had there not been some correspondence between the things which eye hath not seen, and these patterns shown in the mount. so habitual, indeed, is the scripture use of these visible heavens as the types of all that is exalted, pure, cheering, and glorious, that, to most christians, the word has lost its primary meaning, and the idea first suggested to their minds by the word _heaven_ is that of future glory; yet their views of the locality and physical adornments of the many mansions of their father's house are dim and shadowy, just because they do not acquaint themselves sufficiently with the divine descriptions in the bible, and the divine illustrations in the sky. the bible would be better understood were the heavens better explored. "i go," said jesus, "to prepare a _place_ for you." the bodies of the saints, raised on the resurrection morn, will need a _place_ on which to stand. the body of the lord, which his disciples handled, and "saw that a spirit had not flesh and bones, as they saw him have," is now resident in a place. where he is, there shall his people be also. why, then, when the bible employs all that is beauteous in earth, and glorious in heaven, to describe the adornments of the palace of the king of kings, should we hesitate to believe that the power and wisdom of god are not exhausted in this little earth of ours, but that other worlds may as far transcend ours in glory, as many of them do in magnitude?--or, to allow that the glorious visions of ezekiel and john were not views of nonentities, or mere visions of clouds, or of some incomprehensible symbols of more incomprehensible spiritualities, but actual views of the existing glories of some portion of the universe, presented to us as vividly as the dullness of our minds and the earthliness of our speech will permit? it is certain that the recent progress of astronomical discovery has revealed celestial scenery which illustrates some of the most mysterious of these visions. it has long been known, that "one star differeth from another star in glory," and that the orbs of heaven shine with various colors. sirius is white, arcturus red, and procyon yellow. the telescope shows all the smaller stars in various colors. under the clear skies of syria their brilliance is vastly greater than in our climate. "_one star shines like a ruby, another as an emerald, and the whole heavens sparkle as with various gems._"[ ] but the discovery of the double and triple stars has added a new harmony of colors to these coronets of celestial jewels. these stars generally display the complementary colors. if the one star displays a color from the red end of the spectrum, the other is generally of the corresponding shade, from the violet end. for instance, in o cygni, the large star is yellow, and the two smaller stars are blue; and so in others, through all the colors of the rainbow. "it may be easier suggested in words," says sir john herschel, "than conceived in imagination, what a variety of illumination two stars--a red and a green, or a yellow and a blue one--must afford a planet circulating around either, and what cheering contrasts and grateful vicissitudes a red and a green day, for instance, alternating with a white one, and with darkness, must arise from the presence or absence of one, or other, or both, from the horizon."[ ] but suppose one of the globular clusters--for instance, that in the constellation hercules--thus constituted; its unnumbered thousands of suns, wheeling round central worlds, and exhibiting their glories to their inhabitants; "skies blazing, with grand orbs scattered regularly around, and with a profusion to which our darker heavens are strangers;" the overhead sky, seen from the interior regions of the cluster, _must appear gorgeous beyond description_. in the strictest literality it might be said to the dwellers in such a cluster, "thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw herself." the surrounding walls of such a celestial palace must seem indeed "garnished with all manner of precious stones." sapphire, emerald, sardius, chrysolite, and pearl, must seem but dim mirrors of its glorious refulgence. under its ever rising suns the gates need not be shut at all by day, "for there shall be no night there." that glorious place now exists, though far away. but the lord of these hosts has said, "behold, i come quickly." he will not tarry. a thousand times faster than the swiftest chariot, our solar system and the surrounding firmament wing their flight toward that same glorious cluster in hercules. as our firmament approaches, under the guidance of omnipotent wisdom, it too must fly to meet our sun, with a velocity increasing with an incalculable ratio. the celestial city will then be seen to descend from heaven. once within the sphere of its attractions, our sun and surrounding planets will feel their power. their ancient orbits and accustomed revolutions must give way to the higher power. old things must pass away, and all things become new. a new heaven, no less than a new earth, will form the dwelling of righteousness. these are no longer the visions of prophecy merely, but the sober calculations of mathematical science, based upon a foundation as solid as the attraction of gravitation, and as wide as the existence of that ether whose undulations convey the light of the most distant stars; for, so surely as that attraction is efficient, must all the firmaments of the heavens be drawn more closely together; and as certainly as they revolve not in empty space, but in a medium capable of retarding encke's comet three days in every revolution, must that retarding medium bring their revolutions to a close. "and so," said herschel, casting his eye fearlessly toward future infinities, "we may be certain that the stars in the milky way will be gradually compressed, through successive stages of accumulation, until they come up to what may be called the ripening period of the globular cluster." unnumbered ages may be occupied with such a grand evolution of celestial progress, beyond our power of calculation; but will the changes of created things, even then, have come to an end? hear again the voice, not of the prophet, but of the astronomer: "around us lie stabilities of every order; but it is _stability_ only that we see, not _permanence_." as the course of our inquiry has already amply illustrated, even majestic systems, that at first appear final and complete, are found to resolve themselves into mere steps or phases of still loftier progress. verily, it is an astonishing world! change rising above change--cycle growing out of cycle, in majestic progression--each new one ever widening, like the circles that wreathe from a spark of flame, enlarging as they ascend, finally to become lost in the empyrean! and if all that we see, from earth to sun, and from sun to universal star-work--that wherein we best behold images of eternity, immortality and god--if that is only a state or space of a course of being rolling onward evermore, what must be the creator, the preserver, the guide of all!--he at whose bidding these phantasms came from nothingness, and shall again disappear;--whose name, amid all things, alone is _existence_--i am that i am? "of old hast thou laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the works of thy hands; they shall perish, but thou shalt endure; yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment: as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed; but thou art the same, and thy years shall have no end. the children of thy servants shall continue, and their seed shall be established before thee." psalm cii. "and i saw a new heaven, and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away, and there was no more sea. and i john saw the holy city, new jerusalem, coming down from god out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. and i heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, behold the tabernacle of god is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and god himself shall be with them, and be their god." revelation xxi. * * * * * reader, is this glorious heaven your inheritance? is this unchangeable jehovah your god? are you looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of god? is it your daily prayer, even so, lord jesus, come quickly? footnotes: [ ] kendall's uranography, . [ ] annual of scientific discovery, , p. . [ ] ibid. , p. . [ ] ibid. , p. . [ ] cosmos, vol. i. pp. - . [ ] judges, chap. v. [ ] jeremiah, chap. x. [ ] some of my readers may deem any notice of such a subject, in the nineteenth century, entirely unnecessary; but having lived for some years within sight of the dwelling of a woman who publicly advertised herself in the newspapers as a professor of astrology, and seen the continual flow of troubled minds to the promised light--the humble serving-girl stealing up the side entrance, and the princely chariot discharging its willing dupes at the door, and rolling hastily away, to await them at the corner--i know of a certainty that folly is not yet dead. there are women, aye, and men too, who are above the folly of reading the bible, but just wise enough to pay five dollars for, and spend hours in the study of an uncouth astrological picture, representing a collocation of the stars, which was never witnessed by any astronomer. there are men who would not give way to the superstition of supposing that their destiny was regulated by the will of almighty god, yet who believe that every living creature's fate is regulated by the aspect of the stars at the hour of his nativity; the same stars always causing the same period of life and mode of death; though every day's experience testifies the contrary. the same stars presided over the birth of the poor soldier, who perished in an instant at austerlitz; of his imperial master, who pined for years in st. helena; of the old gentleman who died in his own bed, of gout; and of the batch of puppies, whereof old towser was the only surviving representative, the other nine having found their fate in the horse-pond, in defiance of the controlling stars. they were all born at the same hour, and under the same auspices, and destined to the same fate, by the laws of astrology. yet half a dozen professors of astrology find patrons enough in each of our great cities to enable them to live and to pay for advertising in the daily papers. [ ] judges, chap. v. [ ] dick's celestial scenery, p. , applegate's edition, where many such instances are related. [ ] vaughn's report to the american association for the advancement of science, in annual of scientific discovery for , p. . [ ] somerville's connection of the physical sciences, . [ ] cosmos, vol. i. p. ; vol. iv. p. . [ ] somerville's connection of the physical sciences, . [ ] annual of scientific discovery, , p. . [ ] letter to herschel, from oroomiah, in persia--annual of scientific discovery, , p. . [ ] _life and work in the great pyramid_, by piazzi smyth, f. r. s., ll. d. [ ] "these tablets (of unbaked clay, with inscriptions, found in the tombs of erech, the city of nimrod--genesis, chap. x. --and deciphered by rawlinson) were, in point of fact, the equivalent of our bank notes, and prove that a system of artificial currency prevailed in babylon and persia at an unprecedentedly early age; centuries before the introduction of paper and writing." _rawlinson, in news of the churches, february, , p. ._ [ ] wilkinson's manners and customs of the egyptians, vol. iii. p. ; cosmos, vol. i. pp. , ; chinese repository, vol. ix. p. ; williams' middle kingdom, vol. ii. p. . [ ] somerville's connection of physical sciences, . [ ] daniel, chap. xii. . peter, chap. i. . ephesians, chap. i. . [ ] psalm xl. , and xxxvii. , margin. [ ] m. voltaire; m. cheneviere; theol. essays, vol. i. p. . [ ] humboldt's cosmos, vol. i. p. ; herschel's outlines, ; kendall's uranography, . [ ] somerville's connection of the physical sciences, , , ; architecture of the heavens, . [ ] genesis, chap. xv. . [ ] cosmos i. . [ ] ehrenberg computes that there are forty-one millions of the shells of animalculæ in a cubic inch of bilier slate. [ ] annual of scientific discovery, , p. . [ ] psalm cxlvii. . [ ] dick's sidereal heavens, ; herschel's outlines. [ ] architecture of the heavens, . [ ] architecture of the heavens, . these unresolved milky streaks and patches have since been discovered to be true nebulæ, or phosphoric clouds, in some way connected with their adjacent stars. [ ] architecture of the heavens, . [ ] job, chap. xxxviii. . psalm cxlvii. . [ ] genesis, chap. xxii. . [ ] galatians, chap. iii. , . gen. xxii. , . [ ] architecture of the heavens, . [ ] architecture of the heavens, , . chapter xiii. science, or faith? "faith is destined to be left behind in the onward march of the human intellect. it belongs to an infantile stage of intellectual development, when experience, dependent on testimony, becomes the slave of credulity. children and childish nations are prone to superstition. religion belongs properly to such. hence the endless controversies of religious sects. but as man advances into the knowledge of the physical sciences, and becomes familiarized with mathematical demonstration and scientific experiment, he demands substantial proofs for all kinds of knowledge, and rejects that which is merely matter of faith. the certainties of science succeed the controversies of creeds. science thus becomes the grave of religion, as religion is vulgarly understood. but science gives a new and better religion to the world. instead of filling men's minds with the vague terrors of an unknown futurity, it directs us to the best modes of improving this life."--"this life being the first in certainty, give it the first place in importance; and by giving human duties in reference to men the _precedence_, secure that all interpretations of spiritual duty shall be in harmony with human progress."--"nature refers us to science for help, and to humanity for sympathy; love to the lovely is our only homage, study our only praise, quiet submission to the inevitable our duty; and truth is our only worship."--"our _knowledge_ is confined to this life; and _testimony_, and _conjecture_, and _probability_, are all that can be set forth in regard to another."--"preach nature and science, morality and art; _nature, the only subject of knowledge_; morality, the harmony of action; art, the culture of the individual and society."[ ] or, if you will insist upon preaching religion, support it "with such proofs as accompany physical science. this i have always loved; for i never find it deceives me. i rest upon it with entire conviction. there is no mistake, and can be no dispute in mathematics. and if a revelation comes from god, why have we not such evidence for it as mathematical demonstration?" such is the language now used by a large class of half-educated people, who, deriving their philosophy from comte, and their religion from the _westminster review_, invite us to spend our sabbaths in the study of nature in the fields and museums, turn our churches into laboratories, exchange our bibles for encyclopedias, give ourselves no more trouble about religion, but try hard to learn as much science, make as much money, and enjoy as much pleasure in this life as we can; because we _know_ that we live now, and can only _believe_ that we shall live hereafter. i do not propose to take any notice here of the proposal of secularism--for that is the new name of this ungodliness--to deliver men from their lusts by scientific lectures, and keep them moral by overturning religion. that experiment has been tried already. but it is worth while to inquire, is science really so positive, and religion so uncertain, as these persons allege? is a knowledge of the physical sciences so all-sufficient for our present happiness, so attainable by all mankind, and so certain and infallible, that we should barter our immortality for it? and, on the other hand, are the great facts of religious experience, and the foundations of our religious faith, so dim, and vague, and utterly uncertain, that we may safely consign them to oblivion, or that we can so get rid of them if we would? the object of this chapter is to refute both parts of the secularist's statement; to show some of the uncertainties, errors, contradictions, and blunders of the scientific men on whose testimony they receive their science; and to exhibit a few of the facts of religious experience which give a sufficient warrant for the christian's faith. scientific observations are made by fallible men exposed to every description of error, prejudice and mistake; men who can not possibly divest themselves of their preconceived opinions in observing facts, and framing theories. lord bacon long ago observed that "the eye of the human intellect is not dry, but receives a suffusion from the will and the affections, so that it may be almost said to engender any science it pleases. for what a man wishes to be true, that he prefers believing." "if the human intellect hath once taken a liking to any doctrine, either because received and credited, or because otherwise pleasing, it draws everything else into harmony with that doctrine, and to its support; and albeit there may be found a more powerful array of contradictory instances, these, however, it does not observe, or it contemns, or by distinction extenuates, and rejects."[ ] a prejudiced observer sees the facts distorted and exaggerated. "thus it is that men will not see in the phenomena what alone is to be seen; in their observations they interpolate and expunge; and this mutilated and adulterated product they call a fact. and why? because the real phenomena, if admitted, would spoil the pleasant music of their thoughts, and convert its factitious harmony into a discord. in consequence of this many a system professing to be reared exclusively on observation and fact, rests, in reality, mainly upon hypothesis and fiction. a pretended experience is indeed the screen behind which every illusive doctrine regularly retires. 'there are more false facts,' says cullen, 'current in the world than false theories.' fact, observation, induction, have always been the watchwords of those who have dealt most extensively in fancy."[ ] we propose, therefore, to show that, _i. the students of the physical sciences have no such certain knowledge of their facts and theories as secularists pretend._ . mathematical science relating merely to abstract truth is supposed to possess powers of demonstration, and capability of scientific certainty superior to all other kinds of knowledge, but the moment we begin to apply it to any existing facts we enter the domain of liability to errors as numerous as our fallible observations of these facts; and when we attempt to apply mathematical demonstration to the infinite, and to enter the domain of faith, in which as immortals we are chiefly concerned, it baffles, deceives, and insults our reason. take the following illustrations: let an infinite whole be divided into halves; the parts must be either finite or infinite. but they can not be finite, else an infinite whole would consist of a finite number of parts; neither can they be infinite, being each less than the infinite whole. again: it is mathematically demonstrable, that any piece of matter is infinitely divisible. a line therefore of half an inch long is infinitely divisible, or divisible into an infinite number of parts. thus we have an infinite half inch. further, for a moving body to pass a given point requires some time; and to pass an infinite number of points must require an infinite number of portions of time, or an eternity; therefore, as half an inch contains an infinite number of points, it will require eternity to pass half an inch. again: it is mathematically demonstrable, that a straight line, the asymptote of a hyperbola, may _eternally approach_ the curve of the hyperbola and _never meet_ it. but no axiom can be plainer than that if two lines continually approach each other they must at length meet. here is a demonstration contradicting an axiom; and no man has ever yet shown the possibilities of reconciling them, nor yet of denying either side of the contradiction. again: it is a fundamental axiom, contained in the definition of a circle, that it must have a center; but the non-existence of this center is mathematically demonstrable, as follows: let the diameter of the circle be bisected into two equal parts; the center must be in one, or the other, of these parts, or between them. it can not be in one of these parts, for they are equal; and, therefore, if it is in the one, it must also be in the other, and thus the circle would have two centers, which is absurd. neither can it be between them, for they are in contact. therefore the center must be a point, destitute of extension, something which does not occupy or exist in space. but as all existences exist in space, and this supposed center does not, it can not be an existence; therefore it is a non-existence. in like manner it has been mathematically demonstrated,[ ] that motion, or any change in the rate of progress in a moving body, is impossible; because in passing from any one degree of rapidity to another, all the intermediate degrees must be passed through. as when a train of cars moving four miles an hour strikes a train at rest, the resulting instantaneous motion is two miles an hour; and the first train must therefore be moving at the rate of four, and at the rate of two miles an hour at the same time, which is impossible. and so the ancients demonstrated the impossibility of motion. thus the non-existence of the most undeniable truths, and the impossibilities of the most common facts are mathematically demonstrable; and the proper refutation of such reasoning is, not the scientific, but the common sensible; as when plato refuted the demonstration of the impossibility of motion, by getting up and walking across the floor. in the hyperbola we have the mathematical demonstration of the error of an axiom. in the infinite inch we behold an absurdity mathematically demonstrated. so that it appears we can give mathematical demonstration in support of untruth, impossibilities and absurdities; and our reason can not discover the error of the reasoning! alas, for poor humanity, if an endless destiny depended upon such scientific certainty! yet mathematical reasoning about abstract truth is universally conceded to be less liable to error than any other form of scientific analysis. this line, then, is too short to fathom the ocean of destiny; too weak to bear inferences from even the facts of common life. attempts have indeed been made to apply mathematics to the facts of life in what is called the doctrine of chances. by this kind of calculation it can be shown, that the chances were a thousand millions to one that you and i should never have been born. yet here we are. but when we begin to apply mathematics to the affairs of every-day life, we immediately multiply our chances of error by the number and complexity of these facts. the proper field of mathematics is that of magnitude and numbers. but very few subjects are capable of a mathematical demonstration. _no fact_ whatever which depends on the will of god or man can be so proved. for mathematical demonstration is founded on necessary and eternal relations, and admits of no contingencies in its premises. the mathematician may demonstrate the size and properties of a triangle, but he can not demonstrate the continuance of any actual triangle for one hour, or one minute, after his demonstration. and if he could, how many of my most important affairs can i submit to the multiplication table, or lay off in squares and triangles? it deals with purely ideal figures, which never did or could exist. there is not a mathematical line--length without breadth--in the universe. when we come to the application of mathematics, we are met at once by the fact that there are no mathematical figures in nature. it is true we speak of the orbits of the planets as elliptical or circular, but it is only in a general way, as we speak of a circular saw, the outline of its teeth being regularity itself compared with the perturbations of the planets. we speak of the earth as a spheroid, but it is a spheroid pitted with hollows as deep as the ocean, and crusted with irregular protuberances as vast as the himalaya and the andes, in every conceivable irregularity of form. its seas, coasts, and rivers follow no straight lines nor geometrical curves. there is not an acre of absolutely level ground on the face of the earth; and even its waters will pile themselves up in waves, or dash into breakers, rather than remain perfectly level for a single hour. its minuter formations present the same regular irregularity of form. even the crystals, which approach the nearest of any natural productions to mathematical figures, break with compound irregular fractures at their bases of attachment. the surface of the pearl is proportionally rougher than the surface of the earth, and the dew-drop is not more spherical than a pear. as nature then gives no mathematical figures, mathematical measurements of such figures can be only approximately applied to natural objects. the utter absence of any regularity, or assimilation to the spheroidal figure, either in meridianal, equatorial, or parallel lines, mountain ranges, sea beaches, or courses of rivers, is fatal to mathematical accuracy in the more extended geographical measurements. it is only by taking the mean of a great many measurements that an approximate accuracy can be obtained. where this is not possible, as in the case of the measurements of high mountains, the truth remains undetermined by hundreds of feet; or, as in the case of the earth's spheroidal axis, bessel's measurement differs from newton's, by fully eleven miles.[ ] the smaller measures are proportionately as inaccurate. no field, hill, or lake, has an absolute mathematical figure; but its outline is composed of an infinite multitude of irregular curves too minute for man's vision to discover, and too numerous for his intellect to estimate. no natural figure was ever measured with absolute accuracy. all the resources of mathematical science were employed by the constructors of the french metric system; but the progress of science in seventy years has shown that _every element_ of their calculations was erroneous. they tried to measure a quadrant of the earth's circumference, supposing the meridian to be circular; but schubert has shown that that is far from being the case; and that no two meridians are alike; and sir john herschel, and the best geologists, show cause to believe that the form of the globe is constantly changing; so that the ancient egyptians acted wisely in selecting the axis of the earth's rotation, which is invariable, and not the changing surface of the earth, as their standard of measure. the astronomer royal, piazzi smyth, thus enumerates the errors of practice, which they added to those of their erroneous theory: "their trigonometrical survey for their meter length has been found erroneous, so that their meter is no longer sensibly a meter; and their standard temperature of ° centigrade is upset one way for the length of their scale, and another way for the density of the water employed; and their mode of computing the temperature correction is proved erroneous; and their favorite natural reference of a quadrant of the earth is not found a scientific feature capable of serving the purpose they have been employing it for; and even their own sons show some dislike to adopt it fully, and adhere to as much of the ancient system as they can."[ ] but coming down to more practical and every-day calculations, in which money is invested, how very erroneous are the calculations of our best engineers, and how fatal their results. nineteen serious errors were discovered in an edition of _taylor's logarithms_, printed in ; some of which might have led to the most dangerous results in calculating a ship's place, and were current for thirty-six years. in the _nautical almanac_ published a correction which was itself erroneous by one second, and a new correction was necessary the next year. but in making this correction a _new error was committed of ten degrees_.[ ] who knows how many ships were run ashore by that error? nor can our american mathematicians boast of superior infallibility to the french or british. in computing the experiments which were made at lowell (for a new turbine wheel), it was found that when the gate was fully open, the quantity of water discharged through the guides was _seventy per cent. of the theoretical discharge_. (an error of thirty per cent.) the effect of the wheel during these experiments was eighty-one and a half per cent. of the power expended; but when the gate was half open the effect was sixty-seven per cent. of the power, while the discharge through the guides eleven per cent. more than the theoretical discharge. but when the opening of the gate was still further reduced to one-fourth of the full opening, the effect was also reduced to forty-five per cent. of the power, while the discharging velocity was raised to _forty-nine per cent. more than that given by the theory_.[ ] an unscientific man would hardly call that good guessing; but it was the best result of labored and expensive scientific calculation. no wonder the _london mechanics' magazine_ says: "more can be learned in this way (testing engines in the workshop) in half an hour, than can be derived from the theoretical instructions, however good, in a year." so much for the infallibility of a mathematical demonstration. in regard even to the very limited circle of our relations which can be measured by the foot rule, and the small number of our anxieties which may be resolved by an equation, if by mathematical accuracy be meant anything more than tolerable correctness, or by mathematical demonstration a very high degree of probability, mathematical certainty is all a fable. . _astronomy._ the omniscience and prescience of the human intellect have been largely glorified by some infidel lecturers, upon the strength of the accuracy with which it is possible to calculate and predict eclipses, and to the disparagement of bible predictions. and this glorification has been amazingly swollen by le verrier's prediction in of the discovery of the planet neptune. but the prediction of some unknown motion would form a more correct basis for a comparison of the prophecies of science with those of scripture; such, for instance, as immanuel kant's prediction of the period of saturn's rotation at six hours twenty-three minutes fifty-three seconds; "which mathematical calculation of an unknown motion of a heavenly body," he says, "_is the only prediction of that kind in pure natural philosophy_, and awaits confirmation at a future period." it is a pity that this unique scientific prediction should not have had better luck, for the encouragement of other guessers; but after waiting long and vainly, for the expected confirmation, it was finally falsified by herschel's discovery of spots on the surface of the planet, and observation of the true time, ten hours sixteen minutes forty-four seconds.[ ] this, however, was not his only astronomical prediction. he predicted that immense bodies in a transition state between planets and comets, and of very eccentric orbits, would be found beyond the orbit of saturn, and intersecting it, but no such bodies have been discovered. uranus and neptune have no cometary character whatever, their orbits are less eccentric than others and do not intersect, nor approach within millions of miles of saturn's orbit. the verification of le verrier's prediction affords even a more satisfactory proof of the necessarily conjectural character of astronomical computations of unknown quantities and distances. the planet neptune has not one-half the mass which he had calculated; his orbit, which was calculated as very elliptical, is nearly circular; and the error of the calculation of his distance is three hundred millions of miles![ ] "let us then be candid," says loomis, "and claim no more for astronomy than is reasonably due. when in le verrier announced the existence of a planet hitherto unseen, and when he assigned it its exact position in the heavens, and declared that it shone like a star of the eighth magnitude, and with a perceptible disc, _not an astronomer of france, and scarce an astronomer in europe, had sufficient faith in the prediction to prompt him to point his telescope to the heavens_. but when it was announced that the planet had been seen at berlin, that it was found within one degree of the computed place, that it was indeed a star of the eighth magnitude, and had a sensible disc--then the enthusiasm not only of the public generally, but of astronomers also, was even more wonderful than their former apathy. the sagacity of le verrier was felt to be almost superhuman. language could scarce be found strong enough to express the general admiration. the praise then lavished upon le verrier was somewhat extravagant. _the singularly close agreement between the observed and computed places of the planet was accidental._ so exact a coincidence could not reasonably have been anticipated. if the planet had been found even ten degrees from what le verrier assigned as its probable place, _this discrepancy would have surprised no astronomer_. the discovery would still have been one of the most remarkable events in the history of astronomy, and le verrier would have merited the title of first astronomer of the age."[ ] nevertheless, astronomy from the comparative simplicity of the bodies and forces with which it has to deal, and the approximate regularity of the paths of the heavenly bodies, may be regarded as the science in which the greatest possible certainty is attainable. it opens at once the widest field to the imagination, and the noblest range to the reason; it has attracted the most exalted intellects to its pursuit, and has rewarded their toils with the grandest discoveries. these discoveries have been grossly abused by inferior minds, ascribing to the discoverers of the laws of the universe the glory due to their creator; and boasting of the power of the human mind, as if it were capable of exploring the infinite in space, and of calculating the movements of the stars through eternity. persons who could not calculate an eclipse to save their souls, have risked them upon the notion that, because astronomers can do so with considerable accuracy, farmers ought to reject the bible, unless its predictions can be calculated by algebra. it may do such persons good, or at least prevent them from doing others harm, to take a cursory view of the errors of astronomers; errors necessary as well as accidental. sir john herschel, than whom none has a better right to speak on this subject, and whose devotion to that noble science precludes all supposition of prejudice against it, devotes a chapter to _the errors of astronomy_,[ ] which he classifies and enumerates: "i. external causes of error, comprehending such as depend on external uncontrollable circumstances; such as fluctuations of weather, which disturb the amount of refraction from its tabulated value, and being reducible to no fixed laws, induce uncertainty to the amount of their own possible magnitude. "ii. errors of observation; such as arise for instance from inexpertness, defective vision, slowness in seizing the exact instant of the occurrence of a phenomenon, or precipitancy in anticipating it; from atmospheric indistinctness, insufficient optical power in the instrument, and the like. "iii. the third, and by far the most numerous class of errors, arise from causes which may be deemed instrumental, and which may be divided into two classes. "the first arises from an instrument not being what it professes to be, which is _error of workmanship_. thus if an axis or pivot, instead of being as it ought, exactly cylindrical, be slightly flattened or elliptical--if it be not exactly concentric with the circle which it carries--if this circle so called be in reality not exactly circular--or not in one plane--if its divisions, intended to be precisely equidistant, shall be in reality at unequal intervals--_and a hundred other things of the same sort_. "the other subdivision of instrumental errors comprehends such as arise from an instrument not being placed in the position it ought to have; and from those of its parts which are made purposely movable not being properly disposed, _inter se_. these are _errors of adjustment_. some are unavoidable, as they arise from a general unsteadiness of the soil or building in which the instruments are placed.[ ] others again are consequences of imperfect workmanship; as when an instrument, once well adjusted, will not remain so. but the most important of this class of errors arise from the non-existence of natural indications other than those afforded by astronomical observations themselves, whether an instrument has, or has not, the exact position with respect to the horizon, and the cardinal points, etc., which it ought to have, properly to fulfill its object. "now, with regard to the first two classes of error, it must be observed, that in so far as they can not be reduced to known laws, and thereby become the subjects of calculation and due allowance, _they actually vitiate in their full extent the results of any observations in which they subsist_. with regard to errors of adjustment, not only the possibility, _but the certainty of their existence in every imaginable form, in all instruments_, must be contemplated. _human hands or machines never formed a circle, drew a straight line, or executed a perpendicular, nor ever placed an instrument in perfect adjustment, unless accidentally, and then only during an instant of time._" the bearing of these important and candid admissions of error in astronomical observations upon all kinds of other observations made by mortal eyes, and with instruments framed by human hands, in every department of science, is obvious. no philosophical observation or experiment is absolutely accurate, or can possibly be more than tolerably near the truth. the error of a thousandth part of an inch in an instrument will multiply itself into thousands, and millions of miles, according to the distance of the object, or the profundity of the calculation. our faith in the absolute infallibility of scientific observers, and consequently in the absolute certainty of science, being thus rudely upheaved from its very foundations by sir john herschel's crowbar, we are prepared to learn that scientific men have made errors great and numerous. to begin at home, with our own little globe, where certainty is much more attainable than among distant stars, we have seen that astronomers of the very highest rank are by no means agreed as to its diameter. its precise form is equally difficult to determine. newton showed that an ellipsoid of revolution should differ from a sphere by a compression of / . the mean of a number of varying measurements of arcs, in five different places, would give / . the pendulum measurement differs very considerably from both, and "no two sets of pendulum experiments give the same result."[ ] the same liability to error, and uncertainty of the actual truth, attends the other modes of ascertaining this fundamental measurement. a very small error here will vitiate all other astronomical calculations; for the earth's radius, and the radius of its orbit, are the foot-rule and surveyor's chain with which the astronomer measures the heavens. but this last and most used standard is uncertain; and of the nine different estimates, it is certain that eight must be wrong; and probably that all are erroneous. for example, encke, in , gives the earth's distance from the sun at , , encke, in , , , lacaille, , , henderson, , , gillies and gould, , , mayer, , , le verrier, , , sir john herschel, , , humboldt, , , [ ] here now is the fundamental standard measure of astronomy; and nine first-class astronomers are set to determine its length; but their measurements range all the way from seventy-seven to one hundred and four millions of miles--a difference of nearly one-fourth. why the old-fashioned finger and thumb measure used before the carpenter's two-foot rule was invented never made such discrepancies; it could always make a foot within an inch more or less; but our scientific measurers, it seems, can not guess within two inches on the foot. their smaller measurements are equally inaccurate. lias says the aurora borealis is only two and a half miles high; hood and richardson make its height double that, or five miles; olmsted and twining run it up to forty-two, one hundred, and one hundred and sixty miles![ ] when they are thus inaccurate in the measurement of a phenomenon so near the earth, how can we believe in the infallibility of their measurements of the distances of the stars and the nebulæ in the distant heavens? the moon is the nearest to us of all the heavenly bodies, and exercises the greatest influence of any, save the sun, upon our crops, ships, health and lives, and consequently has had a larger share of astronomical attention than any other celestial body. but the most conflicting statements are made by astronomers regarding her state and influences. there is no end to the controversy whether the moon influences the weather; though one would think that question, being rather a terrestrial one, could easily be decided. schwabe says herschel is wrong in saying that the years of most solar spots were fruitful; but wolf looks up the zurich meteorological tables, and confirms herschel. in _ferguson's astronomy_, the standard text-book of its day, we are informed that "some of her mountains (the moon's) by comparing their height with her diameter, are found to be three times higher than the highest hills on earth." they would thus be over fifteen miles high. but sir wm. herschel assures us that "the generality do not exceed half a mile in their general elevation." _transactions of the royal society_, may , . beer and madler have measured thirty-nine whose height they assure us exceed mont blanc. but m. gussew, of the imperial observatory at wilna, describes to us, "a mountain mass in the form of a meniscus lens, rising in the middle to a height of seventy-nine english miles."[ ] as this makes the moon lopsided, with the heavy side toward the earth, the question of an atmosphere, and of the moon's inhabitability is reopened; and the discussion seems to favor the man in the moon; only he keeps on the other side always, so that we can not see him. the best astronomers have gravely calculated the most absurd problems--for instance the projection of meteorites from lunar volcanoes; poisson calculated that they would require an initial velocity of projection of seven thousand nine hundred and ninety-five feet per second; others demanded eight thousand two hundred and eighty-two; olbers demanded fourteen times as much; but la place, the great inventor of the nebular theory, after thirty years' study fixed it definitely at seven thousand eight hundred and sixty-two! it appears that the absurdity of the discharging force of a part greater than the attracting force of the whole never occurred to him.[ ] this same la place supposed, that he could have placed the moon in a much better position for giving light than she now occupies; and that this was the only object of her existence. as this was not done he argued that her waxing and waning light was a proof that she was not located by an omniscient creator. he says he would have placed her in the beginning in opposition to the sun, in the plane of the ecliptic, and about four times her present distance from us, with such a motion as would ever maintain that position, thus securing full moon from sunset to sunrise, without possibility of eclipse. but lionville demonstrates that "if the moon had occupied at the beginning the position assigned her, by the illustrious author of the _mecanique celeste_, she could not have maintained it but a very short time."[ ] in short, la place's hypothetical calculations generally have proved erroneous when applied to any existing facts; and we have no reason to attach more value to his nebular theory calculations. the sun is the principal orb of our system, and by far the most conspicuous, and the most observed of all observers, astronomers included. but we have seen already how contradictory their measurements of his distance, and their observations of the influence of his spots. far more conflicting are the theories as to his constitution, of which indeed we may truly say very little was known before the application of photography and the spectroscope to heliography within the last seven years. one astronomer fixed the period of his rotation at twenty-five days, fourteen hours, and eight minutes; another at twenty-six days, forty-six minutes; another at twenty-four days, twenty-eight minutes.[ ] in regard to the sun's heat, a matter fundamental to the nebular theory, the calculations differ widely, and some of them must be grossly erroneous. m. vicaire called the attention of the french academy, at a recent meeting, to this unsatisfactory condition of science. father secchi estimates it at eighteen million fahrenheit; while pouillet says it ranges from two thousand six hundred and sixty-two to three thousand two hundred and one; and others range from two hundred thousand downward. the most singular thing is that these results are derived from observations or radiations made by apparatus identical in principle.[ ] but waterston calculates the temperature of the solar surface at above ten, and probably twelve million fahrenheit.[ ] now what feeds these enormous fires? the old opinion of astronomy, that the sun was a mass of fire, was assailed by sir wm. herschel, who maintained that it was in the condition of a perpetual magnetic storm. this notion was altered into the belief of a central dark body, surrounded by a stratum of clouds, outside of which is a photosphere of light and heat; which some made one thousand five hundred miles in depth, others four thousand. outside of this was another layer of rose-colored clouds. to this theory arago, sir john herschel and humboldt assented. but le verrier declares that the facts observed during late eclipses are contrary to this theory, and a new theory is slow in process of construction, to be demolished in its turn by later observations.[ ] one of the most recent theories is that the fuel is furnished by a stream of meteorites, planetoids, and comets, falling in by the power of attraction, and being speedily converted into gas flames; a process the very reverse of the theory of the evolution of the solid celestial bodies from gas. but it is pretty evident from these conflicting theories that nobody knows anything certainly as to the materials of the sun, or the fuel which feeds his flames. but if the very best astronomers do not know of what he is made, is it not too great a demand upon our credulity to ask us to believe that they can tell how he was made? the size, density, and distances of the planets, which form such essential elements in the calculations of the nebular theory of evolution, are equally uncertain. ten or twelve years ago mercury was believed to be nearly three times as dense as the earth ( . ); and the theory of evolution was partly based upon this assumed fact. but hausen now finds that it is not half so dense; that, as compared with the earth, it is only . ; and that its mass is less than half ( / ) of what had been confidently calculated.[ ] corrections of the masses and densities of other planets are also offered. still wider differences prevail in calculating the velocities of these bodies; velocities _calculated_ and found to correspond with the theory of evolution. bianchini gives the period of the rotation of venus at twenty-four days, eight hours; but schroeter says it is not as many hours as bianchini gives days; that it is only twenty-three hours and twenty minutes. sir wm. herschel can not tell which is right, or whether both are wrong.[ ] from such imperfect and erroneous calculations astronomers have deduced what they called a _law_, which holds the same place in nature that the blue laws of connecticut maintain in history; and which like them have imposed upon the credulous. titius and bode imagined that they had discovered that, "when the distances of the planets are examined, it is found that they are almost all removed from each other by distances which are in the same proportion as their magnitudes increase." and this _law_ played an important part in introducing the theory of evolution, which, it was alleged, exactly corresponded with such an arrangement. but more accurate calculations and recent discoveries have dissipated the supposed order of progression. humboldt says of it, it is "a law which scarcely deserves this name, and which is called by lalande and delambre a play of numbers; by others a help for the memory. * * * in reality the distances between jupiter, saturn, and uranus approximate very closely to the duplication. nevertheless, since the discovery of neptune, which is much too near uranus, the defectiveness in the progression has become strikingly evident." and olbers rejects it, as "contrary to the nature of all truths which merit the name of laws; it agrees only approximately with observed facts in the case of most planets, and what does not appear to have been once observed, not at all in the case of mercury. it is evident that the series, , + , + , + , + , + , + , with which the distances should correspond, is not a continuous series at all. the number which precedes + should not be ; _i. e._, + , but + / . therefore between and + there should be an infinite number, or as wurm expresses it, for _n_= , there is obtained from + ^{n- }. ; not , but - / ."[ ] thus this so-called law is erroneous in both ends, and defective in the middle. finally it has been utterly abolished by the discovery of the planet vulcan, which does not correspond to any such law.[ ] if the theory of evolution then corresponds to bode's law, as its advocates alleged, it corresponds to a myth. about the nebulæ which have played so large a part in the atheistic world building, our astronomers are utterly at variance. sir john herschel says they are far away beyond the stars in space. but the melbourne astronomer, m. le seur, suggests that the star eta and the nebulous matter are neighbors; that the nebulous matter formerly around it, which has recently disappeared, while the star has blazed up into flames, is being absorbed and digested by the star. this has happened before, thirty years ago, to that star. why may not our sun also absorb and burn up nebulæ. but if so, what becomes of the rings of the nebular theory? the light of the stars is almost the only medium through which we can observe them, and it would naturally be supposed that astronomers would be at pains to have clear views of light. but the most surprising differences of statement regarding it exist among the very first astronomers. they do not see it alike. herschel says a herculis is red; struve says it is yellow. they dispute about its nature, motion, and quantity. some astronomers believe the sun to be the great source of light, at least to our system. but nasmyth informs the royal astronomical society that "the true source of latent light is not in the solar orb, but in space itself, and that the grand function of the sun is to act as an agent for the bringing forth into existence the luciferous element, which element i suppose to be diffused throughout the boundless regions of space."[ ] the nature of light is however still as great a mystery as when job demanded, "where is the way where light dwelleth?" the undulatory theory of light, now generally accepted, assumes that light is caused by the vibrations of the ether in a plane transverse to the direction of propagation. in order to transmit motions of this kind, the parts of the luminiferous medium must resist compression and distortion, like those of an elastic solid body; its transverse elasticity being great enough to transmit one of the most powerful kinds of physical energy, with a speed in comparison with which that of the swiftest planets of our system is inappreciable, and its longitudinal elasticity immensely greater--both of these elasticities being at the same time so weak as to offer no perceptible resistance to the motion of the planets, and other visible bodies.[ ] is the velocity of light uniform? or, if variable, is the variation caused by the original difference of the projectile force of the different suns, stars, comets, etc.? or by the different media through which it passes? arago alleges that light moves more rapidly through water than through air; but brequet asserts that the fact is just the reverse.[ ] both admit that its velocity varies with the medium. jacobs alleges that during the trigonometrical survey of india he observed the _extinction_ of light reflected through sixty miles of horizontal atmosphere.[ ] how, then, can astronomers make any reliable calculations of the velocity of light reaching us through regions of space filled with unknown media? newton calculated the velocity of light at one hundred and fifty-five thousand five hundred and fifty-five and five-ninth miles a second; but encke shows he erred thirty per cent. other eminent astronomers make the time of the passage of light from the sun all the way from eleven to fourteen minutes, instead of newton's seven or eight. busch reckons its velocity at one hundred and sixty-seven thousand nine hundred and seventy-six miles; draper one hundred and ninety-two thousand; struve two hundred and fifteen thousand eight hundred and fifty-four. wheatstone alleges that electric light travels at the rate of two hundred and eighty-eight thousand miles a second; but frizeau's calculations and measurements give only one hundred and sixty-seven thousand five hundred and twenty-eight for the light of oxygen and hydrogen.[ ] thus we have a variation of one hundred and twenty thousand miles a second in all calculations of sidereal distances. humboldt tries to reconcile these differences by the suggestion, that no one will deny, that lights of different magnetic or electric processes may have different velocities; a fact which throws all sidereal astronomy into inextricable confusion, and sets aside all existing time tables on sidereal railroads. they are no more agreed as to its composition after it reaches us than as to its velocity. newton taught that it consisted of seven colors; wallaston denies more than four; brewster reduces the number to three--red, yellow, and blue. newton measures the yellow and violet, and finds them as forty to eighty. fraunhofer makes the proportion twenty-seven to one hundred and nine. wallaston's spectrum differs from both. field says, "no one has ventured to alter either estimate, and no one who is familiar with the spectrum will put much faith in any measurement of it, by whosoever and with what care soever made."[ ] he says white light is composed of five parts red, three yellow, and eight blue; which differs wholly from brewster, who gives it three parts red, five yellow, and two of blue. equally wild are their calculations of the quantity of light emitted by particular stars. radeau calculates vulcan's light at . that of mercury; lias, from the same observations, at . , nearly three times as much.[ ] sir john herschel calculates that _alpha centauri_ emits more light than the sun; that the light of sirius is four times as great, and its parallax much less; so that by such a calculation sirius would have an intrinsic splendor sixty-three times that of the sun. but wallaston only calculates his light at one-fourth of this amount; and steinheil makes it only one two-hundredth part of the former estimate.[ ] astronomers have lately been comforting the world with the assurance that we have little to fear from comets; that the superstitious fear of the comets prevalent in the past was ill founded, because comets are so very thin that we might pass through one without its breaking up anything. but that, as principal leitch shows us, is not the only question. "we know that the most deadly miasmata are so subtle that it is impossible to detect them by any chemical tests, and a very homeopathic dose of a comet, in addition to the elements of our own atmosphere, might produce the most fatal effects."[ ] the phenomena indicative of cosmical processes are out of the range of astronomical observation. we can only observe those indicated by light, and gravitation; but how small a proportion of the formative processes of our own world indicate themselves by these two classes of phenomena! how few of the chemical, vegetative, animal, moral, social, or even geological processes, now progressing under our own observation, could give us notice of their existence by the two channels of light and gravitation? how, then, can philosophers ever learn the process of building worlds like our own in which many other powers are at work? astronomers are not all agreed as to the existence of a cosmical ether; nor do those who assert it agree as to its properties. what is its nature, density, power of refraction and reflection of light, and resistance to motion? what is its temperature? is it uniform, or like our atmosphere, ever varying? these are manifestly questions indispensable to be answered before any theory of the development of worlds is even conceivable. but of the properties of this all-extending cosmical atmosphere, which is the very breath of life of the development theory, astronomers present the most conflicting statements. professor vaughan says, "if such a body exists, it is beyond our estimation of all that is material. it has no weight, according to our idea of weight; no resistance, according to our idea of calculating resistance by mechanical tests; no volume, on our views of volume; no chemical activity, according to our experimental and absolute knowledge of chemical action. in plain terms, it presents no known re-agency by which it can be isolated from surrounding or intervening matter."[ ] or, in plainer terms, we know nothing about it. the only fact about it which astronomers have ventured to specify and calculate is its temperature; for upon this all the power of the development world-making process depends. but they are very far from any agreement; indeed, they are much farther apart than the equator from the poles. stanley finds the temperature of absolute space-- °; arago-- °; humboldt-- °; herschel-- °; saigey-- °; pouillet, to be exact to a fraction-- - / ° below the freezing point; though when it gets to be so cold as that one would think he would hardly stay out of doors to measure fractions of a degree. but poisson thinks he is over ° too cold, and fixes the temperature accurately, in his own opinion, - / °. moreover, he alleges that there is no more uniformity in the temperature of the heavens than in that of our own atmosphere, owing to the unequal radiations of heat from the stars; and that the earth, and the whole solar system, receive their internal heat from without, while passing through hot regions of space.[ ] from this chaos of conflicting assertions of unknown facts the theory of development develops itself. its fundamental postulate is the difference of temperature between the nebulæ and the surrounding space. but the fact is that nobody knows what is the temperature of either space or nebulæ, nor is anybody likely ever to know enough of either to base any scientific theory upon. astronomy will never teach men how to make worlds; nor is it of the least consequence that it does not; since we could not make them, even if we knew how. from these specimens of the errors and contradictions of the best astronomers, the teachers upon whose accuracy we depend for our faith in science, we can see, that though the pope and the infidel savans may claim infallibility, yet after all the savant is just as infallible as the pope, viz: he is right when he is right, and he is wrong when he is wrong, and that happens frequently and common folks can not always tell when. there is no such thing, then, as infallible science upon faith, in which i can venture to reject god's bible, and risk my soul's salvation. science is founded on faith in very fallible men. . _geology_, one of the most recent of the sciences, and in the hands of infidel nurses one of the most noisy, has been supposed to be anti-christian. the supposition is utterly unfounded. such of its facts as have been well ascertained have demonstrated the being, wisdom, and goodness of an almighty creator, with irresistible evidence. nor, though a wonderful outcry has been raised about the opposition between the records of the rocks and the records of the bible, regarding the antiquity of the earth, has any one yet succeeded in proving such an opposition, for the plain reason that neither the bible nor geology says how old it is. they both say it is very old. the bible says, "in the beginning god created the heavens and the earth;" and by the use which it makes of the word _beginning_, leaves us to infer that it was long before the existence of the human race.[ ] if the geologist could prove that the earth was six thousand millions of years older than adam, it would contradict no statement of the bible. the bible reader, therefore, has no reason to question any well ascertained fact of geology. but when infidels come to us with their geological _theories_ about the mode in which god made the earth, or in which the earth made itself, and how long it took to do it, and tell us that they have got scientific demonstration from the rocks that the bible account is false, and that our old traditions can not stand before the irresistible evidence of science, we are surely bound to look at the foundation of facts, and the logical superstructure, which sustain such startling conclusions. now it is remarkable that every infidel argument against the statements of the bible, or rather against what they suppose to be the statements of the bible, is based, not on the _facts_, but upon the _theories_, of geology. i do not know one which is based solely on facts and inductions from facts. every one of them has a wooden leg, and goes hobbling upon an _if_. take for example the argument most commonly used--that which asserts the vast antiquity of the earth--a thing in itself every way likely, and not at all contrary to scripture, if it could be scientifically proved. but how does our infidel geologist set about his work of proving that the earth is any given age, say six thousand millions of years? a scientific demonstration must rest upon _facts_--well ascertained facts. it admits of _no suppositions_. now what are the facts given to solve the problem of the earth's age? the geologist finds a great many layers of rocks, one above the other, evidently formed below the water, some of them out of the fragments of former rocks, containing bones, shells, and casts of fishes, and tracks of the feet of birds, made when these rocks were in the state of soft mud, and altogether several miles thick. he has a great multitude of such facts before him, but they are all of this character. not one of them gives him the element of _time_. they announce to him a succession of events, such as successive generations of fishes and plants; but not one of them tells how long these generations lived. the condition of the world was so utterly different then, from what it is now, that no inference can be drawn from the length of the lives of existing races, which are generally also of different species. the utmost any man can say, in such a case, is, _i suppose_, for there is no determinate element of time in the statement of the problems, and so no certain time can appear in the solution. here is a problem exactly similar. a certain house is found to be built with ten courses of hewn stone in the basement, forty courses of brick in the first story, thirty-six courses in the second, thirty-two in the third; with a roof of nine inch rafters covered with inch boards, and an inch and a half layer of coal tar and gravel; how long was it in building? would not any school-boy laugh at the absurdity of attempting such a problem? he would say, "how can i tell unless i know whence the materials came, how they were conveyed, how many workmen were employed, and how much each could do in a day? if the brick had to be made by hand, the lumber all dressed with the hand-saw and jack-plane, the materials all hauled fifty miles in an ox-cart, the brick carried up by an irishman in a hod, and the work done by an old, slow-going, jobbing contractor, who could only afford to pay three or four men at a time, they would not get through in a year. but if the building stone and sand were found in excavating the cellar, if the brick were made by steam and came by railroad, a good master builder, with steam saw and planing mills, steam hoists, and a strong force of workmen, would run it up in three weeks." so our geologist ought to say; "i do not know either the source of the materials of the earth's strata, nor the means by which they were conveyed to their present positions; therefore i can not tell the time required for their formation. if the crust of the earth was created originally of solid granite, and the materials of the strata were ground down by the slow action of frost and rain, and conveyed to the ocean by the still slower agencies of rivers and torrents--hundreds of millions of ages would not effect the work. but if the earth was created in such a shape as would rationally be considered the best adapted for future stratification; if its crust consisted of the various elements of which granite and other rocks are composed; if these materials were ejected in a granular or comminuted form, and in vast quantities by submarine volcanoes generated by the chemical action of these elements upon each other; and if, after being diffused by the currents of the ocean, and consolidated by its vast pressure, the underlying strata were baked and melted and crystallized into granite[ ]--a very few centuries would suffice. until these indispensable preliminaries are settled, geology can make no calculations of the length of time occupied by the formation of the strata." but instead of saying so, he _imagines_ that god chose to make the earth out of the most impossible materials, by the most unsuitable agencies, and with the most inadequate forces; and that therefore a long time was needed for the work. in short, to revert to our illustration of the house-building, he _supposes_ that almighty god built the earth with the ox-team, and employed only the same force in erecting the building, which he now uses for doing little jobbing repairs. almost all geological computations of time are made upon the supposition that only the same agents were at work then which we see now, that they only wrought with the same degree of force, and that they produced just the same effects in such a widely different condition of the earth as then prevailed. it takes a year say to deposit mud enough at the bottom of the sea to make an inch of rock now; _and if mud was deposited no faster_ when the geological strata were formed, they are as many years old as there are inches in eight or nine miles depth of strata. but this is not the scientific proof we were promised. how does he prove that mud was deposited at just the same rate then as now? the very utmost he can say is that it is a very probable supposition. i can prove it a very improbable supposition. but it is enough for my present purpose to point out that, probable or improbable, it is _only supposition_. no proof is given or can possibly be given for it. any conclusion drawn from such premises can be only a _supposition_ too. and so the whole fabric of geological chronology, upon the stability of which so many infidels are risking the salvation of their souls, and beneath which they are boasting that they will bury the bible beyond the possibility of a resurrection, vanishes into a mere _unproved notion_, based upon an _if_. it is truly astonishing, that any sober-minded person should allow himself to be shaken in his religious convictions by the alleged results of a science so unformed and imperfect, as geologists themselves acknowledge their favorite science to be. "the dry land upon our globe occupies only _one-fourth_ of its whole superficies. all the rest is sea. how much of this fourth part have geologists been able to examine? and how small seems to be the area of stratification which they have explored? we venture to say not one _fiftieth part of the whole_."[ ] "abstract or speculative geology, were it a perfect science, would present a history of the globe from its origin and formation, through all the changes it has undergone, up to the present time; describing its external appearance, its plants and animals at each successive period. _as yet, geology is the mere aim to arrive at such knowledge_; and when we consider how difficult it is to trace the history of a nation, even over a few centuries, we can not be surprised at the small progress geologists have made in tracing the history of the earth through the lapse of ages. to ascertain the history of a nation possessed of written records is comparatively easy; but when these are wanting, we must examine the ruins of their cities and monuments, and judge of them as a people from the size and structure of their buildings, and from the remains of art found in them. this is often a perplexing, always an arduous task; _much more so is it to decipher the earth's history_."[ ] "the canoes, for example, and stone hatchets found in our peat bogs afford an insight into the rude arts and manners of the earliest inhabitants of our island; the buried coin fixes the date of some roman emperor; the ancient encampments indicate the districts once occupied by invading armies, and the former method of constructing military defenses; the egyptian mummies throw light on the art of embalming, the rites of sepulture, or the average stature of ancient egypt. this class of memorials yields to no other in authenticity, but it constitutes a small part only of the resources on which the historian relies; whereas in geology it forms the only kind of evidence which is at our command. for this reason _we must not expect to obtain a full and connected account of any series of events beyond the reach of history_."[ ] "there are no calculations more doubtful than those of the geologist."[ ] in fact, no truly scientific geologist pretends that it stands on the same level with any authentic history, much less with the bible record; inasmuch as the discovery of a single new fact may overturn the whole theory. "it furnishes us with no clew by which to unravel the unapproachable mysteries of creation. these mysteries belong to the wondrous creator, and to him only. we attempt to theorize upon them, and to reduce them to law, and all nature rises up against us in our presumptuous rebellion. a stray splinter of cone bearing wood--a fish's skull or tooth--the vertebra of a reptile--the humerus of a bird--the jaw of a quadruped--_all_, _any_ of these things, weak and insignificant as they may seem, become in such a quarrel too strong for us and our theory--the puny fragment in the grasp of truth forms as irresistible a weapon as the dry bone did in that of samson of old; and our slaughtered sophisms lie piled up, 'heaps upon heaps,' before it."[ ] the history of the progress of geology furnishes abundant proof of the truth of these admissions of weakness and fallibility. in almost every instance when we have had the opportunity of testing geological calculations of time they have proved to be erroneous; and sometimes grossly erroneous. the lake dwellings of switzerland, which were once alleged to be at least fifteen thousand years old, are found surrounded by heaps of burnt corn; illustrating cæsar's account of the burning of their corn by the helvetians, preparatory to the invasion of gaul, which he repelled. the peat bogs of denmark, surrounding stumps of oak, beech, and pine, claimed to be successive growths, and at least twelve thousand five hundred years old, have been compared with a piece of primeval bog and forest, on the earl of arran's estate, in scotland, which corresponds perfectly to the danish bog; but which shows the three growths not successive, but contemporaneous, at different levels; the bog growing as well as the trees. and the frequent discovery of danish remains of the stone and bronze ages in the old danish forts and battle-fields of ireland fixes their historical period at the era of the danish invasion; some of these stone and bronze weapons being found on the battle-field of clontarf, dating a. d. . skeletons of warriors with gold collars, bronze battle-axes, and flint arrow heads are quite common in the irish bogs. the absence of iron, on which so great a theory of the stone, bronze, and iron ages as successive developments of civilization has been raised, is easily accounted for by the perishable nature of iron when exposed to moisture. but that this celtic race used iron also, as well as bronze and stone, is proved incontestably by the discovery, in , of the slag of their iron furnaces, among a number of flint weapons, and celtic skulls, at linhope, in northumberland; the iron itself having perished by rust.[ ] the pottery, glass, and handmills found beside these skulls show that their owners were by no means the degraded savages supposed to represent the so-called stone age. horner's nile pottery, discovered at a depth of sixty feet, and calculated to be twelve thousand years old, and fragments found still deeper in this deposit, and calculated at thirty thousand years, were found to be underlaid by still deeper layers, producing roman pottery; and in the deepest boring of all, at the foot of the statue of rameses ii., the discovery of the grecian honeysuckle, marked on some of these mysterious fragments, which they had claimed as pre-historic, proved that it could not be older than the greek conquest of egypt. sir robert stephenson found in the neighborhood of damietta, at a greater depth than mr. horner reached, a brick bearing the stamp of mohammed ali.[ ] the shifting currents of all rivers flowing through alluvial deposits bury such things in a single season of high water. the raised beaches of scotland are quite conspicuous geological features of the highlands, and have furnished themes for calculations of their vast antiquity. here and there human remains had been discovered in them, but no link could be had to connect them otherwise than geologically with history. geologists, accordingly, with their visual generosity of time, assigned them to the pre-adamite period. but recently the missing link has been found, and these progenitors of tubal cain, and the pre-adamites generally, are found to have been in the habit of supping their broth out of roman pottery! lyell, the acknowledged prince of geologists, is famous for his chronological blundering; of which his calculations of the age of the delta of the mississippi is a very good american example. he calculates the quantity of mud in suspension in the water, and the area and depth of the delta, and says it must have taken sixty-seven thousand years for the formation of the whole; and if the alluvial matter of the plain above be two hundred and sixty-four feet deep, or half that of the delta, it must have required thirty-three thousand five hundred years more for its accumulation, even if its area be estimated at only equal to the delta, whereas it is in fact larger.[ ] he makes no allowance for tidal deposits. but brig. gen. humphrey, of the united states surveying department, goes over lyell's calculations, and shows that instead of , , , cubic feet of mud brought down by the mississippi, as estimated by lyell, the actual amount is , , , , ; that the rate at which the delta is now advancing into the gulf is fifty feet per annum, and that the age of the delta and alluvial deposit is four thousand four hundred, instead of lyell's one hundred thousand five hundred years.[ ] we might go on and give a dozen such instances of geological miscalculations of time did space permit; but these are enough to disabuse us of any faith in such calculations. with such specimens before us of the miscalculations of the smaller periods by geologists, we are not surprised to find that they grossly exaggerate the larger cycles of time. the necessities of the evolution of the ascidian into the snail, of the snail into the fish, and of the fish into the lizard, of the lizard into the monkey, and of the monkey into the man, by slow and imperceptible changes, demanded an almost infinite length of time; and the geologists of that school accordingly asserted the existence of animal life upon our globe for hundreds of thousands of millions of years. but sir wm. thompson, one of the first mathematicians, demonstrates[ ] the impossibility of any such length of time being spent in the process of cooling our little globe. beginning with their own assumption, of a globe of molten granite cooling down to the present state, he proves that the earth can not have been in existence longer than a hundred millions of years; and of course that plants and animals have existed on it a much shorter time; as for the greater part of that period it was too hot for them. the geologists are now becoming ashamed of their poetical cycles, and some acknowledge that their chiefs blundered egregiously in their calculations. the principles of geology seem to be as unsettled as its facts. there is no agreement upon any of its theories. the history of its theories, like that of their framers, begins with their birth, and ends with their burial. each new theory placed the tombstone upon the preceding, and inscribed it with the brief record of the antediluvian, "and he died." a busy time they must have had with their wernerian, huttonian, and diluvian hypotheses; not to mention the hutchinsonian theory, the animal spirits flowing from the sun, the vegetative power of stories, and other sage and serious facts and theories, theological and philosophical, invented to account for the world's creation. "no theory," says lyell, "could be so far-fetched or fantastical as not to attract some followers, provided it fell in with the popular notion." "some of the most extravagant systems were invented or controverted by men of acknowledged talent." a more amusing exhibition of philosophical absurdity can not be found than those chapters which he devotes to "the historical progress of geology,"[ ] unless perhaps the scientific discussions of the erudite acquaintances of lemuel gulliver. let it not be supposed that the progress of inductive science, and the prevalence of the baconian philosophy have banished absurdities and contradictions from the sphere of geology. it would require a man of considerable learning to find three geologists agreed, either in their facts, or in their theories. in a general way, indeed, we have the catastrophists, with hugh miller, overwhelming the earth with dire convulsions in the geological eras, and upheaving the more conservative lyell and the progressionists; who affirm that all things continue as they were from the beginning of the world. and there is perhaps a general agreement now that the underlying _primitive_ rocks, so called, are not primitive at all, as geologists thought twenty years ago; but, like the foundations of a chicago house, have been put in long after the building was finished and occupied. but then comes the question how they were inserted--whether as elie de beaumont thinks, the mountains were upheaved by starts, lever fashion, or, as lyell affirms, very gradually, and imperceptibly, like the elevation of a brick house by screws.[ ] nor is there the least likelihood of any future agreement among them; inasmuch as they can not agree either as to the thickness of the earth's solid crust which is to be lifted, or the force by which it is to be done? hopkins proves by astronomical observation that it is eight hundred miles thick. lyell affirms that at twenty-four miles deep there can be no solid crust, for the temperature of the earth increases one degree for every forty-five feet, and at that depth the heat is great enough to melt iron and almost every known substance. but then there is a difference between philosophers about this last test of solidity--those who believe in wedgewood's pyrometer, which was the infallible standard twenty years ago, asserting that the heat of melted iron is , ° fahrenheit; while professor daniells demonstrates by another infallible instrument that it is only , ° fahrenheit;[ ] which is rather a difference. in one case the earth's crust would be over two hundred miles thick, in the other twenty-four. but then comes the great question, what is below the granite? and a very important one for any theory of the earth. it evidently underlies the whole foundation of speculative geology, whether we assume with de beaumont and humboldt, that "the whole globe, with the exception of a thin envelope, much thinner in proportion than the shell of an egg, is a fused mass, kept fluid by heat--a heat of , ° fahrenheit, at the center, cordier calculates--but constantly cooling, and contracting its dimensions;" and occasionally cracking and falling in, and "squeezing upward large portions of the mass;" "thus producing those folds or wrinkles which we call mountain chains;" or, with davy and lyell, that the heat of such a boiling ocean below would melt the solid crust, like ice from the surface of boiling water--and with it the whole theory of the primeval existence of the earth in a state of igneous fusion, its gradual cooling down into continents and mountains of granite, the gradual abrasion of the granite into the mud and sand which formed the stratified rocks, and all the other brilliant hypotheses which have sparked out of this great internal fire. instead of an original central heat he supposes that "we may _perhaps_ refer the heat of the interior to chemical changes constantly going on in the earth's crust."[ ] now if the very foundations of the science are in such a state of fusion, and floating on a _perhaps_, would it not be wise to allow them to solidify a little before a man risks the salvation of his soul upon them? the various theories are contradictions. the igneous theory assault the aqueous theory with the greatest heat; while the aqueous theorists pour cold water, in torrents, upon the igneous men. the shocks of conflicting glacier theories have shaken the alps and convulsed all north america; and have not yet ceased. there are eleven theories of earthquakes, which have been, and are still, such energetic agents in geology; and the whole eleven afford not the least rational idea of their causes; nor of any means of preventing, predicting, or escaping their ravages. the best geologists have described fossil tracks as the footprints of gigantic birds, which others equally as authoritative pronounce the tracks of frogs and lizards. indeed, a good part of every geological treatise, and of the time of every association of geologists, is taken up with refutations of the errors of their predecessors. there are no less than nine theories of the causes of the elevation of mountains; some scoop out the valleys by water; others by ice; others heave up the mountains by fire; and some by the chemical expansion of their rocks; while others still upheave them by the pressure of molten lava from beneath; and others again make them out to be the wrinkles of the contraction of the supposed crust of the liquid interior. of all these theories an able geologist says: "the many proposed theories of mountain elevation are based upon assumptions which unfortunately are not true; but that is an unimportant matter to the majority of our speculating geologists; and one never seen by the inventors of the theories, who allow themselves to be led captive by a poetic imagination, instead of building their inductions upon field observations. "thus, to suppose that mountains are elevated by a wedge like intrusion of melted matter is to give to a fluid functions incompatible with its dynamic properties. so also the supposition that the igneous rocks were intruded, as solid wedges separating and lifting the crust, is opposed to the fact that no apparent abrasion, but generally the closest adhesion, exists at the line of contact of the igneous and stratified rocks. equally fatal objections may be advanced against the other theories."[ ] multitudes of the alleged facts of infidel geologists are as apocryphal as their theories. thus in a recent ponderous quarto volume, the production of half a dozen philosophers, this identical impossible theory--of the cooling of the earth's crust down to solidity, while an irresistible central heat remains below--is presented to the world as an ascertained fact; we are informed of the discovery of a human skull fifty-seven thousand years old, _in good preservation_; asked to believe that two tiers of cypress snags could not be deposited in the delta of the mississippi in less than eleven thousand four hundred years; and to calculate that the delta of the nile must have been a great many ages in growing to its present size, because it is quite certain that for the last three thousand years _it has never grown at all_.[ ] it were easy to fill a volume with such mistakes of geologists, but my limits restrict me to a few specimens. silliman's journal, in a review of "_the geology of north america_, by julius marcoe, u. s. geologist, and professor of geology in the federal polytechnic school of switzerland; quarto, with maps and plates," says: "the author describes the mountain systems of north america as _he supposes they must be_, according to the theoretical views of elie de beaumont." "thus one single fossil--that one a species of pine, and only very much resembling the _pinites fleurotti_ of dr. monguett--_establishes_ a connection between the new red of france, and that of america. this is a very strong word for a geologist to use on evidence so small, _and so uncertain_, with the fate of four thousand or five thousand feet of rock at stake, and the beds beneath, containing 'perhaps belemnites.' the prudent observer would have said, _establishes nothing_; and such is the fact." "_on such evidence_ a region over the rocky mountains, which is one thousand miles from north to south, and eight hundred miles from east to west, is for the most part colored in the maps as triassic. such a region would take in quite a respectable part of the continent of europe." "we now know beyond any reasonable doubt, that all the country from the platte to the british possessions, and from the mississippi to the black hills, is occupied by cretaceous and tertiary rocks. and as regards the region from the platte southward to the red river, very far the largest part _is known to be not triassic_, while it is possible the trias may occur in some parts of it." "it is unfortunate in its bearing on the progress of geological science to have false views about some five hundred thousand miles of territory, and much more besides, spread widely abroad through respectable journals, and transactions of distinguished european societies."[ ] one can not but sympathize with the poor abused rocky mountains, tormented and misrepresented for a thousand miles by this french geologist. but our american patriotism may be partially pacified when we find that europe fares no better; and that great britain, and old scotland, hugh miller's own cradle, which has been the very lecture room of geologists, has nevertheless been most grossly misrepresented in all books and maps, up till the last decade. the _edinburgh review_, a competent authority, says (no. cxxvii.): "the new light which has been thus thrown on the history of the geological series of scotland (by sir roderick murchison), showing that great masses of crystalline rocks, called primary, and supposed to be much more ancient than the silurian system, are here simply metamorphosed strata of that age, may with justice be looked upon as one of the most valuable results which have been attained by british geologists for many years." a very just remark indeed! if only geologists would learn a little modesty from this discovery, which completely turns upside down their old world-building process of grinding down all the upper strata out of the molten granite, and gives us, instead, the baking of the strata into crystalline rocks; a process exactly the reverse of the former, and of that asserted by the theory of evolution. there is no prospect of any cessation of the war of geological theories. . _zoology._ equally hostile to each other are the expounders of the development of man from the monkey. as ishmaelites their hand is against every man. each is a law in theorizing unto himself. their contendings may well teach us caution. lamarck set those right who preceded him. the author of the _vestiges of creation_ outstripped lamarck, and mr. darwin sets both aside; while he in his turn is severely censured by m. tremaux, and has all his reasoning controverted in favor of the new theory. lamarck believed in spontaneous generation; darwin does not. the author of the _vestiges of creation_ expounded a law of development, and mr. darwin replaces it by natural selection. m. tremaux has repudiated the origin which mr. darwin has assumed, and insists on our believing that, not water, but the _soil_, is the origin of all life, and therefore of man. with him there is no progress; all creatures have reached their resting place. but man rises or sinks, according to the more ancient or recent soil he dwells upon. professor huxley is unwilling to abandon his idea that life may come from dead matter, and is not disposed to accept of mr. darwin's explanation of the origin of life by the creator having, at first, breathed it into one or more forms. while accepting of mr. darwin's theory of a common descent for man with all other creatures, he not only differs from him as to the beginning, but he admits that there is no gradual transition from the one to the other. he acknowledges that the structural differences between man and even the highest apes are great and significant; and yet because there is no sign of gradual transition between the gorilla, and the orang, and the gibbon, he infers that they all had a common origin; whereas the more natural conclusion from the facts would be that they had separate beginnings. mr. wallace, whose claims are admitted to be equal to these of mr. darwin, as the propounder of the theory of the origin of species by natural selection, has firmly asserted that, with all its resources, natural selection is utterly inadequate to account for the origin and structure of the human race.[ ] thus they go, biting and devouring each other, until at last it becomes a reproduction of the kilkenny cats, and there is nothing left but the tails. we have only to wait, and the current infidel theory will certainly be exposed and demolished next year, by the author of some equally impossible theory. not merely individual scientists, but the most learned societies have blundered. "has not the french academy pronounced against the use of quinine and vaccination, against lightning rods and steam engines? has not reaumer suppressed peysonnel's 'essay on corals,' because he thought it was madness to maintain their animal nature? had not his learned brethren decreed, in , that there were no meteors, although a short time later two thousand fell in one department alone; and had they not more recently still received the news of ether being useful as an anæsthetic with sure and unanimous condemnation?"[ ] if space permitted we could go over the circle of the sciences, and show that a similar state of uncertainty and exposure to error exists in them all. we have, however, confined our attention to those whose certainty is now most loudly vaunted, and whose theories are most largely used as the basis of infidelity. nor have we by any means exhausted the list of errors and contradictions of these. a volume as large as this would be required to present the list of several hundred errors, absurdities, contradictions, and mutual refutations of scientists, in the physical sciences, now before me; errors not sought after, but incidentally observed and noted in the spare hours' reading of a busy professional life. it is worthy of notice, that the uncertainties of science increase just in proportion to our interest in it. it is very uncertain about all my dearest concerns, and very positive about what does not concern me. the greatest certainty is attainable in pure mathematics, which regards only ideal quantities and figures; but biology--the science of life--is utterly obscure. the astronomer can calculate with considerable accuracy the movements of distant planets, with which we have no intercourse; but where is the meteorologist bold enough to predict the wind and weather of next week, on which my crops, my ships, my life may depend? heat, light, and electricity may be pretty accurately measured and registered, but what physician can measure the strength of the malignant virus which is sapping the life of his patient? the chemist can thoroughly analyze any foreign substance, but the disease of his own body which is bringing him to the grave, he can neither weigh, measure nor remove. science is very positive about distant stars and remote ages, but stammers and hesitates about the very life of its professors. . such, then, are a few of the uncertainties, imperfections, and positive and egregious errors of science at its fountain head. to the actual investigator infallible certainty of any scientific fact is hardly possible, error exceedingly probable, and gross blunders in fact and theory by no means uncommon. but how greatly diluted must the modified and hesitating conviction possible to an actual observer become, when, as is generally the case, a man is not an actual observer himself, but _learns his science at school_. such a person leaves the ground of demonstrative science, and stands upon faith. the first question then to be proposed to one whose demonstrative certainty of the truths of physical science has disgusted him with a religion received on testimony and faith, is, how have you reached this demonstrative certainty in matters of science? are you quite sure that your certainty rests not upon the testimony of fallible and erring philosophers, but solely upon your own personal observations and experiments? to take only the initial standard of astronomical measurements--the earth's distance from the sun. have you personally measured the earth's radius, observed the transit of venus in , from lapland to tahiti at the same time, calculated the sun's parallax, and the eccentricity of the earth's orbit? would you profess yourself competent to take even the preliminary observation for fixing the instruments for such a reckoning? were you ever within a thousand miles of the proper positions for making such observations? or have you been necessitated to accept this primary measure, upon the accuracy of which all subsequent astronomical measurers depend, merely upon hearsay and testimony, and subject to all those contingencies of error and prejudice, and mistakes of copyists, which, in your opinion, render the bible so unreliable in matters of religion? or to come down to earth. you are a student of the stone book, with its enduring records graven in the rock forever; and perhaps have satisfied yourself that "under the ponderous strata of geological science the traditionary mythology and cosmogony of the hebrew poet has found an everlasting tomb." but how many volumes of this stone book have you perused personally? you are quite indignant perhaps that theologians and divines, who have no practical or personal knowledge of geology, should presume to investigate its claims. have you personally visited the various localities in south america, siberia, australia, india, britain, italy, and the south seas, where the various formations are exhibited; and have you personally excavated from their matrices the various fossils which form the hieroglyphics of the science? have you, in fact, ever seen one in a thousand of these minerals and fossils _in situ_? or are you dependent on the tales of travelers, the specimens of collectors, the veracity of authors, the accuracy of lecturers, aided by maps of ideal stratifications, in rose-pink, brimstone-yellow, and indigo-blue, for your profound and glowing convictions of the irresistible force of experimental science, and of the shadowy vagueness of a religion dependent upon human testimony? to come down considerably in our demands, and confine ourselves to the narrow limits of the laboratory. you are a chemist perhaps, and proud, as most chemists justly are, of the accuracy attainable in that most palpable and demonstrative science. but how much of it is experimental science _to you_? how many of the nine hundred and forty-two substances treated of in turner's chemistry have you analyzed? one-half? one-tenth? would you face the laughter of a college class to-morrow upon the experiment of taking nine out of the nine hundred, reducing them to their primitive elements, giving an accurate analysis of their component parts, and combining them in the various forms described in that, or any other book, whose statements, because experimentally certain, have filled you with a dislike of bible truths, which you must receive upon testimony? in fact, do you know anything worth mention of the facts of science upon your own knowledge, except those of the profession by which you make your living? or, after all your boasting about scientific and demonstrative certainty, have you been obliged to receive the certainties of science "upon faith, and at second-hand, and upon the word of another;" and to save your life you could not tell half the time who that other is, by naming the discoverers of half the scientific truths you believe? what! are you dependent on hearsay, and probability, for any little science you possess, having in fact never obtained any personal demonstration or experience of its first principles and measurements, nor being capable of doing so? then let us hear no more cant about the uncertainty of a religion dependent upon testimony, and the certainties of experimental science. whatever certainty may be attainable by scientific men--and we have seen that is not much--it is very certain you have got none of it. the very best you can have to wrap yourself in is a second-hand assurance, grievously torn by rival schools, and needing to be patched every month by later discoveries. your science, such as it is, _rests solely upon faith_ in the testimony of philosophers, often contradictory and improbable, and always fallible and uncertain. . nor would you cease to be dependent upon faith could you personally make all the observations and calculations of demonstrative science. the knowledge of these facts does not constitute science; it is merely the brick pile containing the materials for the building of science. science is knowledge systematized. but if the parts of nature were not arranged after a plan, the knowledge of them could not be formed into a system. chaos is unintelligible. our minds are so constituted that we look for order and regularity, and can not comprehend confusion. we possess this expectation of order before we begin to learn science, and without it would never begin the search after a system of knowledge. all scientific experiment is but a search after order, and order is only another name for intelligence--for god. deprive us of this fundamental faith in cause and effect, order and regularity--of reason, in short--and science becomes as impossible to man as to the orang-outang. _all science, even in its first principles, rests upon faith._ not only science, reason, also, is founded upon faith; for we can not prove by reason the truths which form the data of reasoning. the intuitions of the mind, which form the postulates necessary to the first process of reasoning, are believed, not proven. when the wise fool attempted to prove his own existence by the celebrated sophism, "i think, therefore i exist," he necessarily postulated his existence in order to prove it. how did he know that there was an "i" to think? and how did he know that the "i" thought? certainly not by any process of reasoning, but by faith. he believed these truths; but could never reason them into his consciousness. faith, then, underlies reason itself. we may now proceed to inquire whether or not faith, which we have found so prevalent even among those who repudiate it, is a thing to be ashamed of; or if it be a sufficiently certain and reliable basis for human life and conduct. . we are met at the very outset by the great fact that god has so constituted the world and everything in it, that _in all the great concerns of life we are necessitated to depend on faith_; without any possibility of reaching absolute certainty regarding the result of any ordinary duty. we sow without any certainty of a crop, or that we may live to reap it. we harvest, but our barns may be burned down. we sell our property for bank-bills, but who dare say they will ever be paid in specie? we start on a journey to a distant city, but even though you insure your life, who will insure that fire, or flood, or railroad collision may not send you to the land whence there is no return? science is the child of yesterday; but from the beginning of the world men have lived by faith. before science was born, cain tilled his ground without any mathematical demonstration that he should reap a crop. abel fed his flock without any scientific certainty that he should live to enjoy its produce; and tubal cain forged axes and swords without any assurance that he should not be plundered of his wages. all the experience of mankind proves that experimental certainty regarding the most important business of this life is impossible. by what process of philosophical induction is religion alone put beyond the sphere of faith and hope? if religious duties are not binding on us, unless religion be scientifically demonstrated, then neither are moral obligations; for these two can not be separated. is it really so, that none but scientific men are bound to tell the truth, and pay their debts; and that a person may not fear god, and go to heaven, unless he has graduated at college? the common sense of mankind declares that we live by faith, not by science. . _we demand the knowledge of truths of which science is profoundly ignorant._ science is but an outlying nook of my farm, which i may neglect and yet have bread to eat. faith is my house in which all my dearest interests are treasured. of all the great problems and precious interests which belong to me as a mortal and an immortal, science knows nothing. i ask her whence i came? and she points to her pinions scorched over the abyss of primeval fire, her eyes blinded by its awful glare, and remains silent. i inquire what i am? but the strange and questioning _i_ is a mystery which she can neither analyze nor measure. i tell her of the voice of conscience within me--she never heard it, and does not pretend to understand its oracles. i tell her of my anxieties about the future--she is learned only in the past. i inquire how i may be happy hereafter--but happiness is not a scientific term, and she can not tell me how to be happy here! poor, blind science! . _all our dearest interests lie beyond the domains of science, in the regions of faith._ science treats of things--faith is confidence in persons. take away the persons, and of what value are the things? the world becomes at once a vast desert, a dreary solitude, and more miserable than any of its former inhabitants the lonely wretch who is left to mourn over the graves of all his former companions--the last man. solitary science were awful. could i prosecute the toils of study alone, without companion or friend to share my labors? would i study eternally with no object, and for no use; none to be benefited, none to be gratified by my discoveries? though you hung maps on every tree, made every mountain range a museum, bored mines in every valley, and covered every plain with specimens, made vesuvius my crucible, and opened the foundations of the earth to my view--yet would the discovery of a single fresh human footprint in the sand fill my heart with more true hope of happiness, than an endless eternity of solitary science. i can live, and love, and be happy without science, _but not without companionship, whose bond is faith_. faith is the condition of all the happiness you can know on earth. law, order, government, civilization, and family life, depend not upon science, but upon confidence in moral character--upon faith. in its sunshine alone can happiness grow. it is faith sends you out in the morning to your work, nerves your arms through the toils of the day, brings you home in the evening, gathers your wife and your children around your table, inspires the oft-repeated efforts of the little prattler to ascend your knee, clasps his chubby arms around your neck, looks with most confiding innocence in your eye, and puts forth his little hand to catch your bread, and share your cup. undoubting faith is happiness even here below. need you marvel, then, that you must be converted from your pride of empty, barren science, and casting yourself with all your powers into the arms of faith, become as a little child before you can enter into the kingdom of heaven? . but religion is not founded upon faith as distinct from observation and experiment. _it is the most experimental of all the sciences._ there is less of theory, and more of experience in it than in any other science. its faith is all practical. it is a great mistake to suppose that faith is the opposite pole of experience. on the contrary, experience is the fruit which ripens from the blossom of faith. we have seen how an underlying conviction of the existence of an intelligent planner and upholder of the laws of nature is the source of all scientific experiment, and systematized knowledge. a similar underlying conviction of the existence of a moral governor of the world is the source of all religious experience. _he that cometh to god must believe that he is, and that he is the rewarder of those that diligently seek him._ but this fundamental axiom believed, long trains of experience follow; of every one of which you can be, and actually are, infinitely more certain than of any fact of physical science. your eyes, your ears, your touch, your instruments, your reason, may be deceived; but your consciousness can not. if your soul is filled with joy, that is a _fact_. you know it, and are as sure of it as you are that the sun shines. if you feel miserable, you are so. a sense of neglected duty, a consciousness that you have done wrong, and are displeased with yourself for it; a certainty that god is displeased with you for wrong-doing, and that he will show his displeasure by suitable punishment; the tenacious grasp of vicious habits on your body and soul, and the fearful thought that by the law of your nature these vipers, which you vainly struggle to shake off, will forever keep involving you more closely in their cursed coils--these are _facts of your experience_. you are as certain that they give you disquiet of mind, when you entertain them, as that the sea rages in a tempest; and that you can no more prevent their entrance, nor compel their departure, nor calm nor drown the anxiety they occasion, than you can prevent the rising of the tempest, dismiss the thunder-storm, or drown etna in your wine-glass. of these primary facts of moral science, and of others like them, you possess the most absolute and infallible certainty from your own consciousness. they result from the inertia of moral matter, which, when put into a state of disturbance, has no power of bringing itself to rest; as expressed in the formula, _there is no peace, saith my god, to the wicked._[ ] let us now go out of your own experience, as you must do in every other science, into the region of observation, and study a few of the other phenomena of religion. your comrade, jones, has taken to drinking of late, and also to going with you to sunday lectures, and in the evening to other places of amusement. he has, however, been warned that the next time he comes drunk to the workshop he will be discharged; and as he is a clever young fellow, and knows more about the bible than you, having gone to sabbath-school when a boy, and is able to use up the saints cleverly, you would be sorry to lose his company. so you set on him to go with you to hear a temperance lecture, hoping that he may be induced to take the pledge; for if he does not you fear he will soon lie in the gutter. he curses you, and himself too, if ever he listens to any such stuff; and refuses to go. you can easily gather a hundred other illustrations of the great law of the moral repulsion between vice and truth, expressed in the following formula: "_this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. for every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved._"[ ] your life, however, is but a long illustration of this principle. have you not willingly remained in ignorance of the contents of the bible, because you dislike its commands? there is another fact of the same science--there, in the gutter before you, wallowing in his own vomit, covered with rags, besmeared with mud, smelling worse than a hog, his bruised and bleeding mouth unable to articulate the obscenities and curses he tries to utter. "is it possible that can be bill brown! why, only three years ago we worked at the same bench. it was he who introduced me to the sunday institute; as clever a workman and as jovial a comrade as i ever knew, but would get on a spree now and again. he had a good father and mother, got considerable schooling, had good wages, got married to a clever girl, and had two fine children. is it possible he could make such a beast of himself in such a short time?" yes, quite possible, and more, quite certain. not only in his case, but in all others, the law of moral gravitation is universal and infallible. "_evil men and seducers wax worse and worse._"[ ] the degradation may not always be in this precise form, nor always as speedy; as all heavy bodies do not fall to the same place, nor with like rapidity. but it is always as certain and always as deep, and will one day be far more public. fix it firmly in your mind. it concerns you more than all the science you will ever know. you, too, are in the course of sin, and you know it. you have already begun to fall. come again into this room. "what, into a prayer-meeting? i don't go to such places." but, if you want to study the phenomena of religion scientifically, you should go to such places; just as if you want to study geology, you should go to the places where the strata are exposed to view. i do not ask you to speak, and to ask people to pray for you, but only to look on and listen. if you are a philosopher i wish you to cease dogmatizing about fanaticism, and enthusiasm, and the ignorance, and credulity of believers, at least until you philosophically examine the evidence upon which they believe. you can set aside, if you please, their unfounded beliefs concerning matters beyond their capacity, and also their confident hopes for futurity. what i wish you to examine is their _actual experience of religion_, as they severally relate it. for as we have seen, the facts of consciousness are just as certain, and as ascertainable, as the facts discovered by our senses; and there is no reason in the world why we should not pursue the study of religion in the same way that we gain a knowledge of science; namely, by collecting and studying the facts accumulated by those who have made experiments, and have obtained a practical knowledge of the matter. there are here, as you see, a great number of religious experimenters. they are also of very various conditions of life, and of various degrees of education. many of them are moreover well known to you, so that you are in a favorable position for forming a fair judgment of their discoveries. there is your comrade smith, hopkins who does the hauling for your establishment, lawyer hammond, professor edwards, whose chemical lectures you attend, dr. lawrence, who lectured before the lyceum last winter, mr. heidenberger, who wrote a series of articles on comte's positive philosophy for the investigator, mrs. bridgman, your aunt polly, who nursed you during your typhoid fever, and a great many others whom you know quite well. professor edwards leads in prayer, and gives a brief address. you never dreamt that he was hoaxing you when he told you of his chemical experience; have you any reason to offer for believing that he now solemnly, and in the presence of god, lies to you and to this assembly, when he tells you of the peace he has found in believing in christ, and the happiness he experiences in uniting with his brethren in the worship of god? or is he more liable to error in noting the fact of his mental joy or sorrow, than in observing the effect of the extraordinary ray in double refraction? if not, the fact that he has felt this religious experience, is just as certain as the fact, that he has seen polarized light. there is your comrade smith, whom you have known for years, actually got up to speak in meeting. you are surprised; but listen: "neighbors and friends, most of you know i never cared much about religion, and was often given to take more liquor than was good for me, and then i would fight and curse awful bad. i knew as well as anybody that it wasn't right, and always felt bad after a spree, and many a time i said i would turn over a new leaf, and be good. but it was all no use, for as soon as any of the fellows would come around after me, i always went along with them, till at last i gave it up and said it was no use to try. still, whenever any of my acquaintances died, i felt scared like; and i kept away as far as i could from churches and preachers and such like, because i could not bear to think about god and judgment to come. well, about five weeks ago my little minnie set on me one sabbath morning to carry her to church, and to please the little creature--for she is as pert a darling as you could see anywhere--i told my wife to get her ready, and we would go. she seemed as if she would cry, and kept talking to herself all the way. when we got into the church the singing almost upset me, for i had not been to a church since i was a little fellow, just before father and mother died. but it seemed as if it was the same tune, and as if the tune brought them all back, and as if i saw them again and all the family, and heard mother sing as she used to, and i forgot church and everything, and thought i was a little fellow playing about on the floor just as i used to do when i was a happy child. when they stopped i was so sorry, and wished i could just be as innocent and as happy as i was then. well, it seemed like the preacher had been reading my thoughts, for he gave out for his text, '_verily, verily, i say unto you, unless a man be born again he can not see the kingdom of god._' he began to preach how jesus can give us new hearts, and save us from our sins; that his blood cleanses from all sin; that he is able to save to the uttermost all that come unto god through him. the tears came into my eyes, and i could hardly keep my mouth shut till i got out. when i got home i knelt down, and cried to jesus to save me from my sins; and my wife prayed too, and we cried for mercy. the lord heard us, and i felt light and happy, and i went to church again, and sung with the rest. and the best of it is, the lord delivered me from the drink; as i told a man who asked where i was going to-day, and i told him i was going to prayer-meeting, for i had got religion now. he said there were a great many religions, and most of them wrong, and a great many people said all religion was only a notion, and preaching only nonsense. i says to him, 'look here, stranger, do you see that tavern there?' 'yes,' says he. 'well,' says i, 'do you see me?' 'i do, of course,' says he. 'well,' says i, 'every little fellow in these parts knows that so long as tom smith had a quarter in his pocket he could never pass that tavern without having a drink. all the men in jefferson could not stop him. now look here,' says i, 'there is my week's wages, and i can go past, and thank god i don't feel the least like drinking, for the lord jesus has saved me from it. if you call that a notion, it is a mighty powerful notion, and it is a notion that has put clothes on my children's backs, and plenty of good food on my table, and songs of praise to the lord in my mouth. _that's a fact, stranger._ glory be to god for it. and i would recommend you to come to prayer-meeting with me, and maybe you would get religion too. a great many people are getting religion now.'" his last remark is certainly very true. there are so many, and of such various characters and grades of life, and in so many places, that every reader can easily find several tom smiths of his own acquaintance, whose conversions display all the essential facts of this case, and prove that: . the facts of religious experience _are better attested, and more unobjectionable_ than those of any other science. unless they can be shown to be unreasonable or impossible, we are bound to receive them, when presented by the experimentists who have discovered them, though personally we may not have any such experience; just as we believe the chemists, or the astronomers who relate their discoveries which personally we have not observed. but the facts of religion are _by no means unreasonable_. they can not be shown to contradict any known law of the human mind. it is true they are mysterious. but so are the facts of physical science--heat, light, electricity, gravitation. of either, we may be quite certain that such phenomena exist, and utterly ignorant of the mode of their operation. it were as utterly unphilosophical to deny that almighty god could impart nervous energy to the languid limbs of your sick neighbor, because you are ignorant of its origin and means of transmission, as to deny that god could impart spiritual electricity to his paralyzed soul, because you are ignorant of the mode in which he bestows it. and ignorance is all that you can plead in this case. you must just admit that having tried an experiment which you have not, your religious friend has a right to know more than you. moreover, the facts of religion are presented for belief upon _the most abundant and reliable testimony_. in physical science you must rely on the testimony of a very few observers--the great bulk even of scientific men having no opportunity of testing the facts themselves, and being well satisfied if any fact is confirmed by the testimony of two or three philosophers--and this testimony often contradictory, and always fallible, as the discordant results of their experiments prove. but here you have a great multitude of experimentists, in every city and village of the land, of every variety of intellect and education, prosecuting the same course of experiments, and all arriving at the same results. they do not all confess the _same_ sins, but they all felt the power of _some_ sin, and felt miserable in their guilt. and however they may differ in their external circumstances, their inward constitution, or in their views of the outward part of religion, there is no difference among them about the great facts of their religious experience. they all believed the faithful saying that christ jesus came into the world to save sinners, cried to god for mercy through him, and received peace of mind, grace to live a new life, and to delight in the worship of god. do you know any science which has been prosecuted by one-hundredth part of this number of inquirers? which has been confirmed by one-thousandth part of this number of experimenters? or any experiment tried with such uniform and unfailing success as this, "_whosoever shall call on the name of the lord shall be saved?_"[ ] why then do you hesitate to admit the correctness of these facts? is it because you perceive they lead to results which you dislike? they do lead to results. they are effects and tell us of a cause. they are powerful effects, and proclaim a powerful cause. they are moral and spiritual effects, and assure us of the existence of a moral and spiritual agent who has caused them. they are holy effects, and convince your sinful soul that they are produced by a holy being. but they are also benevolent, life-giving, blessed effects, and proclaim that god is love. the lord, the spirit, is as plainly declared in the facts of religious experience, as the creator is in the creation of the universe; and it were as rank atheism to attribute these orderly and blessed results to chance or to evil passions, as to attribute the cosmos to blind fate, or to the beasts that perish. he is as much an enemy to his happiness who denies the one, as a foe to his reason who rejects the other. dear reader, why should you not believe in, . _the only science which can make you happy?_ which can bestow peace of mind, nerve you to conquer your evil habits, enable you to live a holy and happy life, and to die with a blessed hope of a glorious resurrection? you know there is no science which makes any such offers, or which you would believe if it did. but the bible unfolds a science which does, and enables you to believe it too. the facts of religious experience give most convincing evidence of the reality and power of the grace of god. it were as easy to persuade a christian that he had produced this change of heart and life by the excitement of his own feelings, as that he had kindled the sun with a lucifer match. and the character of the work and the worker assures him that it will not be left unfinished. his faith receives these facts of religious experience as the first installments upon god's bonds, and as pledges for the payment of the remainder of his promises. the joy and peace which god gives him now, prove most satisfactorily his ability and willingness to give him larger measures of these enjoyments when he is capable of receiving them. just as we have good reason to believe that he who has made the sun to rise out of darkness will guide him onward in his course to perfect day, have we also good reason to believe that he that hath begun the good work of his grace in us will perform it until the day of jesus christ. christ is in us the hope of glory. this eternal life, which is begun in our souls, is so much superior to mere animal vitality, that we can not doubt that he who has given us the greater, will also give us the lesser, and quicken our mortal bodies also, by his spirit which dwelleth in us. we know that our redeemer liveth. . and now, in conclusion, dear reader, we ask you not to take these things on our testimony, nor yet on our experience; _but to try for yourself_. oh taste and see that the lord is good. come see the savior who has saved us, and be saved by him too. there is nothing more dangerous, unless resisting the evidence of the truth as it is in jesus, than acknowledging this to be truth without immediately obeying the gospel. god requires your immediate and cordial acceptance of christ to save you from your sins. he tells you that the only way of escape from your sins now and from hell hereafter is through him; for there is none other name given under heaven or among men whereby you must be saved. he promises to hear your prayer and give you his holy spirit to work in you the work of faith with power, if you will only and earnestly ask. "_ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: what man is there of you whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? if ye then being evil know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?_"[ ] thus you will come to possess an actual experimental knowledge of the most excellent of the sciences. in the present begun enjoyment of eternal life you will, not merely believe in, but positively _know_, its author, the only true god, and jesus christ whom he hath sent. you will rest in no fallible and erring testimony of man's wisdom, but your faith will stand in the power of god. you will be able to say, "_now we believe not because of thy sayings: for we have heard him ourselves, and_ know _that this is indeed the christ, the savior of the world._"[ ] hear god's own warrant and invitation to your poor, thirsty soul, to forsake your vanities and come and be eternally blessed in christ. have the witness in yourself and be a living proof of the blessed reality of religion. "ho every one that thirsteth! come ye to the waters! and he who hath no money! come ye, buy and eat! yea, come! buy wine and milk without money and without price. wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? and your labor for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. incline your ear and come unto me: hear and your soul shall live: and i will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of david. behold! i have given him for a witness to the people, a leader and a commander to the people: behold! thou shall call nations that thou knowest not, and nations that knew not thee shall run unto thee, because of the lord thy god, and for the holy one of israel, for he hath glorified thee. "seek ye the lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near: let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him return unto the lord, and he will have mercy upon him, and to our god for he will abundantly pardon. for my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the lord. for as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. for as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and return not thither again, but water the earth, and cause it to bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which i please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto i sent it. for ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace. the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the fields shall clap their hands. instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree: _and it shall be to the lord for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off._" footnotes: [ ] holyoak's discussion with grant and tonney. [ ] bacon novum organum, i. xlix. xlvi. [ ] sir w. hamilton's lectures, i. . [ ] journal of speculative philosophy, i. . [ ] humboldt, _cosmos_, vol. i. p. , . [ ] our inheritance in the great pyramid, . [ ] annual of scientific discovery, . [ ] annual of scientific discovery, . [ ] _cosmos_, , . dick's _celestial scenery_, chap. iii. sec. . [ ] _cosmos_, , . loomis' _progress of astronomy_, pp. , [ ] loomis' _progress of astronomy_, p. , etc. [ ] _outlines of astronomy_, iii. sec. , . [ ] thus several of the best telescopes in the world are rendered nearly useless by the passage of heavy railroad trains in their vicinity. [ ] somerville's physical sciences, vi. [ ] cosmos iv. . phillips' address to the british association, . [ ] north british review, lxv. [ ] annual of scientific discovery, , . [ ] cosmos i. . [ ] cosmos iv. . [ ] cosmos iv. . [ ] harper's magazine, june, , p. . [ ] annual scientific discovery, , . [ ] cosmos iii. ; iv. . annual, , , . [ ] cosmos iv. . [ ] kendall's uranography, p. . [ ] cosmos, - . [ ] north british review, no. lxv. [ ] annual of scientific discovery, , . [ ] annual of scientific discovery, , . [ ] cosmos iii. . [ ] annual of scientific discovery, . [ ] annual of scientific discovery, , . [ ] annual of scientific discovery, , . [ ] plurality of worlds, xii. [ ] north british review, lxv. [ ] god's glory in the heavens, . [ ] annual scientific discovery, , . [ ] cosmos iv. . [ ] see this proved chapter xi., _daylight before sunrise_. [ ] see the possibility of such a source of volcanic action, of such a formation of plutonic rocks, proved by lyell. _principles_, chaps. xxxii. and xii. [ ] sir david brewster, k. h., d. c. l., f. r. s., _more worlds than one_, p. . [ ] _rudiments of geology_, w. & r. chambers, p. . [ ] lyell's _principles of geology_, p. . [ ] miller, _old red sandstone_, p. . [ ] hugh miller, _footprints of the creator_, p. . [ ] american cyclopædia, , p. . annual of scientific discovery, , p. . [ ] london quarterly review, , no. , p. . [ ] lyell's second visit to the united states. [ ] _the advance_, chicago, may , . [ ] geological time. [ ] _principles_, chaps. iii. and iv. [ ] _principles_, chap. xi. [ ] _principles_, p. . [ ] _principles_, chap. xxxi. [ ] chambers' cyclopædia art. appalachians. [ ] types of mankind, , , . [ ] the american journal of science and art, edited by profs. silliman and dana, xxvi. , . [ ] frazer--blending lights, p. . [ ] de vore's _modern magic_, . [ ] isaiah, chap. xlviii. . [ ] john, chap. iii. [ ] timothy, chap. iii. read the whole chapter. [ ] romans, chap. x. read the chapter. [ ] the sermon on the mount. read it all. [ ] john, chap. iv. [the end.] transcriber's notes: missing punctuation, including periods, hyphens, and commas, has been added. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. variations in spelling have been left as in the original in the following words: coveredst coverest orang-otang orang-outang water-skin waterskin the following words use an oe ligature in the original: foetus phoenician phoebus phoenicians phoenicia the spelling of the last name of scottish astronomer john pringle nichol has been corrected throughout the text. the spelling of the last name of french naturalist jean-baptiste lamarck has been corrected throughout the text. the spelling of the last name of french physicist claude-servais-mathias pouillet has been corrected throughout the text. the spelling of the last name of hellenistic astrologer vettius valens has been corrected throughout the text. the spelling of the last name of french mathematician urbain jean joseph le verrier has been corrected throughout the text. a series of three asterisks * * * represents an ellipsis in the text. shorter and longer rows of asterisks have been standardized to three asterisks. the carat ^ character indicates that the following numbers (enclosed in {} brackets) are superscripted in the original. the mathematical formula + / is rendered + - / in the original. footnote reads "origin of species, , , , , , , , , , . descent of man, , , and ii.-- , ." the page number " " is probably a typographical error, but it has been left as in the original. the two tests: the supernatural claims of christianity tried by two of its own rules. by lionel lisle "the axe is laid unto the root of the tree." williams and norgate, henrietta street, covent garden, london; and south frederick street, edinburgh. to the reader. "the following treatise was not originally written for publication; but as it faithfully represents the process by which the minds of some, brought up in reverence and affection for the christian faith, were relieved from the vague state of doubt that resulted on their cherished beliefs being overthrown or shaken by the course of modern thought, it has been suggested that it may, perhaps, be useful to others in the same position. although their hold on the reason and intellect may have been lost or weakened, still the supernatural authority, the hopes, and the terrors of the gospel continue to cling to the heart and conscience, until they are effectually dislodged by considerations of mightier mastery over the heart and conscience. 'the strong man armed keepeth his palace' until the stronger appears. then the whole faculties, mental and moral, are set free, and brought into accord in the cause of truth."--preface to the first issue. some of the _principles_ of inquiry into the truth or falsehood of the christian evidences laid down by the ablest divines of the last generation are wholly admirable in themselves, viewed apart from the _application_ of them by these divines. dr. chalmers, for instance, whose single-mindedness in devotion to truth and right was on a level with his mighty intellect and strong and clear perceptions, held: "there is a class of men who may feel disposed to overrate its evidences, because they are anxious to give every support and stability to a system which they conceive to be most intimately connected with the dearest hopes and wishes of humanity; because their imagination is carried away by the sublimity of its doctrines, or their heart engaged by that amiable morality which is so much calculated to improve and adorn the face of society. now, we are ready to admit, that as the object of the inquiry is not the character but the truth of christianity, the philosopher should be careful to protect his mind from the delusion of its charms. he should separate the exercises of the understanding from the tendencies of the fancy or of the heart. he should be prepared to follow the light of evidence, though it may lead him to conclusions the most painful and melancholy. he should train his mind to all the hardihood of abstract and unfeeling intelligence. he should give up everything to the supremacy of argument, and be able to renounce, without a sigh, all the tenderest prepossessions of infancy, the moment that truth demands of him the sacrifice." dr. chalmers would evidently see no beauty in moral precepts apart from the truth of the testimony to the authority on which they rest. again he wrote: "with them" (his own class of christians) "the argument is adduced to a narrower compass. is the testimony of the apostles and first christians sufficient to establish the credibility of the facts which are recorded in the new testament? the question is made to rest exclusively on the character of this testimony, and the circumstances attending it, and no antecedent theory of their own is suffered to mingle with the investigation. if the historical evidence of christianity is found to be conclusive they conceive the investigation to be at an end, and that nothing remains on their part but an act of unconditional submission to all its doctrines.... we profess ourselves to belong to the latter description of christians. we hold by the insufficiency of nature to pronounce upon the intrinsic merits of any revelation, and think that the authority of every revelation rests mainly upon its historical and experimental evidences, and upon such marks of honesty in the composition itself as would apply to any human performance." and in another portion of the same work: "we are not competent to judge of the conduct of the almighty in given circumstances. here we are precluded by the nature of the subject from the benefit of observation. there is no antecedent experience to guide or to enlighten us. it is not for man to assume what is right or proper or natural for the almighty to do. it is not in the mere spirit of piety that we say so: it is in the spirit of the soundest experimental philosophy." elsewhere he prefers the atheist, or what would now be called the agnostic, to the deist, who, rejecting revelation, professes belief in a god fashioned according to the constitution of his own mind. the question may, with clearness perhaps, be thus stated: religion, in its true and highest sense, is the endeavour of man to place himself in a right position to the power and to the laws of the universe. if that power has spoken audibly to man, in man's language, and revealed what that right position is, we must take the message as it has been given, and implicitly submit to and be guided by it. dr. chalmers, on the soundest truth-seeking principles, but, as i venture to think, with imperfect knowledge, and contrary to what his conclusions would have been had he lived now, decided that there was evidence that the power of the universe had spoken audibly to man, by a special messenger from on high--the very son of god. the effect, therefore, on him was, as he states, "unconditional submission." but if the power of the universe has not spoken audibly to man, in man's language, then, on the same principles, there is no other position towards that power, possible to man, than simply one of agnosticism. _what_ that power is no one can tell. the theological method--that of authority resting on revelation and supernatural power--is gone; but the laws of the universe remain,--the laws of god, whatever god may be. man's knowledge of and right position towards these laws will then depend solely on political, social, and scientific methods of research. in this case the truly religious man will be he who rejects authority and theological methods and doctrine, and follows with "unconditional submission" the teachings of the widest experience. in marked, and in my view unfavourable, contrast with the principles of dr. chalmers, the recent address of dean stanley to the students of st. andrews urges: "there is a well-known saying of st. augustine, in one of his happiest moods, which expressed this sense of proportion long ago: '_we believe the miracles for the sake of the gospels, not the gospels for the sake of the miracles_' fill your minds with this saying, view it in all its consequences, observe how many maxims both of the bible and of philosophy conform to it, and you will find yourselves in a position which will enable you to treat with equanimity half the perplexities of this subject." here "equanimity," quite apart from their truth or falsehood, is commended towards marvels, _vouched as eye-witnessed facts_, for the sake of the gospels. (see my remarks, pp. , , par. commencing paul .) another instance, in a quite different profession, of a mind guided by a principle similar to that of dr. chalmers is presented by the illustrious philosopher, mr. faraday. one of a small body of christians knit together in bands of love and peace, and himself the very embodiment of that high morality and love of kind, so much preached about however practised, no question appears to have crossed his mind as to the validity of the evidences on which the gospel claims rest; but, hating pretence and ever loyal to truth, he saw, with habitual clearness of judgment, that a revelation, dealing with what man cannot himself discover, must be taken, if true, implicitly as delivered. in his lecture on mental education before prince albert, in the year , he said: "high as man is placed above the creatures around him, there is a higher and far more exalted position within his view; and the ways are infinite in which he occupies his thoughts about the fears, or hopes, or expectations of a future life. i believe that the truth of that future cannot be brought to his knowledge by any exertion of his mental powers, however exalted they may be; that it is made known to him by other teaching than his own, and is received through simple belief of the testimony given. let no one suppose for a moment that the self-education i am about to commend in respect of the things of this life, extends to any considerations of the hope set before us, as if man by reasoning could find out god. it would be improper here to enter into this subject further than to claim an absolute distinction between religious and ordinary belief. i shall be reproached with the weakness of refusing to apply those mental operations, which i think good in respect of high things, to the very highest. i am content to bear the reproach. yet, even in earthly matters, i believe that the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead; and i have never seen anything incompatible between those things of man which can be known by the spirit of man which is within him, and those higher things concerning his future which he cannot know by that spirit." so that of himself, apart from revelation, mr. faraday's position was agnostic. had he seen reason to reject revelation he would not have been a deist, any more than dr. chalmers. there is an eternal power, but _what it is_ man cannot divine. of god or of a future state man himself can tell nothing. and the reproach from the votaries of most popular religions, which mr. faraday refers to, will apply equally to the agnostic who submits to revelation with his "simple belief," and to the agnostic who sees reason to reject it. nothing would have been more utterly abhorrent to mr. faraday than to have his name paraded and referred to, as a christian, in the sense in which it is alluded to in such books as the _unseen universe_, or, since his death, by many of the clergy in their sermons. any communications, from those interested in the subject of this treatise, addressed to me, care of the publishers, will be gladly received and attended to. l. l. st july, . introduction. . the belief, concerning the position of mankind in this world and the next, held by the various christians, who cling to the old and new testaments as the one inspired and infallible revelation of the mind and purpose of an almighty, may be briefly summed up thus:--that the whole human race, because of the disobedience of adam, is fallen from its original righteousness, and is under condemnation for transgression of the law or will of god; whether as jews, to whom the law was given in certain forms of words or as gentiles, who have the law, the knowledge of right and wrong, written on their consciences: that the eternal justice of god requires the eternal punishment of sin: that thus no escape being possible from the consequences of guilt, the result of adam's disobedience and their own depravity, the whole human race must have perished, had it not been that god in love, and in order that he might place himself in a position to pardon sin in a way that would be consistent with eternal justice, sent his son--the sole-begotten--into the world, who became incarnate in the person of jesus of nazareth: that jesus fulfilled the will of god in his life: that his death by crucifixion has been accounted by god a full atonement for the sins of all who believe on him and his fulfilment of the law as if it had been their fulfilment: that by his atonement and righteousness they are thus restored to the divine favour: that jesus rose from the dead on the third day: that he ascended into heaven: that he is now there waiting until all who are ordained unto eternal life shall, in course of time, be born, when he will return to earth in the glory and power of heaven: that then those who have believed in him will be raised from the dead, or, if not dead, will receive an incorruptible body and a purified mind: that the new heavens and the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness, shall then be inaugurated: that risen mankind, who have believed on jesus, will thenceforth enjoy eternal bliss in direct communion with god: that those of mankind who have not believed in jesus will also be raised from the dead, but, their sins being unatoned for, they will be punished with everlasting banishment from the presence of god: that the doom in each case will be irrevocable, everlasting. . the conception of the almighty, in relation to fallen man, formed in the minds of many believers, is that of a king dealing with rebel subjects who are equally guilty, and whose lives are equally forfeit. he shows mercy to whom he will--those who are thus favoured having no right to this grace; and whom he will he leaves to deserved death--those thus left having no right to complain of the pardon of the others, as their own doom would have been the same whether the others were spared or not. other believers, again, rather conceive the almighty to be in the position of a gracious benefactor, offering pardon through the merits of jesus to any one who chooses to accept of it, the pardon not to take effect unless the sinner accepts it by acquiescing in the divine plan of salvation. and among the numerous sects into which believers are divided through opposing interpretations of various passages of the bible, other conceptions of the almighty and modifications of the foregoing statement of belief will be found. but all, or almost all, agree in dividing mankind into the believing and the unbelieving, the elect and the non-elect, the sheep and the goats, the saved and the lost. many christians maintain that the atonement was universal; but it is doubtful if any maintain that the salvation will be universal, as belief is held to be a necessary condition or a sign of salvation. beyond such ideas as these there are two momentous considerations:--( .) whether an almighty maker of the universe could be such an one as, were he to carry out a scheme of salvation for a condemned race of his creatures, would do so in a way to have but a partial effect, or to be dependent on the belief or unbelief of those for whom it was devised. ( .) whether vicarious sacrifice can in any way satisfy justice, divine or human. for what is vicarious sacrifice?--the substitution of the innocent for the guilty, whether an innocent lamb or an innocent child, or the innocent son of the eternal made flesh. however exalted the victim the principle is the same,--that of satisfying justice by committing so gross an injustice as enjoining or permitting the innocent to take the place of the guilty. would any earthly tribunal be accounted righteous which allowed a self-sacrificing mother to substitute herself for a son, a son for a father? and does not the christian doctrine represent its deity as the author of a proceeding so utterly unjust? . christian believers, however, consider themselves as, or as having been, sinners under divine condemnation, but maintain that god can, consistently with justice, on account of the merits and death of jesus, freely pardon their sin; and, in the hope that saving faith has been given them, they rest content in this belief, seek to live in this world in subjection to christ's commandments, and await, after death, an entrance into bliss unspeakable, and, on christ's second coming, a joyful resurrection. such, at least, is the profession; the practice does not always correspond. christians are not unknown to history, nor possibly to the present age, whose conduct is widely at variance with their profession. but this is true of others besides believers in christianity. they who rest content in the belief and hope just mentioned, are seldom disturbed by misgivings as to the soundness of the foundations of the christian faith. they have no more doubt that the miraculous birth, the miracles, and the resurrection of jesus were actual witnessed events, than they have of the assassination of julius caesar, or of the landing of william the conqueror in england. and this belief seems to them to account for much. that stumbling-block to many in the way of owning that a wise and beneficent deity could be the author of such a world as this, of "a whole creation groaning and travailing in pain," disappears, in their minds, in view of the curse of god against sin, under which the earth and all it contains is, as they believe, labouring, and of the love of god in providing a way by which he could be just and yet pardon sin. it gives them, moreover, a definite, settling belief, and a hope for the future, that there is something better and different in store than life in this world. regarding the earth and all upon it as under a curse, they profess to set their hearts on their home in heaven, on the glorious future revealed. alas, then, if the grounds on which the prospect of this glorious future rests are worthless; if the hope is delusive; if its evil effect is, and has continually been, to divert men from applying themselves strenuously to make the best of this earth on which they live, and from heartily co-operating with their fellows to do the same; to build up brazen barriers of spiritual pride and self-complacency that sunder man from man; to foster vain-glory, strife, acrimony, and intolerance through pretence, as between opposing sects and schools, of a superior, or a more accurate, or a better defined knowledge of the mind of god. . the foundations of the christian faith are the supernatural testimonies, as recorded in the new testament, given from on high to the supernatural attributes claimed for jesus. many there are who profess, or by their mode of teaching imply, disbelief in these supernatural testimonies or attributes, or ignore them altogether, yet who for the sake of their position, clerical or otherwise, or to be in unison with prevailing fashion, extol christianity as a system of high moral government and elevating tendency. all such, however, will appear to the honest and truth-loving mind but deserving of unmeasured scorn. excepting the jesus of the new testament, is there any other jesus? if the supernatural attributes there claimed for him are a pretence, he was either self-deluded or he was an impostor, or the compilers of the four gospels have borne false witness, or are recorders of inflated hearsay, or the inventors of fiction, all the while asserting that they were eye-witnesses, or narrators of the testimony of eye-witnesses. and what is to be said of a system founded either on self-delusion or imposition? are not noble and pure doctrines put to the basest use when they are made supports of pretence and falsehood, and should they not be rescued from such contamination? besides, jesus scarcely claims to be the originator of new laws. his claim is far more. he is held to be the same person who gave the commandments to moses on sinai; and his spiritual application and extension of these laws are to be found also in the books of the psalms and the prophets, alleged to have been written under his own inspiration. whether or not they are to be found elsewhere, in so-called heathen writings, is a consideration beyond the scope of this inquiry. the exhortation "to take heed and beware of covetousness, for a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things he possesseth," might probably be found taught and practised under other than christian sanction,--might perhaps be discovered not to have been the guiding principle of all christian professors. as a system, then, of moral government, or of high spiritual life, the christianity of the new testament professes no more than to confirm and verify, explain, fulfil, and develop the jewish scriptures. but its supernatural claims on behalf of christ himself, by which it pretends to lay bare the truth as to the position of mankind in this world and the next, and to give them the hope of a new life beyond the grave, rest on the supernatural occurrences recorded. if these are true, jesus is all he claimed to be. he is now alive, he has the destinies of the whole human race in his hands, and is to be worshipped as god. if they are not true, he was either a mere man, deluding or self-deluded, or the history of his life is a myth, however originated or developed. truth and sincerity demand that there be no compromise between these two positions. the time has surely gone by when sound morality and brotherly kindness require the support of supernatural pretence; when religion, in the words of an ancient writer, is to be praised as an imposture devised by wise men for restraining the evil passions of the multitude. let every true man repudiate the libel on his race implied by the most unworthy, most pernicious and despairing idea, which has for so long influenced human thought, that for the support of high morality and love of kind it is necessary to disregard or to trifle with the highest of all morality--truth. . ordinary scientific research is of little avail here. science of itself is unable either to affirm or to deny if any power beyond and supreme over nature exists. whether nature works spontaneously, and there is nothing besides matter and its inherent organising powers; or whether her various operations are carried on in fixed modes, and by determinate forces, created and sustained by an omnipotent and omniscient being, the observation of cause and effect, and the induction of general laws from ascertained facts is the same. but in the latter case, the almighty one, if he willed, might suspend or break through, or alter the regular course of nature's working; and the question here is, whether there is any valid evidence to show that the manifestations, as recorded in the new testament, of a nature-controlling power actually happened. if such an one, almighty, all-seeing, all-knowing, all-just, all-loving, all-merciful (such as exodus xxxiv. , ) exists, a special revelation from him to men, different from his working in the visible universe, is not a thing impossible: moreover, assuming the christian doctrine to be true, that by sending his son jesus into the world he meant to save only a portion of the human race, the revelation might take place in a mode suited to the knowledge and capacities of those for whom it was intended; and merely because the mode may appear absurd and unworthy of a deity (though this consideration may not be lost sight of), or because it did not take place in the way which the learned and philosophers--hitherto a small minority of mankind--might have selected, it is not to be disbelieved if the evidence is good. and it may fairly be argued that there would be no simpler way by which an almighty could reveal his own existence, or attest the divine mission of his chosen messenger, than by instances of nature-controlling power. again and again, then, this one consideration presses, "is there any good evidence to show that these occurrences did really happen, that this man jesus, claiming to be the son of god, received certain credentials from a power beyond and supreme over nature?" . the supernatural attributes of jesus, claimed by himself, or by his disciples for him, and held to constitute saving faith, are-- a. that he was alive from all eternity, the sole-begotten son of god, before he appeared in this world. b. that his birth was the result of the "overshadowing" of his virgin-mother by the "power of the highest." c. that while he sojourned on earth he was a union of god and man, a mortal human body with the mind and power of the eternal. d. that his career on earth and its results were the fulfilment of the jewish law and prophets. e. that he rose from the dead on the third day from his crucifixion, ascended from earth to heaven, and is now there, ever-living god and man united, with all power in heaven and in earth. f. that he is to return in the power of the almighty to raise the dead, and to inaugurate with his chosen an everlasting kingdom, and to banish his enemies for ever from his presence. the supernatural events recorded in the gospels as testimonies to these supernatural attributes are-- ( .) those connected with his birth, viz.:--the appearance of the angel gabriel to zacharias to announce the birth of the forerunner john, and to mary to announce her conception of jesus; the three appearances of the angel of the lord to joseph in dreams; the visit of the wise men of the east; and the appearance of the angels and of the heavenly host to the shepherds on the plains of bethlehem. ( .) the heavenly testimonies, viz.:--the voice at the baptism. the transfiguration and the voice thereat. the voice from heaven (john xii. - ). to which may be added-- the testimony of the devils. the temptation by satan, and the subsequent ministration of angels. the earthquake and rending of the veil of the temple at the crucifixion. ( .) the miracles performed, which, if true, proved that jesus and the first apostles had power over diseases and the course of nature. ( .) the fulfilment of prophecy. ( .) the resurrection from the dead, the appearances after that event, the ascension to heaven, the gifts of the apostles, and the subsequent manifestations to paul on his way to damascus. . for the purposes of this inquiry there are two simple, and what appear to be conclusive, tests ready to hand; one, a rule of evidence held sacred by jews and christians alike, and the other arising out of the nature of the claims made for jesus. (a.) moses, or, as christians affirm, the deity speaking by moses, has laid down this rule of evidence in cases of guilt: "one witness shall not rise up against a man for any iniquity, or for any sin, in any sin that he sinneth: at the mouth of two witnesses or at the mouth of three witnesses shall the matter be established." this rule is commended in the new testament in the case of offences (matt, xviii. ). what then can be more fair to christianity than to examine its claims by a rule of evidence held righteous by itself? for, to put it on the very lowest grounds, the evidence necessary to establish events otherwise incredible must surely be at least equally conclusive with that necessary to convict a criminal. these are not ordinary historical statements, to be credited or not as reasonable probability, fair conjecture, or prejudice may determine, without any penal consequences-whatever, either in this world or the world to come. if a man disbelieves that king arthur, or romulus, or even alexander the great, or julius caesar ever existed, does it affect his welfare now or hereafter? but the gospels set forth extraordinary occurrences, disbelief of which by any one is said to render him liable to be left to perish in his sins, to endure the torments of hell evermore; and will it for a moment be asserted that a deity would expect belief involving so dire a consequence, on evidence he is said to consider insufficient for the punishment of common guilt? if, then, judged by this mosaic rule of evidence, disbelief of the alleged supernatural testimonies to the claims of jesus should be the righteous, and belief the unrighteous result, on whose side would a god of truth be? would he be on the side of those who are swayed by emotion and not evidence--who imagine that their feelings are in unison with facts they have taken no pains to verify--who profess to believe because it is fashionable, or because they have been so taught from youth--who credit statements which they assert affect their relation to the almighty and their eternal interests, on grounds on which they would not credit statements affecting their most trifling temporal interest? would a god of truth be on their side? surely not. (b.) the new testament record and doctrine are said to be a development and fulfilment of the old. the deity of the one is the deity of the other, under a different dispensation. "the law was given by moses, but grace and truth came by jesus christ." if, then, the new testament is shown conclusively to be a development and fulfilment of the old, this claim will be sustained. if, on the other hand, there are twisted and untenable interpretations of old testament texts, to make them fit in with new testament facts; or if there are practices or doctrines or aught else upheld in the new testament, as of god, which are hateful or foreign to the deity of the old, such would argue deception (whether intentional or not) in the writers of the new testament, and show that, if the deity of the old testament is the true god, the deity of the new is not. christianity thus maintaining that the god of the jewish scriptures is the eternal, would fall by its own supports. . christian authorities, for the most part, hold that the books of the old testament were composed by the different writers from moses to malachi, during the years from b.c. to b.c. , and the books of the new testament, during the first century, a.d., by the companions of jesus, or by those who received their information from his companions. much learning and critical research have been expended on the one hand in maintaining this position, and on the other hand in impugning it, by stigmatising the whole of some books, and portions of others, as interpolations or compositions of later times. into so nice a question as this, it is not proposed to enter here. a conscience-satisfying belief for earnest men can in no wise rest on the doubtful and disputed conclusions and arguments of verbal critics. the object of this inquiry, then, is to consider the evidence of the alleged supernatural credentials to the claims of jesus, so far as possible in the most favourable light in which they can be presented, and therefore it will be assumed that the books of the old and new testaments were written at the time generally understood, and by the persons whose names they bear; and as by most believers in christianity these books are held to be the one infallible authority, the endeavour will be not to travel beyond them. the alleged fulfilment of old testament prophecy by new testament events will be fully considered under its own head; and on the divine inspiration claimed for the writers of the new testament narratives, one word will suffice. to relate facts seen, or facts told to the narrator by others, requires no inspiration. if any one holds that the gospels record, either in whole or in part, facts which the writers did not see, or were not told of, but which were specially revealed to their spirit by a god of truth, as having occurred, he claims more for them than they do for themselves. see luke i. - ; xxiv. ; john i. ; xx. , ; xxi. , ; acts i. , ; cor. xv. - ; peter i. - ; john i. - . the burden of these passages is summed up in the last one--"that which we have seen and heard declare we unto you." the truth or otherwise of the supernatural events recorded professes thus to rest on the testimony of human eyes and human ears, however divinely guided and enlightened. . assuming, then, that the books of the new testament were written by those whose names they bear, what is known of the narrators? their character for honesty and trustworthiness among their neighbours and contemporaries there is no voucher for. yet, while no one who knew them has left aught on record to their credit, there is nothing to the contrary. true, they themselves confess that neither the miraculous pretensions of jesus himself, nor their own testimony with reference to the supernatural events of his life, met with any credit from by far the greater part of those living at the time, who had the means of satisfying themselves of their truth or falsehood--means which no one at the present day possesses. the people of capernaum, consigned by jesus to hell for unbelief, or his own brothers and sisters, may, for all that any one now can tell, have been as competent and truthful, in every respect, as the publican matthew, or the fishermen peter and john. the roman governors, the jewish high-priests, gamaliel and the other rabbis, why are they to be accounted less trustworthy, less able to discern truth from pretence, than paul and luke? the following particulars, with reference to its writers, are to be gleaned from the new testament:-- ( .) matthew, whose name the first gospel bears, was a tax-gatherer, sitting at the receipt of custom (matt. ix. ), in the thirty-first year of jesus' life, when he became a follower of jesus. whether they knew each other previously is not mentioned. he was alive after the crucifixion, but no separate mention is made of him subsequent to acts i. . ( .) mark, the writer of the second gospel, is not mentioned before acts xii. (ordinary chronology, a.d. to ), and then it is as the son of one mary, to whose house peter went after his miraculous liberation from prison. he accompanied paul and barnabas on their first mission to the gentiles, but soon left them. a quarrel afterwards occurred between the two apostles on his account. paul was hurt at the way in which he had turned back at the outset, and objected to take him on their second mission. barnabas insisted that he should go. but if he is the same mark mentioned in colossians iv. , tim. iv. , and philemon , a reconciliation with paul had taken place, and he was alive and in rome in a.d. . again, peter in his first epistle thus refers to him, "the church that is at babylon, elected together with you, saluteth you, and so doth marcus my son." it cannot be gathered from the new testament that mark (even if he had been the young man with the linen garment about his naked body [mark xiv. , ], as some fondly conjecture) knew anything of jesus personally; but his own and his mother's connection with peter is shown to have been an intimate one. from the passage in philemon, also, it appears that he was at rome, along with luke, in attendance on paul. ( .) of luke, the writer of the third gospel and of the acts, the first mention is in acts xvi. (ordinary chronology, a.d. ), where the "we" first appears in the narrative. thereafter he was the almost constant companion of paul in his journeys. he is also mentioned ( tim. iv. ) as being alive in a.d. , in attendance on paul in rome. although he claims (luke i. - ) "a perfect understanding of all things from the very first," he places himself among those who received their information from the "eye-witnesses and ministers of the word;" so that he himself knew nothing of jesus or of the events of his life. he opens his gospel thus: "forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration of those things which are most surely believed among us." in his time, then, there were many different narratives of the life of jesus. it is not clear whether luke considered these erroneous, and requiring correction by the "perfect understanding" possessed by himself, or whether he was merely following the example of others in setting forth in order the events as he himself understood them. ( .) john, whose name the fourth gospel bears, and who is held to be the author also of three epistles and the revelation, became a follower of jesus in the thirty-first year of jesus' life (matt, iv. , ; mark i. - ; luke v. - ). he does not claim, nor is there any mention, that they were acquainted before, unless he was one of the two mentioned in john i. . he is said to have lived till a.d. . jesus at the crucifixion (john xix. - ) left his mother mary in charge of john, who had thus the very best opportunity of informing himself of all the circumstances within her knowledge. ( .) peter, if the first three gospels are to be followed, became a follower of jesus at the sea of galilee, at the same time as the apostle john, that is, after the imprisonment of john the baptist (matt. iv. - ; mark i. - ; luke v. - ). but in the fourth gospel (john i. - ) both jesus and peter are mentioned together as following the preaching of john the baptist. peter is said to have died about a.d. . ( .) paul's first connection with christianity was after his persecuting journey to damascus (acts ix.; ordinary chronology, a.d. ), and it is believed that he suffered death at rome, a.d. . with the exception of the miraculous appearance of jesus while paul was on the way to execute his persecuting mission at damascus, and it may be the trance referred to in cor. xii. - , it is not claimed for him that he possessed any knowledge of the events in the life of jesus beyond what he learned from others. of the six writers in the new testament, then, who record facts in connection with the life of jesus, three--matthew, john, and peter--claim to have been his companions, and three--mark, luke, and paul--with the exception just mentioned in the case of the last, received their information from others. . the foregoing considerations will serve to show that this inquiry into the evidence on which rest the supernatural credentials said to have been given to the claims of jesus to the worship of mankind, will be proceeded with on the most favourable view possible for these claims-- ( .) by adopting what is held by christians to be a divine and righteous rule of evidence,--"that at the mouth of two witnesses, or at the mouth of three witnesses, shall the matter be established." ( .) by examining the claim of the new testament to be a development and fulfilment of the old. ( .) by assuming that the books of the old and new testaments were written by those whose names they bear, and at the times generally believed by christians. ( .) by examining these books one with another, and travelling beyond them only so far as the strict requirements of the subject necessitate. the two tests. chapter i. the birth of jesus, and the supernatural events connected therewith luke i., ii.; matt i., ii. a. the appearances of the angel gabriel to zacharias and mary. b. the appearances of the angel of the lord to joseph in dreams. c. the visit of the wise men of the east. d. the appearance of the angel and the heavenly host to the shepherds on the plains of bethlehem. first test.--"in the mouth of two or three witnesses shall every word be established." mark and john pass by the birth and upbringing of jesus in silence. john, who knew mary, and to whose care mary was consigned by the expiring jesus, would have been the most competent of all to record _her version_ of the wondrous experiences of her cousin, herself, and her husband, in connection with the births of john the baptist and of jesus, yet he has not one word concerning them. matthew, who may have known mary and joseph, has only meagre statements, very unlike what would be derived directly from either of the parents. but there is nothing to show from whom matthew obtained his information. the detailed narration of the angelic appearances is made by luke, who, so far as is known, was never at jerusalem at all, far less ever came into contact with mary. what, then, have we here? _john_, the companion and best loved disciple of jesus, the custodian of mary, the most competent of all to narrate occurrences within her knowledge,--silent. _mark_, the son of a woman known to peter and the other companions of jesus, and himself a companion of peter, who would have been aware of these occurrences, if they had been believed among the very earliest christian circle,--silent. _matthew_, the companion of jesus, who may have known mary and joseph,--records three angel-visits to joseph in dreams, and the visit of the wise men of the east, but is silent as to-all the marvels of luke.--is silent as to matthew's marvels, but sets forth, in detail, angel-visits to zacharias and mary, and the appearance to the shepherds at bethlehem. luke, who narrates the testimony of others, and does not name his informants, merely stating that they were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word, and who writes at least fifty years after the events referred to. in the mouth of two, or in the mouth of three witnesses, nay, even in the mouth of one witness, is any one of these incidents established? 'but let them be examined separately in detail:--- (a.) luke states that while the jewish priest zacharias, in the order of his course, was burning incense in the temple, the angel of the lord appeared, standing on the right side of the altar. the old priest was startled. the angel told him that his wife elizabeth should bear a son, who should be great in the sight of the lord, who should turn many of the children of israel to the lord their god, and make ready a people prepared for the lord. zacharias had a misgiving that the event predicted could not well happen, as he himself was an old man, and his wife "well stricken in years." whereupon the angel announced himself to be gabriel, who stands in the presence of god, and forthwith he inflicted dumbness on zacharias, to last until the child was born, as a punishment for his very reasonable doubt. hark! the clanking clog of priestcraft the harsh ring of intolerance! punishment because of reasonable doubt of a supernatural event not verified! are the angels, then, on the side of the persecutors? are they so sensitive of their "_ipse dixit?_" thomas the disciple, it is mentioned, dis-believed in the risen jesus, but jesus appeared again to satisfy his doubts. sarah, the wife of abraham, laughed heartily when she heard the lord announcing to her husband that she should bear a son when her child-bearing condition was past, and was kindly rebuked. jesus in john, and the lord in genesis, had a tenderness to human doubt of a reasonable character; but luke's peremptory angel was not for one moment to be gainsaid. is this disposition angelic or earthly? has such a temper of mind never been known among men? but to return to the narrative. zacharias himself was the only one who saw the angel. aged at the date of john's birth, neither he nor his wife could have been alive when luke wrote. who, then, came between zacharias and luke? whose report has luke credited? this is not a question of the credibility of zacharias or the credibility of luke, but of some unknown go-between, one or more. and can such unknown go-between be credited in view of the silence of john and matthew; in view of the silence of mark, the companion of peter, who was (john i ) a follower of john the baptist? surely the hesitating zachariases, the doubting thomases, and the mocking sarahs of modern times are to be dealt with tenderly. luke goes on to narrate that, in the sixth month afterwards, the same angel gabriel appeared to a virgin named mary, betrothed to joseph, a descendant of king david. the angel hailed her as the divinely favoured among women. she was very startled, wondering what he could mean by this style of address. he proceeded to tell her that she was to be the mother of a son, to be called the son of the highest, who was to reign for ever. she (naturally enough, were it not that she was about to be married) asked how that could be, in view of her virgin condition. more gracious to the hesitation of the timid maiden than to that of the aged priest, he replied, "the holy ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the highest shall overshadow thee; therefore, also, that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the son of god." he then told her that her cousin elizabeth, hitherto barren, was in her sixth month, and asserted that with god "nothing shall be impossible." she made a sweetly-submissive speech in reply, and the angel went away. here, again, is the same lack of connecting evidence. mary alone saw the angel. who were the go-betweens, the transmitters of the tale to luke? why the silence of matthew, mark, and john, especially john, mary's custodian? matthew mentions that mary was found with child by the holy ghost; that this was revealed to joseph in a dream; but he has not one word of the angel-visit to mary. moreover, in the next chapter, luke relates a circumstance quite inconsistent with this angel-visit. the aged simeon made some striking statements with reference to the destiny of the child, whom he met in the temple; and luke adds, "joseph and his mother marvelled at those things which were spoken of him." but simeon's statements were far less strong than the angel's. can mary, then, have forgotten the angel's visit? did she not tell joseph of it? can she have forgotten her memorable visit to cousin elizabeth, when they congratulated each other on their respective conditions, and when even john the baptist, before he saw the light, leaped for joy at mary's salutation of his mother? if not, where was there room for marvel at simeon's vaticination? ( .) matthew's account commences with joseph's discovery of the condition of his betrothed. "before they came together she was found with child of the holy ghost," he does not mention how this discovery was made; if it was when mary's condition could be no longer hid, or if mary informed him as soon as she found herself pregnant, and then mentioned whatever grounds she had for asserting that this was the result of a supernatural "overshadowing." in any case, matthew's account implies that at first joseph doubted her, and thought that she had been unfaithful to him; but as he was a quiet man, averse to unnecessary scandal, he resolved to conceal her in some way. yet, if luke's angel-visit to mary ever occurred, why was not joseph informed of it at the time, for then there would have been no doubt on his mind that her conception was supernatural? why was he not informed of the congratulatory visit to cousin elizabeth, of her speech and john the baptist's joyous bound? cousin elizabeth, according to luke, had no doubt that mary was the "mother of my lord." joseph, her betrothed, according to matthew, thought something quite different. while joseph was considering the best mode of concealing mary, the angel of the lord appeared to him "in a dream," and directed him not to fear to take mary to wife, for "that which is conceived in her is of the holy ghost" and he obeyed; but he "knew her not till she had brought forth her first-born." luke's angel appeared to zacharias and mary in some visible shape, in broad day, or, at all events, when they were fully awake; but matthew's angel made himself known to joseph in dreams--why the difference!--the object being to induce joseph to become the reputed father of a child _not his own_, and thus to conceal from the jewish nation what is alleged to be the fulfilment of the prophecy that a "virgin shall be with child, and bring forth a son, and they shall call his name emmanuel," &c. are mystery and misrepresentation, then, of divine authority? are unbelieving jews and gentiles to be eternally reprobate for not allowing that a man was other than the son of his reputed parents? an almighty maker of the universe is here represented as begetting a child by a virgin untouched by man, and so far from disposing that this should be done in a way that would be clearly verified and apparent, either to the world at large or to any select portion of it, he--eternal god--is said to have proceeded in the clandestine way of directing, by means of an angel who manifested himself in dreams, that joseph should take this virgin to wife, and pass off the divine offspring as his own son, that thus the wondrous birth on which so much depended might be concealed. matthew further mentions two subsequent appearances of the angel of the lord to joseph in dreams, the first directing him to take the child to egypt to be out of the way of herod's massacre, and then, when herod was dead, directing him to return to judea. luke, on the other hand, practically ignores joseph in the whole transaction of the birth of jesus. he makes no mention of the way in which mary informed her lover; of the condition she was in, and merely brings him in when the birth is about to take place, as proceeding from nazareth to bethlehem, along with mary, to be taxed. while matthew avers that he was desirous of saving mary's good name, there is nothing in luke to show that joseph ever knew of mary being with child before he married her; and for all that is there stated, he may have believed that jesus was his own son; luke's only later reference to joseph in connection with jesus, is in his account of the visit to the temple, when the boy was twelve years old. discovering that he was not among the homeward-bound company, joseph and mary returned to jerusalem, and found him in the temple posing the doctors, when his mother said, "son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? behold, thy father and i have sought thee sorrowing." the reply was, "how is it ye sought me? wist ye not that i must be about my father's business?" and luke adds, "they understood not the saying which he spake unto them." how, then, can the angel-visit to mary be true, or the three angel-visits to the slumbering joseph? for if these be not false, joseph and mary were the two human beings at the time who did understand fully who this wondrous child was. (c and d.) the two further supernatural incidents in connection with the birth of jesus (the wise men of the east and the appearance to the bethlehem shepherds) remain to be considered. the details of the one are quite irreconcilable with those of the other. (c) matthew states that on the birth of jesus at bethlehem, in the reign of king herod, certain wise men from the east came to jerusalem. they announced that the object of their visit was to worship the new-born king of the jews, whose natal star they had seen in the east. on hearing this herod was much troubled, and all jerusalem with him. herod sent for the priests to inquire of them where christ, the anointed one, was to be born. on the authority of the prophecy, micah v. , they informed him that the ruler of israel was to come out of bethlehem. herod then had a private conference with the wise men, eagerly asked when the star appeared, charged them to proceed to bethlehem and search for the child, and when they had found him to bring him word again that he himself might go and worship him. on leaving herod, the very star they had seen in the east made its appearance again, and went: before them until it became stationary above the house where jesus was. they entered the house, found mary and her infant boy, fell down and worshipped him, and offered him gifts, gold, frankincense, and myrrh. then being warned of god in a dream that they should not return to herod, they went back by another route to their own country. after this, and again in a dream, joseph was warned to take jesus to egypt, to avoid a massacre which herod ordered, "when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men," of all the children in bethlehem two years old and under, "according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men." after herod's death, joseph was directed, in another dream, to return to judea; but when he learned that herod's son was reigning there he settled in nazareth of galilee. luke's account is that joseph and mary dwelt in nazareth before the angel-visit to mary; that he and mary went up from there to bethlehem to be taxed; that jesus was born while they were at. bethlehem; that he was circumcised on the eighth day; that when mary's purification--thirty-three days--was at an end they took the babe to jerusalem to present him to the lord in the temple; and that when they had performed all things according to the law of the lord, they returned to galilee, "_to their own city nazareth_." the glaring contradiction here between luke and matthew need scarce be dwelt on. luke states that joseph and mary came to bethlehem from nazareth: matthew's account implies that they were not in nazareth until the return from egypt, and that going to nazareth at all was because of a warning from god in a dream. matthew states that they fled from bethlehem to egypt to avoid the wrath of herod: luke, that they brought the child to jerusalem, where herod, according to matthew, was, and that he was openly acknowledged in the temple by simeon and anna. matthew states that, at herod's death, they went from egypt to nazareth, avoiding judea; luke, that they went straight from jerusalem to nazareth in a very short time after the birth of jesus. matthew places the birth of jesus in the reign of king herod; luke, during the taxing made when cyrenius was governor of syria, which, following josephus, was not till after the death of archelaus, herod's successor. this discrepancy has given much anxious concern to the "reconcilers" and critics, the latest solution being a conjecture, stated to rest "on good grounds," that cyrenius was _twice_ governor of syria, first towards the close of herod's life, afterwards on the death of archelaus. for the present purpose, it is assumed that matthew and luke refer to the same period. the tale of the wise men suggests many questions. what came of them afterwards? how many were there? where did they come from? how, when they saw the star in the east, did they know that it indicated the birth of a king of the jews? what special _jewish_ appearance did it present? and what end was their heaven-directed visit to serve? not to proclaim jesus to the jews as their king and ruler; not to accredit them as witnesses to proclaim his divinity far and wide; not, so far as is stated, to bring their own minds to the saving belief that he was the saviour of the world; not even to confirm mary and joseph's faith--for if the angel-visits are true that would have been unnecessary; but to offer to him, the professed lord of heaven and earth, such trumpery gifts as were laid upon the altars of the old gods, or presented to baby princes of this world. (d.) luke narrates that, at the birth of jesus, a company of shepherds--how many is not mentioned--were watching their flocks at night in the fields, when "lo, the angel of the lord came upon them, and the glory of the lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid. and the angel said unto them, fear not, for behold i bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people. for unto you is born this day in the city of david a saviour who is christ the lord. and this shall be a sign unto you: ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger. and suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising god and saying, glory to god in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men." the shepherds forthwith hastened to bethlehem, and discovered mary, joseph, and the infant boy lying in a manger. finding the vision they had seen thus exactly realised, they spread abroad, among their wondering countrymen, "the saying that was told them concerning this child." "but mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart." the question here again arises: between the shepherds, the eye-witnesses of this event, and luke, who wrote at least fifty years after, who were the go-betweens? or if the information came from mary, why are matthew, mark, and, above all, john silent? and what became of the shepherds? when jesus began his public ministry, where were they? where those they informed? joseph and mary, by luke's account, had come from nazareth to bethlehem to be taxed, and returned. thus they would have been known in bethlehem as belonging to nazareth, and of the house and lineage of david. there would not then have been difficulty in keeping them in view. and would men who had seen so remarkable an appearance, to whom the angel of the lord had spoken, who had heard the heavenly host singing, manifestations more glorious than before or since have been vouchsafed to any one, have lost sight of the wondrous child, or would those whom they informed have lost sight of him? yet, during the three years' public appearance of jesus, not one of them, so far as can be gathered, is to be found among his followers. (e and d.) that the visit of the wise men of the east, and the appearance to the shepherds, can both be true, is impossible. luke is very precise as to the length of the stay of joseph and mary in bethlehem after the birth of jesus. it extended to the eighth day for circumcision, and to the thirty-third day after this for mary's purification. then they left bethlehem for jerusalem, there "performed all things according to the law of the lord," and returned straight to galilee. during the forty or forty-one days of the stay at bethlehem--five miles from jerusalem--the shepherds were spreading abroad "the saying that was told them concerning this child." that he was a "saviour, born in the city of david, christ the lord." the visit of the wise men must have occurred in the course of these forty-one days. their inquiry put all jerusalem in a ferment, roused herod's jealousy, set him inquiring where christ should be born, induced the most eager desire to find the new-born babe, that he might remove such an obstacle from his path, _all the while that the shepherds in the neighboring district were publishing the glad tidings of his birth_. the wise men were guided by a star to the house where joseph and mary stayed, saw and worshipped the wondrous child, and were warned of god in a dream to depart to their own country privately; _but no such admonition to keep silence restrained the outspoken shepherds in the close vicinity of herod_. to avoid herod's wrath, joseph "took the young child and his mother by night and departed into egypt," _just at the time "when the days of her purification, according to the law of moses, were accomplished, they brought him to jerusalem to present him to the lord," herod being at jerusalem, and having had his jealousy roused by the tale of the wise men_. can aught more utterly irreconcilable be imagined? as, then, the falsehood of the accusers of susanna in the apocrypha was detected, when they were examined apart by daniel, on the one affirming that her crime was committed "under a mastic tree" and the other "under a holm tree," so such contradiction as that between matthew and luke wholly destroys the credit of both narratives. what is there for a conscience-satisfying belief to rest upon? second test.--_the claim of the new testament to represent the jewish jehovah._ .. the deity begetting a mortal child by a mortal woman, was this a jewish or a gentile idea? that it was not a jewish idea will be shown when the alleged fulfilment of isaiah vii. ,--"behold a virgin shall conceive" &c., is considered. that it was a common gentile idea is most manifest. a glowing account of jupiter's commerce with the fair ones of the earth is to be found in his amorous address to his sister-wife juno (_iliad_, book xiv. - ). the other gods and goddesses in like manner bestowed their favours on mortals, and begat mortal children. plato was said to be the child of a virgin by apollo. apollo appeared to her betrothed in a dream, and told him his bride was with child, on which he delayed his marriage. what is this but the tale of mary and joseph in another form? which is the original? plutarch also mentions that a similar notion was held by the egyptians, but of male gods only. "the egyptians, indeed, make a distinction in this case, which they think not an absurd one, that it is not impossible for a woman to be impregnated by the approach of some divine spirit, but that a man can have no corporeal intercourse with a goddess." this is an exactly similar notion to luke's "overshadowing" of mary. "out of egypt have i called my son," is perfectly true in a sense. confucius also, in one of the sacred books of the chinese, refers to the great holy one, who would appear in the latter days, born of a virgin, whose name shall be the prince of peace. similar, too, are the legends of the fabled founders of some, to whom so many of the civil and religious institutions of the city were ascribed. romulus and remus were sons of the war-god mars. their mother rhea took refuge in a cave: the meeting of the god and the mortal was attended by prodigies: the heaven was darkened, the sun eclipsed: her celestial lover announced to rhea that she should bear twin-sons, to be renowned in arms, and then ascended in a cloud from the earth. servius tullius, also, had a like origin. his mother, a slave in the household of tarquin, beheld a divine appearance on the hearth, and afterwards was "found with child" by the god. the child, when born, was named servius, from his mother's condition. during its sleep she saw its head surrounded by flames, which were extinguished when she awakened it. the founder, likewise, of the sabine town of cures was a son of mars. his mother, a virgin of noble family, seized with divine favour, while dancing in the temple, entered the shrine, and became pregnant by the god. her son, she is told, would be of superhuman beauty, matchless in deeds of arms. so that a roman on his conversion had merely to transfer to jesus a like belief to those in which he had been nurtured with reference to the births of the fabled founders and ancient kings of his own city, up to whom the political and religious practices which he had been taught to regard as sacred were traced. to him there would have been nothing incredible in the story of mary's conception. the claim of the church _of rome_ to be the true church of christ may thus, in a certain sense, be cordially acquiesced in. . the son of god, by a mortal woman, brought up as the child of that woman and her husband,--is that a proceeding proper to the deity of the old testament? the writings and the spirit of moses and the prophets emphatically answer, no. but it exactly corresponds with the grecian legends of the "father of gods and men." the suffering hero hercules, son of jupiter and alcmena, brought up by her and her husband amphitryon, is a memorable pagan tale of a kindred character. . the birth of an illustrious personage made manifest by a star,--is that consistent with the attributes of the jewish jehovah? the stars in the old testament are ever referred to as witnesses to the might of the eternal, and those who sought to divine earthly events by their courses, conjunctions, or appearances, were treated with derision. "let now the astrologers, the stargazers, the monthly prognosticators stand up and save thee from these things that shall come upon thee." this is addressed by isaiah, xlvii. , to the daughter of the chaldeans, babylon. matthew's stargazing wise men would thus have been "spued out of the mouth" of the jewish jehovah. chapter ii. the supernatural testimonies during the lifetime of jesus (a.) the descent of the holy spirit, like a dove, and the voice from heaven, at his baptism. (b.) the transfiguration, and the voice then heard; also the voice from heaven, mentioned in john xii - . (c.) the testimony of the devils. (d.) the forty days' fast, the temptation by satan, and the subsequent ministration of angels. (e) the earthquake and rending of the veil of the temple at the crucifixion. (a.) _the occurrences at the baptism_ (matt. iii.; mark i. - ; luke iii. , ; john i. - ). first test.--"_in the mouth of two or three witnesses shall every word be established_." in the fourth gospel the account given is expressly stated to be the record of john the baptist. it does not appear from whom the particulars in the other three gospels were derived. with the exception of the angel-visit to zacharias, at his birth, and the dove and voice at the baptism of jesus, there is nothing supernatural in connection with john. he is represented as a plain-spoken, downright enthusiast, held in esteem by king and people, and as appropriating to himself the prophecy of isaiah--"a voice of one crying in the wilderness, preparing the way of the lord, making straight in the desert a highway for our god." he lived a rude life in the desert, practised fasting and purifying, and baptized his followers. by his outspokenness he incurred the enmity of herodias, the wife of herod, who obtained his head as a reward for the pleasure given to her husband by her daughter's dancing. in comparing then his record, as found in john, with the statements of matthew, mark, and luke, one most marked divergence appears. the latter assert that, on jesus coming to be baptized, the baptist objected, saying, "i have need to be baptized of thee, comest thou to me:" thus implying a knowledge on john's part that jesus was the christ. whereas the former pointedly states, on john's own authority that _he did not know_ jesus as the messiah until the supernatural appearance of the dove occurred. "_i knew him not_, but he that sent me to baptize with water, the same said unto me," &c.. if the account in the fourth gospel then is true, matthew's account on this point must be false, and the angel-appearance to zacharias, and john's gladsome leap in his mother's womb on mary's salutation of elizabeth, are discredited. cousin elizabeth addressed mary as "the mother of my lord;" and had this been so, would not john have been brought up in the belief that jesus was "the lord," whose advent he was to prepare? again, the "record" of john the baptist in the fourth gospel does not confirm or corroborate the "voice from heaven, this is my beloved son, in whom i am well pleased," at the baptism, mentioned in the other gospels. john would surely have heard these wondrous words, and could not well have forgotten them. second test.---_the claim of the new testament to represent the jewish jehovah_. . a point to be specially noticed is john's declaration, that he who sent him to baptize with water had charged him that the messiah would be made manifest by the spirit of god descending from heaven like a dove, and alighting and remaining on him. john affirms that he bare record that jesus was the son of god, because in his case this condition was fulfilled. now, who sent john to baptize with water? is there anything in the old testament scriptures to give baptism with water place as an ordinance of the being therein upheld as divine, and whom both john the baptist and jesus claimed to represent? not one word! who, then, sent john to baptize with water? did he receive his directions from angels in dreams or otherwise? some of the lustrations in connection with the heathen temples were, however, very similar to the ordinance of baptism since practised among christians. . the spirit of the eternal in a bodily shape like a dove! is that an old testament prediction, an old testament belief? let the following passages reply:--isaiah xl. , "to whom then will ye liken me, or shall i be equal? saith the holy one. lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, that bringeth out their host by number," &c. deut. iv. - ,--"take ye therefore good heed unto yourselves; for ye saw no manner of similitude on the day that the lord spake unto you in horeb out of the midst of the fire: lest ye corrupt yourselves, and make you a graven image, the similitude of any figure, the likeness of male or female, the likeness of any beast that is on the earth, the likeness of any winged fowl that flieth in the air," &c. here then, at the very outset, are john the baptist and jesus represented as connected with a marvellous event, utterly abhorrent to the old testament deity, whose will and purpose they claimed to be fulfilling! but though the conception of the deity appearing in the shape of any bird or beast was wholly foreign to the old testament writers, it was one quite familiar to the heathen world. in the _iliad_, for instance, the god sleep, like the shrill bird of night, alighting, perched on the loftiest fir on mount ida, to aid the amorous design of juno on mightiest jove; apollo and pallas were seated on a lofty beech, like two vultures, to watch the duel between ajax and hector. the egyptian deities had each their appropriate symbol-beast, bird, or reptile. a dove, as an emblem of meekness and peace, was no doubt deemed by the gospel compilers the most fitting of what they wished to convey as the mission of jesus; but the conception being heathen, and not jewish, it discredits the claim of christianity, that the new testament is a continuation and fulfilment of the old. (h) the transfiguration, &c. (matt. xvii. - ; mark ix, ; luke ix. - ). jesus took peter and james and john along with him into a high mountain apart to pray. while praying he was transfigured before them; his face shone as the sun; his raiment glistened; moses and elias appeared in glory talking with him, and spoke of the decease which he should accomplish at jerusalem; peter and the others were heavy with sleep, but when awake they saw his glory and the two that were with him; peter, in bewilderment, suggested that three tabernacles be made, one for jesus, one for moses, and one for elias; a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice out of the cloud said, "this is my beloved son, in whom i am well pleased." on this the disciples fell on their faces in fear, and when they revived they saw no one except jesus himself. he charged them to conceal what they had seen until after his resurrection. _john_ makes no mention of the transfiguration; but in chapter xii - , when jesus is at jerusalem "exhorting the people, and praying, father, glorify thy name; then came there a voice from heaven, saying, i have both glorified it, and will glorify it again. the people, there-tore, that stood by and heard it said that it thundered, others said, an angel spake to him. jesus answered and said, this voice came not because of me, but for your sakes." peter, nd epistle i. ,--"for he received from god the father honour and glory, when there came such a voice to him from the excellent glory, this is my beloved son, in whom i am well pleased. and this voice, which came from heaven, we heard when we were with him in the holy mount." the idea is an old one that because light of intense brilliancy dazzles the human eye it is therefore the dwelling-place and the raiment of the inhabitants of heaven, pictured thus as a refulgent abode with refulgent beings. "who coverest thyself with light as with a garment" (psalm civ. ); "at length do thou come, we pray, with a cloud thy shining shoulders veiled, o augur apollo!" (horace i. , ,) are instances. glory and dazzling light meant the same thing. now, light is known to be one of the forms in which force manifests itself, convertible into the other force-forms, and the other force-forms, convertible into it. still, the account of the transfiguration, if the evidence on which it rests were at all trustworthy, would be a very important credential to the supernatural pretensions of jesus, under the claim that such special manifestations of a power beyond and supreme over nature were made so as best to suit the comprehension of those for whom they were intended, and as showing that jesus could so command the force-forms of nature as to irradiate his person at will. what, then, is the evidence? the persons who witnessed the occurrence were peter, james, and john, and while it lasted they were in a state of bewilderment, and part of the time asleep. jesus commanded them to conceal what they had seen until after his resurrection. matthew, therefore, could not have heard of it at the time it happened, and he does not state from whom he received the particulars he narrates. perhaps from the forward peter, who, in his epistle quoted above, confirms the account. for, strange to say, john, the other eye-witness, has not one word in support of the supernatural appearance on the mount of transfiguration. of three eyewitnesses there is only the testimony of one, peter; and although john, one of the others, has written an account of the life of jesus, he passes by this striking event in silence. so the evidence fails. can it, then, have been a dream of peter, when with jesus, james, and john in some lonely mountain in galilee? but though john does not mention the marvellous transfiguration, and the voice from heaven then heard, he does narrate a somewhat similar occurrence, in broad day, at jerusalem. but matthew, who would have been present, does not confirm john's statement. what, then, is to be said? what faith can righteously rest on such testimony? (c.) _the testimonies of the devils_ (matt. viii. ; xxxi. ; mark i. ; i. ; iii , ; v. ; luke iv. ; iv. ; viii. ). ( .) devils, who came out of many, cried out that jesus was christ, the son of god; but he rebuked them and suffered them not to speak, because they knew him. ( .) some expressed fear of his power thus, "let us alone, what have we to do with thee, jesus of nazareth? art thou come to destroy us? to torment us before the time? i know thee who thou art, the holy one of god." ( .) the following remarkable event is recorded: a man with an unclean spirit, untamable, who had burst asunder his chains and fetters, and was always, night and day, in the mountains and among the tombs, crying and cutting himself with stones, saw jesus afar off, ran and worshipped him, exclaiming, "what have i to do with thee, jesus, the son of the most high god? i adjure thee by god that thou torment me not." jesus asked him, "what is thy name?" and he replied, "my name is legion, for we are many." jesus cast out the legion, and, at their own request, gave c them permission to enter a herd of two thousand swine feeding close by, with the result that they all ran violently down a steep place into the sea, and were choked. what became of the devils is not mentioned. paul ( cor. x. ) states, "the things which the gentiles sacrifice, they sacrifice to devils, and not to god," devils here being synonymous with the idols or gods of the gentiles. in the following four passages in which devils are mentioned in the old testament (lev. xvii. ; deut. xxxii. ; chron. xi. ; psalm cvi. ), the word is used in exactly the same sense as by paul. "devils," then, as indwelling unclean spirits, madly swaying their victims, or producing lunacy, blindness, dumbness, or other infirmities, are beings or influences quite unknown to the old testament writers. moreover, in the old testament the heathen gods, though called devils, are derided as powerless. (see elijah's mockery of baal, and such passages as psalm cxxxv. , .) in the fourth gospel, too, there is scarcely any confirmation of the unclean spirits. the jews, indeed, tell jesus that he hath a devil, and is mad, showing a belief on their part of possession in some form; but john does not corroborate one single instance of the devil-manifestations and exorcisms so prominently set forth in the other gospels. if, then, in jesus' time there was a notion current among the jews that madness and natural diseases and defects were manifestations of the so-called evil principle, or were evil spirits or influences, whence was this most erroneous doctrine derived? certainly not from their own old testament writings. so far, therefore, the old testament discredits the accounts in matthew, mark, and luke of the devils and their influences. it does not recognise beings or powers acting in the way described. and john's silence constitutes a fatal defect in the evidence in support of these manifestations. in the old testament (in such passages as lev. xix. ; xx. ; deut. xviii. , ; isa. viii. ) reference is made to wizards, witches, and familiar spirits. although the more ignorant and idol-affecting israelites, and the godforsaken saul were attracted by such pretences, it does not appear that moses or the prophets believed that they were real powers. isaiah viii. implies the contrary. moses calls them the "abominations of those nations" whom the lord was to drive out of palestine from before the children of israel. the gift they assumed was blasphemy against jehovah, usurpation of the prerogative of him who "alone doeth wondrous things;" and this being so, they were to be cut off from among his people. but the possession of a familiar spirit with a gift of divination, or the power of witchcraft, or the evil spirit which put dissension between abimelech and the shechemites, or the evil spirit from the lord manifested in saul's jealousy of david, and occasionally succumbing to the charm of david's harp, or the lying spirit put by the lord in the mouths of the prophets of ahab, differ greatly from such evil spirits,--_personal, separate from their victims, entering in, and coming out of them_, as the "legion" mentioned above, or the demon-torn youth (luke ix. , ), or the devil that was dumb (luke xi. ).* * the assyrians and babylonians, however, among whom the captive jews were afterwards placed, believed that the world teemed with malignant spirits, who were the authors of the various diseases to which mankind are subject. the jews of the talmud were imbued with the same idea. in the apocryphal book of tobit, also, the evil spirit asmodeus, who killed the seven husbands of raguel's daughter as they approached her, and who was at last driven forth by the smoke of the "ashes of the perfumes and of the heart and liver of a fish," so that he "fled into the utmost parts of egypt, and the angel bound him," differs from the new testament evil spirits in that he is represented rather as "attendant" on the maiden, than as "indwelling," but has this similarity to them that he is mentioned as a distinct person, exercising a malignant influence. in a stela found at thebes it is recorded that barneses xii., while on his way through mesopotamia to collect tribute, was so enraptured with the charms of a chieftain's daughter that he married her. her father afterwards came to thebes, to beg of the king the services of a physician to effect the cure of a younger daughter possessed by an evil spirit. the physician sent, like jesus' disciples (luke ix. ), could not cast him out, and eleven years later the father went again to thebes to sue the gods of egypt for more effectual aid. the king then gave him the use of the ark of the god chons, which on arriving in mesopotamia, after a journey of eighteen months, immediately drove forth the evil spirit from out his victim. on this the mesopotamian chieftain was unwilling to part with the ark; but after retaining it three years and nine months, being warned in a dream in which he saw the deity fly back to egypt in the shape of a golden hawk, he returned the ark to egypt, in the thirty-third year of rameses. the zoroastrian conception of the prince of the "devils," ahriman, and his attendant powers, reminds forcibly of the taunt of the jews to jesus, "he casteth out devils through beelzebub, the chief of the devils." but how unlike this conception is to that of the impotent god of ekron beelzebub, referred to in kings i. these instances abundantly suffice to show that the belief held by the jews in the time of jesus, as to possession by evil or unclean spirits, or demons, or devils, was a belief gathered from the nations among whom they were scattered after the first captivity, and that it would have been held by moses as an "abomination of those nations." what, then, becomes of the testimony of the devils to the claim of jesus? moses and the prophets would have held it in derision. (d.) _the temptation in the wilderness_ (matt. iv. - ; mark i. , ; luke iv. , ). jesus, after his baptism, was led by the spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil. ( .) he fasted forty days and nights, and was then hungered, when the tempter came to him requiring that, if he were the son of god, he would turn the stones into bread. jesus replied by a verse from deuteronomy,--"man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of god." ( , luke makes this .) then the devil took him to jerusalem, and setting him on a pinnacle of the temple, said "if thou be the son of god, cast thyself down, for it is written, he shall give his angels charge concerning thee and, in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone." jesus again replied by a verse from deuteronomy, "thou shalt not tempt the lord thy god." ( , luke makes this .) the devil then took him up to the summit of a very high mountain, showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, and said, "all these things will i give thee if thou wilt fall down and worship me," jesus the third time, after a "get thee hence satan," replied by a verse from deuteronomy, "thou shalt worship the lord thy god, and him only shalt thou serve." on this the devil left him, and angels came and ministered to him. the two persons here concerned were jesus and satan. the testimony of the latter illustrious personage is out of the question, partly because he is not famed as a truthteller, partly because any intercourse between him and the writers of the new testament is not to be thought of. if, then, jesus gave the particulars to matthew, why did the best-loved disciple john not know of them? the details of the earlier life of jesus, prior to the baptist's imprisonment, are more ample in his gospel than in the others; but so far from there being any mention of the temptation, it would require much ingenuity to find a place for it in the series of events he relates. the most admirable lesson, however, which the tale conveys, or which may be gathered from it, that neither for daily bread nor for vain-glory, nor for the sake of power and riches is truth in aught to be compromised or swerved from, may help to sustain those who go along with the present inquiry to persevere with it to the uttermost, whatever the consequences or whatever the conclusions it may lead to, think as they may of the forty days' fast, the wilderness and the wild beasts, satan and the angels. it will be proper here to contrast the conception of "satan" in the new testament with that in the old. the satan of the temptation was a being capable of transporting jesus from the wilderness to the pinnacle of the temple in jerusalem, and again to a mountain summit, where, in a moment of time, he showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, the disposal of whose dominion he arrogated to himself. again--matt. xii. , --jesus refers to satan as the king of a demon kingdom opposed to the kingdom of god; mark iv. , as preventing the words of life from taking root in men's hearts; luke x. , as one he himself had seen fall from heaven like lightning; luke xiii. , as one who had bound a woman with infirmity eighteen years; luke xxii. , as desirous to sift simon peter as wheat; matt. xiii. , as the enemy who sowed the tares among the wheat; matt xxv. , as the being for whom and for whose angels everlasting fire has been prepared; john viii. , as the parent of the unbelieving jews, a murderer, and the father of lies. in luke xxii. , john xiii. , satan is referred to as entering into judas iscariot to tempt him to betray jesus. in the apostolic writings he is mentioned--acts v. --as filling the heart of ananias to lie to the holy ghost; acts xxvi. , as a power over men's minds opposed to the power of god; tim. i. , and cor. v. , as one to whom backsliders were to be delivered over; cor. ii. , eph. vi. , tim. iii. , as a wily adversary; cor. xi. , as transformed into an angel of light; thess. ii. , as thwarting paul's intentions; thess. ii , as one whose working is "with all power, and signs, and lying wonders;" tim. v. , as one to whom backsliders turn aside; tim. ii. , as an ensnarer of men; heb. ii. , as "him that hath the power of death;" peter v. , as "your adversary the devil," who, "as a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour;" john iii , as "him who sinneth from the beginning;" rev. ii. , , - , iii. , as possessing a seat, a synagogue, and casting the true professors into prison; rev. xii. , as "the great dragon who was cast out (from heaven), that old serpent called the devil and satan, who deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him;" rev. xii. , as "the constant accuser of the brethren;" rev. xx. , as being bound a thousand years. of this mighty and malignant being, is there any trace in the old testament? is the existence of such a person, such a power, continuously and successfully working against god, consonant with old testament belief? isaiah (xlv. - ) boldly and decisively replies in the negative: "i am the lord, and there is none else, there is no god beside me.... i form the light and create darkness, i make peace and create evil; i the lord do all these things." who or what, then, is the satan of the old testament? the translation of the authorised version, as it renders the same hebrew word "satan" in one place and "adversary" in others, tends to mislead. but the following portions of psalm cix. will show how the word was employed:-- verse --"set thou a wicked man over him, and let satan (an adversary) stand at his right hand." verse --"let this be the reward of my adversaries (my satans)." verse --"let mine adversaries (my satans) be clothed with shame." the old testament satan, therefore, is _not a particular person at all, but a character which would apply to any one acting in opposition to another_. let this view be tested by the following instances:-- numbers xxii. --"and god's anger was kindled because he (balaam) went, and the angel of the lord stood in the way for an adversary (a satan) against him." _here the satan is the angel of the lord_. sam. xxiv. --"and again the anger of the lord was kindled against israel, and he provoked david to number israel." chron. xxi. --"and satan (an adversary) stood up against israel, and provoked david to number israel." these two passages, on comparison, _show that jehovah himself was the satan_ of david in this instance. job i. - ; ii. - .--on the day when the sons of god came to present themselves before the lord, satan (the adversary) came also among them. the lord asked whence he came. satan (the adversary) replied, "from going to and fro on the earth." then followed a discussion with reference to job's piety. satan (the adversary) suggested that job's service of god was not for nought; that if the lord took away his wealth he would curse. the lord replied, "behold, all that he hath is in thy power; only on himself put not forth thine hand." soon job lost his cattle, his servants, his children. he resignedly said, "the lord gave and the lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the lord." on a second similar occasion satan (the adversary) suggested that if job's person were touched he would "curse thee (the lord) to thy face." the lord said, "behold, he is in thy hand, but spare his life." satan (the adversary) smote job with sore boils from head to foot. but he said, "shall we receive good at the hand of god, and shall we not receive evil?" here job's adversary came into the presence of the lord, among the sons of god, and discussed job's case with jehovah himself. is the conception, then, that he was a messenger of the lord, walking up and down through the earth, contemplating its inhabitants; that his observation had shown him--if men then were like what they are now--that calamities were not borne with patience, that penury and complaints, losses and curses, went together; so that, when asked his opinion about the well-to-do job, he would not give him credit for being different to his fellows? in this way he became his satan or adversary. this appears to be what the writer would convey. but how unlike the "roaring lion" of the new testament. it will be noticed how strictly the power of job's adversary is limited to what jehovah specifically permitted. so much so, that when the calamities actually fell on job he described them as from the lord. in no way whatever does the satan here mentioned act in opposition to jehovah. zech. iii. , --"and he showed me joshua the high priest standing before the angel of the lord, and satan (the adversary) standing at his right hand to resist him. and the lord said unto satan (the adversary), the lord rebuke thee, o satan, even the lord that hath chosen jerusalem, rebuke thee: is not this a brand plucked out of the fire? now joshua was clothed with filthy garments, and stood before the angel." the conception here may be this: joshua, with the filthy garments (figurative of the sins of judah borne by the high priest, their representative), standing before the angel of the lord, was resisted by "the adversary," or angel of divine justice. but the latter had to give way before the restoration of the divine favour. or, more probably, "the adversary" may have been one of those who opposed the work of rebuilding jerusalem, as mentioned in the book of ezra. all these considerations show conclusively that in the old testament conception of the almighty there is _no room for_ such a being as the arch-fiend of the new. (e) _the supernatural appearances at the crucifixion_ (matt, xxvii. - ; mark xv. ; luke xxiii. , ). ( .) the veil of the temple rent in twain from the top to the bottom. ( .) the earthquake and rending of the rocks. ( .) darkness from the sixth to the ninth hour. ( .) the opening of the graves and the rising of the bodies of the saints after his resurrection, who went into the holy city, and appeared to many. _john_ makes no mention of these marvels, but (xix. - )states that he himself was present at the crucifixion of jesus, along with mary, jesus' mother, and three other women, close to the cross (not afar off, as matthew, mark, and luke assert of the women), and yet he fails to confirm the other gospels as to the earthquake and darkening of the sun. the rending of the veil of the temple, the opening of the graves, and the appearance of the risen saints would all have been known to him also, if they had occurred. such prodigies as these are not confined to the gospels,--"in the most high and palmy state of rome, a little ere the mightiest julius fell, the graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead did squeak and gibber in the roman streets," &c. chapter iii. the miracles . the miracles ascribed to jesus are,-- [illustration: table ] [illustration: table ] the healing power claimed for jesus in the passages marked (a) embraces all manner of sickness, disease, and derangement. cures were effected by his word or his touch, or upon the patient laying hold even of the hem of his garment. the contemporaneous unbelief (matt. xi. - .) of his pretensions, with such instances of superhuman power openly manifested far and wide (matt. iv. - , and ix. ) among the cities and villages of galilee, is the crowning marvel of all. the special instances of his wonder-working and disease-curing power, marked ( ), (c), (d), and (e), comprise all that are recorded in the four gospels. the agreement between matthew, mark, and luke, both as to the incidents and the manner of narration, is most marked. the raising of the son of the widow of nain, the miraculous draught of fishes at the calling of peter, james, and john, a cure of dropsy and one of infirmity are given by luke alone. on the other hand, luke has not the walking on the sea, the feeding of the four thousand, the cursing of the fig-tree, or the curing of the canaanite's demon-possessed daughter, found in matthew and mark. and matthew alone narrates the catching of the fish with the tribute money. but in the other instances the agreement between them is almost complete--so complete as to suggest many questions as to the real truth with reference to the compilation of the first three gospels, questions which probably will never be solved. what, however, concerns the present purpose is that of the three the only eye-witness is matthew, the source from which mark and luke derived their information is unknown, and ever will remain so. if not from matthew (always assuming him to be the writer of the first gospel), or from the same source as matthew, it would be remarkable that their mode of narrating these details was so similar to his. how far then, does john, the other eye-witness, bear out matthew, mark, and luke? strange to relate, he has not one word of the casting out of devils, or of the cures of bodily distresses mentioned by the other three. nor does he confirm the raising of jairus' daughter, although he himself and james and peter were the only three said to have been admitted by jesus to witness this event, nor the resuscitation of the son of the widow of nain, nor the calming of the storm, nor the feeding of the four thousand, nor the cursing of the fig-tree, nor the fish with the tribute money, nor the miraculous haul of fishes at his own calling to be a disciple. the miracles he does mention are _seven in all, and of these five are net in the other gospels_, although of the most striking character. they are, . the raising of lazarus, four days dead. . turning water into wine. . curing a nobleman's son, at a distance, of fever. . curing a man blind from his birth. . curing a man, at the pool of bethesda, with an infirmity of thirty-eight years' standing. of the twenty-four miracles recorded by matthew, mark, and luke, john, said to have been the eye-witness of all, confirms only two--viz., the feeding of the five thousand, and the walking on the sea. these two miracles are thus a chronological break, in all the gospel narratives, of the movements of jesus, by which a clear comparison can be made, thus:-- [illustration: table ] [illustration: table ] as to the subsequent events, from the entrance into jerusalem to the crucifixion, the four gospels agree in the main, though they differ in several important particulars. but from the entrance into jerusalem back to the feeding of the five thousand, how utter the divergence! and, again, from the feeding of the five thousand back to john's baptism, how irreconcilable the accounts of the two professed eyewitnesses represented as fellow-travellers over the greater part of the journeyings mentioned! the first three gospels place all jesus' ministry and miracles, and the calling of his disciples, as to time, after john's imprisonment, as to place, in galilee and its neighbourhood, until he went up once for all to jerusalem, from which he never returned. john, on the contrary, makes his ministry commence before the baptist's imprisonment, places the calling of two of the same disciples, andrew and peter, while jesus was a follower of the baptist, and mentions three or four visits to jerusalem before the final entry on the back of an ass. moreover, the discourses recorded in john are very unlike the discourses in the other three narratives, and, what strikes as very remarkable, there are no parables in the fourth gospel. here, then, are two witnesses, followers of jesus, giving different and irreconcilable accounts of his ministry, his wanderings, his public utterances, his miracles; agreeing, indeed, thus far, that they both record two of the last, but even with these two (see the two paragraphs marked and i above) at variance with each other in several details. of two ordinarily intelligent eye-witnesses can it be that one would represent jesus as "sending the multitude away," and the other as "departing from them," and the multitude next day being in the same place? or would one assert that he "constrained his disciples to take ship" and the other that he left his disciples, and that they took ship afterwards of their own accord? and yet this is what two, not ordinarily intelligent--for as to that nothing is known--but divinely inspired and divinely guided eye-witnesses affirm. the miracles recorded in the four gospels are all of a benevolent character, except the cursing of the fig-tree and the permission given to the devils to go into the herd of swine. but notwithstanding "the good-will to men" thus displayed, the gospels avow that jesus' wonder-working failed to convince or to captivate by far the greater part of his contemporaries. chorazin, bethsaida, tyre, sidon, and capernaum are all denounced, and assigned a doom more terrible than that of sodom and gomorrah, because of their unbelief. and against this general contemporaneous unbelief what is there to place? the single testimony of matthew the publican for a score of miracles which he is said to have witnessed, confirmed by the hearsay testimony of mark and luke, but quite unsupported by the testimony of john the galilean fisherman, who is also said to have witnessed them. again, the single testimony of john, unsupported by matthew, mark, and luke, for five most marvellous events, including the raising from the dead of a man who had been some time buried. the united testimony, weakened by divergence in detail, of matthew and john, for only two of the alleged miracles, and the hearsay account of luke for the raising from the dead of the son of the widow of nain, quite unsupported by either matthew or john. and then recurs the question: would an almighty maker of the universe, wishing to show compassion to his creatures, and to accredit, not only to the men living at the time of his appearance, but to all subsequent ages, by undoubted testimonies, a messenger from himself (the son of his own right hand), and to accredit him, moreover, by such testimonies as were most suited to the comprehension of men, have allowed the record of these credentials, on belief or unbelief on which the eternal doom of each individual man henceforth would depend, to rest on evidence so worthless--taken at its very best--as this? . the following miraculous events are ascribed to the apostles:-- acts ii. - . the gift of tongues. " ii. . wonders and signs generally. " iii. - . cure of lame man by peter and john. " v. - . the yielding up the ghost by ananias and sapphira at the word of peter. " v. , . cures at the least shadow of peter. " v. - . opening of the prison for peter and john by the angel of the lord. " vi. . stephen's wonders and miracles. " viii. - . cures by philip of unclean spirits, and of the palsied and lame. " ix. - . ananias cures saul of blindness. " ix. - . cure by peter of one sick of the palsy. " ix. - . peter restores dorcas to life. acts x. - . angel-appearance to cornelius; trance of peter. " xii. - . opening of the prison for peter by an angel of the lord. " xiii. - . blinding of elymas by paul. " xiv. . signs and wonders generally by paul and barnabas. " xiv. - . cure of a cripple by paul. " xvi. - . curing a damsel possessed by a spirit of divination. " xvi. - . earthquake while paul and silas were singing praises to god in the stocks at philippi. " xix. . disciples at ephesus speaking with tongues when paul laid his hands on them. " xix. , . diseases and evil spirits expelled by aprons and handkerchiefs taken from paul's body. " xix. . testimony of the evil spirit to jesus and paul. " xx. - . restoration of eutychus by paul. " xxviii. . viper shaken off paul's hand without hurting him. " xxviii. . bloody flux and other diseases cured. these wondrous occurrences rest on the record of luke alone. the earlier portion, if not the whole of them, had taken place before the gospels were written. the gift of tongues would have been vividly present to the minds of matthew and john, who were among the recipients of this marvellous endowment. mark (acts xii. ) would certainly have been aware of the grave events connected with the death-dooming, life-restoring, prison-opening peter. a single chapter at the end of the gospel of either matthew, john, or mark would have been sufficient to contain the confirmation of the more important of these wonders, and surely so much might have been expected from the "divinely-chosen" witnesses, those whose mission it was to declare the whole counsel of god, to testify to each divine confirmation within their knowledge of the truth of the gospel. what, then, can be said of their silence? who was luke that they should have left so important a duty to him? previous to acts xvi. (where the "we" in the narrative commences), luke was not, so far as can be gathered, an eye-witness of any of the events he relates, and his informant is unknown. nor does he profess to have been an eye-witness of the ephesian disciples speaking with tongues, the cures, and the testimony of the evil spirit mentioned in acts xix. , . he was present at the restoration of eutychus, but it is not altogether clear whether he means to describe this as a miracle. the only others of which he was an eye-witness are the casting out of the spirit of divination (acts xvi. - ), and what are mentioned in chap, xxviii. his reference to the "spirit of divination" as a real power shows that he was imbued with the common superstition, that he recognised the "abominations of those nations" denounced by moses. in chap, xxviii. the innocuous viper can scarcely be regarded as a miracle, and possibly the bloody flux and other diseases may have given way to other treatment over and above the praying and laying on of paul's hands. the general contradiction between luke in the acts and paul in his epistles with reference to paul's movements, will be fully detailed in considering the testimonies to the resurrection of jesus. at the very best, therefore, scarcely any one of the apostolic miracles can be said to rest on the testimony of a single eye-witness. they are discredited by the silence of the actual eye-witnesses, matthew and john, whose records, it is here assumed, exist; and luke's credibility is, moreover, greatly affected by the serious conflict of testimony between himself and paul. (see chap. v.) the healing power claimed for the apostles quite rivals that of jesus. cures were effected by the least shadow of peter, and by "handkerchiefs and aprons from paul's body." two of the miracles, however, differ from those of jesus in that they are of a vindictive nature. these are the doom of ananias and sapphira, and the blinding of elymas. a more effective weapon for priestly domination and exaction than the sudden death of ananias and sapphira--no time for repentance allowed--because they deceived the apostles as to the price their property fetched, could not have been devised. peter's question, "sold ye the land for so much," shows the inquisitorial tendency, so wonderfully developed under the christian name among all sects and creeds in later times. so far as can be gathered from the gospels, the fare on which jesus and his disciples lived was a poor one. bread and fish are mentioned; wine only once, at the last supper; but this is not confirmed by john. and how their food was come by is left doubtful. luke states that certain women followed jesus, who ministered to him of their substance. and john relates that as soon as the raising of lazarus from the dead became known, the chief priests sought to arrest jesus, when he went away to the city ephraim, near to the wilderness, and there continued with his disciples. here was a remarkable shrinking from the chief priests of one who had power to restore life to the dead. six days before the passover he came again to bethany, where he had supper with the raised lazarus and his sisters, martha and mary. martha served; mary anointed his feet with costly ointment, and wiped his feet with her hair. judas iscariot grumbled at the waste: "why," he said, "was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence and given to the poor?" jesus replied that she had done it against the day of his burying. the narrator--john, as we assume, a companion of jesus--adds, "this he said not that he cared for the poor, but because he was _a thief, and had the bag, and bare what was put therein_." most marvellous! for what do such expressions as to the vocation of judas imply? was he but a type of those who, under the authority of the name and supernatural pretensions of his master, under various lofty titles, from "holy" to "reverend," with intensifying adjectives prefixed, have since imposed upon mankind, controlled rulers and deluded nations, opposed freedom and denounced enlightenment, for the sake of their order, their influence, their position, their emoluments? but, in whatever way they maintained themselves, their life was a poor one. "the son of man had not where to lay his head." when, therefore, the apostles found that their testimony to the resurrection of jesus brought about such a result as is described acts iv. - , the change must have been a most agreeable one to them. "and the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and of one soul; neither said any of them that ought of the things which he possessed was his own; and they had all things common. and with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the lord jesus; and great grace was upon them all. neither was there any among them that lacked; for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the prices of the things that were sold, and laid them down at the apostles' feet; and distribution was made unto every man according as he had need." here were they (assuming luke's account to be true) leaders of a communistic society, where all were well cared for, instead of earning a hard livelihood as fishermen, or wandering about galilee and judea as mendicants or otherwise; and even with the persecution it is said to have brought from the jewish rulers, the change must have been in every way preferable. what more favourable opportunity than this could have been found, "while they were giving themselves continually to prayer and the ministry of the word," too busy even to attend to the distribution of charity, to settle the accounts they were to propagate of jesus' life and teaching, his miraculous deeds, his resurrection and ascension, and to mould them, so far as possible, in accordance with the jewish prophecies of the messiah? but whether the wonders of the four gospels originated thus or otherwise, truth, ever triumphant in the end, confounds the devices of designing, as well as the illusions of weak-minded men, and reveals to her worshippers the flaws and the hollowness that invariably characterise evidence in support of superhuman pretence, intended to exercise sway over the consciences of men. chapter iv. the fulfilment of prophecy if it be assumed that the canonical books of the old and new testaments were written by those whose names they bear, and that they have been handed down intact, prophecies uttered from moses to malachi, b.c. to b.c. , fulfilled in the person of jesus in so complete a manner as to show that they could refer in their entirety to no one else, would be not only a most trustworthy credential to jesus himself, but also a conclusive proof of the divine inspiration of those who uttered them, the power of foretelling the remote future--all the more of foretelling the supernatural--being clearly an attribute of an almighty alone. peter refers to the "more sure word of prophecy, whereunto ye do well to take heed, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place," and he states that "holy men of god spake as they were moved by the holy ghost." if, on the other hand, the prophecies arrogated to jesus are properly applicable to events altogether unconnected with his life and alleged mission, and if there are strained and untenable appropriations of old testament passages by the writers of the new testament, the claim of the new testament to be a development and fulfilment of the old will be altogether destroyed, and the candour of its writers discredited. this portion of the inquiry, therefore, is of very great importance. in the writings of the christian clergy, almost every incident recorded in the old testament is explained by some method, more or less ingenious, as typical of the messiah as represented by jesus. but the present inquiry, with two or three exceptions, will be confined to the instances claimed by the writers of the new testament as fulfilments of jewish prophecy. it is clear that if these cannot' be maintained, neither can any subsequent interpretations. (a.) _prophecies claimed for john the baptist_ _first_.--malachi iii. ; luke vii. . in the passage in malachi there are three designations:-- . "my messenger," i.e., the angel of the lord. . "the lord whom ye seek." . "the messenger (angel) of the covenant whom ye de-light in." and the words "he shall come" indicate that all these titles are meant for the same person. now, in exodus there are various allusions to the angel of the lord preceding his people israel. chap. xiv. ,--"and the angel of god, which went before the camp of israel, removed and went behind them." chap, xxiii. ,--"behold, i send an angel before thee, to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the place which i have prepared. beware of him... for my name is in him." similar passages are exodus xxxii. ; xxxiii. - ; numbers xx. . the manifestation, therefore, expected by malachi was of the dread angel of the covenant so revered in the mosaic writings. most christians believe that this angel was jesus the messiah himself. but luke, altering the quotation from "me" to "thee," affirms that jesus himself applied it to john the baptist. if the quotation in luke is not from malachi, but part of exodus xxiii. just referred to, "thee" is correct, but it still implies that john the baptist and the angel of the exodus were one. who has made the mistake? jesus in ascribing this quotation to john, or luke in making jesus so ascribe it? _second_.--malachi iv. ; luke i. , ; matthew xi. ; xvii. - ; mark ix. - . the elijah of malachi was to come "to you" (israel), ( .) before the great and terrible day of the lord; ( .) to turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers; ( .) lest i (the lord) come and smite the earth with a curse. luke's authoritative angel predicted that john was, ( .) to go before him (jesus) in the spirit and power of elias; ( .) to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just; ( .) to make ready a people prepared-for the lord. jesus states of john, ( .) if ye will receive it, this is elias which was for to come; ( .) "elias truly shall first come and restore all things. but i say unto you, that elias is come already, and they knew him not, but have done unto him whatsoever they listed," mark adds, "as it is written of him." it is certainly nowhere written (in the old testament) that the people elijah is to be sent among are to do _to him_ whatsoever _they_ list. the elijah of malachi is _to turn them_, and this, by the account of the new testament writers, john the baptist did not accomplish. _third_.--isa.mh. xl. ; matt. iii. ; mark i. , ; luke iii. - ; john i. . if isaiah's doctrine implies that before the majesty of the eternal, the infinite, universe, the distinctions of brief-lived mortals disappear, and that its glory and its operations are open to all flesh alike to behold and to investigate; that though we shall perish, it, in one or other of its various forms, will evermore endure,--then the "voice of one crying in the wilderness" may still refresh and cheer the human heart, whether it be the voice of isaiah, john the baptist, or any other seer or man. what it proclaims is the heritage of all. (b.) _claim of jesus to be the seed of the woman who bruised the serpent's head_. genesis iii. ; matt. iii. ; xiii. ; xxiii. ; john viii. ; john iii. ; heb. ii. , ; kev. xii. ; xx. . by believers that jesus is the christ the passage in genesis is held to be a prophecy that received its fulfilment in him. he was the seed of the woman who bruised the head of the serpent, by restoring that portion of the human race who believe in him to the divine favour lost through the wiles of the serpent. the serpent is satan, his seed mankind in their natural state; they bruised the heel (not a deadly part) of the seed of the woman by crucifying christ. jesus, who merely laid down his life that he might take it again, and thus expiated the sins of his people, in turn bruised the head (a deadly part) of the serpent. such is the meaning of genesis iii. , indicated by the writers of the new testament four thousand years after the words are said to have been uttered by god. will the passage then bear any such interpretation? the serpent tempted eve to eat of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil; she induced her husband to do the same. for this the three were sentenced thus:-- . __the man, that he should eat bread by the sweat of his brow through culture of the ground, cursed for his sake, until his return to the dust from whence he came. this is perfectly clear: it admits of no double interpretation. . _the woman_, that she should bring forth in pain, and be in subjection to her husband. this is also quite plain, and in accordance with natural fact, whether the cause be the eating of the forbidden fruit or not. . _the serpent_, that he should go upon his belly, that he should eat dust, that he should hate mankind, that mankind should hate him, that men should bruise his head, that he should bruise men's heel. is there anything here beyond natural fact more than in the case of the man or woman? men trample on serpents, serpents bite men from heel to knee; they cannot as a rule strike higher. what else, then, can be said of all these passages, than that they are exact descriptions of the lot on earth of men, women, and serpents, whether or not caused by eating the forbidden fruit? what is certain, however, is that this lot has not been reversed, or even alleviated by the coming of jesus. men live on the fruits of the ground brought forth by culture, until they decay and die; women bear children in pain; serpents crawl along the ground as before. if these are the works of the devil, why has jesus not destroyed them? why since his advent do they exist as before? he has expiated guilt, he has ascended into heaven, all power is his in heaven and in earth. why then does the devil still triumph on earth? why do the so-called curses, which the serpent's temptation of eve brought, continue. jesus, it is said, is to destroy the works of the devil, but only in those who believe in him, and even in their case not in this world. when he comes again in glory he is to raise their bodies, he is to give them a new heaven and a new earth, those now existing being destroyed. the bodies of those who do not believe are also to be raised, but are to be given over to everlasting fire. the devil, then, so far as death, toil, and suffering are concerned, is to triumph on earth over all mankind till the end of time; and to all eternity he is to triumph over the greater part, or a very great part of the human race, who through his means are to suffer the anguish of the bottomless pit. how then can it be said that christ was manifested that he might destroy the works of the eternally triumphant devil. how has the seed of the woman bruised the head of the serpent, if jesus was the seed and the devil the serpent? it is clear, if christian doctrine be true, that the devil, by the curses he has brought on men--death, toil, child-bearing pangs--is to reign victorious on earth over the whole human race, and is also in eternity to reign victorious over a great part of the human race doomed to everlasting anguish. so the dominion of the evil one is to be eternal, jesus and what he has done notwithstanding. it may here, perhaps, without impropriety, be pointed out that probably there is no more striking illustration of what has been regarded as the perfection of the art of fiction-framing than the mosaic account of the fall of man. aristotle (_poet_, chap, xiv.) ascribes this art to homer in the highest degree,--that he taught others how _to feign in a proper manner_, by making a true consequent follow a false antecedent; so that the mind, knowing the consequent to be true, is led to believe that the antecedent is true as well. in the present case, see how the natural facts of decay and death, necessary labour, child-bearing pain, and serpent-crawling and venomousness, are made to follow as results of the forbidden fruit, the serpent's vindictiveness, and eve and adam's surrender; so that men, knowing the natural facts to be true, have been captivated into believing that the assigned causes are also true. (c.) _claim of jesus to be the seed of abraham, in whom all nations should be blessed_ (genesis xii. ; xviii. ; xxii. ; acts iii. ; galatians iii. ). the promise said to have been made by god to abraham, that in his seed all nations of the earth should be blessed, is claimed for jesus and for those who believe in him. his redeemed are to come out of every nation, kindred, people, and tongue, and through his mercy and merits they are to inherit the mansions of bliss evermore. he is thus the seed in whom all nations (i.e., the believing portion of all nations) of the earth (i.e., not on the earth but in heaven) shall be blessed. "by myself have i sworn, saith the lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine only son; that in blessing i will bless thee, and in multiplying i will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea-shore, and thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies; and in thy seed shall all nations of the earth be blessed, because thou hast obeyed my voice." these lofty phrases were the expression of the high aspiration and fond belief of the jewish people, either under the sway of their lawgiver moses (always on the assumption that he was the writer of genesis), leading them triumphantly on to the conquest of canaan, the home of their traditional ancestor, or when they were settled as a nation in palestine. "in thy seed all nations of the earth shall be blessed" is, further, an expectation of the coming subjection of the human race to the law and revelation of moses. the gibeons presented themselves thus: "from a very far country thy servants are come because of the name of the lord thy god;" and the following passage is brimful of the same hope: "and it shall come to pass in the last days that the mountain of the lord's house shall be established on the top of the mountains, and shall be established above the hills, and all nations shall flow into it. and many people shall go and say, come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the lord, to the house of the god of jacob, and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths; for out of zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the lord from jerusalem." the expectation that palestine will again be restored to the jews, that their temple service at jerusalem will be re-established in all its glory, and that the other nations of the earth will flock thither for enlightenment, and be guided by the precepts of the jewish lawgivers, has certainly so far not been realised on earth. the jewish race, to the present day, live in hope of its fulfilment. christians explain its fulfilment figuratively by the power and attributes they ascribe to jesus. but sober fact shows that it is a fond and, as it has proved, futile patriotic aspiration. are the qualities of the jewish race such as to warrant their high claim to be leaders of men--the nation which, first in divine favour and knowledge, should stand, as it were, between the almighty and the other nations of the earth? the utmost tenacity of purpose, unfailing faith in their destiny, triumphant endurance of reverses, skill and aptitude, not only for ordinary worldly intercourse and dealing, but for the arts which charm the soul and elevate life; exalted conception of the omnipotence of the deity, in so far as to view with intense abhorrence that he should be likened to any visible creature, and, although tainted by giving a mind to the almighty like their own (for the deity of the pentateuch, in many respects, is but an almighty israelite, bloodthirsty and unsparing to aliens in race and creed), still an exalted conception as compared to the gods of other nations,--all these qualities are theirs. wherein do they fail? what is their defect? the defect of the coward--want of moral courage. deceit and stratagem rather than open conduct are their characteristics. abraham, for fear of his life (genesis x. - ), lied and risked his wife's dishonour. isaac (xxvi. - ) did the same. jacob by vile deceit obtained his father's blessing (xxvii. - ), and supplanted his brother. jacob's sons (xxxvii. - ), to rid themselves of their brother joseph, of whom they were jealous, sold him as a slave, and by a stratagem led their father to think that he was killed by a wild beast. joseph xliv. - detained his brothers by a trick. in the exodus xi - ; xii. , the israelites, by direction _of the lord to moses_, under pretence of borrowing, _spoiled_ the egyptians of their jewels of gold and silver. the warrior joab ( sam. iii. ) treacherously slew the valiant abner. david ( sam. xi. - ) directed that uriah the hittite, a self-denying soldier, should be placed in the forefront of the battle, where death was certain, in order that, the husband being removed, the king might marry the wife he had already seduced. david too, on his deathbed ( kings ii. - ), charged his son solomon to violate the oath he himself had sworn by the lord to spare shimei the benjamite; and also charged him not to let the hoar head of his own general, joab, go down to the grave in peace; and solomon, finding specious pretexts, sent his butcher, benaiah ( kings ii. - ), to fall on these two old men, and on his own brother adonijah. the subsequent history of the jews, whether as a nation or as a dispersed people, exhibits the same striking qualities, with the same fatal defect. far be it from the nations of the earth ever to submit to such leadership. may not this remarkable people rather serve as a warning of what the highest qualities, unaccompanied with courage and open conduct, produce. (d.) _claim of jesus to be the "shiloh" of genesis_ (genesis xlix. ). "the sceptre shall not depart from judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, until shiloh come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be." this prophecy, put by moses into the mouth of the dying jacob in the year b.c. , is not claimed for jesus by the writers of the new testament, but is usually referred to by christians of the present day, as one of the most conclusive instances of the fulfilment of prophecy by the advent of jesus. jacob's vaticination is,-- . that neither the sceptre nor a lawgiver shall depart from judah. this implies that at the time of the prophecy judah had a sceptre and a lawgiver, which was not the case. but it will be affirmed that jacob's assertion was prophetical, that he foresaw the time when judah would have the kingly power among his brethren, which did not occur till the time of david. . until shiloh (he whose it is) come. . and unto him shall the gathering of the people be, i.e., at the coming of shiloh, the kingship, and lawgiving, and the people's allegiance shall be transferred from judah to him. jereboam, under whom all israel, excepting judah and benjamin, revolted from the house of david, has probably the best claim to be the "shiloh" of genesis; but the consideration of this point, involving, as it does, inquiry into the actual date of the augury and the purpose for which it was promulgated, is quite outside the present purpose. christians, in maintaining that jesus is the "shiloh," explain that the tribe of judah did not lose self-government until archelaus was banished by augustus in a.d. , and judea then annexed to the province of syria. the sceptre and the lawgiver then departed from judah: it was transferred to the wondrous child, and "the people gathered unto him" refers not to the jewish nation, but to believers in jesus throughout the world. let, then, the assertion that the sceptre and a lawgiver did not depart from judah until the time of jesus be compared with the utterances of the prophet jeremiah on the babylonish captivity (lam. i. ; il ; v. - )--"her king and her princes are among the gentiles: the law is no more" is the burden of these passages. it must surely be admitted that jeremiah was a more competent authority for determining when the sceptre and a lawgiver departed from judah, than christians of the present day. clearly, then, the shiloh of jacob (whomever or whatever shiloh may refer to) must have come before the babylonish captivity, or jacob's prophecy has been falsified. as genesis xlix. , however, is not claimed by the new testament writers for jesus, the discrepancy in this instance between jeremiah's views and those of modern christians does not affect their position. (e.) _claim of jesus to be the successor of moses_ (deut. xviii. - ; acts iii. , ). "i will raise them up a prophet from among their brethren, like unto thee," &c. moses in this passage so clearly refers to joshua (see joshua i. - ), who was to take his place as leader of the israelites, that any other construction is entirely shut out. the assertion that jesus of nazareth, despised by his countrymen, homeless, and poor (even if he had been the son of the eternal in disguise), in any way resembled moses the successful warrior and lawgiver, was well put into the mouth of the rash-spoken peter. (f .) _claim of jesus to be the "son of david"_ to establish the descent of jesus from david, two different detailed genealogies are given by matthew and luke. . matthew (i. - ) traces the descent of joseph, the reputed father of jesus, from abraham, through david and solomon, down to salathiel and zorobabel, and from them to joseph, and states that there were fourteen generations from abraham to david, the same number from david to the captivity, and the same number from the captivity to jesus. the fourteen names given, from abraham to david inclusive, agree with the hebrew chronicles; but to reduce to fourteen the names from solomon to jechonias, king of the first captivity, inclusive, no fewer than four persons, to wit, ahaziah; joash, and amaziah, the sixth, seventh, and eighth from solomon, and jehoiakim, the father of jechonias, are omitted, ( chron. iii.) see, for the utterly puerile fancy of breaking up christ's descent into three equal periods of fourteen generations, how the compiler scruples not to mutilate a genealogy, the whole of which must have been before him; for it cannot be supposed that he was unacquainted with the books of kings and chronicles in the old testament! the fourteen names from jechonias to jesus there is no means of ascertaining from whom matthew received. joseph, being of the house and lineage of david, may have had a record of his descent, and matthew may have received it either from joseph or from one of the brothers of jesus, or the mutilator of the second set of fourteen may readily have found the third. . the genealogy given by luke (iii. - ) contains so striking a divergence from that of matthew, that many professed believers in the plenary inspiration and word-infallibility of the new testament scriptures have endeavoured to explain it away by various considerations, none of which, however, to any truth-loving mind would appear satisfactory. luke traces the descent from joseph backwards to zorobabel and salathiel through _eighteen_ persons, not one of whose names agrees with any of the _nine_ in matthew who cover the same period, unless it be that of the grandfather of joseph, who is called in the one list matthan and in the other matthat. it has been suggested that the one list contains joseph's own ancestors, the other his ancestors in right of his wife--i.e., mary's ancestors. but this explanation fails in view of the further divergence of tracing salathiel's descent back, not to solomon through the kingly line, as matthew does, but to nathan, another son of david. luke or luke's, informant is here also at variance with the old testament chronicles, which trace salathiel's descent to solomon, and the names he inserts between salathiel and nathan are not found in any other record. on the question of jesus' genealogy there remains this further consideration: if joseph was not his real father, joseph's descent would not make jesus of "the seed of david according to the flesh." whence then sprung his mother mary? the gospels are silent cousin elizabeth was of the daughters of aaron, but was mary of the daughters of aaron or of the daughters of david? (f .) _claim of jesus to be the son of david_ (psalm ex. ; matt. xxii. - ). "the lord said unto my lord," &c. jesus asked the pharisees. if then david in spirit called christ lord, how is he his son? "and no man was able to answer him a word," &c. the pharisees must have been very ignorant of their own scriptures, if they were unable to answer the question of jesus. "my lord," in the old testament, is frequently applied to superiors. hannah called the high priest eli "my lord." the same designation was given by david to saul, by abigail to david, by abner to david. sarah, the wife of abraham, is specially commended in the new testament for the respect she showed to her husband in calling him "lord." joseph applied the same title to himself, "god hath made me lord of all egypt." and potiphar is called joseph's "master," the same word translated elsewhere "lord." psalm ex. is thus a flattering effusion to david, whom the singer designates "my lord," describing his favour with _the_ lord (jehovah), his ruling in the midst of his enemies, his similarity to the priest-king melchisedek, and his success in war. (g.) _claim of jesus to be "immanuel"_ (isaiah vii. - ; viii. - ; matt. i. - ). the prophecy in isaiah refers to a sign to be given to ahaz, king of judea, to encourage him under the invasion, or threatened invasion, of his country by the kings of syria and israel. the sign was to be,-- . the conception by a virgin of a son; . that she should call his name "immanuel," translated "god with us;" . the removal of the kings of syria and israel before the child emerged from infancy. following on this, and in continuation of the same subject, isaiah narrates,-- . that he went unto the prophetess, the result being that she bore a son; . that the lord told him to call his name "maber-shalal-hash-baz," translated "making speed to the spoil he hasteneth the prey;" . the removal by the superior force of the assyrian monarch of the riches of damascus and the spoils of samaria, before the child could cry "father" or "mother." the plain meaning, then, of all this is that the sign was to be given to ahaz,--if realised, it must necessarily have been realised in his lifetime; also that the overthrow of syria and israel was to take place during the infancy of the child. to affirm, as matthew does, that it is a prophecy _fulfilled_ by a birth that occurred seven centuries after the events it refers to, surely requires an unbounded credulity. does the prophet refer to two children, "immanuel" and "maher-shalal-hash-baz"? or was the prophetess "the virgin," and these two names bestowed on her child? the condition applying equally to both names, that syria and israel were to be overrun during the infancy of the child, is almost conclusive in favour of the latter construction. isaiah had thus taken immediate steps to ensure the fulfilment of his prophecy. the word translated "virgin" is not the same as is used in such passages as gen. xxiv. , lev.xxi. , and may have been applicable to any modest and chaste married woman. the mother in calling the child immanual, followed the common hebrew custom of forming names by combining an appropriate phrase with the word "el," god. thus hagar was directed by the angel in the wilderness to call her son "ishmael," "god who hears." hannah too named the son she had longed and prayed for "samuel," "asked of god". the sign to ahaz was thus, in the extremity he was relieved from, most appropriately named "immanuel," "god with us," or "god on our side;" and the same name in the next chapter (isaiah viii. ) is applied to the deity himself, "the breadth of thy land, o immanuel," i.e., "god on our side." in any reading of isaiah's prophecy it cannot be inferred that the conception of the virgin was to be by supernatural power. nor from one end of the jewish scriptures to the other is there the slightest support to such a notion as the deity begetting a mortal child by a mortal woman. (h.) _claim of jesus to be the "great light" seen by the dwellers in zebidon and naphtali, and the "wonderful," the "counsellor," the "establisher of the throne of david" &c._ (isaiah ix. - ; matt. iv. - ; luke i. , ; psalm xvi. ; acts ii. - ; xiii. - .) zebulon and naphtali were the two most northerly tribes of israel. their territories extended from the borders of the kingdom of syria southwards, on the west of jordan, to rather below the point where that river issues from the lake of galilee. in warlike expeditions they were generally associated: "zebulon and naphtali were a people that jeoparded their lives unto the death in the high places of the field" (judges v. ). thus situated, their country was always the first to be overrun in an invasion from the north. isaiah ix. refers to two such invasions, the second more severe than the first. then (ix. - ) he glorifies jehovah ("thou" will be held to apply to jehovah) for a deliverance from an oppression of judah in some degree similar, though not so severe as the second affliction of zebulon and naphtali. this deliverance refers either to the retreat of the kings of syria and israel from before jerusalem (isaiah vii. ), or more probably relief from the overflowing of the king of assyria (isaiah viii. , ). the entire prophecy of isaiah, it must be kept in view, had reference to judah and jerusalem (isaiah i. ). it will be noticed that isaiah in all this is referring to past events. then (chap. ix. , ) he refers to the birth of a child which had already taken place, who is to be called "wonderful," "counsellor," "the mighty god," "the everlasting father," "the prince of peace," &c. in two of these expressions he follows the hebrew custom already mentioned, of forming names by combining an adjective or other phrase with the designation of the almighty. he goes on to affirm that this child shall rule in judah on the throne of david; that there shall be no end of his government and peace; that he will order and establish the kingdom with judgment and justice for evermore. what child is the prophet referring to?--"immanuel" of the seventh chapter, or "maher-shalal-hash-baz" of the eighth chapter? clearly not; for if they are two names of the same child, he was the son of isaiah and the prophetess, whereas the child of the ninth chapter is to sit on the throne of david. was the reference then to hezekiah, written in his youth, when indications of the zeal for the law and ritual of moses, which distinguished his reign, may have appeared? most likely; but whether or not, it is clear that the "child" referred to _was born_ when isaiah wrote, and had not yet begun to reign. the phrases "no end" and "henceforth even for ever," may be compared with psalm lxxxix. , ,--"i have made a covenant with my chosen, i have sworn unto david my servant, thy seed will i establish for ever, and build up thy throne to all generations." these lofty anticipations have not been realised. where is the throne of david? the two first verses of the ninth chapter of isaiah are claimed for jesus by matthew. in quoting them he leaves out the portion referring to the invasion of zebulon and naphtali. galilee of the nations, or populous galilee, is called galilee of the gentiles, and is referred to as the same as zebulon and naphtali; whereas isaiah makes a distinction, galilee in his view probably being the southern part of zebulon westward to the sea, including asher. matthew, however, boldly affirms that the visit of jesus to capernaum was the fulfilment of isaiah ix. , ,--the fulfilment, that is, of what isaiah, when he wrote, considered already past. but if the citizens of capernaum in jesus' time were the "people that walked in darkness," and jesus was the "great light" which they saw shining upon them "in the land of the shadow of death" (the contrast between the passage in isaiah and this puerile so-called fulfilment of it is too absurd to be discussed seriously), they nowise appreciated their good fortune. shortly jesus denounced the city thus,--"and thou, capernaum, which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be brought down to hell: for if the mighty works, which have been done in thee, had been done in sodom, it would have remained unto this day." certainly there had been no deliverance for capernaum. the passage in luke i. , , implies, and it is held by christians generally, that the promises of jehovah by the mouth of his prophets to david, with reference to the stability of his kingdom, were fulfilled in jesus. these promises occur in the old testament in many forms, thus:-- . that after david's death his seed should succeed to his throne, generation after generation, without end ( sam. vii. - ; psalm lxxxix. - ). he was god's holy one, who should not see corruption; his soul would not be left in hell (the grave). to david's line would be applicable evermore what is said of the king of our own country, "who never dies," "the king is dead: long live the king." . that if his descendants should break the divine laws, they would be chastened, but not "put away from" the kingdom, as in the case of saul ( sam. vii. , ; psalm lxxxix. - ). now, as undoubted matter of fact, the babylonish captivity was the falsification of all such vaticinations, more particularly of that which affirmed that the descendants of david should not be treated as saul was. if they sinned they were to be chastened, not deposed. in the return from babylon, zerubbabel is the only descendant of david mentioned as in authority, and after him there is nothing to show that even one of the royal line, far less any succession of the royal line, exercised sway over the jews. the government passed to the "high priests." jehovah had _not_ "sworn in truth unto david." but leaping over the indubitable falsification of the prediction by the overthrow of the "throne of david" in nebuchadnezzar's invasion, and the fact that from the time of zerubbabel the "line" of david had sunk into obscurity, it is claimed for jesus that he was the "real" son of david referred to, that he has risen from the dead and has ascended into heaven. he saw no corruption; he reigns now in the hearts of his people. he will be their king for evermore, when he returns to earth "to take to him his great power and reign." is this grand hope of the christian, then, to prove as misleading as the jewish anticipation of the everlasting throne of david? or has jesus actually risen from the dead? the consideration of the evidence of the resurrection will form chap. v. of this inquiry. (i.) _prophecies claimed in connection with the birth of jesus_, . micah v. ; matt. ii. - . compare micah with psalm cxxxii., where david vows, "i will not give sleep to my eyes, or slumber to my eyelids, until i find out a place for the lord, an habitation for the mighty god of jacob. lo, we heard of it at ephratah, we found it in the fields of the wood.... arise, o lord, into thy rest, thou, and the ark of thy strength." "the mighty god of jacob" corresponds to the ruler of israel, "whose goings forth have been of old from everlasting." micah may be referring to the deity in some connection, not now at all clear, with his habitation heard of at ephratah, whence his laws, or other manifestations of his power, were to proceed. the passage in matthew is in connection with the incredible story of the wise men of the east; and it represents the jewish priests assuring herod that the ruler of israel, whose goings forth were of old from everlasting, was _to be born_ in bethlehem, not, as the prophecy states, that he was to come forth from there to be ruler. the twisting of the passage is very disingenuous. . hosea ii. ; xi. ; matt. ii. . hosea clearly refers to the exodus under moses: his expressions are in the past tense. matthew's application of them to jesus requires no comment. . jeremiah xxxi. ; matt. ii. , . ramah was in the country of benjamin, whose descendants are called the children of rachel, his mother. jeremiah's prophecy clearly refers to their captivity in babylon and their expected return. what can be said of matthew's application of it to an alleged massacre at bethlehem in the country of judah, six centuries after the captivity? in no sense were the descendants of judah the children of rachel. rachel died, and was buried at or near bethlehem; but surely no one, not even the most credulous christian, will assert that this makes her the mother of the line of judah, afterwards settled there. moreover, jeremiah's reference is to ramah, and cannot apply to bethlehem. . matt. ii. . because jesus was taken as a child to nazareth, and brought up there, it is asserted that he fulfilled what was spoken by the prophets, "he shall be called a nazarene." nowhere in the old testament can this be found. if a nazarite is meant--one unshaven, and an abstainer from wine and strong drink--the character does not apply to jesus, who "came eating and drinking." but a nazarite was the designation of an order, not a name for the dweller in any particular locality. nazarene was the earlier designation of the disciples of jesus. they were called christians first at antioch (acts xi. ). (j.) _the temple-purging_ (psalm lxix. ; john ii. ). the circumstance referred to in the passage from john is that jesus at passover-time, before the baptist's imprisonment, went up to jerusalem, entered into the temple, and let loose his indignation by driving out the money-changers, the cattle-dealers, and dove-sellers with a scourge of small cords, upsetting their tables, and pouring out their money. "take these things hence," he said, "make not my father's house a house of merchandise." matthew xxi. , ; mark xi. - ; and luke xix. , , differ from john, in so far that they place this temple-purging at the time of jesus' final entry into jerusalem. could such an extraordinary breach of the peace have occurred in any country under a roman governor, without summary justice on the offender? upsetting money-dealers' tables, pouring out their money, overturning the seats of the sellers of doves, and driving them from their stands, for which most probably they paid custom, if not to the state, to the temple-priests, and the disturber allowed to go away scot-free in any orderly community! utterly incredible. and such conduct ascribed to one for whom the power and attributes of the almighty are claimed! (k.)_the entrance into jerusalem on the back of an ass_ (zech. ix. ; matt. xxi. - ). the meekness of jesus on this occasion is scarcely borne out by the scene referred to in last paragraph (j.) which, according to matthew, followed immediately on his entrance into the city. the prophecy of zechariah was during the building of the second temple, and most probably referred to the lowly appearance made by zerubbabel, the prince of judah, as compared to that of his royal ancestors. ( .) _the scene in the synagogue of nazareth_ (isaiah lxi; ; luke iv. - ). isaiah's high-sounding prophecy is said to have been fulfilled thus-- . jesus went to nazareth, where he had been brought tip, and as his custom was he entered the synagogue on the sabbath day, and stood up to read. the book of the prophet esaias being delivered to him, he read part of this passage. then he closed the book, gave it again to the minister, and sat down. . the eyes of all in the synagogue were fastened on him, and he began to declare, "this day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears." wondering at these gracious words, they inquired, "is not this joseph's son?" . he retorted that no prophet is accepted in his own country, and cited cases from the old testament where, in times of extremity, no more than one favoured individual was relieved by the timely arrival of a prophet sent from god. (contrast this with the prophecy, "to comfort all that mourn.") . roused to wrath by this intimation, they sought to cast him headlong from the rock on which their city was built; "but he passing through the midst of them, went his way." words have no meaning, if such a scene as this can be called the fulfilment of isaiah's prophecy. (m.) _the bruised reed and the smoking flax_ (isaiah xlii. ; matt. xii. - ). how could the "servant upheld by jehovah" fulfil the prophecy by shrinking from the pharisees in the way jesus is reported by matthew to have done? (n.) "_eyes to see, and see not; ears to hear, and hear not_" (isa. vi. - ; xxix. ; jer. v. ; ezek. xii. ; matt. xiii. - ; john xii. - ; acts xxviii. - ; rom. xi. - ). the prophets prophesied to a heedless people. jesus and his followers are reported to have done the same. so have many others at various times. the appropriation to jesus of the language in which the jewish prophets expressed their disappointment is no proof that that language was meant to apply to him rather than to themselves. hab. i. , ; acts xiii. , . habakkuk and the bitter and hasty chaldeans contrast strangely with paul and his warning to the jews not to disbelieve his assertions with reference to jesus. (o.) "_i will open my mouth in parables_" (psalm lxxviii. ; matt. xiii. , ). this is a very flagrant instance of misquotation and misapplication. the psalmist says that he will utter dark sayings of old, "_which we have heard and known, and our fathers have told us_." jesus is described by matthew as fulfilling a prophecy to the effect that he would utter things "_which have been kept secret from the foundation of the world_." (p.) "_the stone rejected by the builders_" (psalm cxviii.; ; matt. xxi. , ; mark xii. ; luke xx. ; acts iv. ). psalm cxviii. is written by one who was praising the lord for some triumph he had obtained over danger and difficulty; who had secured his end against his enemies, who had attained the head of the corner, though rejected by the builders. the application in matthew is that jesus, rejected by the jews, should be accepted by the gentiles, or by another nation than the jews. this has come to pass. his own countrymen, even his own brethren, who were in a position to judge of the truth of his supernatural claims, rejected him. the nations of europe, who were not in a position so to judge, have, under various forms, called themselves by his name, and adored him as their god. but this in no way shows that psalm cxviii. was written with reference to any other than the person who composed it. (q.) _the betrayal by judas iscariot_ (zech. xi. - ; psalm lxix. ; cix. ; matt, xxvii. , ; acts i. - ). peter thus narrates the fate of judas: "now this man purchased a field with the reward of his iniquity (the thirty pieces of silver), and falling headlong he burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out. and it was known to all the dwellers in jerusalem, insomuch as that field is called in their proper tongue, aceldama, that is to say, the field of blood." compare this with matthew, who states that judas, repenting of his conduct, took back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests; said he had betrayed innocent blood; they answered, "what is that to us? see thou to that." on this he cast down the money in the temple, and went and hanged himself. the chief priests would not put the money in the treasury, because it was the price of blood, but laid it out in purchasing the potter's field to bury strangers in. matthew and peter are thus quite irreconcilable. both were companions of jesus and judas; both were present at and cognisant of the whole circumstances of the betrayal; matthew was present during peter's speech recorded in the acts; and yet the discrepancy between them is such as entirely to discredit both their statements. the circumstances alluded to in zechariah are unknown. the passages from the psalms are applicable to saul, or some other of david's enemies; indeed, they may be used by any one against a traitor or enemy. (r.) _the passion_ (zech. xiii. ; matt. xxvi. ). zechariah is writing during the troubled times, when jerusalem was rebuilt. the particular event he alluded to is unknown. no construction of the passage can make it applicable to the desertion of the disciples when jesus was arrested. deut. xxi. ; gal. iii. . hanging on a tree is not crucifixion, which was a roman, not a jewish practice. exodus xii. ; psalms xxxiv. ; john xix. . the passage in exodus certainly refers to the paschal lamb; the passage in the psalms to the care the almighty is said to take of the righteous, so that "preserving his bones whole" is equivalent to the other expression, "there shall no evil befall thee." the incident recorded by john is not confirmed by matthew, mark, and luke, who make no mention of the disciples at the crucifixion, and say that the women beheld afar off. john, on the contrary, says that he, along with the women, was by the cross, so near that jesus spoke to himself and mary. this incident, so pointedly given as an eye-witnessed fact, seems to have been devised to give the crucifixion some resemblance to the lamb of the passover. but the modes of death surely were very different. if any such resemblance was necessary, should it not have been complete? zech. xii. ; john xix. . the spirit of grace and supplication poured out on the inhabitants of jerusalem during the crucifixion of jesus, when they cried, "not this man, but the robber barabbas," is a wondrous contradiction. psalm xxij. ; matt, xxvii. ; mark xv. ; luke xxiii. ; john xix. . the practice of casting lots for the clothes of the crucified may have been a common one among the roman soldiers at the time, and it corresponds admirably to one of david's expressions when he was in adversity and trouble. (s.) _daniel's seventy weeks_ (daniel ix. - ). the only allusion in the new testament to this prophecy is in matt. xxiv. , ; mark xv. , , where jesus directs his disciples to flee to the mountains when they see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by daniel the prophet, stand on the holy place. between nebuchadnezzar and titus, however, there were two, if not more, "abominations of desolation," equally answering to daniel's description. so far as it relates to the messiah, the prince, or the anointed prince, it is not claimed for jesus by any of the new testament writers. but by modern christians it is held to be a prophecy of the exact time that elapsed between the edict to restore jerusalem and the death of christ. each week is said to be a week of years: thus seventy weeks are years, and from the letter of artaxerxes granted to ezra (ezra vii.), b.c. , to the death of jesus, a.d. , there are exactly years. what is this but a mere reckoning back of years from a.d. , so that the chronology has been fixed by the prophecy, not the truth of the prophecy proved by the chronology? but the letter of artaxerxes to ezra was not a commandment to rebuild jerusalem: it was given to him to further him on his way from babylon to jerusalem, _already rebuilt_. the commandment to restore and rebuild jerusalem was that of the first of cyrus alone (ordinary christian chronology, b.c. ); the prophecy asserts that it went forth at the beginning of daniel's supplication, and the subsequent decrees were only confirmations of the original one, (ezra vi.) the statement of gabriel is in answer to daniel's supplication for mercy and favour to be shown to jerusalem, and, commencing with a commandment to rebuild, ends in doleful desolation. but as the messiah, the anointed one referred to, is not asserted by new testament writers to be jesus, it is sufficient here to point out the untenable ground on which modern christians make this claim on his behalf. (t.) _the fifty-third chapter of isaiah_. this chapter may most fairly be interpreted as having reference to hezekiah in the various troubles of his reign and life, described kings xix. and xx.; chron. xxx. and xxxii., and isaiah xxxvi., xxxvii., and xxxviii. isaiah was the seer of the time. hezekiah "cut off out of the land of the living" refers to the sentence of death, afterwards postponed, against him for his people's backsliding, though he himself wrought that which was "good, and right, and truth before the lord his god." his "pouring out his soul unto death" agrees with the expression, "in those days hezekiah was sick unto death." "and he was numbered with the transgressors, and bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors," also agree with, "and the lord hearkened to hezekiah, and healed the people;" and with, "notwithstanding hezekiah humbled himself for the pride of his heart, both he and the inhabitants of jerusalem, so that the wrath of the lord came not upon them in the days of hezekiah." if the exact circumstances in which isaiah liii. was written were fully known, all the seer's allusions would be very intelligible; as it is, their application to hezekiah and his times--always assuming that isaiah was the writer--is the most probable. the portions of this chapter claimed for jesus in the new testament are the following:-- matthew viii. , . here "his bearing our griefs" is applied by matthew to jesus' disease-curing wonders. but this differs from the view of modern christians. they hold that it applies to his death on the cross as an expiation for sin. john xii. , . "who hath believed our report" may be used by any one whose pretensions are treated with incredulity. what reason is there for imagining that esaias meant any other than his own report? mark xv. , ; luke xxii. . the "numbering among the transgressors" is equally true of any one who suffers penally for his belief, or who, innocent or little to blame himself, shares the fate of an offending community. the applicability of the passage to hezekiah in the latter sense has just been noticed. (u.) _the gospel message_ (luke xxiv. - ). here a statement, utterly untrue, is put by luke into the mouth of the risen jesus. nowhere in moses, the prophets, or the psalms is it written that the anointed one is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day. (v.) _the gift of tongues_ (joel ii. - ; acts ii. - ). joel's prophecy is said to have been fulfilled on the day of pentecost following the resurrection, when the apostles were all "with one accord in one place." . a sound came from heaven as of a mighty rushing wind, and filled the house where they were sitting. . cloven tongues, like tongues of fire, sat on each of them. . they were all filled with the holy ghost, and began to speak with tongues as the spirit gave them utterance. joel, the son of pethuel, would probably be surprised at peter's appropriation of his prophecy. no doubt it is applicable to any general religious awakening or excitement in any land or at any time. but joel is referring to some invasion, or threatened invasion, of judea, and to a deliverance accompanied with a religious revival and thanksgiving. the exact circumstances in which he wrote, if known, would make his obscure allusions clear. the incidents, however, of the mighty rushing wind and the cloven fiery tongues receive no support from his prophecy. (w.) _the calling of the gentiles_ (amos ix. , ; acts xv. - ). amos' prophecy has been falsified by the event. the jews, who were no more to be pulled out of the land the lord had given them, were pulled out of it eighteen centuries ago, and so remain. the disingenuous way in which james applies to the conversion of the gentiles what is clearly a reference to a return from captivity is very striking. chapter v. the resurrection and ascension of jesus . the resurrection of jesus is the keystone of christian faith, the central stay on which the structure rests. "if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the lord jesus, and believe in thine heart that god raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved." what a glorious hope for all mankind would lie in such a fact as that one, a fellow-man, had been killed because of his supernatural claims; had lain for a time in the grave, and on the third day, as predicted by himself, had risen from the dead! so marvellous an instance of nature-controlling power might well be held to establish, in the most conclusive manner, the validity of the claims of the person resuscitated; it would show that god was with him in an especial manner, that his words were true, that his promises would not fail. . what, then, are the evidences of this so glorious an event? (a.) the four gospels agree in narrating that, while jesus hung lifeless on the cross, a rich man, joseph of arimathea, himself a disciple of jesus, went to pilate and obtained permission to take charge of the body; that he laid it in his own new tomb, hewn out of a rock; that certain women saw where the body was laid, and that a great stone was rolled to the door of the tomb. (b.) matthew alone avers that, with pilate's consent, the chief priests and pharisees had the stone sealed, and a watch (of roman soldiers) set. (c.) thus the tomb remained from the evening of the day of the crucifixion over the next day, the jewish sabbath. (d.) but early on the morning of the following day, the first day of the week, jesus arose from the dead. of this event--so entirely the reverse of all human experience, but of the last importance to each mortal man if it happened--the witnesses, of whose personal character among their neighbours for veracity and general trustworthiness nothing is known, thus present themselves:-- matthew and john, eye-witnesses of the risen jesus: mark, companion of peter, an eye-witness: luke, companion of paul, who had intercourse with eyewitnesses, and who himself professes to narrate the testimony of eye-witnesses (luke i. ): and what they aver is analysed and compared in the following paragraphs:-- . _the empty tomb_.--all four agree that in the morning (at dawn, at sun rising, very early, when it was yet dark) of the first day of the week the tomb was found empty by those who went to visit it. . _visitors to the tomb_.--matthew mentions "mary magdalene and the other mary;" mark, "mary magdalene, mary the mother of james, and salome;" luke, "mary magdalene, joanna, mary the mother of james, and other galilean women," and afterwards, on the report of the women, peter; john, "mary magdalene" only, and afterwards, on her report, himself (john) and simon peter, mary magdalene returning after them. . _appearances at the tomb_.--(a.) the great earthquake and the awful appearance of the angel to the watch--"countenance like lightning, raiment white as snow;" and the effect on the startled soldiers, who swooned away "as dead men," as also the subsequent report of the watch and their acceptance of a bribe (large money) from the chief priests to publish a falsehood and confess that they--roman soldiers--had slept at their post, are mentioned by matthew alone. matthew does not name his informant, whether it was a chief priest or one of the soldiers who betrayed his own and his comrades' infamy. (b.) the stone securing the tomb was rolled away. so all four affirm. this was one object of the angel's visit. jesus rose from the dead, but the angel's assistance was necessary to open the tomb. (c.) matthew asserts that the angel sat on the stone, outside the tomb. mark, that he appeared as a young man sitting within the tomb, on the right side, clothed in a long, white garment. luke has "two men" in glittering garments, who made themselves manifest as the perplexed women were gazing at the empty tomb. john states that mary magdalene, on her _second_ visit, saw two angels, one sitting at the head the other at the feet, where the body of jesus had lain. when, according to luke, peter visited the tomb, or according to john, when mary magdalene in the first instance, and then peter and john, on hearing her report, went there, no such marvellous angelic being was manifest. the appearance was to perplexed and timid women. wherein did they differ from other weak women, that their testimony received at second hand should be held trustworthy? supposing, for instance, that it had been the young man with the linen garment about his naked body (mark xiv. , ), seated within the tomb, would not their excited imaginations have transformed him into a messenger from heaven? . _announcements of the angels at the tomb_.--(a.) matthew's dread angel announced to the women that jesus had risen from the dead, directed them to go at once and inform his disciples that "he goeth before you into galilee, there shall ye see him." trembling and joyful they ran away at once to bring "his disciples word." ( .) mark's white-clad young man made the same announcement of jesus preceding his disciples to galilee; but instead of obeying the angel's direction as to informing the disciples, "they went out quickly and fled from the sepulchre, for they trembled and were amazed, neither said they anything to any man, for they were afraid." (c.) luke's two bright-clad men announced that jesus was risen, as he had told them while yet in galilee. "they remembered his words, and returned from the sepulchre, and told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest." there is no mention here of jesus going before his disciples into galilee. (d.) john's two angels asked mary magdalene, "woman, why weepest thou?" she replied, "because they have taken away my lord, and i know not where they have laid him." here, _wholly ignorant that he was alive_, stood beside the tomb one of the very women to whom matthew, mark, and luke's angels announced that jesus was risen from the dead. if matthew's account be true, both he and john were present when the women told the disciples that jesus was risen, and gave them the direction to go to galilee; and yet john narrates this circumstance, one quite at variance with matthew's angel's announcement to the women. . _effect on the disciples of the first announcement of the resurrection_.--(a.) matthew states that "then" (on the report of the women) "the eleven disciples went away into galilee, into a mountain where jesus had appointed them." (b.) mark xvi. - , and xvi. - , seem to contain two different accounts of the resurrection. it is difficult to reconcile them. verses - , not being found in the most ancient manuscripts, are held by many to be spurious. but their general agreement with luke's narrative is in favour of these verses being of the same age, or emanating from the same set of believers. let verses - , then, for the present purpose, be distinguished as mark's first narrative, and verses - as mark's second narrative. mark's first narrative, as already shown, agrees with matthew as to the terms of the angel's announcement, but seems to imply that the terror-struck women did not deliver the angel's message to the disciples. mark's second narrative states that jesus first appeared to mary magdalene, who went and told the disciples; "and they, when they had heard that he was alive, and had been seen of her, believed not." no departure for galilee is mentioned. (c.) luke affirms that the announcement to the disciples was by the whole of the women; "and their words seemed to them as idle tales, and they believed them not." peter alone was moved to run to the sepulchre, where he found the empty tomb and the cast-off grave-clothes, and "departed, wondering in himself at that which was come to pass." the whole of luke's statement is quite inconsistent with matthew's assertion that the disciples went away to galilee to find jesus there. (d.) john states that when mary magdalene first reported that the tomb was empty, peter and himself ran to the sepulchre, that he outran peter, that he looked in and saw the linen clothes lying, that peter when he came up went in, that then he (john) went in also, and that when he saw the cast-off grave-clothes he saw and believed: "for as yet they knew not the scripture that he must rise from the dead." if so then matthew xvi. ; xvii. , ; mark viii. ; ix. ; luke ix. , must all be erroneous. the burden of these passages is, that while in galilee jesus informed his disciples that he would be killed, and rise again on the third day. the very chief priests, too, in setting the watch (matthew xxvii. ), did so because of this well-known assertion of jesus. when, on her second visit to the tomb, mary magdalene saw and conversed with jesus himself, she "came and told the disciples that she had seen the lord, and that he had spoken these things unto her." the effect is not mentioned. but the whole of john's statement is inconsistent with matthew's "departure of the eleven for galilee," and this departure again as inconsistent with john's statement. . _appearances of the risen jesus_.--(a.) matthew xxviii. , . while mary magdalene and the other mary were running to deliver the angel's message to the disciples, they were met by jesus himself, who greeted them with an "all hail." they held him by the feet and worshipped him. he confirmed the angel's message to his disciples, and directed them to go to galilee: "there shall they see me." mark xvi. - . jesus, when he had risen early the first day of the week, appeared first to mary magdalene, out of whom he had cast seven devils. she informed his mourning disciples, who did not believe her. luke has no incident at all corresponding to this. john xx. - . mary magdalene remained weeping at the tomb, after peter and john had left, when jesus made himself known to her. recognising him, she turned and called him, "master." he said, "touch me not, for i am not yet ascended to my father; but go to my brethren, and say unto them, i ascend unto my father and your father, and to my god and your god. mary magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the lord, and that he had spoken these things unto her." here there are several grave contradictions between matthew and john. . matthew makes the first appearance of jesus to _the two_ maries, while they are hastening _from the tomb_ to carry to his disciples the glad news of his resurrection, which they had learned from the angel; john, while mary magdalene is _by herself at the tomb and is unaware_ of his resurrection. . matthew mentions that the two maries _held him by the feet_ and worshipped him; john, that mary magdalene was commanded by jesus _not to touch him_. . matthew states that jesus directed his disciples to go to galilee, where they would find him; john, that he announced to mary, "i ascend to my father," &c. not one word of a journey to galilee. ( .) matthew xxviii. - . "then the eleven disciples went away into galilee into a mountain where jesus had appointed them. and when they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted. and jesus came and spake unto them, saying, all power is given unto me in heaven and in earth," &c. matthew here narrates that on receiving the direction of the women, the eleven went away to a mountain in galilee fixed on before jesus' death. (matthew xxvi. , he had said, "after i am risen again, i will go before you into galilee.") how or in what form they saw him there is left untold. most of them adored, but some doubted. the appearance, therefore, could not have been a close one, such as was vouchsafed to thomas (john xx. ), for then no one could have doubted. belief in such cases is not matter of choice. how jesus vanished after his appearance on the galilean mount is not mentioned. matthew was a witness of the ascension of jesus, if mark and luke's accounts be true, but he passes by this most striking event in silence. mark's second narrative, too, in no way confirms the journey to galilee. on the contrary, it states that the parting charge of jesus and his ascension took place after he had appeared and spoken to the eleven as they sat at meat. where this occurred, and on what day, is somewhat ambiguous; but the inference is that it was at jerusalem, and on the day of the resurrection. luke, however, is quite explicit on this point. according to him on the very day (luke xxiv. , , , , ) of the resurrection jesus appeared to the eleven at jerusalem, gave them his parting charge, led them out to bethany, and was there parted from them and carried into heaven. so far from there being any journey to galilee, they were expressly commanded (chap. xxiv. ) to tarry at jerusalem. here luke, the recorder of the reports of eye-witnesses, states that the disciples were ordered to tarry in jerusalem on the very day when, according to matthew, an eye-witness, they were ordered to proceed to galilee. and john, the other eyewitness, one of the eleven, makes no mention of a journey to galilee immediately following the first announcement of the resurrection, or of the appearance of jesus on the mountain there, but, on the contrary, affirms that jesus appeared to his disciples at jerusalem on the evening of the day of the resurrection, and also on that day week. (c.) mark xvi. , . he appeared in another form to two of them in a country walk: they told the rest, who were still incredulous. luke xxiv. - . jesus that same day, i.e., the day of the resurrection, joined two of them on their way to the village of emmaus, near jerusalem; at first they did not know him, but on breaking bread they recognised him. on this he vanished. john does not confirm these appearances, and they are inconsistent with matthew's journey of the eleven to galilee. (d.) mark xvi. - . then he appeared to the eleven as they sat at meat, reproached them with their unbelief, gave them the charge to preach the gospel; and then, after he had spoken, he was received into heaven, and sat on the right hand of god. luke xxiv. - . _the same hour_ in which the two, who had recognised jesus in breaking of bread at emmaus, returned to jerusalem, and while they were informing the "eleven and the rest" of what had happened, jesus himself stood in the midst of them, and said, "peace be unto you." they were terrified at his appearance. he showed them his hands and his feet, told them to handle him, and ate before them; directed them to tarry at jerusalem till they were endued with power from on high. "and he led them out as far as bethany, and he lifted up his hands and blessed them. and it came to pass while he blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven." john xx. - . the same day (i.e., the resurrection day), at even, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the jews, jesus appeared, saying, "peace be unto you." he showed them his hands and his side. they were glad of his appearance. here there is a certain amount of agreement between mark, luke, and john, as to an appearance to the eleven at jerusalem on the day of the resurrection. but this occurrence conflicts with matthew. if, as he states, jesus "went before" his disciples to galilee, or if they set out for galilee on the direction delivered by the women, neither the one nor the others could have been in jerusalem. the most remarkable point here, however, is that neither matthew nor john confirm, in any form, the "ascension" mentioned by mark and luke. eye-witnesses as they were, special missionaries to testify to men that jesus was alive, so wondrous an event they pass by in silence. (e.) john xx. - . on the eighth day after the previous occurrence, he appeared among his disciples, the doors being shut as before, and was acknowledged by thomas, who was not present on the first occasion, as his "lord and his god." this is quite at variance with mark and luke's statement that jesus ascended to heaven on the day of the resurrection, and it is unnecessary again to allude to its inconsistency with matthew's account. (f.) john xxi. - . jesus' _third appearance_ to his disciples was at the sea of tiberias while they were fishing. peter, thomas, nathanael, james and john, and two other disciples were present. he directed peter how to cast his net, and ensured a large haul: he then dined with them, and afterwards gave peter a charge to feed his lambs and his sheep, and returned a dubious answer about the length of john's life. this also rests merely on john's narrative. mark, even, the companion of peter, who was specially conspicuous on this occasion, in no way confirms it. on the contrary, his second narrative implies that jesus ascended to heaven on the day of the resurrection. (g.) luke in acts i. - . jesus showed himself alive after his passion by many infallible proofs: was seen by his disciples forty days, and spoke to them of things pertaining to the kingdom of god. he commanded them not to depart from jerusalem, but to await there the gift of the holy ghost. then, on mount olivet, when he had given the last charge, while they beheld, he was taken up, and a cloud received him out of their sight. as they were gazing upwards, two men in white apparel appeared, who said, "ye men of galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same jesus who is taken up from you into heaven shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven." matthew and john, the two eye-witnesses, are silent as to the ascension to heaven. they, whose special, divinely-conferred mission it was to testify to the resurrection of jesus and the following glory, to maintain that he was alive for evermore, to declare the whole counsel of god, make no mention of this crowning wonder. such comparatively trifling matters as the women holding him by the feet (matt, xxviii. ), or simon's naked condition (john xxi. ), or the fire of coals, and fish laid thereon and bread (john xxi. ), were deemed worthy of record, but the ascension to heaven they altogether ignore. mark and luke, who write what they heard from others, mention the ascension in their gospels, and their narrative most clearly implies that it took place on the day of the resurrection. mark expressly states that he was received into heaven, "then after he had spoken" to the eleven as they sat at meat. and could any one imagine that between luke xxiv. and xxi v. there was an interval of forty days, as asserted by the same writer in the acts? would the omission of all mention of such an interval be consistent with the "perfect understanding of all things from the very first" professed by luke? clearly there had been an amplification of detail during the time that elapsed between the compilation of the gospel by luke and the compilation of the acts. jesus, the writer in the acts affirms, was seen by his disciples forty days, and spoke to them of things pertaining to the kingdom of god. why, then, are none of his sayings preserved, if the short announcements (one of which--luke xxiv. - --has already been shown to be false) at the end of the gospels be excepted? were the discourses of the risen jesus not more important, were they less impressive than those uttered in his lifetime? (h.) acts ix. - . as paul was on the way to damascus, with authority from the high priests to the synagogues there, to arrest and to bring to jerusalem all who professed to believe on jesus, a brilliant light shone around him, whereupon he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying, "saul, saul, why persecutest thou me?" paul replied, "who art thou, lord?" the voice answered, "i am jesus, whom thou persecutest: it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks." "and he, trembling and astonished, said, lord, what wilt thou have me to do? and the lord said unto him, arise, and go into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do." on getting up he found himself blind, and was led by the hand to damascus. the men who were with him stood speechless. _they heard a voice_, but they saw no man. acts xxii. - . this passage contains an address said to have been delivered by paul himself, in which the foregoing wondrous event is related, but with one important contradiction,--"they that were with me saw indeed the light, and were afraid, but they heard not the voice of him that spake to me." acts xxvi. - . paul here asserted that the voice from heaven uttered the following:--"i am jesus, whom thou persecutest. but rise and stand upon thy feet, for i have appeared to thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness," &c. this is very different from acts ix., where he is directed to go into the city, and that there it would be told him what he should do. paul (acts xxvi. - ) added, "whereupon, o king agrippa, i was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision; but showed first unto them at damascus, and at jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of judea, and then to the gentiles," &c. these are luke's statements, in the acts, with reference to the appearance of jesus to paul. the subsequent movements of the apostle, on the same authority, were,-- (luke, .) after being cured of his blindness by the laying on of the hands of ananias, he preached in damascus that jesus was christ. (luke, .) the jews being desirous of killing him, he fled to jerusalem. the disciples at first were chary of their quondam persecutor, but, assured by barnabas, who took-him and brought him to the apostles, they received him into their fellowship. (luke, .) he disputed against the grecians (hellenised jews?), who went about to-slay him. on this he was taken by the brethren to cæsarea, and thence sent on to tarsus. (luke, .) persecution forced many christian jews to leave judea and to settle at antioch. barnabas was sent by the church at jerusalem to visit them. he rejoiced at their liveliness in the faith, and then went to tarsus to find paul, whom he brought back to antioch. they were there together a whole year. the disciples were called christians first in antioch. (luke, .) paul and barnabas conveyed a contribution from the brethren at antioch to those at jerusalem. returning from jerusalem they took with them john, whose surname was mark. (luke, .) during their ministry at antioch the holy ghost said, "separate me barnabas and saul for the work whereunto i have called them." they then started on their mission to the gentiles. now, luke was paul's companion, his attendant on his travels, his faithful friend in trouble ( tim. iv. ), surely, then, his statements with reference to paul will be found to tally exactly with this apostle's allusions to his own life and ministry; it cannot be but that the acts and the epistles of paul are in perfect harmony. not so, however; they are quite irreconcilable. (paul, .) in cor. xi. and xii. paul brings forward the various claims he possessed to be regarded as "no whit behind the very chiefest apostles." he alludes to his arduous labours, journeys, and sufferings for the gospel's sake. and then he comes "to visions and revelations of the lord." does he mention the wondrous incident on the way to damascus? no! not one word, either here or elsewhere. what he does mention is a man in christ (evidently himself), who, about fourteen years previously, was caught up into the third heaven--whether in the body or out of the body, god only knew--caught up into paradise, and there heard unspeakable words, unutterable by man. now, here, in discoursing of his very claim to apostleship, he is silent on what in the acts is so strongly put forth as his miraculous calling to that office. the incident in which the risen jesus announced, "i have appeared to thee for this purpose to make thee a minister and witness," &c., is quite ignored by paul himself in particularising his claims to be that minister and witness. the necessary conclusion is, that when the second epistle to the corinthians was written, the marvel related in acts ix., xxii., and xxvi. had not been thought of. by comparison with paul's epistles this undoubted instance of invention or appropriation can be brought home to the writer of the acts. it shows what the compilers of the new testament were capable of, when a supernatural event was required to give sanction and support to any doctrine, or practice, or claim which they advocated. the object, in the present instance, was to place paul, as an apostle, on an equal footing in every respect with the apostles who were companions of jesus himself, and who had seen him alive after his resurrection. if the new testament is read in the light which this incident affords, its various narratives become abundantly clear. it is seen that its authoritative claims and its doctrines, with reference to the destiny of man, so far from being based on the supernatural events recorded, are merely what these events were devised to establish and enforce. (paul, .) in galatians he states that, "when it pleased god, who separated me from my mother's womb, and called me by his grace, to reveal his son in me, that i might preach him among the gentiles"--(this style of writing seems quite inconsistent with such an appearance of jesus himself as is mentioned in the acts: paul here uses language descriptive of ordinary conversion, radically different from the effect of a vision of the risen son of god with power-conferring commands),--"immediately i conferred not with flesh and blood, neither went i up to jerusalem to them who were apostles before me (luke, par. above, expressly affirms that he did go to jerusalem), but i went into arabia, and returned again to damascus" (quite irreconcilable with luke, pars. , , , and , above). "then, after three years, i went up to jerusalem to see peter, and abode with him fifteen days. but other of the apostles saw i none, save james, the lord's brother. now, the things which i write unto you, behold, before god i lie not." (if he does not lie, what can be said of barnabas [luke, par. above] taking and bringing him to the apostles, or of the journey [luke, par. above] of paul and barnabas to convey relief to the famine-threatened brethren who dwelt in judea.) "afterwards i went into the regions of syria and cilicia, and was unknown by face unto the churches of judea which were in christ; but they had heard only that he who persecuted us in times past now preacheth the faith which once he destroyed. and they glorified god in me." compare this with acts ix. --luke, par. above--"and he was with them coming in and going out at jerusalem;" with the famine-relief embassy of himself and barnabas; and, more startling still, with the declaration in the acts before king agrippa,--"o king agrippa, i was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision, but showed first to them at damascus, and at jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of judea, and then to the gentiles" &c. it is quite beyond the scope of this inquiry to enter into conjectures as to the cause of such serious discrepancies between the two fellow-travellers, the apostle and his faithful follower. and, indeed, all such conjectures would be "vain and unprofitable," for there are no means now of determining the question. what stands forth clear, however, is, that no conscience-satisfying belief, or even ordinary historical probability, can rest where such conflict of testimony appears. (i.) in cor. xv. - , paul thus gives in detail the appearances of jesus after his resurrection as these had been reported to him:-- ( .) that he was seen of cephas. where? luke mentions an appearance to peter (chap. xxiv. ), but gives no particulars. mark and john agree that the first appearance was to mary magdalene. no separate appearance to peter is mentioned by them or by matthew. ( . ) then of the twelve. where? in, the galilean mount, according to matthew, or at jerusalem, according to luke and john? ( .) after that he was seen of above five hundred brethren at once; of whom the greater part remain unto this present, but some are fallen asleep. it is most remarkable that matthew and john make no mention of this. nor mark nor luke either. ( .) after that he was seen of james. no one but paul says so. doubtless, however, as peter claimed a special visit of the risen jesus for himself, so did james, and paul followed their example; for, ( .) after mentioning that jesus was next seen of all the apostles,--he does not mention where or when--he states, ( .) "last of all he was seen of me also, as of one born out of due time." also cor. ix. , "have i not seen jesus christ our lord?" how or where he saw him he leaves untold. comparing this, however, with cor. xii, it is probable that he refers to the time when he was caught up into paradise and heard unspeakable words, unutterable by man. it has already been shown that the appearance on the way to damascus had not been thought of when the second epistle was written, and during this appearance paul _did not see_ jesus. he heard a voice, and saw a brilliant light. but there is nothing in paul's writings to indicate that he ever laid claim to so dread an event in connection with himself. . can the mind, then, eagerly straining to find in these accounts of the resurrection of jesus grounds for a sincere belief that "one has risen from the dead;" raising no question as to the authenticity of the gospels, but taking them as they are, and putting the fairest construction on the words and narrative; most desirous not to abandon a hope cherished from the lessons of youth, a hope twined with the fondest reflections of manhood,--can the mind once aroused to doubt and inquiry, so straining, descry aught on which to rest? far otherwise; for how rapidly these tales of the resurrection, and the other supernatural occurrences claimed for jesus, crumble away, like a long-buried corpse exposed to light, before the touch of the simplest tests of evidence! . it remains to consider the resurrection of jesus in connection with old testament ideas, and with those of the surrounding gentile nations. . in genesis adam was doomed to "return unto the ground, for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." he died when he had lived so many years, is the brief record of his death, and of that of all the other primeval patriarchs, with the single exception of enoch, who "walked with god, and he was not, for god took him." the writer of the hebrews states that he was translated that he should not see death. he is thus represented as escaping the curse of adam, and as made immortal, contrary to the common doom. the statement in genesis is so loose, however, that the exact meaning of the writer will ever remain uncertain. the deaths of abraham, isaac and jacob are referred to thus: "that they gave up the ghost, full of years, and were gathered unto their people." they returned to the dust from whence they came, as their fathers before them. and when joseph died, "being years old," he is not "gathered unto his people," but "embalmed and put in a coffin in egypt." . in exodus, leviticus, numbers, and deuteronomy, the books that immediately concern moses, there is no mention of any future state of existence. the precepts, the ritual, the rewards, and the punishments all have reference to the present life. beyond the grave is nothingness: no hope, no fear. what a startling fact this is, and how intimately it concerns the subject now under consideration, appears when contrasted with the prevailing contemporary egyptian belief. moses led the israelites out of egypt. they had been there upwards of two centuries. he himself was learned in all the wisdom of the egyptians. he had been brought up as the son of pharaoh's daughter. now, the most prominent belief of the egyptian religion, as shown by the monuments and ritual, was the immortality of the soul and a state of existence beyond the grave, and it must have been vividly before the israelites during their sojourn in egypt. the god osiris became incarnate on earth, worked all manner of good for mankind; was slain through the malignity of the evil one, the serpent typhon, but rose again from the dead, and was made the 'judge of souls; the disembodied spirits were weighed in his balances; the just, after expiating their venial sins by many severe trials, in which they were accompanied and sustained by osiris, who had himself passed through the same ordeal--"been tempted in all points like as they were"--shared the bliss of the god; the reprobate were condemned to lengthened torments, came back to earth as evil spirits, dwelt in the bodies of unclean animals, and were ultimately to be annihilated. in addition, also, to the symbolic idolatrous religion, by which the deity was represented to the people in numerous phases, all probably conceptions of natural phenomena, however incongruous most of the manifestations now appear, there was the hidden religion of the priests and of the initiated; and the main conception of this hidden religion was of the one living, independent, uncreated god--_nuk pu nuk_, "i am that i am." a hereditary priesthood, animal sacrifices, circumcision, and abstinence from swine's flesh, were likewise egyptian institutions. so was the seventh-day rest. these and minor practices were continued among the israelites, and the egyptian _nuk pa nuk_ became the jewish jehovah; but the symbolical idolatrous worship, likening the creator to the creature, and the belief in the immortality of the soul, were rejected by moses. they have no place in his system. the former he denounced, the latter he ignored. his conception of the unity and omnipotence of god was intense, and he indelibly stamped this belief on the mind of his nation, shunning the example of the priests of egypt, who encouraged the people in idolatrous polytheistic rites, while the purer faith remained concealed among themselves. contrary to the practice of all priestcraft, ancient and modern, he did not keep his followers in ignorance, that he himself might, by a superior understanding, retain an exalted position in their sight, but he sought to bring them up to the level of his own knowledge and belief. how far many of the egyptian practices retained by the israelites, and some of the more unworthy conceptions of the deity--such, for instance, as the ever-living omnipotent god _working_ six days in creating the world, and _resting_ the seventh; or his ordering the enemies of israel to be massacred, man, woman, and child; or his exacting animal sacrifices, as if he, the source of life, could be appeased by the destruction of the very life he had brought into being--were forced by the nation upon moses, rather than by moses upon the nation, cannot now be ascertained. jer. vii. , , seem to indicate that the animal sacrifices, at least, were not of mosaic origin. but his stern prohibition of idolatry, and his ignoring a future life, constituted the principal differences between the mosaic and the egyptian systems. they were, indeed, radical differences. had not moses seen in egypt how the pretended immortality of the soul, and the several connected doctrines and practices, in the hands of a polished priesthood, had been used so as to keep that very soul in this world in a state of vague fear and abject superstition: how the terrors or expectation of the life to come had led to misery and misdirection of the life on earth: how the dead had been cared for to the neglect of the living? and was there any good ground for this expectation of a future life? on the contrary, was not man, in his view, doomed to return to the dust whence he came? was not the pretence of the soul being immortal an assumption of an attribute of the eternal jehovah? and so he taught "that the lord he is god, in heaven above, and in the earth beneath; there is none else. thou shalt therefore keep his statutes and his commandments, which i command thee this day, that it may go well with thee, and with thy children after thee, and that thou mayest prolong thy days upon the earth which the lord thy god giveth thee, for ever" (deut. iv. , ). the rules of conduct were those which, in the judgment of moses, led to long life and earthly prosperity; their neglect would inevitably bring disaster and woe; there was no other reward, no other dread. and in psalm xc, described as "a prayer of moses, the man of god," when he mentions that the days of our years are threescore and ten, or if, perchance, by reason of strength, fourscore, yet "that strength labour and sorrow," so far is he from arriving at paul's conclusion--"what advantageth it me if the dead rise not? let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die"--that he makes the brevity of man's life the ground of the petition, "so-teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." let us be up and doing, for our own and our brethren's sakes; there is no time to be lost; let us strive and ponder how to pass our brief life on earth wisely and well. the dead, moreover, were buried out of sight, and any bodily disfigurement (lev. xix. ; deut. xiv. ) or offerings (deut. xxvi. ) for them were prohibited. . now, if the jewish jehovah thus represented by moses be one and the same being with "the god of peace, that brought again from the dead our lord jesus," whose kingdom was not of this world, whose reward was eternal life, whose followers were of all men the most miserable if in this life only they had hope in christ, then the almighty in one dispensation left his chosen people to ignore the possession of an immortal soul and the hope of eternal life--doctrines fully known and recognised by the egyptians and other nations surrounding them--but in the other revealed, little modified, as his own, these prevailing beliefs of the heathen nations, thus making christianity practically little else than the mosaic religion without the sacrifices, joined to the egyptian belief in the soul's immortality and a state of future rewards and punishments, which moses rejected; in one dispensation he placed his service in the following of those rules of life which lead to making the best of the good earth on which men live, without any other reward; in the other, "he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal," and those are denounced "who mind earthly things, for our conversation is in heaven, from whence also we look for our saviour, the lord jesus christ." a wondrous contradictory almighty! . in the historical books of the old testament, from joshua to esther, there is nothing to indicate that a belief in a future life was held by any of the representatives of jehovah, whether judge, king, prophet, or priest, (a.) the aged joshua (josh. xxiii. ) and the dying david ( kings ii. ) affirm that they are about "to go the way of all the earth." they express neither hope of heaven nor fear of hell. the writer in judges (ii ) states, "all that generation was gathered unto their fathers." the kings of israel and judah all "slept with their fathers." (b.) the godforsaken saul ( sam. xxviii. - ) went to inquire of the witch of endor, and asked her to bring up samuel, who appeared (visible, as the narrative implies, only to the witch) as an old man covered with a mantle--that is to say, his shade had the appearance of himself in old age, _dress and all_--and said, "why hast thou disquieted me to bring me up." saul told his extremity. samuel's wraith affirmed that the kingdom was transferred to david, that saul's army would be defeated by the philistines, and that "to-morrow shalt thou and thy sons be with me." the god-favoured samuel and the god-forsaken saul _would be together_. here is certainly a belief in a future life, and in the power of a witch to bring up to earth a soul _at rest_--not in bliss or in misery, if samuel's "why hast thou thus disquieted me" may be so construed; but that it was not an orthodox jewish belief is made clear by chron. x. : "so saul died for his transgression which he committed against the lord, even against the word of the lord, which he kept not, and also for asking counsel of one that had a familiar spirit, to inquire of it, and inquired not of the lord: therefore he slew him, and turned the kingdom to david, the son of jesse." (c.) the wise woman of tekoah, whom joab sent disguised to king david, expressed the recognised belief when she said, "for we must needs die, and are as water spilled on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again." (d.) elijah ( kings xvii. , ) raised from the dead the son of the widow of zarephath, and elisha ( kings iv. - ) the son of the shunammite. "elisha went up and lay upon the child, and put his mouth upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands, and he stretched himself upon the child, and the flesh of the child waxed warm." elijah, too, stretched himself on the child three times, and he prayed, "o lord my god, let this child's soul (or life, same word as genesis i. ) come into him again; and the lord heard the voice of elijah, and the soul (or life) of the child came into him again, and he revived." it would be hard from these statements to determine whether elijah and elisha considered the child's soul or life as merely the action of an organism, or as so much vital force existing only _as force_ outside the body, or as a separate conscious soul sent back to earth at their request. most probably neither they nor the narrator of their wonder-working had any definite opinion on the subject. elisha's bones, also, had such virtue that when a dead man let down into his sepulchre ( kings xiii. ) had touched them, he revived and stood up on his feet. it is strange that the bones could not do so much for themselves. neither this man, however, nor the resuscitated children, appear to have been made immortal on earth, any more than the son of the widow of nain, or the raised lazarus of the new testament. so, wretched ones, they had to suffer death twice; and when they were brought back to life, what did they tell their wondering friends of the condition of the disembodied soul? the world has been none the wiser of their revisit, (e.) the marvellous departure of elijah ( kings ii. ) was probably told to prevent any sort of worship at his tomb, concealed, in all likelihood, as that of moses, doubtless at his own desire, was. . the authorised version gives rise to considerable misapprehension by translating the hebrew word "sheol" as "hell" in some places, and "the grave" in others, (a.) the passage (genesis xxxvii. ) before referred to, where jacob says, "i will go down into the grave (sheol) unto my son mourning," if translated, "i will go down into hell," &c, would have conveyed to the mind of a modern christian that joseph was in the place of torment. it was quite necessary here, therefore, to render the word "the grave." genesis xlii. is, similarly treated, (b) proverbs xxiii. , , is an example of the other rendering of the same word: "withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die. thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell" (from sheol). here nothing more is meant than that by coercing a youth to follow the lessons of experience, he would be saved from an early grave; but by translating sheol "hell," the notion that "eternal woe" is to be averted by the unsparing use of the rod is erroneously implied, (c.) the hebrew word _kibr_ is usually employed to designate a specific burying-place (a grave, as distinguished from _the_ grave), as in genesis xxiii. ; xxxv. , but is sometimes also used in the same sense as sheol, as psalm vi. , "in the grave (sheol) who shall give thee thanks:" psalm lxxxviii. , "shall thy loving-kindness be declared in the grave" (kibr)? sheol, however, almost invariably means more than a mere burial place: sometimes it is used in the sense of the "power of death" (isaiah xiv. ), sometimes of the unfathomable abyss of darkness, erroneously believed in those days to be under the earth (psalm cxxxix. ; amos ix. ); but usually it implies _the state that follows death_; and that this state was held to be one of ended existence, non-existence, or nothingness, is as clear a conclusion as words can convey. the reprieved hezekiah (isaiah xxxviii. ) says, "for the grave (sheol) cannot praise thee, death cannot celebrate thee: they that go down to the pit cannot hope for thy truth. the living, the living, he shall praise thee, as i do this day." so psalm cxv. , "the dead praise not the lord, neither any that go down into silence;" and eccles. ix. , "for the living know that they shall die, but the dead know not anything;" also ix. , "for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave (sheol), whither thou goest." job, too (vii. ), "as the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away, so he that goeth down to the grave (sheol) shall come up no more." psalm xlix. , "nevertheless, man being in honour abideth not: he is like the beasts that perish." thus also eccles. iii. , "for that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth, so dieth the other: yea, they have all one breath" (i.e, same word as translated "spirit" in verse , and chap. xii. ); "so that a man hath no pre-eminence above a beast: for all is vanity. ( ) all go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. ( ) who knoweth the spirit (or breath) of man that goeth upward, and the spirit (or breath) of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?" is this last verse an answer to any objection taken to what is stated in verse , that man and beast have all one spirit (breath)? again, eccles. xii , "then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return to god who gave it." this passage is quite conclusive against a separate conscious existence of the soul in any one place set apart for its reception, or of one soul going to one place and another to another. man is dissolved into dust and spirit: the dust mingles again with the earth; the spirit in like manner, as spirit, returns to god: in other words, the life as life returns to its source. such seems the idea. again, the mercy of jehovah is shown in consideration of the brief span of man's life, as psalm lxxviii. , "for he remembered that they were but flesh; a wind that passeth away and cometh not again:" ciii. , "he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are dust;" and psalm lxxxvii. mentions the "slain that lie in the grave (kibr), whom thou (jehovah) rememberest no more." how utterly opposed are all these clear statements to the paradise of unspeakable bliss, and the hell of unutterable woe, and the immortal soul and the bodily resurrection of the new testament. . yet there are a few verses of the old testament, the principal job xix. - ; isaiah xxvi. ; ezek. xxxvii. , ; daniel xii. , that, as translated in the authorised version, seem to express the hope of a bodily resurrection. all these passages are of a highly poetical character (that of daniel is in connection with the great jewish prince michael), and if read in the light of the explicit declarations just quoted, it will be felt that they must be open to other constructions, and probably to other renderings than those in the present translation. but it is no part of the present purpose to reconcile discrepancies, apparent or real; and in any case, it is clear that even these last-named passages do not countenance such conceptions as the heaven and hell of the new testament. the christian clergy, fully alive to the importance, for upholding the divine origin which they claim for their creed, of making new testament ideas a development and fulfilment of the old, and of showing that the deities, mosaic and christian, are the same, and not contradictory, have displayed much ingenuity in reconciling incongruities and in discovering resemblances in ways and by reasonings that would not have occurred to ordinary truth-seeking men; but no unbiassed inquirer can fail to perceive the utter divergence between the old and new testament doctrine and practice, as regards a future life, and how impossible it is that both sets of ideas can have emanated from the same mind or spirit, mortal or immortal. there are thus only three possible conclusions: ( .) the mosaic deity is the true god, not the christian; ( .) the christian deity is the true god, not the mosaic; but this contradicts the christian deity himself, who says the mosaic deity was himself; or, ( .) neither is god, in which case there has been no revelation, and all that is left for men is either to assume the existence and attributes of a god who has never revealed himself, or to disbelieve in such existence; or to acknowledge that the question of the existence of a god is one beyond the reach of the human faculties to determine. . if then the resurrection of jesus and the new testament declarations as to a future life, are thus wholly opposed to old testament ideas, do they present any resemblance to the belief of heathendom? (a.) the faith and practice of the egyptians, in connection with their god osiris, have already been referred to in preceding paragraph . it has been well said that the ancient egyptians, in their vivid anticipations of the life to come, lived rather in the next world than on the banks of the nile. the bodily resurrection also had a place in their system. the belief in the deathlessness of souls has been a marked characteristic of all the turanian races, whether represented, as many hold, by the egyptians, etruscans, and lydians of aid, or by the chinese, mongols, and finns of the present day. the etruscan sepulchral paintings represent the disembodied souls on their way to the land of spirits. some are calm and resigned, with rods in their hands: some full of horror and dismay: attendant spirits, good and evil, contend for their possession; the good spirits are coloured red, the evil spirits black; the heads of the latter are wreathed with serpents, and they bear in their hands a hammer or mallet, which is sometimes raised as in the act of striking the woe-begone soul on the knee vainly imploring mercy, (b.) in the zend-a-vesta,--the ancient persian scriptures,--a narrow passage, called "the bridge of the gatherer," is said to be extended over the middle of hell, where the souls of the dead are assembled on the day after the third night from their decease. the wicked fall into the gulf beneath, the gloomy kingdom of ahriman, and are doomed to feed upon poisoned food. the good, sustained by benign angels and spirits and the prayers of surviving friends, cross over in safety, and are greeted on the other side by the archangel, as having passed from mortality to immortality. thence they rise to paradise, where ormuzd and his six holy ones sit on golden thrones, and at once join in the conflict against ahriman and the powers of darkness. at the last day they will share the glory of the triumph of ormuzd, when ahriman and his angels, finally routed and overcome, will be driven into their native darkness, and virtue, harmony, and bliss will evermore prevail in the universe. the resurrection of the body is also contained in the zend-a-vesta, and it likewise forms part of the creed of the magi. (c.) of the sects into which the jews were divided after the return from the captivity in babylon, the writer of the acts states: "for the sadducees say that there is no resurrection, neither angel, nor spirit; but the pharisees confess both:" and josephus writes concerning the latter, "they believe that souls have an immortal vigour in them, and that under the earth there will be rewards or punishments, according as they have lived virtuously or viciously in this life; and the latter are to be detained in an everlasting prison, but that the former shall have power to revive, and live again." elsewhere he shows that these beliefs were traditional merely: "what i would now explain is this, that the pharisees have delivered to the people a great many observances by succession from their fathers, which are not written in the law of moses; and for that reason it is that the sadducees reject them, and say that we are to esteem those observances to be obligatory, which are in the written word, but are not to observe what are derived from the traditions of our fore-fathers." . the belief of classical antiquity as to the condition of souls after death, is beautifully summed up by horace in the ode (i. ) to mercury, date about b.c. ; "grateful alike to the gods supernal and infernal, it is thine to place pious souls in blissful abodes, and to coerce the airy crowd with thy golden wand." homer, indeed, whose poems are certainly prior to the eighth century b.c., has no elysian fields in the land of spirits; all is indeterminate, gloomy, uncomfortable. the shade of achilles says: "talk not of ruling in this dolorous gloom, nor think vain words (he cried) can ease my doom; rather i'd choose laboriously to bear a weight of woes and breathe the vital air, a slave to some poor hind that toils for bread, than reign the sceptred monarch of the dead." but, whether from contact with the east and egypt or otherwise, more definite conceptions of the abode of disembodied spirits were afterwards formed, which have found best expression in virgil's Ã�neid, written about b.c. . there "the gates of hell are open night and day, smooth the descent, and easy is the way;" just as in the sermon on the mount,--"wide is the gate, and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat." at a certain point hell is thus divided: "the right to pluto's golden palace guides; the left to that unhappy region tends which to the depths of tartarus descends." so in the new testament, the sheep (the saved) are on the right, the goats (the lost) on the left hand of the son of man sitting on the throne of his glory. the region to the left is thus described: "these are the realms of unrelenting fate, and awful rhadamanthus rules the state; he hears and judges each committed crime, inquires into the manner, place, and time: the conscious wretch must all his acts reveal (loth to confess, unable to conceal) from the first moment of his vital breath to his last hour of unrepenting death. straight o'er the guilty wretch the fury shakes the sounding whip, and brandishes her snakes, and the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes. all these within the dungeon's depth remain, despairing pardon, and expecting pain." far other the region to the right: "these holy rites performed, they took their way where long-extended fields of pleasure lay; the verdant fields with those of heaven may vie, with ether vested and a purple sky, the blissful seats of happy souls below, stars of their own, and their own suns they know." . plutarch (about a.d. ), referring to the tradition of the mysterious disappearance of romulus and the suspicions of regicide aroused against the patricians, wrote,--"while things were in this disorder, a senator, we are told, of great distinction, and famed for sanctity of manners, julius proculus by name, who came from alba with romulus, and had been his faithful friend, went into the forum, and declared, upon the most solemn oaths, before all the people, that as he was travelling on the road, romulus met him in a form more noble and august than ever, and clad in bright and dazzling armour. astonished at the sight, he said to him, 'for what misbehaviour of ours, o king, or by what accident, have you so untimely left us to labour under the heaviest calumnies, and the whole city to sink under inexpressible sorrow?' to which he answered, 'it pleased the gods, my good proculus, that we should dwell with men for a time; and after having founded a city which will be the most powerful and glorious in the world, _return to heaven, from whence we came_. farewell, then, and go, tell the romans that by the exercise of temperance and fortitude they shall attain the highest pitch of human greatness; and i, the god quirinus, will ever be propitious to you.' this, by the character and oath of the relater, gained credit with the romans, who were caught with the enthusiasm, as if they had been actually inspired; and far from contradicting what they had heard, bade adieu to all their suspicions of the nobility, united in the deifying of quirinus, and addressed their devotions to him. this is very like the grecian fables concerning aristeas, the proconnesian, and cleoraedes, the astypalesian. for aristeas, as they tell us, expired in a fuller's shop; and when his friends came to take away the body, it could not be found. soon after, some persons coming in from a journey, said they met aristeas travelling towards croton. as for cleomedes, their account of him is that he was a man of gigantic size and strength; but behaving in a foolish and frantic manner, he was guilty of many acts of violence. at last he went into a school, where he struck the pillar that supported the roof with his fist, and broke it asunder, so that the roof fell in and destroyed the children. pursued for this, he took refuge in a great chest, and having shut the lid upon him, he held it down so fast that many men together could not force it open; when they had cut the chest in pieces, they could not find him either dead or alive. struck with this strange affair, they sent to consult the oracle at delphi, and had from the priestess this answer:-- "'the race of heroes ends in cleomedes.' it is likewise said, that the body of alcmena was lost as they were carrying it to the grave, and a stone was seen lying on the bier in its stead. many such improbable tales are told by writers who wanted to deify beings naturally mortal." . dio cassius relates that livia, about a.d. , gave a large reward to numericus atticus, a senator, who affirmed that he had seen her husband, the emperor augustus, ascending to heaven in the same manner as romulus had been seen by proeulus. . it is thus clearly manifest that the beliefs of the gentile nations of antiquity with reference to a future life, are similar to the new testament ideas; in fact, the same beliefs under different guises. so, also, the resurrection of jesus from the dead, his subsequent appearances, and his ascension to heaven, are not without parallels in preceding and contemporary fame. the alleged appearances of jesus to mary magdalene, peter, james, paul, and the others, rest on no evidence intrinsically stronger than the appearance of romulus to julius proeulus, or of augustus to numericus atticus. the fact of livia paying money to one who reported that he had seen augustus ascend to heaven shows how deeply this idea was rooted in roman belief. all, therefore, who were swayed by the current roman traditions would have seen nothing incredible in jesus and his claims. these exactly corresponded to what they had been taught from childhood. they had merely to transfer to jesus marvels similar to those which had formed their early faith. the rise of christianity to be the dominant-religion of the roman empire is often referred to as a proof of its divine origin and guidance; but uniting, as it did, the discipline, organisation, earnestness, moral authoritative-ness, and exclusive claim to the favour of god (transferring to believers of every race, but to believers alone, that divine favour which was previously the peculiar possession of the seed of abraham),--all derived from the synagogue,--uniting these with the ancient fundamental beliefs, under another name, of the various gentile nations, it is not difficult to discern the causes of its triumph, in an age unaccustomed to weigh evidence, and at a time when _ancient forms_ were losing their hold on the faith and allegiance of the masses. even in modern religious revivals, the most common manifestations are of convictions which had lost their hold on the mind, or which had become practically powerless to stir under regular ministrations, springing up into renewed vigour and intensity in some novel guise, or through a description of preaching or service out of the common. . and this belief in a life beyond the grave, and pretended knowledge of its conditions--under one form or other one of the most ancient and widespread conceptions of the human race--what has it led to? inhumanity in time past, inhumanity now; bloodshed and misery, dark delusion, degrading superstition, priestly pretence, persecution and intolerance, creed exclusiveness and bigoted zeal, misdirected fervour and visionary hopes--all the offspring of this conviction--fill the records of mankind. . among barbarous races the vivid realisation of the spiritual world has led to such sad misguidance of the life on earth as the following;--(a.) the custom, prevalent both in ancient and modern times, of sacrificing wives, friends, and slaves at funerals to supply the wants of the deceased in the land of spirits, or to accompany him thither, (b.) men killing their relations "out of love," as soon as they showed signs of decrepitude, under the belief that in the next world the spirits will be vigorous or otherwise, corresponding to the state of the body at time of death, (c.) incitement to bloodshed and war by the belief that the enemies a man killed in this world, or those of whose skulls or scalps he obtained possession, would serve him as slaves in the next; or by the more manly conviction that a warring life on earth and a glorious death in battle were the best preparations for the future state, (d.) the practice, still carried on to a frightful extent among some of the african races, of killing men to serve as messengers to their departed kindred in the other world, (e.) the various gloomy and degrading delusions through the arts of spirit-mediums, sorcerers, witches, or other pretenders to intercourse with or control over the spirit-world. . among nations more advanced, the union of assurance of a blissful or woeful immortality, with adherence or non-adherence to any particular banner, sect, or creed, has led--(a.) to bloody religious wars, such as those waged for the spread of islam, the mohammedan believing that if he fell in battle he would immediately possess a paradise of every sensual delight; or such as the crusades, where the red cross was held to be the symbol of sure salvation. ( .) to those inhuman persecutions where men, in the name of religion and in the interest of their own souls, condemned their fellow-men to the dungeon, the stake, the gibbet, and the sword, butchers and butchered both believing that they were doing "god service." where the sufferers in such cases were sacrificed solely to the intolerance of their adversaries, and themselves wished for no more than freedom of thought--sad their lot! but impartial inquiry reveals that, in most instances, the persecuted would have dealt the same measure to their persecutors, if the conditions of power had been reversed, all alike holding that those whose belief was, in their eyes heretical had no right to share either the chequered happiness of this life or the bliss of the world to come. heirs of salvation on one side, heirs of damnation on the other. . the belief that the immortal soul, while on earth, is enchained or imprisoned in a corrupt body, and that the more the body is attenuated and exhausted the purer, the soul will be, and the more fitted for the contemplation of divine things, has led men and women to separate themselves from their kind, to pass unnatural lives in penitential exercises and mortifications, either in solitude or among communities apart from the world. abstinence from marriage has been a condition common to almost all these devotees, so that for the sake of the soul, fondly believed to be immortal, they forbear the enjoyment of the only means for the continuance of human life--viz., that of living over again in children and descendants. myriads of lives have been utterly wasted and perverted by this form of the delusion, their folly receiving, for the most part, the countenance, support, and reverence of blinded contemporaries. . the ideas handed down from past ages, and still widely prevalent, that there are certain orders of men who have the keys of heaven and hell, who possess such favour or influence with the invisible powers as to be able to ensure a happy or a wretched immortality, or even to alter the condition of the soul after death; or, in other quarters, that certain orders of men are the divinely appointed teachers of that doctrine or belief, on the correct acceptance or appreciation of which the state of the future life depends; or, among others, that apart from any particular clerical order there is a saving doctrine or belief, and that on its correct reception or understanding, or otherwise, eternal bliss or woe will result;--to what do such ideas tend? they are not new or peculiar to christianity. the worshippers under the ancient persian religion are thus exhorted:--"to obtain the acceptation of this guide to salvation (the priest), you must faithfully pay him tithes of all you possess, of your goods, of your lands, and of your money. if the priest be satisfied your soul will escape hell tortures; you will secure praise in this world and happiness in the next. for the priests are the teachers of religion; they know all things and deliver all men." this is explicit and straightforward, and contrasts favourably with the more guarded phrase in which modern clergy advocate similar claims, or claims founded on the same idea, _that their ministration, in one way or other, is connected with the future lot of their hearers_. the "remedy of the soul" under one form of christianity, the "advancement of the cause of christ," who will repay deeds done in his service with the riches of "grace and glory", under another, are and have been the two ruling motives by which the offerings of the faithful flow into the coffers of the clergy, for the establishment, whether by states or individuals, of orders of men claiming titles of reverence from, moral control over, and direction and limitation of the knowledge and professed belief of their fellows, all under the prevailing idea "of a life to come," to happiness in which their ministrations and counsel are believed to be safe guides. thus, unsparing generosity, steadfast devotion, self-sacrificing enthusiasm, intellectual power, love of kind, and others of the highest and best human traits, instead of being turned towards remedying the evils and inequalities of the life on earth, and of improving it to the utmost, have been utterly perverted and wasted on orders of men and ecclesiastical establishments, and observances and doctrines, all more or less connected with a future state, the fond hope of misguided mortals. . such and so great, then, in brief, are among the more prominent evils that have arisen out of the ancient and widespread belief in a "life to come," of which the resurrection of jesus, and the connected doctrines and practices, constitute one important development; to which the religion of moses was antagonistic, not, as christians claim, antecedent, but which, under one form or other, has exercised a powerful sway under almost all, if not all, the other ancient religions. chapter vi. conclusion . the results, then, of this inquiry are:-- (a.) it has been shown that none of the supernatural occurrences mentioned in the new testament, as testimonies to the supernatural claims of jesus, rest on the accordant testimony of two or three witnesses; that there is also the most serious variance between the accounts of the different writers,--not that variance resulting in substantial agreement which often characterises the statements of two independent eye-witnesses relating different impressions of the same event, but that variance which characterises illusion and man-deifying fable. thus, a condition of ordinary proof, required by the deity of the mosaic as well as by the deity of the christian system, is not fulfilled. far less does the evidence satisfy that most righteous demand ever put forward by each earnest man, for proof of the highest and strictest kind, before he yields a conscience-approved assent to occurrences and to claims professing to be specially representative of a being held to be beyond and supreme over nature. how else but by the demand for strictest proof could special manifestations of a true god (if any such had occurred or were to occur) be distinguished from pretence and imposture? each religious system judges the pretensions of all others by severe tests of evidence and rightful incredulity, but refuses to apply these to its own. and what sort of being can they conceive an almighty to be who affirm that he not only commands and approves belief in supernatural events, on such evidence and on such grounds as are put forth by the new testament compilers, or on the impassioned utterances of preachers or other emotional influences, but also that he has left those to perish in their sins who do not so believe. he, an almighty maker of the universe, approve credulity, disapprove rightful incredulity and keen inquiry, ordain belief without conscience-satisfying evidence, less regardful of truth, less righteous than man! (b) it has also been made clear that the new testament deity is altogether different from the mosaic, and that the various conceptions with reference to the supernatural claims of jesus are of heathen (i.e., non-mosaic) origin. a woman conceiving a child through direct intercourse with the deity, that child brought up as the reputed son of her husband, the tale of the star-gazing wise men of the east, the spirit of the eternal appearing in a bodily shape like a dove, the ordinance of baptism, the arch-fiend satan and his subject demons, the heaven and hell of the new testament, the resurrection of jesus, his subsequent appearances, his ascension, the doctrine of a future life, all, it has been found, corresponded to the prominent religious beliefs of the various gentile nations, and were wholly opposed to or ignored by mosaic teaching. the claim of christianity, therefore, to be the representative of the mosaic deity is thus destroyed, and the alleged fulfilment of jewish prophecy in the events of the life of jesus is also seen, on careful examination of the details, to be altogether without foundation. there is thus no ground for that conscience-satisfying belief which might otherwise have rested on valid evidence of the power, and wonder-working, and special revelations, and faithfully fulfilled predictions of _one and the same being_ continued down through many generations of men. . what, then, is left to those who had cherished these beliefs, and rested on them, when their fond faith and hope are overthrown by fairly prosecuted inquiry? what, rather, is _not_ left? their own life on earth; their fellow-men in their various relations; the good earth on which man holds the highest position and subdues to his own use; the knowledge and understanding of the material and moral laws of the universe and its harmony and order; the application of these laws, so far as they affect the well-being of man, to the alleviation of misery, to the diffusion of comfort, and to general progress, physical, moral, and intellectual,--all these remain,--sources of rejoicing and thankfulness, objects of affection, of solicitude, of admiration--ample scope for the exercise of every useful and loving and noble quality of the race. so, then, may we be taught to number the days of our brief life "that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." scanned by fox in the stars from the collection of brays advent christian church in iberia, missouri) opinions of the press. =secular.= 'the book is a distinctly readable one.'--_glasgow herald_, september , . 'really excellent little work.'--_daily news_, september , . 'we cannot commend it too highly.'--_western morning news_, january , . 'carefully thought-out little work ... written with frank and tolerant impartiality.'--_standard_, may , . 'the arguments are admirably marshalled; difficulties are not evaded, but met fairly.'--_westminster review_, august, . 'we welcome a new edition.... the appeal of the book is evidently one to common sense, and the success it has met is fully deserved. there is a healthy lay atmosphere about colonel turton's arguments which renders them, we fancy, peculiarly effective.'--_pall mall gazette_, march , . 'it is difficult to know whether to admire most the logical precision with which he marshals his facts, and enforces his conclusions, or the charming candour, and freshness of style, which make his book so readable.'--_liverpool daily post_, march , . 'this is a new edition, thoroughly revised, of lieutenant-colonel turton's famous book.... we are specially struck with the detached manner in which he examines the case; he holds the scales evenly, and is not rhetorical. anyone who has any power of reasoning at all can follow him clearly from start to finish.'--_bristol times and mirror_, february , . 'it is a book for the hour, and needs to be circulated by thousands ... straightforward, manly, and convincing.'--_schoolmaster_, march , . =church of england.= 'the book is of considerable value to everyone who is concerned with the controversy on christian evidences; it presents a perfect storehouse of facts and the conclusions which may be legitimately drawn from them.'--_church times_, november , . 'we have already expressed our high opinion of this work--the author of which, it may be mentioned, is serving in south africa.'--_guardian_, october , . 'this thoughtful and convincing treatise.... we are glad to be able to give our good word for the book, which should be found in the catalogue of every public library in the kingdom. it is a volume admirably suited for a gift-book to young men. it furnishes an armoury of invincible weapons against the scepticism and semi-scepticism which are rampant among us.'--_english churchman_, november , . 'this very excellent volume.... we strongly recommend this book to the clergy for their own use and for lending to thoughtful and painstaking readers.'--_church union gazette_, january, . 'it is one of the best books of its class, readable, candid, convincing, and thorough. it would be cheering news to hear that it had been widely read. the book will continue to make its way; and all christians will rejoice that it should do so.'--_church intelligencer_, october, . 'we give a hearty welcome to this revised edition. it is admirably suited for general use.'--_churchman_, february, . 'this is a textbook on christian evidence we would readily place in the hands of the lay worker as an essential part of his equipment.'--_lay reader_, december, . 'there is no padding, and no unnecessary rhetoric. all the available space is filled with good solid reasoning, put in simple language which an intelligent artisan can follow as easily as an educated person.'--_church family newspaper_, october , . 'throughout the book the reader will be delighted with the sanity and level-headedness of the writer, whose frequent appeals to common sense are remarkably telling and effective.'--_birmingham diocesan magazine_, october, . 'the brilliancy of the author does not consist in his rhetoric or appeal, but in the really brilliant fairness which he displays towards the other side, in the accuracy with which he analyses each situation, and in the clear and simple arguments which he adduces.'--_church standard_, january, . 'personally, we have never met with any book which can be more confidently recommended.'--_church army review_, december, . 'this is the kind of book which strengthens believers and makes converts. it is one which should be placed within the reach of every lad at that period of his life when he begins to think for himself.'--_the_ (church lads') _brigade_, october, . =roman catholic.= 'we most heartily wish that a copy of it could be found in the library of every catholic family, school, and institution.'--_catholic times_, january, (sixth notice). 'this excellent book, ... well written, attractive in its style, clearly thought out, and convincing.'--_tablet_, august , . 'this is a work of uncommon merit.... the style is clear and makes for pleasant reading. we wish many of our catholic young men would try and analyse a chapter in colonel turton's helpful defence of christianity.'--_universe_, july , . 'having read and thoroughly approved every page of the book, we can well believe that many clergy and teachers are finding it a useful compendium of replies to all the chief arguments advanced against christianity. though written by a non-catholic, we can most strongly recommend it as a book of the highest merit.'--_catholic herald_, february , . 'a capital book already much used by priests in this country, and to be found upon the shelves of very many of our clerical libraries. but we wish that the catholic paterfamilias would procure it too, and recommend it to his boys ... there is a masculine ring about it, and no shuffling over difficulties.'--_catholic fireside_, march , . =presbyterian.= 'one does not know what to admire most in the book--the accurate knowledge gathered from so many fields, the clear reasoning, the sound judgment, or the fine spirit which animates the whole.'--_christian leader_, june , . 'admirably arranged and clearly expressed.'--_weekly leader_, october , . 'one of the best books of its kind.'--_st. andrew_, june , . 'this is an admirable summary. it is clear, simple, and well arranged ... the style also makes it extremely readable.'--_presbyterian_, march, . =nonconformist.= 'he is eminently fair to opponents, clear in statement, and convincing in argument for his own case, and his standpoint, is unmistakably evangelical. his style suits his work, being calm, lucid, and simple.'--_methodist times_, august , . 'is a tried favourite, and has served the kingdom in many lands. there is no book of the class known to us so complete and conclusive.'--_methodist recorder_, february , . 'it deserves all the good that has been said of it.'--_united methodist_, november , . 'one characteristic may be singled out for notice--the writer's extraordinary alertness in the use of the most recent material. he seems to be continually on the watch for discoveries and suggestions, and to be able to utilise them promptly and skilfully.'--_baptist_, january , . 'on the whole, it is the best popular summary that we have met. it excels in definiteness of purpose, in clearness of statement, in moderation, and in conciseness.'--_baptist times_, october , . 'the book is one that every young man would do well to read. its absolute fairness, convincing logic, and withal extreme simplicity are such as cannot fail to establish the faith of multitudes.' _y.m.c.a. review_, december, . 'the author's line of argument is irresistible in its rugged force. ... a fascinating book.'--_social gazette_ (salvation army), april , . =agnostic.= 'again, as in , we commend lieutenant-colonel turton's book as a handy epitome of nearly all conceivable arguments in support of christianity. the twenty-four chapters champion twenty-four propositions, and the whole thing is worked out as systematically as a problem in a successful student's honours paper. ...however, it is of no avail to argue such points with our well-meaning and unimaginative lieutenant-colonel; and we will merely remark that he is quite a gentleman, and uses no disdainful language towards the poor agnostic.'--_literary guide and rationalistic review_, march, . 'this remarkable volume contains over pages, with scarcely a dull one among them. the author's easy flow of unlaboured thought, his facility of expression, and his fine gift of exposition, carry the reader on in spite of himself.... differ as we may from much that is in the gallant colonel's volume, we gladly pay him the respect due to frankness, cleverness, and transparency of mind and motive, and thank him for putting his own side of a great subject so simply and interestingly, and without prejudice or bitterness.'--_new age_, august , . the truth of christianity the truth of christianity being an examination of the more important arguments for and against believing in that religion compiled from various sources by lt.-col. w. h. turton, d.s.o. late royal engineers ninth edition fortieth thousand (_carefully revised throughout_) london wells gardner, darton & co., ltd. and , paternoster buildings, e.c. and , victoria street, s.w. _first edition published oct., . } , copies._ _cheap " " oct., ._ } _third " carefully revised " sept., ._ , " _fourth " " " " mar., ._ , " _fifth " " " " mar., ._ , " _sixth " " " " jan., ._ , " _seventh " " " " nov., ._ , " _eighth " " " " nov., ._ , " _ninth " " " " oct., ._ , " translations: _japanese edition published dec., . copies._ _italian " " oct., ._ , " _chinese " shortened " june, ._ , " _arabic " " oct., ._ , " preface to ninth edition. i have again carefully revised the whole book. some additions have been made here and there, especially in chapter xix.; but as a rule the alterations have been merely to shorten and condense the arguments where this could be done without spoiling them, and to simplify the language as much as possible. the book is thus shorter, and i hope simpler than any previous edition. another slight improvement, which will commend itself to most purchasers, is reducing the price to s. net. the work, as before stated, lays no claim to originality, and i have not hesitated to borrow arguments and illustrations from any source. the references to the bible are all to the revised version. w. h. t. , caledonia place, clifton, bristol, _october , _. contents part i. _natural religion._ chapter page i. that the universe had a creator ii. that the creator designed the universe iii. that the existence of god is extremely probable iv. that man is a free and responsible being v. that god takes an interest in man's welfare vi. that god might make some revelation to man vii. that a miraculous revelation is credible part ii. _the jewish religion._ viii. that the account of the creation was divinely revealed ix. that its origin was confirmed by miracles x. that its history was confirmed by miracles xi. that its history was confirmed by prophecies xii. that the jewish religion is probably true part iii. _the christian religion._ xiii. that the christian religion is credible xiv. that the four gospels are genuine from external testimony xv. that the gospels are genuine from internal evidence xvi. that the gospels are genuine from the evidence of the acts xvii. that the resurrection of christ is probably true xviii. that the failure of other explanations increases this probability xix. that the other new testament miracles are probably true xx. that the jewish prophecies confirm the truth of christianity xxi. that the character of christ confirms the truth of christianity xxii. that the history of christianity confirms its truth xxiii. that on the whole the other evidence supports this conclusion xxiv. that the three creeds are deducible from the new testament xxv. that the truth of the christian religion is extremely probable index of texts index of subjects part i. _natural religion._ chap. i. that the universe had a creator. " ii. that the creator designed the universe. " iii. that the existence of god is extremely probable. " iv. that man is a free and responsible being. " v. that god takes an interest in man's welfare. " vi. that god might make some revelation to man. " vii. that a miraculous revelation is credible. chapter i. that the universe had a creator (_a._) the origin of the universe. explanation of the universe, its origin, a free force. ( .) the philosophical argument. if the universe had not an origin, all events must have occurred before, and this seems incredible. ( .) the scientific argument. from the process of evolution and the degradation of energy. (_b._) the creator of the universe. the single supernatural cause, which originated it. it is proposed in this essay to consider the reasons for and against believing in the truth of christianity, meaning by that term, as will be explained later on (chapter xiii.), the doctrines contained in the three creeds. for convenience the subject has been divided into three parts, natural religion, the jewish religion, and the christian religion; but the second of these may be omitted by anyone not specially interested in that subject. at present we are considering _natural religion_ only, which deals with the great questions of the existence of god, and the probability, or otherwise, of his making some revelation to man. and we will commence at the very beginning, though the first chapter will unfortunately have to be rather technical. (_a._) the origin of the universe. now by the universe is meant the _material_ universe, which includes everything that exists (earth, sun, stars, and all they contain), with the exception of immaterial or spiritual beings, if there are any such. and by this universe having had an _origin_ is meant that it was at some time acted on by a _free_ force, that is to say, by a force which does not always act the same under the same circumstances, but which can act or not as it pleases. no doubt such a force would be totally different from all the known forces of nature; but there is no difficulty in understanding what is meant by the term, since man himself _seems_ to possess such a force in his own free will. he _seems_ for instance to be able to raise his hand, or not, as he likes. we are not, of course, assuming that man's will is really free, but merely that the idea of a free force, able to act or not as it pleases, is well known and generally understood. hence the statement that the universe had an origin means that at some time or other it was acted on by such a free force; in other words, it has not existed for ever under the fixed and invariable forces of nature, and without any external interference. we have now to consider the two arguments in favour of this, which may be called the philosophical and the scientific argument. ( .) _the philosophical argument._ by this is meant that, when we reflect on the subject, it seems inevitable that if the universe had not an origin, all present events must have occurred before. the reason for thinking this is, that if all free force is excluded, it is plain that matter must be eternal, since its coming into existence at any time could not have been a necessity, and must therefore have been due to some free force. it is equally plain that what we call the forces of nature and the properties of matter must also be eternal, since any alteration in them at any time would also have required a free force. and from this it follows that no _new_ event can happen _now_. for every event which the forces of nature could possibly bring about of themselves would, since they have been acting from eternity, have been brought about long ago. therefore present events are not new, but must have occurred before. this is no doubt a possible theory. for example, if we assume that the universe will in process of time work itself back into precisely the same condition in which it was long ago as a _nebula_ or anything else, when it will begin again precisely the same changes as before; then, and only then, is it possible that it has been going on doing so from all eternity. but this theory, though possible, is certainly not credible. for it requires that all events, past, present, and future, down to the minutest detail, have occurred, and will occur, over and over again. they must, in fact, form a _recurring series_. and when applied to a single example, say the history of the human race, this is seen to be quite incredible. we must hence conclude that the universe has not existed for ever under the fixed forces of nature, and without any external interference; in other words, that it had an origin. no doubt there are difficulties in regard to this theory also, but they are mostly due to our ignorance. we may not know, for instance, whether matter itself is eternal. nor may we know why, if a free force once acted on the universe, it never apparently does so at present, and still less can we picture to ourselves what such a force would be like; though the difficulty here is no greater than that of picturing a force which is not free, say gravity. but our ignorance about all this is no reason for doubting what we do know. and it appears to the writer that we do know that, unless present events have occurred before, which seems incredible, the universe cannot have existed for ever without some _free force_ having acted on it at some time. in short, it seems less difficult to believe that the universe had an origin than to believe that it had not. ( .) _the scientific argument._ and this conclusion is greatly strengthened by two scientific theories now generally accepted--that of the process of evolution and the degradation of energy; both of which seem to show that the universe had a beginning. the first subject, that of _evolution_, will be discussed more fully in the next chapter. all that need be said here is, that the atoms of the universe, with their evolving properties, cannot have existed eternally; for then the course of evolution would have commenced in the eternal past, and would therefore have been finished now. but this is certainly not the case, and evolution is still in progress, or at all events was so a few thousand years ago; and a state of progress cannot be _eternal_. it thus differs from a mere state of _change_ which as we have seen, might be eternal, if the changes were recurring. but a state of _progress_, in which the changes are not recurring, but all tend in one direction, can never be eternal. it must have had a commencement. and this commencement cannot have been a necessity, so it must have been due to some free force. in short, evolution requires a previous _evolver_; since it cannot have been going on for ever, and it cannot have started itself. the other theory, that of the _degradation of energy_, is that all energy (motion, etc.) tends to _heat_; the simplest instance being that of two bodies hitting each other when a certain amount of motion is lost, and a corresponding amount of heat is produced. and heat tends to be equally distributed. the heat, for instance, which is now stored up in the sun will in process of time be distributed throughout space, and the same applies to the whole universe; so that everything will eventually have the same temperature. and though this may take millions of years, they are yet nothing to eternity. therefore, if the universe with all its present forces has existed from eternity, and without any external interference, it must have been reduced to this state long ago. so if this theory is correct (and the only reason for doubting it, is the curious behaviour of _radium_), it seems not only probable, but certain, that the universe had an origin. but an objection has now to be considered. it may be said that the above reasoning is merely another form of the old argument, 'everything must have a cause, and therefore there must have been a first cause;' the obvious answer to which is, that then this first cause must also have had a cause, and so on indefinitely. but this is not the case; for the alleged first cause is of a different _kind_ from all the others. it is a _free_ cause, whereas natural causes are not free, but are themselves effects of other natural causes; and these, again, of previous ones. what we want is a cause which is _not_ also an effect, in other words, a cause which is not moved by anything else, but is moved by itself, or _free_. when once we get to such a cause as this, there is no need for a previous one. this objection, then, cannot be maintained, and we therefore decide that the universe had an origin. and all we know at present about the force which originated it, is that it was a free force. and the conclusion at which we have arrived may be concisely expressed by saying, that before all natural causes which acted necessarily, there was a _first cause_ which acted voluntarily. (_b._) the creator of the universe. we have next to consider what else we can ascertain in regard to this first cause. to begin with it can scarcely be disputed at the present day that it was a _single_ cause, as modern science has completely established the unity which pervades the universe. we know for instance that the same materials are used everywhere, many of the elements which exist on this earth being also found in the sun and stars. then there is the force of gravity, which is all-embracing, and applies equally to the most distant stars, and to the most minute objects on this earth; and many other examples might be given. but it is scarcely necessary, as everyone now admits that the universe (as the word implies) is one whole, and this plainly points to a _single_ first cause. nor can it be disputed that this first cause was _supernatural_, which merely means that it differs from natural forces in being _free_; for this is exactly what we have shown. it was thus no kind of gravitation, or electricity, or anything of that sort. all these and all similar forces would always act the same under the same conditions; while the force we are considering was of a different kind. it was a _free_ force, a force which voluntarily chose to originate the universe at a certain time. and such a force must clearly have been supernatural. in conclusion we will call this _single supernatural cause_, which originated the universe, its _creator_. and if it be objected that the universe may have had no _origin_, owing to some free force having been always acting on it, such a force must also be single and supernatural, and may equally well be called its creator. chapter ii. that the creator designed the universe. design means voluntary action, combined with foreknowledge. (_a._) evidence of design. seems overwhelming throughout organic nature; and we are not appealing to it to show the creator's existence, but merely his foreknowledge. ( .) the example of a watch: its marks of design show that it had a maker who foresaw its use. ( .) the example of an eye: this also has marks of design, and must also have had a designer. ( .) the evidence cumulative. (_b._) the evolution objection. ( .) the meaning of evolution: it is a process, not a cause. ( .) the effect of evolution on the present argument: it increases the evidence for design. (_c._) the free will objection. ( .) its great improbability: for several reasons. ( .) free will and foreknowledge not inconsistent; so the chief argument in its favour cannot be maintained. conclusion. having decided that the universe had a creator, we have next to examine whether the creator designed the universe. now by _design_ is meant any voluntary action, combined with foreknowledge of the results that will follow from such action. so when the creator originated the universe, if he foreknew the results of his action, it would be to _design_ those results, as the word is here used. and these include, either directly or indirectly, the whole course of the universe, everything that exists, or that ever has existed in the world. by the word _foreknew_ it is not meant that the creator necessarily _thought_ of all future events, however insignificant, such as the position of the leaves on each tree; but merely that he was able to foresee any of them he wished, and in this sense foreknew them. compare the case of memory; a man may be able to remember a thousand events in his life; but they are not all before his mind's eye at the same time, and the insignificant ones may never be. in the same way the creator may have been able to foresee all future events in the world's history without actually thinking about them. at all events, this is the kind of foresight, or rather foreknowledge, which is meant to be included in the term _design_. (_a._) evidence of design. passing on now to the evidence of design, this is of the most varied kind, especially throughout organic nature, where we find countless objects, which seem to point to the foresight of the cause which produced them. the evidence is indeed so vast that it is difficult to deal with it satisfactorily. perhaps the best way will be to follow the well-known _watch_ argument of paley, first showing by the example of a watch what it is that constitutes marks of design; next, how a single organ, say the human eye, possesses these marks; and then, the cumulative nature of the evidence. ( .) _the example of a watch._ now, when we examine a watch, we see that it has marks of design, because the several parts are put together for a _purpose_. they are so shaped and arranged as to produce motion, and this motion is so regulated as to point out the hour of the day. while, if they had been differently shaped or differently arranged, either no motion at all would have been produced, or none which would have answered the same purpose. and from this, we may infer two things. the first is that the watch had a _maker_ somewhere and at some time; and the second is that this maker understood its construction, and _designed_ it for the purpose which it actually serves. these conclusions, it will be noticed, would not be altered by the fact that we had never seen a watch made; never knew a man capable of making one; and had no idea how the work could be done. all this would only exalt our opinion of the unknown watchmaker's skill, but would raise no doubt in our minds either as to his existence, or as to his having made the watch for the purpose of telling the time. nor should we feel that the watch was explained by being told that every part of it worked in strict accordance with natural laws, and could not possibly move otherwise than it did; in fact, that there was no design to account for. we should feel that, though the action of every part might be in strict accordance with law, yet the fact that all these parts agreed in this one particular, that they all helped to enable the watch to tell the time, did show design somewhere. in other words, we should feel that the properties of matter could only partly account for the watch, and that it required a skilful watchmaker as well, who made use of these properties so as to enable the watch to tell the time. now suppose on further investigation we found that the watch also possessed the unexpected property of producing in the course of its movements another watch very like itself. it might, for instance, contain a mould in which the new works were cast, and some machinery which fitted them together. what effect would this have on our former conclusions? it would plainly increase our admiration for the watch, and for the skill of its unknown maker. if without this extra property, the watch required a skilful maker, still more would it do so with it. and this conclusion would not be altered by the fact that very possibly the watch we were examining was itself produced in this way from some previous one, and perhaps that from another. we should feel that, though each watch might be thus produced from a previous one, it was in no sense _designed_ by it. and hence this would not in any way weaken our conviction as to the existence of a watchmaker somewhere and at some time who designed the whole series. this, then, is the watch argument. wherever we find marks of design, there must be a designer somewhere; and this conclusion cannot be altered by any other considerations whatever. if, then, we find in nature any objects showing marks of design, the obvious inference is that they also had a designer. and this inference, it should be noticed, does not depend on any supposed _analogy_ between the works of man and the works of nature. the example of the watch is merely given _as an example_, to show clearly what the design argument is; but the argument itself would be just as sound if man never had made, and never could make, any object showing marks of design. moreover, to complete the example, we must assume that the _existence_ of the watchmaker, and the fact of his having made the watch, are already admitted for other reasons. and we are only appealing to these marks of design to show that _when_ he made the watch, he must have known that it would be able to tell the time, and presumably made it for that purpose. and in this case the inference seems, if possible, to be still stronger. ( .) _the example of an eye._ we will next consider the _human eye_ as an example of natural organs showing marks of design. it is a well-known instance, but none the worse on that account. now, in order to see anything clearly, it is necessary that an image or picture of it should be formed at the back of the eye, that is, on the _retina_ from whence the impression is communicated to the brain. and the eye is an instrument used for producing this picture, and in some respects very similar to a telescope. and its marks of design are abundant and overwhelming. to begin with, in both the eye and the telescope the rays of light have to be _refracted_, so as to produce a distinct image; and the lens, and humours in the eye, which effect this, somewhat resemble the lenses of a telescope. while the _different_ humours through which the rays pass, prevent them from being partly split up into different colours. the same difficulty had of course to be overcome in telescopes, and this does not seem to have been effected till it occurred to some one to imitate in glasses made from different materials the effect of the different humours in the eye.[ ] [footnote : encyc. brit., th edit., vol. xxiii., p. .] in the next place, the eye has to be suited to perceive objects at different _distances_, varying from inches to miles. in telescopes this would be done either by putting in another lens, or by some focussing arrangement. in the eye it is effected by slightly altering the _shape_ of the lens, making it more or less convex. a landscape of several miles is thus brought within a space of half an inch in diameter, though the objects it contains, at least the larger ones, are all preserved, and can each be distinguished in its size, shape, colour, and position. yet the same eye that can do this can read a book at the distance of a few inches. again, the eye has to be adapted to different _degrees of light_. this is effected by the _iris_, which is a kind of screen in the shape of a ring, capable of expanding or contracting so as to alter the size of the central hole or pupil, yet always retaining its circular form. moreover, it is somehow or other self-adjusting; for if the light is too strong, the pupil at once contracts. it is needless to point out how useful such a contrivance would be in photography, and how much we should admire the skill of its inventor. again, the eye can perceive objects in different _directions_; for it is so constructed that it can turn with the greatest rapidity right or left, up or down, without moving the head. it is also provided _in duplicate_, the two eyes being so arranged that though each can see separately should the other get injured, they can, as a rule, see together with perfect harmony. lastly, our admiration for the eye is still further increased when we remember that it was formed _before birth_. it was what is called a _prospective_ organ, of no use at the time when it was made; and this, when carefully considered, shows design more plainly than anything else. on the whole, then, the eye appears to be an optical instrument of great ingenuity; and the conclusion that it must have been made by someone, and that whoever made it must have known and designed its use, seems inevitable. these conclusions, it will be noticed, like the similar ones in regard to the watch, are not affected by our ignorance on many points. we may have no idea as to how an eye can be made, and yet feel certain that, as it exists, it must have been made by someone, and that its maker designed it for the purpose it serves. nor should we feel that the eye is explained by being told that every part of it has been produced in strict accordance with natural laws, and could not have been otherwise; in fact, that there is no design to account for. no doubt every single part has been thus produced, and if it stood alone there might be little to account for. but it does not stand alone. all the various and complicated parts of the eye agree in this one remarkable point, and in this one only, that they all help to enable man to see; and it is this that requires explanation. we feel that there must be some connection between the cause which brought all these parts together and the fact of man's seeing. in other words, the result must have been designed. nor does the fact that every organism in nature is produced from a previous one of the same kind alter this conclusion. indeed, as was shown with reference to the watch, it can only increase our admiration for the skill which must have been spent on the first organism of each kind. moreover, no part of the design can be attributed to the _parents_. if, for instance, the eyes of a child show design, it is not due to the intelligence or designing power of its father and mother. _they_ have not calculated the proper shape for the lens, or the mechanism of the iris, and as a rule know nothing whatever about it. and the same applies to _their_ parents, so that our going back ever so far in this way brings us no nearer to what we are in search of. the design is still unaccounted for, we still want a designer. we hence conclude that the marks of design in the eye afford, at all events, what seems to be a very strong argument in favour of a _designer_. and if only one eye existed in the universe, and there were no other mark of design in nature, this conclusion would be none the less clear. ( .) _the evidence cumulative._ but the argument is far stronger than this. it is cumulative in a _triple_ sense. to begin with, an eye is found not in one man only, but in millions of men, each separately showing marks of design, and each separately requiring a designer. secondly, the human eye is only one example out of hundreds in the human body. the ear or the mouth would lead to the same conclusion, and so would the lungs or the heart. while, thirdly, human beings are but one out of many thousands of organisms in nature, all bearing marks of design, and showing in some cases an even greater ingenuity than in the human eye. of course, as a rule, the lower organisms, being less complicated than the higher ones, have less striking marks of design, but their existence is equally clear; the flowers of plants affording some well-known examples. nor is this all, for even the world itself bears traces of having been designed. had it been a mere chaos, we might have thought that the creator was unaware of what would be the result of his action. but a planet like our earth, so admirably adapted for the support of life, can scarcely have been brought about by accident. we conclude then, on reviewing the whole subject, that there are countless objects in nature, more especially organs like the eye, which bear strong marks of having been _designed_. and then the unity of nature, and the fact that all its parts act on one another in so many ways (the eye for instance being useless without light), shows that if anything has been designed, everything has been designed. now there are two, and only two, important objections to this argument, which may be called the _evolution_ and the _free will_ objection. (_b._) the evolution objection. the first objection is that the whole of nature has been brought about in accordance with fixed laws by the process of _evolution_. therefore, though it is possible the creator may have foreseen everything that exists; yet the apparent marks of design in nature, being all the necessary results of these laws, do not afford any evidence that he actually did so. and before discussing this objection we must first consider what we mean by laws of nature and natural forces. now by a _law of nature_ is meant any regular, or uniform action which we observe in nature. for example, it is called a law, or rule of nature that (with certain exceptions) heat should expand bodies, which merely means that we see that it does so. in other words, we observe that heat is followed by expansion, and we therefore assume that the one is the cause of the other. but calling it a law of nature for heat to expand bodies, does not in any way account for its doing so. and the same is true in other cases, so that a law of nature _explains_ nothing, it is merely a summary of the facts to be explained. it should also be noticed that a law of nature _effects_ nothing. it has no coercive, or compelling power whatever. the law of gravitation, for instance, has never moved a planet, any more than the rules of navigation have steered a ship. in each case it is some power or force acting according to law which does it. and _natural forces_ are those which, as far as we know, _always_ act according to some fixed law. they have no freedom of choice, they cannot act or not as they like; they must always and everywhere act the same under the same circumstances. we pass on now to the subject of evolution, first considering its meaning, and then its effect on the present argument. ( .) _the meaning of evolution._ now by the term evolution is meant to be included the processes of organic evolution, natural selection, and the survival of the fittest. the former may be described as meaning that all the different forms of life now existing, or that ever have existed on this earth, are the descendants of earlier and less developed forms, and those again of simpler ones; and so on, till we get back to the earliest form of life, whatever that may have been. and the theories of _natural selection_ and _the survival of the fittest_ explain how this may have taken place. for among the slight modifications that would most likely occur in every organism, those, and only those, would be perpetuated which were of advantage to it in the struggle for existence. and they would in time, it is assumed, become hereditary in its descendants, and thus higher forms of life would be gradually produced. and the value of these theories is that they show how organic evolution may have taken place without involving any sudden change, such as a monkey giving birth to a man. we must remember, however, that the subject is far from settled; and even now naturalists are beginning to doubt whether all the modifications were in reality very slight. but still, speaking broadly, this is the theory we have to discuss. it will, of course, be noticed that evolution is thus a _process_, and not a _cause_. it is the method in which certain changes have been brought about, and not the cause which brings them about. every slight modification must have been caused somehow. when such modifications were caused, then natural selection can explain how the useful ones alone were perpetuated, but it cannot explain how the modifications themselves arose. on the contrary, it supposes them as already existing, otherwise there would be nothing to select from. natural selection, then, rather weeds than plants, and would be better described as natural _rejection_. it merely shows how, as a rule, among the various modifications in an organism, some good and some bad, the useless ones would disappear, and the useful ones would remain; in other words, how the fittest would survive. but this survival of the fittest does not explain in the slightest degree how the fitness arose. if, as an extreme example, out of a hundred animals, fifty had eyes and fifty had not, it is easy to understand how those that had eyes would be more likely to have descendants; but this does not explain how they first got eyes. and the same applies in other cases. how, then, did the variations in each organism first arise? in common language they may be ascribed to chance; but, strictly speaking, such a thing is impossible. the word _chance_ is merely a convenient term for the results of certain forces of nature when we are unable to calculate them. chance, then, must be excluded; and there seem to be only two alternatives. either the organisms in nature possessed free will, and acted as they did _voluntarily_; or else they did not possess free will, and acted as they did _necessarily_. the former theory will be examined later on; the latter is the one we are now considering. ( .) _the effect of evolution._ how then would this theory affect our previous conclusion that the creator designed all the organs of nature, such as the eye, and hence presumably the whole of the universe? as we shall see, it only confirms it. for to put it plainly, if all free will on the part of the organisms is excluded, so that they were all bound to act exactly as they did, it is clear that the earth and all it contains is like a vast mass of machinery. and however complicated its parts, and however much they may act on one another, and however long they may take in doing so, yet if in the end they produce an organ showing design, this must have been foreseen and intended by the maker of the machinery. in the same way if a mass of machinery after working for a long time eventually turned out a watch, we should have no hesitation in saying that whoever made the machinery, and set it going, intended it to do so. and is the inference less clear, if it not only turned out a watch, but a watchmaker as well, and everything else that exists on this planet? all then that evolution does is this. it shows that the whole of nature forms such a long and continuous process; that if the end has been foreseen at all, it must have been foreseen from the beginning. in other words, just as the unity of nature shows that if anything has been designed, everything has been designed; so evolution shows that if it has been designed at all, it has been designed _from the beginning_. we must hence conclude that the organs in nature, such as the eye, which undoubtedly show design, were not designed separately or as _after-thoughts_, but were all included in one grand design from the beginning. and this can only increase our admiration for the designer. thus evolution, even in its most extreme and automatic form, cannot get rid of a designer. still less can it do so, if (as is probable) it is not automatic at all; but is due to the _continuous_ action of the creator, who is what is called _immanent_ in nature, and directs every step. it should be noticed, moreover, that in one respect evolution rather _increases_ the evidence of design. for if, to take a single example, a human hand has been evolved from a monkey's foot merely by the monkey using it as a hand, and taking hold of things; it increases the amount of design which must have been spent on the foot to enable it to do so. and if _all_ the organs in nature have been evolved in this way from simpler ones, it increases the amount of design which must have been spent on those simpler ones to an extent which is practically infinite. thus evolution implies a previous _involution_; since all forms of life must have been involved in the first form before they could be evolved from it; so that creation by evolution is more wonderful than creation by direct manufacture. and it seems to many to be a far nobler conception of the creator that he should obtain all the results he desired, by one grand system of evolution, rather than by a large number of separate creations. for then the _method_ in which the results were obtained would be as marvellous, and show as much wisdom and foresight as the results themselves; and each would be worthy of the other. evolution, then, seems to be the highest form of creation; and so far from destroying the present argument, it only destroys its difficulties, by showing that every single part of every single organism may have been _designed_, and yet in a manner worthy of the great creator. nor is the conclusion altered if we carry back the process of evolution, and assume that the earliest form of life was itself evolved from some previous form of inanimate matter; and this again from a simpler one, and so on till we get back to the original form of matter, whatever that may have been. for if the results as we now see them show design, then the argument for a designer is not weakened, but our ideas of his skill are still further increased, if we believe that they were already secured when our earth was merely a nebula. (_c._) _the free will objection._ we have, lastly, to consider the other, and more important objection, that arising from _free will_. why, it is urged, may not all organisms in nature have possessed free will within certain limits, and have selected those forms which suited them best? for example, referring to the case of a watch, if telling the time were of any advantage to the watch itself, and if the spring, wheels, and hands possessed free will; then it might be thought that they had formed themselves into that arrangement which suited them best. and if so, the idea that the watchmaker foresaw and intended them to adopt this arrangement seems unnecessary. now, in the case before us, as the organs showing design in nature, such as the eye, always conduce to the welfare of their possessor, the objection is certainly worth considering. but as we shall see, it is most improbable, while the chief argument in its favour cannot be maintained. it need scarcely be pointed out that we are not assuming that the organisms have free will, but merely admitting that they may have it; and if anyone denies this, the objection, as far as he is concerned, falls to the ground at once. ( .) _its great improbability._ this is apparent because low down in the scale of nature (plants, trees, etc.), the free will of the organisms, if they have any, must be extremely limited; yet they bear unmistakable marks of design. while, in higher beings which have (or may have) an undoubted free will, it is hard to believe that it can effect anything like what is required. would, for instance, wishing to see or trying to see, even if blind animals were capable of either, have ever given them eyes? and the same applies in other cases. it is hence most improbable that the marks of design in nature are due to the organisms themselves, rather than to their creator. but there is one important argument on the other side, which, if it could be maintained, would be sufficient to outweigh all this improbability. it is, that some beings, such as man, do, as a matter of fact, possess a free will, and that man can and does alter his condition, to a slight extent, by using that free will. therefore, it is said, it is impossible for the creator to have foreknown what man's condition would be, because free will and foreknowledge are _necessarily_ inconsistent. but this latter point is disputed. ( .) _free will and foreknowledge not inconsistent._ now, although at first sight freedom of action seems inconsistent with any foreknowledge of what that action will be, yet on closer examination this will be found to be at least doubtful. for our own experience seems to show that in some cases, at all events, it is not in the nature of things impossible to know how a free being will act. for example, i myself may know how, under given external conditions, i will act to-morrow. never being sure of these, i cannot be said to actually foreknow the event; so that foreknowing with man is never more than foreguessing. but i may be quite sure how, _under given conditions_, i will act. for instance, i may know that, provided i keep in good health, provided i receive no news from anyone, provided, etc, i will go to my office some time to-morrow morning. yet i feel equally sure that this foreknowledge of mine does not prevent the act when it comes from being quite free on my part. my knowing this evening what i will do to-morrow does not oblige me to do it. my foreknowledge of the event does not bring the event about. it is in no sense its _cause_. the act when it comes is due to my own free will, i merely foreknow _what use i will make of my freedom_. and these are probably the common feelings of mankind on the subject. it seems, then, that my foreknowledge need not be inconsistent with my free will. and hence, if i tell someone else how i will act, _his_ foreknowledge would not be inconsistent with my free will. so that in some cases, and under given conditions, it does not seem impossible for a man to foreknow how another man will act, yet without interfering with his freedom. in short, free will does not seem to be _necessarily_ inconsistent with the foreknowledge even of man, though it is always practically so, owing to man's imperfect knowledge of the surrounding circumstances. but the creator knows, or may know, these circumstances fully, therefore it must be still less inconsistent with _his_ foreknowledge. of course it may be said that if the creator foreknows how i will act to-morrow, i am _certain_ to act in that way; and this is doubtless true. but it does not follow that i _need_ act in that way; for _certainty_ is not the same as _necessity_. this is obvious enough in regard to a past event. i certainly did it, but i need not have done it; and it may be equally true in regard to a future event. i will certainly do it, but i need not do it. therefore the creator may know that i will do it, though it will still be _free_ on my part. and this is strongly confirmed when we reflect that the difficulty of knowing how a free being will act, however great in itself, seems as nothing compared with the difficulty of _creating_ a free being. apart from experience, we should probably have thought this to be impossible. yet man has been created somehow. is it then unlikely that the being who was able to overcome the greater difficulty, and create a free man, should also be able to overcome the lesser difficulty, and foreknow how he would act? moreover, if free will and foreknowledge are _always_ and _necessarily_ inconsistent, then the creator cannot have any foreknowledge of _his own_ acts, or else they are not free on his part; neither of which seems at all probable. we are not, of course, arguing from this that he actually does foreknow how he will act himself, or how a free man will act, but only that it is not in the nature of things impossible that he should do so; in other words, that free will and foreknowledge are not _necessarily_ inconsistent. and this is precisely what we had to show. the marks of design in nature afford what seems to be overwhelming evidence in favour of the foreknowledge of the creator. the objection we are considering is that, in spite of all this evidence, we must still deny it, because some of the organisms in nature, such as man, possess a free will; and therefore any foreknowledge is in the nature of things impossible. and the instant it is shown that such foreknowledge is not impossible, the objection falls to the ground. we may now sum up the argument in this chapter. we first explained that by _design_ was meant any voluntary action combined with foreknowledge of the results of that action. we next considered the evidence for design in nature, taking, as a single example, the human eye. and this evidence appeared complete and overwhelming; more especially as we were not appealing to it to show the existence of a creator, which is already admitted, but merely his foreknowledge. and we have since considered the two apparent objections to this argument arising from evolution and free will. but when carefully examined, the former only strengthens the argument, while the latter does not weaken it. we therefore conclude, on reviewing the whole subject, that the creator _designed the universe_. chapter iii. that the existence of god is extremely probable. (_a._) meaning of the term god. the personal being who designed and created the universe. (_b._) two of god's attributes. wisdom and power. he is also omnipresent. (_c._) the objection that god is unknowable. this is partly true; but everything is unknowable in its real nature, though in each case the partial knowledge we can obtain is all we require. (_d._) summary of argument. the position in the argument at which we have now arrived is this. we showed in the last chapter that the creator designed the universe; in other words, that when he created it, he foreknew its future history. and from this the next step, as to the existence of god, is quite plain; in fact, it is merely a question of words. (_a._) meaning of the term god. now any being who is able to design we will call a _personal being_. and god is the name given to the personal being who designed and created the universe. but it ought to be noticed, before we pass on, that the term _personal being_ is also applied to _man_, and is said by many writers to involve the three ideas of _thought_, _desire_, and _will_. but these seem to be all included in design; for if i design anything, i must first of all _think_ of it, then _wish_ it, and then _accomplish_ it. we will examine in the next chapter whether man is a personal being as we have used the term; but if we admit that he is, we have another and independent argument in favour of the creator being so too. for the creator has somehow or other produced man, with all his attributes; so he cannot be a mere impersonal being or force, since a cause must be able to account for its effect. and a free and intelligent man cannot be due to a force, which is neither free nor intelligent. therefore, if man is a personal being, it follows that man's _maker_ must be so too. it should also be noticed that man's mind and spirit, which make him a personal being, cannot be discovered by any physical means. and this meets the objection that we cannot discover god by any physical means. it would be much more surprising if we could. but though the telescope can find no god in the heavens, just as the microscope can find no mind in man, the existence of each may be quite certain for other reasons. in popular language, all we can see is the _house_, not the _tenant_, in either case. (_b_). two of god's attributes. we must next notice somewhat carefully two of god's attributes, _wisdom_ and _power_. both of these are involved in the idea of a personal being able to design. for _design_, as used in this essay, means originating or freely doing anything, as well as previously planning it. therefore, if we use the word, as is often done, for planning alone, we must remember that a personal being is one who can both design and accomplish. the former implies a mind able to form some plan, and the latter a free force, or will, able to carry it out. so a personal being must of necessity have _wisdom_ to design and _power_ to accomplish. and considering the vastness of the universe and the variety of its organisms, it seems only reasonable to conclude that the creator possesses these attributes to the greatest possible extent, so that he is both omniscient and omnipotent. it is important, however, to notice the meaning given to these words. by _omniscient_, then, we mean possessing all possible knowledge. now the only knowledge which might be thought impossible is how a free being would act in the future, and we have already shown that such knowledge is not in the nature of things impossible; so there does not seem to be any necessary restriction here. but with _omnipotent_ the case is different. this means, as just said, possessing all possible power; that is to say, being able to do anything which is not impossible. of course some christians may be inclined to answer, that _with god all things are possible_; but as he who said so began one of his own prayers with the words _if it be possible_, this cannot be taken in its widest sense.[ ] and provided the word _impossible_ is used in its strict meaning, we have no reason for thinking that god could do impossible things; such as make a triangle with the properties of a circle, or allow a man a free choice between two alternatives, and yet force him to choose one of them. these, then, are two of the great attributes of god, wisdom and power. there is a third, which will be considered in chapter v. [footnote : matt. . ; . .] it should also be noticed that besides being the designer and creator of the universe in the past, god seems to be also its _preserver_ at the present, being, in fact, the _omnipresent_ power which is still working throughout nature. that there is such a power can scarcely be denied (however hard it may be to realise), and that it is the same as the creating power is plainly the most probable view. god is thus the cause of all natural forces now, just as he was their creator in times past; and what are called secondary or natural causes, have probably no existence. they may, indeed, be called secondary _forces_, but they are not _causes_ at all in the strict sense; for a cause must be _free_, it must have the power of initiative. thus man's free will, if it is free, would be a real secondary cause, but the forces of nature are mere links in a chain of events, each of which is bound to follow the previous one. this is often spoken of as the divine _immanence_ in nature, and means little else than the omnipresence of a personal god--the all-pervading influence of one 'who is never so far off as even to be called near.' (_c._) the objection that god is unknowable. we must lastly consider an important objection which may be made to the whole of these chapters. it may be said that the human mind is unable to argue about the _first cause_, because we have no faculties for comprehending the infinite; or, as it is commonly expressed, because god is _unknowable_. now this objection is partly true. there is a sense in which all will admit that god is unknowable. his existence and attributes are too great for any human mind to comprehend entirely, or for any human language to express completely and accurately. therefore our statements on the subject are at best only approximations to the truth. we can apprehend his existence, but we cannot comprehend it, and god in his true nature is certainly _unknowable_. but, strictly speaking, it is the same with everything. man in his true nature is also unknowable, yet we know something about man. so, again, the forces of nature are all unseen and unknowable in themselves, yet from their effects we know something about them. and even matter when reduced to atoms, or electrons, or anything else, is still a mystery, yet we know a good deal about matter. and in each case this knowledge is not incorrect because it is incomplete. why, then, should the fact of god being in his true nature unknowable prevent our having some real, though partial, knowledge of him? in short, we may know something about god, though we cannot know everything about him. and it should be noticed that natural religion and natural science are alike in this respect--they are both founded on inferences drawn from the observed facts of nature. for example, we observe the motion of falling bodies, and infer the existence of some force, gravity, to account for this. similarly, we observe the marks of design in nature, and infer the existence, or at least foresight, of some being who designed them. in neither case have we any direct knowledge as to the cause of what we see. and in some respects religion is not so unknowable as science. for our own, real or apparent, mind and free will do give us some kind of idea as to the existence of a personal being, apart from what he does; while of a natural force, such as gravity, apart from its effects, we can form no idea whatever. thus our knowledge of every subject is but partial, and it finally leads us into the unknowable. but now comes the important point. this partial knowledge, which is all we can obtain in either science or religion, is all we require. it is not a perfect knowledge, but it is sufficient for all practical purposes. whatever the force of gravity may be in itself, we know what it is _to us_. we know that if we jump off a cliff we shall fall to the ground. and so in regard to religion. whatever god may be in himself, we know what he is _to us_. we know that he is our maker, and therefore, as will be shown in the next chapter, he is the being to whom we are responsible. this is the practical knowledge which we require, and this is the knowledge which we can obtain. moreover, though our reason may be to some extent unfit to judge of such matters, the vast importance of the subject seems to demand our coming to some conclusion one way or the other. this is especially the case because important results affecting a man's daily life follow from his deciding that there is a god, and to leave the question undecided is practically the same as deciding that there is not a god. in the same way, if a ship were in danger of sinking, and a steamer also in distress offered to take off the passengers, for one of them to say that he did not know whether it was safer to go in the steamer or not, and would therefore do nothing and stay where he was, would be practically the same as deciding not to go in the steamer. so in the case before us. to refuse to decide the question because of the supposed inadequacy of human reason is practically the same as to deny the existence of god. still, it may be urged, granting that our reason must decide the question one way or the other, and granting that our reason seems to force us to conclude in the existence of god, are there not great difficulties in honestly believing this conclusion? no doubt there are, and no thoughtful man would think of ignoring them. but after all it is only a choice of difficulties; and, as we have shown, there is _less_ difficulty in believing what we have here maintained than the contrary. it is less difficult, for instance, to believe that the universe had an origin, than to believe that it had not. similarly as to the existence of god; the theory is not free from difficulties, but, with all its difficulties, it is still by far the most probable theory to explain the origin and present state of the universe. we therefore decide, judging by reason alone (which is the line adopted in this essay), that the existence of god is _extremely probable_. (_d._) summary of argument. in conclusion, we will repeat very briefly, the main line of argument thus far. to begin with, in the present universe we observe a succession of changes. if these changes are not recurring, which seems incredible, they must have had a commencement; and this is supported by the theories of evolution and the degradation of energy. therefore, as this commencement cannot have been a necessity, it must have been due to some _free force_. and a free force must be a _supernatural_ force, since natural forces are not free, but always act according to some fixed law, while the unity of nature points to its being a _single_ supernatural force, which we called the creator. next, it follows that the creator must have foreknown the consequences of his acts, judging by the marks of design which they present. and this conclusion was shown to be not inconsistent with either the process of evolution, or the existence of free will in man or other beings. hence he must have been a _personal being_, possessing both wisdom to design, and power to accomplish. or the whole argument may be repeated in an even shorter form. the universe (in its present condition) has not existed always, it is therefore an _effect_,--something that has been effected, or brought about somehow; and therefore like every effect, it must have had a _cause_. then since the effect shows a certain unity throughout, the cause must have been one. since the effect shows in some parts evidence of having been planned and arranged, the capacity for planning and arranging must have existed in the cause. in other words, a universe showing marks of design is the effect, and nothing less than a personal being who designed it can be the cause. and god is the name given to this personal being. chapter iv. that man is a free and responsible being. (_a._) man's mental attributes. man possesses a mind as well as a body; the opposite theory, materialism, has great difficulties. (_b._) man's moral attributes. ( .) man possesses a will. ( .) man's acts are partly determined by his will. ( .) man's will is _free_. ( .) man knows that his will is free; and this enables him to design, and makes him a personal being. ( .) man's _responsibility_ for his acts. ( .) man's moral sense of right and wrong; which enables him to distinguish the quality of acts, and makes him a moral being. ( .) man's conscience, by which he can judge of this quality in some cases. (_c._) difference between animals and men. there is a great mental difference, though probably only of degree; and entire moral difference, since animals, even if free, do not possess a _known_ freedom, and are hence not personal beings. (_d._) conclusion. man consists of three parts, body, mind, and spirit: his unique position. having decided on the existence of god, which is the great truth of _natural_ religion, the question now arises whether, if nature can lead us so far, there is no means of getting further. no one will deny that further knowledge is desirable, both as to god, ourselves, and our future destiny, and is there no means of obtaining it? and this brings us to the subject of _revealed_ religion, that is to say, of god's making some revelation to man. and the probability of this will depend partly on the _character of man_--is he a being at all worthy of a revelation; and partly on the _character of god_--is he a being at all likely to make one? the former question alone will be discussed in this chapter, and we will consider man's _mental_ and _moral_ attributes separately. nothing need be said about his bodily or _physical_ characteristics, as they have no bearing on the present argument. (_a._) man's mental attributes. by these are meant man's thoughts and feelings, and that they are different from the matter composing his body seems self-evident. matter possesses size, weight, colour, shape, and hardness. mind does not possess any of these. they have no conceivable meaning when applied to thoughts and feelings. yet both mind and matter exist in man. we each feel conscious that we have something which _thinks_, and which we call mind; as well as something which _moves_, and which we call matter (_i.e._, our bodies); and that these are absolutely distinct from one another. and from the nature of the case this _inherent conviction_ is all we can appeal to. for mind, if it exists at all, being different from matter, is beyond the reach of ordinary scientific discovery. we cannot however be more certain of anything than of these inherent convictions, which form the basis of all our knowledge. even the propositions of euclid are only deductions from some other of our convictions, such as that the whole is greater than its part. still the difficulty of understanding this compound nature in man, part mind and part body, has led some persons to adopt the theory of _materialism_. according to this there is no such thing as _mind_; what we call thoughts and feelings being merely complicated motions of the molecules of the brain. now, that the mind and brain are closely associated together none will deny, but it does not follow that they are identical. the brain may be merely the instrument of the mind through which it acts. and though, as far as we know, the mind can never act without the brain, it may certainly have a separate existence, and possibly, under different conditions, may be able to act separately. it is in fact no more difficult to conceive of thought without a brain, than to conceive of thought with a brain. all we can say is, that within the range of our experience the two seem to be somehow connected together. recent investigations, however, in what is called _telepathy_ (or thought-transference) seem to show that in some cases one mind can influence another _at a distance_, and without any material connection. and this (if admitted) proves that the mind is something more than a mere collection of particles of matter. moreover materialism, to be consistent, must deny not only that man has a mind, but that he has anything immaterial at all; he must be matter in motion, and nothing else. but this is disproved by our _memory_, which convinces us that we are the _same_ persons now as we were ten years ago; yet we know that every particle of our bodies, including our brains, has changed in the interval. we must then have something immaterial which survives, in spite of everything material changing. the case, it should be noticed, is not like that of a tree, which may be popularly said to be the same now as it was ten years ago, though every particle of it has changed in the interval. for as far as we know, the tree has nothing which connects its present state with its former state, it has no memory of what happened to it then. we _have_, that is just the difference. we can remember now what happened to us ten years ago, though our bodies now do not contain a single atom or molecule which they did then. we must, therefore, have something else besides atoms and molecules, in other words, something _immaterial_; and if so, there is an end of materialism in its only logical form. this theory then cannot possibly be accepted, and we must abide by our inherent conviction that we have a mind as well as a body. this is an ultimate fact in human nature; and we are as certain of it as we are of anything, though like some other ultimate facts it has to be assumed, because it can be neither proved nor doubted. (_b._) man's moral attributes. we pass on now to man's moral attributes, which we will consider in detail. ( .) _man possesses a will._ in the first place man possesses what, in common language, is called a _will_. strictly speaking, of course, the will is not anything independent of the man, which he _possesses_, as he might possess a dog; it is the man himself _who wills_, or who possesses the power of willing. but the common language is so generally understood, that it will be used here. now the chief reason for believing that man has a will is his own inherent conviction. he feels certain that he does possess a will which is distinct from his body and his mind, though closely associated with both, and apparently to some extent controlling both. for example, i may resolve to raise my hand, and then do it; or i may resolve to think out a problem, and then do it. in each case the will is felt to be something distinct from the subsequent bodily or mental action. ( .) _man's acts are partly determined by his will._ in the next place, a man's acts (and also his thoughts) are partly determined by his will. by this is meant that a man's will is able to move his limbs, so that, for instance, he can raise his hand when he wishes, and this gives him the power of determining his acts. it is not meant that a man's will can move his limbs directly; his limbs are moved by his muscles, which are directed by his nerves, and these by certain motions in the brain. all that the will can do is to give a particular direction to these motions, which, combined with various other forces, brings about the observed result. now we have in favour of this action of the human will on the human body the universal experience of mankind, which is that a man can somehow or other move his limbs at pleasure. indeed, the question whether a man can walk across the room when he wishes, seems to most people to admit of a convincing answer: _solvitur ambulando_. but still, the action of will on matter seems so improbable, and so difficult to understand, that attempts have naturally been made to find some other explanation. but no satisfactory one can be suggested. for my wishing to move my body, is followed by my moving it so frequently and so universally, that there must be some connection between them. and though we cannot imagine how a mere wish can move particles of matter (in the brain or anywhere else), it is just as hard to imagine how the movement of particles of matter can produce a wish. the latter theory is no easier to understand than the other; and, as just said, it is opposed to _the daily experience of mankind_, which is that a man's will can, somehow or other, move his limbs, and hence determine his acts. ( .) _man's will is free._ it must next be noticed that man's will is a _free_ will, and this is a most important point. it is quite distinct from the previous question. then we decided that a man's raising his hand, for instance, was the result of his wishing to do so. we have now to consider whether this wish was free on the man's part, or whether he could not help it; the latter view being called that of _necessity_, or _determinism_, and meaning that a man's acts are necessarily determined, and not free. of course everyone admits that there are _limits_ to human freedom. a man cannot always raise his hand when he likes, it may be paralyzed. the important point is whether he is _ever_ free; and there are two main arguments on each side. now the great argument in favour of free will is, again, our own inherent conviction. it is one of the most universal, and one of the most certain, beliefs of mankind that he has free will. this belief is forced upon him by his own daily experience. he feels, for instance, that he is free to raise his hand or not. and what is more, he can verify the fact by actually raising it, whenever he likes; so it is literally true to say that the conviction rests on the daily experience of the human race. and to many, this argument alone seems conclusive. but, as a matter of fact, it is fully confirmed by _human conduct_. for a man's conduct is _variable_ and quite unlike the uniformity which we find in chemistry and physics, where there is no free force, and everything is brought about in accordance with fixed laws. so we seem to require some free force in man to account for his variable conduct. these, then, are the two arguments in favour of free will--man's _inherent conviction_, confirmed by his _variable conduct_; and no more powerful arguments can be imagined. on the other hand, the chief argument against human freedom is that it would be an _anomaly_ in nature; since natural forces always act in the same way, and any free force, able to act or not as it likes, is quite unknown. if, then, man possesses such a force, no matter how limited it may be, he is partly, at least, a _supernatural_ being, not bound by fixed laws. now all this may be admitted, but what then? why should not man be a partly supernatural being? god, who has made man, is supernatural; he possesses free will, and he might, if he thought fit, bestow some of this attribute on man, allowing him, that is to say, within certain limits, to act in one way or another. no doubt, to persons who study physical science alone, the existence of any free force in man seems most improbable. but, on the other hand, to those who study the actions of men, such as barristers, soldiers, or politicians, the idea that man is a mere machine seems equally improbable. and does not the same principle apply in other cases? suppose, for instance, that a man were to study inorganic chemistry alone, living on an island where vegetation was unknown, would not a tree be a complete anomaly to him? yet trees exist and have to be allowed for. in the same way man's free will may be an anomaly, but the evidence for it is overwhelming. moreover, the anomaly is greatly lessened by the fact that man already occupies a very anomalous position. for as we have seen, his acts are often determined by his _will_, and this is utterly unlike anything that we find elsewhere in nature. indeed the _action_ of a will is as great an anomaly as its _freedom_; and with the possible exception of animals (see further on) we have no experience whatever of a will that can act and is _not_ free. therefore claiming freedom for a man, is not like claiming freedom for a mineral, or a plant. he is anyhow a unique being, by far the highest and most important on this planet; and that he should be partly supernatural as well does not seem so very unlikely after all. we must also remember that we know more about ourselves where we are conscious of freedom, than we do about the surrounding universe, where we infer a rigid uniformity. indeed, our own free will is the only force of which we have any _direct_ knowledge, and the so-called forces of nature, such as gravity, are, strictly speaking, only assumptions which we make to account for observed facts. and, as we have shown, even these forces seem to have originated in the free will of the creator; so as far as we can judge, _free will_, of some kind is the ultimate cause of all force. the other important argument against free will is that it would be inconsistent with what is called the _conservation of energy_, since it is said any voluntary act would involve the creation of energy. but this is at least doubtful; for the will might be free as to its acts, were it only able to control energy without producing it. and it could do this if it possessed the power of altering either the time, or the direction of force; deciding, for instance, whether to raise my hand now, or a minute hence, or whether to raise my right hand or my left. and if it possessed either of these powers, it could turn the latent force, which a man possesses, into actual motion when and how it pleased. and it would thus be free as to its acts, without creating any energy at all. we therefore decide on reviewing the whole subject, that man's will is free; since this alone agrees with his own inherent _conviction_, and fully accounts for his variable _conduct_. while, on the other hand, though an _anomaly_ in nature, it is not on that account incredible; nor is it inconsistent with the _conservation of energy_. ( .) _man knows that his will is free._ having now decided that man's will is free, little need be said about the next point, which is that man _knows_ that his will is free, since, as we have shown, this is the chief argument for admitting its freedom. there are, however, many other arguments for proving that man believes that he has a free will, for it is shown by his acts. it is this known freedom which enables a man to set before him an end, and deliberately work towards it; in other words, it enables him to _design_, and makes him a _personal being_, as we have used the term. and it is needless to point out that the evidence of human design is universal. again, human language affords a conclusive proof that man has always and everywhere believed himself to be free; for such terms as _i will_, _i choose_, _i decide_, exist in all languages. however, we need not pursue this subject, since it is undisputed that man _believes_ that he has a free will; and it is taken for granted in all human affairs. ( .) _man's responsibility for his acts._ by this is meant that a man is responsible for the way in which he uses his freedom; and this seems to follow at once from his knowing that he is free. moreover, a sense of responsibility is among the inherent convictions of mankind. of course, there may be exceptions to this as to most other rules; but taking mankind as a whole, he certainly believes in his own responsibility. he also believes that this responsibility is in the first place to god, or some other supernatural being. no doubt he is also responsible to his fellow-men, more especially to those among whom he is living; but a moment's reflection will show that this is not the leading idea. for a man must in the first place be responsible to his maker rather than to his fellow-men. in the same way a child is first of all responsible to his parents, and then, secondly and consequently, to his brothers and sisters. therefore, because god has made us, we are responsible to him; and because he has placed us among other men, and presumably wishes us to take some part in human society, we are in a lesser degree responsible to them also. so the _brotherhood of man_, as it is called, naturally follows from the fatherhood of god. ( .) _man's moral sense of right and wrong._ in the next place, man has the remarkable faculty of distinguishing the _quality_ of acts which are free, regarding some as right and others as wrong, the latter being called _sins_. and it may be noticed in passing, that the existence of moral evil or sin seems to many to be an additional argument in favour of man's freedom; otherwise god would be the sole author of man's misdeeds. of course, in this case, they would not be really _sins_, for if man has no free will, he is a mere machine, and can no more sin against god (or man either) than a watch can sin against its maker. such a man might be imperfect, and so might a watch, but he could not be _wicked_; yet few will say that there are no wicked men in the world. now we will call a being who is thus able to distinguish the quality of acts a _moral being_. man is therefore a moral being, having this _moral sense_, as it is called, of distinguishing right from wrong. it will perhaps make the meaning of this moral sense plainer if we compare it with one of man's other senses, say that of sight. the one, then, distinguishes right from wrong, just as the other distinguishes red from yellow, or blue from green. and as man's sense of colours is not disproved by one man thinking a colour blue which another thinks green--or his sense of taste, by one man thinking a taste nice, which another thinks nasty--so his moral sense is not disproved by one man thinking an act right which another thinks wrong. moreover this sense of right and wrong is quite distinct from the pleasant or unpleasant consequences which are associated with certain acts. for instance, i may avoid putting my hand into hot water, because i remember having done so before, and it was painful; but this is quite different from avoiding an act because it is _wrong_. it is also quite distinct from expediency, or the idea of benefiting by an act. for an act may not benefit us at all, or may even injure us, and yet it may be right. in short, 'fifty experiences of what is pleasant or what is profitable do not, and cannot, make one conviction of what is right'; the ideas differ in kind; and not merely in degree. ( .) _man's conscience._ lastly, as to man's conscience. this is often confused with his moral sense, but a little reflection will show that the two are distinct. for a man might possess a moral sense, and be able to classify acts as right or wrong, yet have no direct means of knowing to which class any particular act belonged. he might have to work this out by reasoning; and in difficult cases we sometimes do so. but as a rule this is unnecessary. for mankind possesses a very remarkable _something_, called a conscience, which tells him at once, and without either argument or reasoning, that certain acts are right and others wrong. conscience is thus like an organ of the moral sense, and may be compared to the eye or organ of sight; for just as the eye perceives that certain colours are red and others blue, so conscience perceives that certain acts are right and others wrong. in each case the perception is almost instantaneous, and quite distinct from any kind of reasoning. conscience, it will be noticed, does not _make_ the act right or wrong, any more than the eye makes the colour red or blue; it merely tells us what acts are right and what wrong. it is thus an _intermediary_ between someone else and ourselves; and this someone else can only be god, who gave us our conscience, so that in popular language it may be called _the voice of god_. and it tells us we ought to act right, because this is the way in which god wishes us to act. now that mankind possesses a conscience is indisputable. it is shared alike by young and old, rich and poor, educated and uneducated. it has existed in all ages, countries and races. we all have it, and what is very remarkable it seems to be independent of our will, and not at our disposal. we do not correct it, but it corrects us; for it not only tells us what acts are right and what wrong, but it approves definitely of our doing the former, and disapproves just as definitely of our doing the latter. indeed, one of the most striking effects of conscience is this feeling of _remorse_ or self-condemnation after wrong-doing; and such a feeling is practically universal. and if it be objected that one man's conscience may say that an act is right, which another man's conscience says is wrong, we must remember that the decision of a man's conscience, only refers to the man himself. it tells a man what is right _for him_, with his knowledge and surroundings, and it is quite possible that this may be wrong for another man. these, then, are the moral attributes of the human race, and it follows at once that man is a _free and responsible being_. but as this conclusion is often disputed, because of the similarity between animals and men, and the difficulty of admitting that they also are free and responsible beings, or else of showing where the distinction lies, we must examine this subject. (_c._) difference between animals and men. now the _bodily_ difference between certain animals and men is admittedly small; and though the accompanying _mental_ difference is enormous, it is probably only one of degree; for all animals seem, to some slight extent, to possess a mind, which enables them at least to feel conscious of pleasure and pain. we must therefore pass on to the _moral_ attributes of animals; and as we know nothing as to their feelings on the subject, it is difficult to say (referring to the first three points) whether they have a _free will_ or not. of course, if they have _not_, that would be a clear distinction between animals and men. but we have no right to assume this, and there is a good deal to be said on the other side, at least in regard to the higher animals, so the question had better be left open. but with regard to the next point, that of _known_ freedom, we are on surer ground; for the proof of man's _believing_ himself to be free does not depend solely on his own feelings. it is shown by his acts, as it enables him to _design_, and it is doubtful if there is anything corresponding to this in animals. for though many of their works show design somewhere, it does not seem to be due to _them_. this kind of unconscious designing (which strange to say is most apparent in the _lower_ forms of animal life) is called _instinct_, and there are at least three reasons for thinking that it differs from real design implying forethought. the first is, that, if these works were due to the design of the animals themselves, they must possess intellectual powers of a very high order. take, for instance, the well known example of the _cells of bees_. these are built on the most perfect mathematical principles, the three rhombs which close the hexagonal columns having the exact angles so as to contain the greatest amount of honey, with the least expenditure of wax. and as we require advanced mathematics and a book of logarithms to work out such problems, it is hard to see how the bees can do it. nor is heredity of any use, for the bees which build cells are all _workers_ (as they are called) and have no descendants; while those which have descendants are either _drones_ or _queens_, and these do no building. thus the cells are built by bees, none of whose ancestors have ever built cells; so the design cannot be ascribed to anything they have inherited from their parents.[ ] secondly, animals are only able to design in a few special cases, and in other respects they often act with the greatest stupidity. a bee, for example, with all its mathematics, cannot very often, if it has flown in through an open window, retrace its way, but will buzz helplessly against another which is shut. [footnote : encyc. brit., th edit., vol. iii., pp. , . the angles are ° ' and ° '.] thirdly, the instincts of animals are practically the same, always and everywhere. they are not more advanced in some countries, than in others; or in some individuals, than in others. they are not even more advanced as time goes on. the last cell built by a bee is no better than the first, and no better, as far as we know, than cells built by bees thousands of years ago; while the young of animals, without any experience to guide them, have the same instincts as the old. clearly, then, an animal's instinct is born with it, and not acquired; and therefore, any apparent design there may be in what is done by instinct cannot be attributed to the animal itself, any more than the design shown in its eyes, but to its maker. so far all is plain. it may, however, be urged that in some of the higher animals, especially those in contact with man, we do find certain acts which seem to imply forethought and design. a dog, for example, will bury a bone one day, and go and look for it the next. but when once it is admitted that what are apparently far more striking instances of design are to be explained by instinct, it seems better to explain them all in the same way. and this is confirmed by the fact that even the higher animals do not appear to have any idea of _responsibility_, or any sense of _right_ and _wrong_, which in man are the result of his known freedom. of course, this also may be disputed, since as we punish a dog for doing what we dislike, it looks as if we held it responsible for the act. but this does not follow. we punish the dog to prevent its repeating the act. and it may avoid doing so, because its memory associates the act with _pain_, and not because it feels responsible for it, or considers it to be _wrong_. while in the vast majority of cases we never think of holding an animal responsible for its acts, or look upon its injuring anyone as a sin. we conclude, then, that _moral_ attributes form the great distinction between animals and men; because though animals have, or may have, a free will, it is not a _known_ freedom, so they are not able, like men, to _design_, and are hence not _personal beings_. two further remarks may be made before leaving this subject. the first is, that though there are difficulties in placing this known freedom as the difference between animals and men, there are as great, if not greater, difficulties in placing it anywhere else. if we say that an ape or a dog can design, the difficulty is not lessened; it is merely transferred lower down the scale. can a jellyfish design? the momentous attribute of known freedom must begin _somewhere_; and it seems less difficult to place it between animals and men than anywhere else. the second and more important point is, that our ignorance about animals is no reason for doubting what we do know about man. to do this would be most illogical. indeed, we might as well deny that a man could see, or hear, because there are difficulties in deciding where sight and hearing commence in the scale of animal life. (_d._) conclusion. we may now conclude this chapter. with regard to man, it is clear that his bodily, mental, and moral attributes are quite distinct. a man may be strong in body, yet of weak intellectual power; or he may have a great intellect, yet be of weak moral character. this makes it probable that human nature consists of three parts--_body_, _mind_, and _spirit_; the mind corresponding to the mental reasoning part of man, and the spirit to the free moral part, the word _soul_ being often used for either of these latter. and the difference between animals and men is probably that the former have no _spirits_, but only bodies and (undeveloped) minds. all life on this planet would then form three great groups--_vegetation_, consisting of matter alone; _animals_, of matter and mind; _man_, of matter, mind, and spirit. and from this it seems to follow that while a man's _body_ may (conceivably) have been evolved from any other form of matter, and his _mind_ from any other form of mind, yet his _spirit_ is essentially distinct, and cannot have been evolved from anything else. moreover, as a man's body and mind are both (to some extent) under the known control of his free will, or spirit, this latter must be looked upon as his real _self_. thus he is not, strictly speaking, an organism at all, but a free being served by organs both of body and mind. they are _his_; they do not constitute _him_. he is the personal being, who controls both. in other words man _is_ a spirit, and _has_ a body and mind. and our present conclusion is quite plain. we have shown that man is a _free_ being, his freedom distinguishing him from natural forces, and making him in part supernatural. and he is a _responsible_ being, his responsibility being due to his known freedom, and distinguishing him from animals. he has thus a unique position. nothing else on this planet resembles him, and in his attribute of known freedom which enables him to design, and makes him a _personal being_, he resembles god alone. chapter v. that god takes an interest in man's welfare. (_a._) the evidence in its favour. since god is a _moral_ as well as a personal being, he must be capable of caring for all his creatures; and we have abundant evidence that he does so, especially for man. but there are two great difficulties. (_b._) the insignificance of man. ( .) some counter-arguments, showing that even if insignificant, god might still care for him. ( .) man's real importance, due to his mind and spirit. ( .) the supposed inhabitants of other planets. (_c._) the existence of evil. ( .) physical evil in animals. the objection that it is vast in amount, wholly unmerited, and perfectly useless, cannot be maintained. ( .) physical evil in man. several ways of lessening the difficulty. its explanation seems to be that god's designing evil does not mean his desiring it, as it is essential for forming a man's character. ( .) moral evil in man. the possibility of this is essential to free will; and wicked men are as necessary as any other form of evil. (_d._) conclusion. god's _goodness_ includes beneficence and righteousness. having discussed in the last chapter the character of man, we have next to consider, as far as we have any means of doing so, _the character of god_; more especially whether he seems to take any interest in man's welfare. and we will first examine the evidence in favour of this; then the two arguments on the other side from the insignificance of man, and the existence of evil; and will conclude by considering in what sense the term _goodness_ can be ascribed to god. (_a._) the evidence in its favour. to begin with, god is certainly capable of taking an interest in man's welfare, for he is not only a personal being, but also a moral being. this follows at once from what may be called the _moral argument_ for the existence of god, or that depending on man's free will. it is briefly this, that no combination of natural forces, which are uniform and always act the same under the same circumstances, can ever produce a _free_ force, able to act or not as it likes. the idea seems inconceivable. if, then, man possesses such a force, which we have already admitted, it cannot have come from any natural forces, nor can it have made itself, so it must have been derived from some _previous_ free force, and this, again, from a previous one, and so on till we finally arrive at a _free force_, which was _not_ derived from any other, but which existed eternally. and this, it will be remembered, was precisely the conclusion we reached in chapter i., though from quite a different argument. and then it follows that this free force, or free being, must know that he is free; and must therefore be a _moral_ being, able to distinguish the quality of acts as right or wrong. indeed, the mere fact that man possesses this remarkable faculty makes it certain that man's maker must possess it too. now a personal and moral god must clearly be able to take an interest in the welfare of his creatures; and there is abundant evidence that he actually does so. for everywhere in nature, and especially in man, we meet with marks, not only of design, but of _beneficent_ design--that is to say of design tending to the welfare and happiness of the beings in question. take, for instance, the human eye, which we considered in chapter ii. everyone will admit that this conduces very greatly to man's happiness; and therefore the conclusion that god, when he designed the eye, did so with the object of benefiting man seems irresistible. nor is this altered by the fact that the eye has a few defects, in being liable to various kinds of disease. for no one can think that it was made for the sake of these defects. it was evidently made to see, and not to ache. that it does ache now and then is in all probability due to its being such a complicated instrument; and perhaps also to its being often used too much. but it may be said, beneficial organs like the eye, though they abound throughout nature, are not the only ones we meet with. there are others, like the claws and teeth of wild animals, which are just the opposite, and seem designed to give pain to other creatures. but this is quite untenable. they were plainly designed to enable the animal to secure its food, and are perhaps necessary for that purpose, and they all tend to the welfare of their possessor, and sometimes also to that of their victim, as it hastens death. there is not, in fact, a single organ in nature the _object_ of which is to produce pain. where pain is produced it is merely a sort of _by-product_. thus far then, we are quite justified in concluding that god takes an interest in man's welfare. but there are two great difficulties. (_b._) the insignificance of man. the first is from the apparent _insignificance_ of man. for though he is doubtless by far the most important being on this planet, and endowed with some of the divine attributes, yet, after all how utterly insignificant he is in comparison with his maker. this is no new difficulty,[ ] but modern science has increased its force by showing that our earth is only one among the planets which go round the sun, while the sun itself is only one among many millions of stars. and, we may ask, is it likely that the god who rules these millions of stars should take any interest in the beings on a small planet like our earth? [footnote : ps. . , .] this is the difficulty we have to face; but a good deal depends on the way in which it is stated. would it not be better to argue from the known to the unknown, and ask--is it likely that the god who has made this earth, and who we know (from the marks of design) takes an interest in its inhabitants, should be _also_ the ruler of the distant stars? and when so stated, the unity of nature compels us to say that it is not only likely, but practically certain. however, we will discuss the subject more in detail, first considering some counter-arguments, which show that even if man were insignificant god might still care for him; then man's real importance; and lastly, the question of other planets being inhabited. ( .) _some counter-arguments._ to begin with, though it seems unlikely that god should take any interest in such insignificant beings as us men, it also seems unlikely that he should ever have designed and created such beings. yet he has done so. and having created them, there is at most only a slight _additional_ improbability, if any at all, that he should take an interest in their welfare. and this is especially the case when we remember that man is not only the highest and noblest being on this planet, but as far as we know on any planet. therefore though we may be quite unworthy of god's care, we do not know of any other being who is more worthy of it. and it is most unlikely that a creator would not take an interest in _any_ of his works. next, as to the analogy of nature. here we find nothing resembling a neglect of small things. on the contrary, everything, down to the minutest insect, seems finished with as much perfection as if it alone existed in the universe. and this is surely what we should expect. for true greatness does not exist in despising that which is small; and it may be a very part of god's infinite greatness that nothing should be too small for him to care about, just as nothing is too large. and while a being, who can govern the universe, and attend to its millions of stars, is no doubt great--inconceivably great; yet he is surely greater still--_inconceivably greater_--if he can _also_ attend to our little planet, and its inhabitants; and can do this so thoroughly, as not only to take an interest in the human race, but in the welfare of each one of its members. and the whole analogy of nature is in favour of his doing so; for the forces of nature never deal with matter in bulk, but with each particle separately. a stone, for instance, is attracted to the ground, because, and only because, each particle of it is so attracted. in the same way if god takes an interest in the human race (and, as just said, it is hard to imagine his not doing so, since it is his noblest work) it may be because, and only because, he takes an interest in each individual member of it. thirdly, the difficulty of thus believing that god takes an interest in the daily life of an individual man, though undoubtedly great, is really no more than that of believing that he knows about it. for if he knows about it, why should he not care about it? yet, as said in chapter ii., a world like ours cannot have been made without both knowledge, and foreknowledge, on the part of its maker. and though we might at first be inclined to limit this to important matters, a little consideration will show that such a distinction is untenable; and that if god knows anything, he knows everything. and if he knows everything, why should he not care about everything? fourthly, and this is very important, whether we are insignificant or not, we are each of us _unique_. we are not like particles of matter. millions of these are (or may be) exactly alike, but no two _men_ are exactly alike; not even to the same extent as plants and animals. for each man is a separate spirit, a _personal being_ distinct from all else in the world. and since he possesses a free will, his character is also distinct; for this depends to a large extent on how he uses his free will, what he says, and what he does, day by day. so it is out of the question to think that any two men are exactly alike. and this is the common belief of mankind, for however much we may think other people alike, we each feel sure that there is no one else in the world exactly like _ourselves_. nor can there be. for though god might, if he chose, make two trees exactly alike, or two men exactly alike in their external features, he could not make them alike _in their character_. for this, as just said, depends on their own free use of their own free will; and if god were to force them to decide in the same way, they would cease to be free. and from this it follows that each man is not only unique, but _irreplaceable_. no other can be made like him. therefore, as we each have something special about us, god may take a _special_ interest in each of us. doubtless such an idea seems very wonderful; but no one who has any knowledge of the marvels of nature will think it, on that account, incredible. indeed, from one point of view, it is only what we should expect. for we all know how a naturalist will value a unique specimen, which cannot be replaced, in spite of its having some defects. and if each man is really _unique_, and _irreplaceable_, why may not the god of nature value him too (in spite of his faults), and take an interest in his welfare? then, fifthly, as to the discoveries of science, there is here also a good deal to be said on the other side. for though the telescope has shown us that our world is like a mere drop in the ocean, the microscope has shown us a new world in each drop; and the _infinitely little_, as it is called, is as wonderful as the infinitely great, and man still occupies a sort of central position. when, for instance, we examine a single organ, say the human eye, we find that it consists of an immense number of parts, each of which is seen to be more and more complicated the more we are able to magnify it, and so on without apparently any limit. and this makes it more than ever likely that the god, who has shown such marvellous skill in the various organs of a man's body, should care for the man himself, the personal and moral being, who possesses these organs. nor is the argument weakened by the fact that the organs of animals also show a wonderful amount of design, for as far as we know, in their case, there is no personal and moral being to care about. again, science has not only shown us the _magnitude_ of the universe, and that there are millions of stars, millions of miles apart, but it has also shown us its _unity_, and that all its parts are closely connected together. and certainly the idea that the god, who rules these stars, should take an interest in us men, is no harder to believe than that the gases, which are burning in these stars, should influence our spectroscopes. yet they do; so if this were all, it would still lessen the difficulty a good deal. ( .) _man's real importance._ but this is not all, for science has also taught us a great deal about man himself, and his long development; which has a most important bearing on the argument. for we now know that our earth has existed for thousands of centuries, gradually evolving higher and higher forms of life, all leading up to _man_, who is the heir of all the ages, the inheritor of all that is useful and best in his long line of ancestors. and (what is very important) organic evolution seems obliged to stop here. man is not merely a link in a series leading on to still more perfect beings, but he is the _end_ of the series. in all probability there will never be a higher being on the earth, for the causes which have produced his evolution thus far, can carry it no further. when, for instance, man acquired an erect position, there was an end to any further improvement in that respect. when he took to wearing clothes, there was an end to the body becoming hardier and stronger through exposure. when he took to using weapons and inventing machinery, mere physical strength was no longer essential, and could no longer be increased. in short, when evolution began to take a _mental_ turn, there was an end to bodily development. henceforth there was to be no evolution of any higher being, but rather the gradual perfecting of this one being, by mental and moral, and not physical improvements. man is thus not only the highest being that ever has been evolved, but, as far as we can judge, the highest being that ever will be evolved on this earth. so the vast scheme of evolution, inconceivable alike in magnitude, in duration, and in complexity, is all seen to be one plan, with _man_ apparently at the end of it. and consequently, as everything was designed by god, he must have been the foreknown and intended end, from the very beginning; the first thought in creation, as well as the last. and when we thus regard man as the goal towards which nature has all along tended, and therefore as the _chief_ object which god--the author of nature--had in view all the time, it seems to increase his importance tenfold; and shows conclusively that in god's sight he must be anything but insignificant. nor is it difficult to suggest a reason for this. for man, as we know, has a _mind_, as well as a body; and though the discoveries of science have in some respects lessened the importance of his _body_, by showing its evolution from other animals; they have at the same time increased that of his _mind_, for it is his mind that has discovered them. and every fresh discovery man makes can only exalt him still higher for making it; so that the mind of man now shows him to be a far nobler being than could possibly have been imagined some centuries ago. and certainly, a mind that can discover the motions of distant stars, and the elements of which they are composed, cannot be thought insignificant. in fact, in one respect man is greater than any of the stars; for he can think about them, but they cannot think about him. moreover, man has not only a mind, but also a _spirit_, or free will, able to act right or wrong. and even his acting _wrong_, however sad it may be in other respects, is a powerful witness to his greatness; for who but a great being could act in opposition to the will of the almighty? but then; if his acting _wrong_ proves his greatness, still more does his acting _right_. indeed (if we were not so far from it ourselves) we should probably see that moral perfection, or _always_ acting right, though one might act wrong, is the noblest thing in the whole universe; and as far above mental greatness, as this latter is above mere physical strength. but though _we_ cannot properly appreciate it, god can. he is himself a spirit, and therefore, in his sight, a man possessing a mind and spirit, and thus made to some extent in his own image, and capable of developing moral perfection, may be of more value (because more like himself) than a universe of dead matter. in the same way (to quote a well-known analogy) a king will value his child more than his palace: for the simple reason that the child is more like himself. thus _persons_ are always more valuable than _things_. and they are _incomparably_ more valuable, for they have nothing in common by which they can be compared. we cannot class an astronomer with his telescopes, or say that one geologist is worth so many fossils, or one bricklayer so many bricks. and this being so, what shall we say of the millions of men who have lived, and are now living, on this earth? surely _their_ welfare cannot be thought insignificant by anyone, least of all by their creator. ( .) _the supposed inhabitants of other planets._ but it may be said, what about other planets? are not some of these inhabited, and does not this weaken the argument a good deal, and show that god cannot take any special interest in man, or other beings on this earth? now there is, of course, no reason why god should take any _special_ interest in the beings on this planet, more than in similar beings on other planets, if such exist; but this is very doubtful. for modern science has shown that not only are the same _materials_ found in the other planets (and also in the fixed stars) as are found here; but that _natural laws_, such as those of gravity, light, and heat, are the same throughout the entire universe. and this makes it probable that the laws of life are also the same; so that if living beings exist on other planets, we should expect them to be somewhat similar to the living beings here; and to have been evolved in a somewhat similar manner. and this requires that a large number of favourable circumstances, such as a moderate temperature, a suitable atmosphere, sufficient water, etc., should all be found on some other planet, not only now, but during the long ages which (judging by this earth) appear necessary for the development of the higher forms of life; and this certainly seems unlikely. on the other hand, it is difficult to believe that god would create an immense number of suns or stars, many of which have probably planets round them, if only one out of the whole series was to be inhabited by personal beings. but however strange this may seem to us, it entirely agrees with god's methods in nature, where what seems to be needless waste is the universal rule. so this is not an insuperable difficulty. the question, however, may well be left open, for even if other planets are inhabited, there is no reason why god should not take an interest--and perhaps a great interest--in their inhabitants, as well as in ourselves; since all his capacities are boundless, and even the smallest part of _infinity_ may be very large. (_c._) the existence of evil. we now come to the other, and perhaps more important, difficulty--that arising from the _existence of evil_. this term in its widest sense includes both _pain_, which affects a man's body; _sorrow_, which affects his mind; and _sin_, which affects his spirit. the two former may be called _physical evil_, and apply also to animals; while the latter is _moral evil_, and applies only to man. and as the world is full of pain, sorrow, and sin, one may naturally ask how could it have been designed and created by a god who cares for the welfare of his creatures? or, to put the objection in other words, does not the existence of this evil show that god either could not or would not prevent it? if he _could_ not, he is not all-powerful; if he _would_ not, he is not all-good. this is an undoubted difficulty; and we will examine it in detail, both as it affects animals and men. ( .) _physical evil in animals._ the objection here is that animals of all kinds suffer a vast _amount_ of pain and misery, which is wholly _unmerited_ and perfectly _useless_; since, having no moral nature, they can neither deserve pain nor profit by it. we will consider these points in turn. and first, as to the _amount_ which animals suffer. one animal does not suffer more because a million suffer likewise, so we must consider the suffering as it affects the individual, and not the _total_ amount. and as to its extent we know but little. that animals appear to suffer greatly, _e.g._, a mouse being caught by a cat, is obvious; but how far they really suffer is doubtful, as their feelings are probably far less sensitive than those of man; so it is quite misleading to think what we should feel like in similar circumstances. this is indeed evident when we reflect that suffering is connected with the brain, as is shown by the fact that savages suffer much less than civilised nations. and therefore we should expect animals, whose mental development is far less advanced, to suffer still less; while the lower forms of life we should not expect to suffer at all. and this is confirmed by observation, as several facts have been noticed which almost force us to this conclusion. a crab, for instance, will continue to eat, and apparently relish, a smaller crab, while being itself slowly devoured by a larger one; and this shows that the crab can feel scarcely any pain, since the almost universal effect of pain is to destroy the pleasure of eating. and many other instances are known.[ ] [footnote : transactions of victoria institute, vol. xxv., , p. .] moreover, animals, except domestic ones which are partly trained and civilised, appear to have no anticipation of suffering, and no power of concentrating their thoughts upon it, which increases it so greatly in man. and assuming, with reference to the above example, that the mouse is not to live for ever, its being destroyed by a cat is at most a very short misery, and perhaps involving altogether less pain than if it died from disease or old age. indeed few things could be worse than for old and weak animals to be left to themselves, and gradually die of starvation. and we must remember, in a state of nature, with uncertain meals the cat would never _play_ at capturing the mouse, thus giving it needless and repeated sufferings, but it would kill it at once. then as to the so-called _struggle for existence_. it is nothing like what is commonly supposed, as has been recognised by leading naturalists. thus _darwin_ says:--'when we reflect on this struggle we may console ourselves with the full belief that the war of nature is not incessant, that no fear is felt, that death is generally prompt, and that the vigorous, the healthy, and the happy survive and multiply.' and _wallace_ says:--'the popular idea of the struggle for existence entailing misery and pain on the animal world is the very reverse of the truth. what it really brings about is the maximum of life, and of the enjoyment of life, with the minimum of suffering and pain.'[ ] on the whole, then, it seems probable that pain among animals is far less than is commonly assumed, and in the lower forms of life almost entirely absent. [footnote : c. darwin. origin of species. th edit., , p. . a. r. wallace. darwinism, , p. .] still it may be said, this only lessens the difficulty; for why should animals suffer pain at all? as far as we can judge, it is wholly _unmerited_, since, having no moral nature, and therefore no responsibility, they cannot have done anything wrong to deserve it. but then, the pleasure which they enjoy is also unmerited. the two must in all fairness be taken together, and as a matter of fact, animals seem to have a much greater amount of pleasure than of pain. their life (except when ill-treated by man) is, as a rule, one of continual enjoyment, and probably, at any given moment, the number of animals of any particular kind that are happy is incomparably greater than those that are miserable. in short, health and happiness is the rule, sickness and pain the exception. nor can it be said that pain is _useless_ to animals; for though they have no moral nature to be improved, they have a physical nature to be preserved and transmitted, and the sense of pain may be essential for this. it is indeed a kind of sentry, warning them of dangers, which might otherwise lead to their destruction. if for example, animals felt no pain from excessive heat, they might not escape when a forest was burning; or, if they felt no pain from hunger, they might die of starvation. thus pain is, in reality, a _preservative of life_; and it is often not an evil at all; so no part of this objection can be maintained. ( .) _physical evil in man._ we now pass on to the case of man. there is unfortunately no doubt about the suffering which he endures. the struggling lives, the painful diseases, the lingering deaths, not to mention accidents of all kinds, are but too evident. and we may ask, would an omnipotent god, who cared for man's welfare, have ever designed all this? now it is important to remember that a great deal of physical evil originates in _moral_ evil, which will be considered later on. by far the greater part of the pain and misery which men endure is brought about by their own wickedness and folly, or by that of their fellow-men. the recent war--worse in _extent_, though not worse in kind, than all previous wars--has been a terrible example of this. but it was man's doing, not god's; and man alone must be blamed for it. in the next place, many of the so-called evils of life do not involve any actual suffering. if for instance a man loses the sight of one eye, he need not have any pain; and were he originally blind the possession of even one eye would have been thought a priceless blessing. again, however great may be the sufferings of life, they cannot be as great as its _joys_, since nearly everyone wishes to go on living. while it is undeniable that human pain, like that of animals, is most useful, serving to warn men of dangers and diseases, which would otherwise lead to their destruction. moreover, in a material world like ours, if the forces of nature act according to fixed laws, a certain amount of suffering seems _inevitable_. if, for example, the force of gravity always acts as it does, it will occasionally cause a tower to fall and injure someone. such an event could only be avoided by god's continually interfering with these forces. but this would render all human life a hopeless confusion. while, at present, owing to these forces being invariable, a great deal of the evil which might otherwise result from them can be foreseen and avoided. if, however, men will not avoid it,--if, for instance, in spite of the numerous eruptions of vesuvius, they still choose to go and live on its slopes,--it is hard to see how they can blame anyone but themselves. in the same way, if a man chooses to sit on the safety valve of an engine, it is his own fault if he gets blown up. and even in other cases, when the evil cannot be foreseen, as in an unexpected earthquake, it is at least open to doubt whether it is any worse for a number of men to die like this, suddenly and together, than that they should all die in the usual way, slowly, one by one, and often after a long illness. it of course appeals more to the imagination, but it probably involves less suffering. thus we may say that human suffering, excluding that due to man himself, is by no means so great as it seems; that it is, as a rule, more than counter-balanced by human happiness; and that a certain amount seems not only useful, but in a world like ours inevitable. but though all these considerations are undoubtedly true, and undoubtedly lessen the difficulty, they do not remove it altogether. the following appears to be the true explanation: that though god foreknew all this suffering when he created the world, and in this sense _designed_ it, he need not have _desired_ it, but may have desired something else, for the attainment of which, this suffering was a necessary condition. and this _something else_ must obviously have been the training and perfecting of man's character; for which, some kind of suffering seems essential. for if there were no suffering in the world, there could be no fortitude, no bravery, no patience, no compassion, no sympathy with others, no self-sacrifice for their good--nothing, in fact, that constitutes the highest type of man. in other words, a being such as man, can only be made perfect through suffering. therefore this suffering implies no defect in god's design. it is a means, and, as far as we can judge, the only possible means for developing the highest and noblest character in man, such a character indeed as alone makes him worthy of admiration. moreover, a man's character can only be formed by himself, it cannot be given him ready-made, for then it would not be _his_ character at all; and it can only be formed gradually, it cannot be done all at once. therefore, if god wishes a man to have the special character acquired by constantly bearing suffering, it can only be obtained by constantly giving him suffering to bear. here, then, we have the most probable explanation of the physical evils which man endures. their object is to develop and perfect his character; and as this is a good object, and as it cannot be obtained in any other way, they may well have been designed by a good god. ( .) _moral evil in man._ but we now come to the most difficult part of the subject, the existence of _moral evil_ in man. this, as before said, is the chief cause of human misery, and might it not have been avoided? in other words, could not all _sin_ have been excluded from the world? but assuming man to be a _free being_, it could not have been avoided, for freedom is always liable to abuse. therefore, if god decided that man was to be free in some cases to act right or wrong, it necessarily follows that he may act wrong. no omnipotence could possibly alter this without destroying man's freedom. hence, though god designed all the moral evil in the world, he need not have desired it, but (as before) may have desired some totally different object, for the attainment of which, this evil was a necessary condition. nor, again, is it difficult to suggest what this object may have been. for unless man is a free being, he can be little better than a machine--a correctly-behaved machine, no doubt, and one able to talk and think, but still only a machine. and god may not have wished that man, who is, as far as we know, his highest and noblest work, should be only a machine. indeed, the superiority of free men who act right, though they might act wrong, to mere machines is obvious to everyone; and it may far outweigh the disadvantage that some of them should act wrong. therefore, though we have to pay dearly for freedom, it is well worth the price; and the _infinite value of goodness_, as it is called, may justify, though nothing else could, the risks involved in giving man a free will. nor is there anything unlikely in the creator thus caring about the conduct of his creatures. we certainly should not admire an earthly ruler who regarded traitors to his cause, and his most faithful adherents with the same indifference; or an earthly parent who did not care whether his children obeyed him or not. why, then, should we think that god, who has not only given us free will, but also a conscience by which to know what is right (_i.e._, what is _his_ will), should yet be indifferent as to whether we do it or not? everything points the other way, that god, who is a moral being, and who has made us moral beings also, wishes us to freely act right. therefore he allows us to act wrong, with all the misery it involves, in order to render possible our thus freely choosing to act right. or to put the argument in other words, a free being is far higher than a being who is not free, and yet a free being cannot exist without the possibility of his acting wrong. so, however strange the conclusion appears, moral evil, or at least its possibility, is essential to the universe, if it is to be worthy of its creator, if, that is, it is to contain beings of the highest order--_persons_ and not _things_. or, to put it still shorter, if god is good, it is only natural that he should create beings capable of goodness, and therefore of necessity capable of badness, for the two must go together. and if it be still urged that, as god foreknew how men would use their freedom, he need not have created those who would habitually use it wrongly; in other words, there might be no _wicked men_ in the world, the answer is obvious. wicked men are as necessary as any other form of evil to test a man's character, and to develop moral perfection. for just as physical evil, pain, suffering, etc., can alone render possible certain physical virtues, such as fortitude and patience; so moral evil, or sin, can alone render possible certain moral virtues. if, for instance, there were no sin in the world there could be no forbearance with the faults of others, no moral courage in standing alone for an unpopular cause, no forgiveness of injuries, nor (what is perhaps the highest of all virtues) any rendering good for evil. these require not merely the possibility, but the actual existence of sin, and they would all be unattainable if we had nothing but physical evils to contend with, and there were only good men in the world. the case then stands thus. evil men are essential to an evil world. an evil world is essential to proving a man's character. proving a man's character is essential to his freely choosing to serve god; and his freely choosing to serve god seems essential to his being such a servant as god would care to have. one other point should be noticed before we conclude. it is that with regard to the conduct of free beings, _foreknowing_ is not the same as _foreordaining_. god may have foreknown how a man would use or misuse his freedom, but without foreordaining or compelling him to do either. in the same way, in human affairs it is possible in some cases, and to some extent, to foreknow what a man will do, but without in any way compelling him to do it. this is a most important distinction, and we have no reason for thinking that god foreordained any man to misuse his freedom, though he may have foreknown that he would do so.[ ] [footnote : of course if god creates a man, _foreknowing_ how he will act, he may, in a certain sense, be said to _foreordain_ it as well; compare rom. . . "whom he foreknew, he also foreordained."] (_d._) conclusion. we may now sum up the argument in this chapter. we first showed that god is not only able to take an interest in man's welfare; but that the marks of beneficent design afford abundant evidence that he actually does so. on the other hand, the so-called _insignificance of man_ is more apparent than real, since his position at the end of evolution shows his great importance; while his mind and spirit fully account for this, and prove him to be an altogether unique being, certainly in regard to this earth, and perhaps in regard to the universe. and as to the _existence of evil_, it is undeniable that god must have foreknown all the evil in the world when he created it; and in this sense he designed it. but he may also have foreknown that it is only temporary, and that it will lead to a more than compensating permanent good, which could not be obtained in any other way. for the evils in this world need not be _ends_, but may be only _means_ to ends; and, for all we know, they may be the very best means for obtaining the very best ends. indeed, as before said, they seem to be not only the best, but the only possible means for developing all that is highest and noblest in man. we conclude, then, that though god designed both the evil and the good in the world, he need not have desired both: and there are indications in nature sufficient to show that the good is what he desired, and the evil is only its inevitable companion. this conclusion is often expressed by saying that _goodness_ is an attribute of god; and the word may certainly be admitted. indeed if god is not _good_, he has made a being, in this respect, nobler than himself; since some men, in spite of their faults, are undoubtedly good. but it is important to notice the sense in which the word is used, and in which alone it is true. by god's _goodness_, then, or by his taking an interest in man's welfare, is not meant a mere universal beneficence, or wishing to make everyone as happy as possible, without regard to his conduct. the existence of evil seems fatal to such a theory as this. but rather god wishes to promote man's welfare in the truest and best way, not by giving him everything he likes, but by training and developing his character. god is thus not only _beneficent_, but _righteous_ also. and he therefore wishes man to be not only happy, but righteous also. and he therefore of necessity (as a man cannot be made righteous against his will) gives him _free_ will, with the option of being unrighteous, and consequently unhappy. so this view of god's character, combining beneficence with righteousness, not only accounts for the marks of beneficent design all through nature, but also for the existence of evil, especially moral evil, in man, and seems the only way of reconciling them. in short, beneficence and righteousness are both good, and the goodness of god includes both. now if we admit that goodness is an attribute of god, the analogy from his other attributes would show that he possesses it in its highest perfection. he is thus a being not only of infinite _power_ and _wisdom_, but also of perfect _goodness_--the word 'perfect' being obviously more suitable for a moral quality like goodness, than 'infinite' would be. and it will be noticed that these three great attributes of god correspond to the three chief arguments for his existence. the first, or that from the universe requiring an adequate cause, proves an all-powerful creator; the second, or that from its having been designed, proves that he is all-wise; and the third, or that from human nature, proves that he is all-good. they also correspond to some extent to the three aspects under which we considered man's character in the last chapter; so we arrive at the grand conclusion that god is physically _all-powerful_, mentally _all-wise_, and morally _all-good_. chapter vi. that god might make some revelation to man. this depends chiefly on man's future destiny. (_a._) the immortality of man. by this is meant the personal immortality of man's spirit, and there are four chief arguments in its favour: ( .) from his unique position. ( .) from his unjust treatment. ( .) from his vast capabilities. ( .) from his inherent belief. ( .) counter-arguments. (_b._) the probability of a revelation. ( .) from god's character; since he would be likely to benefit man. ( .) from man's character; since he desires it, and his unique position makes him not altogether unworthy of it. ( .) two difficulties: a revelation is said to be unjust, if only given to certain men; and anyhow incredible unless quite convincing. but neither of these can be maintained. we decided in the last two chapters that man is a free and responsible being, and that god takes an interest in his welfare. we now come to the subject of a _revelation_, by which is meant any superhuman knowledge directly imparted by god to man. and by _superhuman_ knowledge is meant any knowledge which man could not obtain for himself; such as god's object in creating him, his wishes in regard to his conduct, or any past or future events of which he would otherwise be ignorant. and that god could, if he chose, impart such knowledge, either by visions, or dreams, or in some other way, can scarcely be disputed. nor will anyone affirm (least of all an agnostic) that we know enough about god to be quite sure that he never would choose to do so. therefore a revelation is certainly _possible_; but is it at all _probable_? this is what we have to examine. and as the answer to it will depend to a great extent on man's future destiny, we will first consider the question of his _immortality_, and then the probability, or otherwise, of god's making a _revelation_ to him. (_a._) the immortality of man. by this is meant the immortality of man's _spirit_. and if we admit (as was admitted in chapter iv.) that man is a compound being, consisting of a free and partly supernatural spirit, his real _self_, which controls his body and mind; what becomes of this spirit at death? we know what becomes of the body: the various molecules are arranged in other groups, and the natural forces are changed into other natural forces. nothing is lost or annihilated. but what becomes of the spirit? if this is a free supernatural force, the idea that it should perish altogether, when the accompanying natural forces are re-arranged at death, is most unlikely. indeed the apparent indestructibility of matter points to a corresponding immortality of spirit. no doubt god could, _if he chose_, destroy either, just as he could create either; but without some supernatural interference, the creation or destruction of either seems incredible. yet if a man's spirit is not destroyed, it must survive; for it does not seem to have any separate parts into which it can be split up like a man's body. therefore, as it cannot undergo the only kind of death of which we have any knowledge (which is this re-arrangement of separate parts), it may survive for ever. and there are four chief arguments in favour of this personal immortality of man;--those derived from his _unique position_; his _unjust treatment_; his _vast capabilities_; and his _inherent belief_. we will consider each in turn, and then see what can be said on the other side. ( .) _from his unique position._ the first argument is from man's _unique position_, more especially when we regard him as the last and noblest result of the vast scheme of evolution, which has been in progress here for so many thousands of years. for such a vast scheme, like everything else, requires not only a _cause_, but a _purpose_; and however much evolution can explain, it cannot explain itself. why should there have been any evolution at all? why should a universe of dead matter have ever produced life? there must have been some motive in all this, and what adequate motive can be suggested? we can only look for an answer in _man_, who is not only the highest creature on this planet, but as far as we know on any planet; so here if anywhere we must find the explanation. evolution would then have _god_ for its cause, and _man_ for its purpose--an undoubtedly adequate _cause_, but is it an adequate _purpose_? for the human race cannot exist for ever as it is. everything points to this earth sooner or later falling into the sun, when all forms of life must cease. therefore, if man is not immortal, the whole of evolution which has led up to him as its final end will still have had no _permanent_ result. and no result which is not permanent seems altogether worthy of the eternal god, the author of this evolution. but if, on the other hand, man is immortal; and if this earth, with its strange mixture of good and evil, is a suitable place in which to test and form his character; and if perhaps god wishes hereafter to be surrounded by men who have stood the test, and have formed their character in accordance with his will; then it may lead to a _permanent_ result. and then its creation would not be such a hopeless mystery as on the opposite theory; for the perfecting of immortal beings seems an object worthy even of god. thus if we deny the immortality of man, the whole of evolution becomes meaningless, and nature is a riddle without a solution. but if we admit it, there is at least the possibility of a satisfactory answer. for then, as just said, nature is seen to be only _a means to an end_--a temporary (though perhaps necessary) means to a permanent end--the end being to produce _man_ (a free being), and then to provide a suitable place for his moral training. and this will enable him, if he wishes, from being a _free_ man, to become also a _righteous_ man, that is, a man who acts right, though he might act wrong, and thus to some extent worthy to share in his maker's immortality. and we must remember, man could not have been created righteous, using the word in its strict sense. he might have been created _perfect_ (like a machine), or _innocent_ (like a child), but to be _righteous_ requires, as just said, his own co-operation--his continually choosing to act right, though he might act wrong. and this of necessity is a slow process, with some failures. but the end aimed at is a permanent, and therefore perhaps an adequate, end; and the present world seems exactly suited to attain this end, as it affords a man boundless opportunities (every day, if he likes to use them) of acting right, though he might act wrong. we thus seem forced to the conclusion--however strange it may appear--that the gradual training and perfecting of _man_ is the only adequate explanation of the world, the real object of its long evolution. yet, if he is not _immortal_, this object can never be attained, for no one reaches moral perfection here; while even if they did, it would only last for a short time. and we may ask, is it likely that such a vast scheme should end in failure, or at most in only a temporary success? is it not rather probable that if man is the end of evolution, then god, the author of evolution, must value him; and if god values him, he is not likely to let him perish for ever. in short (as it has been well put), such vast progress from such small beginnings points to an end proportionately great, and this involves the immortality of man. on the whole, then, we may say in the words of romanes, one of the great champions of evolution, that 'only by means of this theory of probation is it possible to give any meaning to the world, _i.e._, any _raison d'être_ of human existence.'[ ] [footnote : thoughts on religion, , p. .] ( .) _from his unjust treatment._ the second argument is from man's _unjust treatment_ in this world. for as we saw in the last chapter, god is a moral being, able to distinguish right from wrong; and, as far as we can judge, he is one who will always act right himself. yet his treatment of men in this world seems most unjust. wicked men are allowed to prosper by their wickedness, good men suffer unjustly, while some men's lives seem to be nothing but suffering; and how is this to be accounted for? there is here again one, and only one, satisfactory explanation, which is that this life is not the whole of man's existence, but only a preparation for a _future life_--a short trial for a long hereafter. and, looked at from this point of view, the most apparently miserable lives may afford as valuable training, perhaps more so, than the outwardly happy ones. the temptation to dishonesty, for example, can be as well resisted by a poor man who is only tempted to steal sixpence, as by a rich man who is tempted to embezzle a thousand pounds. and if resisting such a temptation helps to form a man's character, as it certainly does, and hence, perhaps, to fit him for a better life hereafter, this can be as well done in the one case as in the other. and the same principle applies universally; even a child has his temptations, which are very real _to the child_, though they may seem ridiculous to us. so if this life is intended as a time of probation in which to form a man's character, we cannot imagine a better system or one more admirably adapted to the end in view. and we must remember a man's _character_ is the thing most worth forming, since (as far as we can judge) it is his only _permanent_ possession. all else will be surrendered at death, but his character will last as long as the man himself, and hence perhaps for ever. nor is this all, for these trials and sufferings themselves may be the very means of adding to man's future happiness. the joy of having resisted temptation, for instance, would be impossible if men were never tempted; and the joy of rescuing others from suffering and sin, and thus perhaps making everlasting friendships, would be impossible if there were no suffering, and no sin. and the same applies in other cases. so man's probation in this life, with its incessant battle against evil, may (for all we know) increase his future happiness in a way which nothing else could possibly do, and to an extent of which we can form no conception. no pain or suffering, then, can be looked upon as useless, and no position in this world as one to be despised; in short, to anyone who believes in a future state, life is always worth living. and we may be sure that in a future state every injustice will be made good, and all wrongs will be righted. ( .) _from his vast capabilities._ the third argument is from man's _vast capabilities_. for he does not seem adapted to this life only, but has aspirations and longings far beyond it. his powers seem capable of continual and almost endless development. nearly all men wish for immortality. this life does not seem to satisfy them entirely. for instance, men, especially scientific men, have a longing after knowledge which can never be fully realised in this world. a man's capacities are thus out of all proportion to his destiny, if this life is all; and to many it seems improbable that the creator should have endowed men with such needless and useless capacities. and this is strongly confirmed by the analogy of nature. for example, a bird in an egg shows rudimentary organs which cannot be used as long as it remains in the egg; and this of itself is a proof that it is intended some day to leave the egg. on the other hand, a full-grown bird seems to be entirely adapted to its present state, and not to have any longing after, or capacity for, any higher state; therefore we may infer that no higher state is intended for it. and by the same reasoning we may infer that some higher state is intended for man, as his mental and spiritual nature is not entirely satisfied by his present life. in short, all animals seem made for this world alone, and man is the only unsatisfied being in the universe. moreover, the period of preparation in a man's life seems out of all proportion to the time prepared for, if death ends all. the development in a man's moral character often continues till nearly the close of his life. his character has then reached maturity. but for what is it matured? surely not for immediate destruction. must not the wise creator, who designed everything else with such marvellous skill, have intended something better for his noblest creatures than mere boundless capabilities, unsatisfied longings, and a lifelong preparation all for nothing? ( .) _from his inherent belief._ the fourth argument is from man's _belief_ in immortality. for such a belief has existed among men in nearly every age and country, learned and ignorant, civilised and uncivilised. it was implied by the pre-historic men who buried food and weapons with their dead, and it was maintained by such philosophers as socrates and plato, and how are we to account for it? it cannot have arisen from experience; and the attempts to explain it as due to the desire which men have for immortality, or to someone occasionally dreaming that he sees a departed friend, are quite inadequate. desire is not conviction, and dreams are notoriously untrustworthy. they might account for an individual here and there entertaining this belief, but not for mankind always and everywhere doing so; especially in face of the apparent contradiction afforded by every grave. the belief, then, seems intuitive, and an inherent part of human nature; and we may ask, is it likely that god should have implanted such a strange belief in man if it were erroneous? these, then, are the four great arguments in favour of man's immortality--those derived from his unique position; his unjust treatment; his vast capabilities; and his inherent belief. and with the doubtful exception of the second, not one of them applies to animals; so the common objection, that if man is immortal, animals must be so too, is quite untenable. ( .) _counter-arguments._ on the other hand, the great and only important argument _against_ man's immortality is that his spirit seems to be inseparably connected with his body. as far as we can judge, it is born with the body; it often inherits the moral character of its parents, just as the body inherits bodily diseases; it certainly develops and matures with the body; and in most cases it seems to gradually decay with the body; therefore it is inferred the two perish together. but this does not follow; since, as said in chapter iv., it is not the _same_ body (in the sense of the same material particles) with which the spirit is united, even in this life. it is united to a continually changing body, yet it always survives. so it is not unlikely that it may survive the still greater change at death. moreover, it is united to the body as its _master_, not its servant. it is, as already shown, a _free_ spirit; and it decides to a great extent what the body shall say, and what it shall do. it thus uses the body as a means, or instrument, by which to act in the outer world; and therefore, of course, when the instrument gets out of order, its actions will become confused, but without implying that the spirit itself is so. in the same way, if we shut up a clerk in a telegraph office, as soon as his instruments get out of order, the messages he sends, which are his only means of communicating with the outer world, will become confused, and finally cease, but without implying that there is anything wrong with the clerk himself. and this is confirmed by the fact that instances are known in which a man's intellect and will have remained quite vigorous all through a mortal sickness, and up to the very moment of death; so the gradual decay of the body does not necessarily involve that of the mind and spirit. while in states which somewhat resemble death, when, for instance, the body is fast asleep, or rendered unconscious by an accident, the mind and spirit are often peculiarly active, as in dreams. therefore, when the body is really dead, the spirit may (for all we know) not only survive, but be endowed with still greater powers. on the whole, then, this is not an insuperable difficulty; while the previous arguments render the idea of a future life _distinctly probable_. and this has, of course, a most important bearing on our next question; indeed, it is scarcely too much to say that the probability of a revelation depends on that of a future life. for if death ends all, man's existence is so short that a revelation can scarcely be thought probable; but if he is to live for ever, the case is very different. (_b._) the probability of a revelation. now (assuming man to be immortal) a revelation, from whichever side we regard it, appears to be somewhat _probable_. for god is a being, who seems likely to make a revelation; and man is a being exactly fitted to receive one; so we will consider these points first, and then the chief difficulties. ( .) _from god's character._ now we have already shown that god takes an interest in man's welfare, being not only beneficent, but _righteous_; and that he apparently wishes to train and develop man's character, so that he may be righteous also. and from this we may infer that if a revelation would benefit man, and thus _help_ him to be righteous also, it would not be improbable for god to make one. and that the knowledge given by a revelation might influence him in this way cannot be denied; for, as a matter of fact, such knowledge, either real or pretended, has had precisely this effect on millions of men. we may also infer from god's methods in nature, which are those of slow development, that if he made a revelation at all it would be done _gradually_. at first it would be very simple, and such as could be transmitted orally. then when man acquired the art of writing, and could thus hand it on accurately, a more definite revelation might be given. and this again might become more and more perfect, as man himself became more perfect. we obviously do not know enough to speak with confidence, but still god's character, so far as we can judge of it, seems to be in favour of his making some revelation--and that a _progressive_ revelation--to man. ( .) _from man's character._ passing on now to man's character, we find that he has been given a nature exactly fitted to receive a revelation. for religion of some kind is, and always has been, practically universal; and nearly all important religions have rested on real or pretended revelations from god, and have been accepted in consequence. in other words the nature of man has everywhere led him to seek for, demand, and, if need be, imagine a revelation from god. nor is this in any way surprising, for a thoughtful man cannot help _wishing_ to know why he is placed in this world; why he is given free will; how he is meant to use his freedom; and what future, if any, is in store for him hereafter: in short, what was god's object in creating him. it seems of all knowledge to be the highest, the noblest, the most worth knowing. and therefore as this result of man's nature was not only brought about by god, but must have been foreknown, and intended by him, it is not improbable that he should satisfy it; especially as it cannot be satisfied in any other way, for the knowledge being superhuman, is out of man's own reach. and it may be added, the more we realise this, and feel that god is _unknowable_, in the sense that we can gain no satisfactory knowledge about him by human science and reasoning, so much the more likely does it seem that he should give us such knowledge by revelation. and all this is strengthened when we consider man's _unique position_ to which we have already alluded. for if we admit that the creation and perfecting of man is the chief object the creator had in view for so many thousands of years, it does not seem unlikely that he might wish to hold some communication with him. in fact, as the whole of nature shows design or purpose; and as man occupies a special place in nature; we may fairly conclude that god has some special purpose in regard to man, and, for all we know, he may have something special to tell him about it. we conclude then that man's character, and the unique position he occupies on this earth, is a strong argument in favour of his receiving some revelation from god. ( .) _two difficulties._ but now for the other side. there are two chief difficulties. the first is on the ground of _injustice_; since any revelation, it is said, would imply a partiality to the men or nation to whom it was given, and would therefore be unjust to the rest of mankind. but this is quite untenable, for god's other benefits are not bestowed impartially. on the contrary, pleasure and pain, good and evil, are never equally distributed in this world. what seems to be partiality and favouritism is the rule everywhere, and this without any apparent merit on the part of the men concerned. moreover, the advantages of a revelation may not concern this world only. and all who believe in a future life are convinced of god's justice, and that men will only be judged according to the knowledge of his will which they possessed, or might have possessed had they chosen, and not according to any higher standard which was out of their reach. the other and more important difficulty is, that if god gave a revelation at all, it would be absolutely _convincing_. everything that god does he does well; and we cannot, it is urged, imagine his making a revelation to man, and yet doing it so imperfectly as to leave men in doubt as to whether he had done it or not. for this would imply that he either could not, or would not, make the evidence sufficient to ensure conviction, neither of which is credible. now, though all this seems very probable, a moment's reflection will show that it is not conclusive; for exactly the same may be said in regard to the whole of natural religion. is it likely, for instance, that god should create free and responsible men, and yet give them such insufficient evidence about it, that while many are fully convinced, others deny not only their own freedom and responsibility, but even the existence of the god who made them? yet he has done so. therefore there is nothing improbable in the evidence for a revelation, if one were given, being of a similar character. indeed, there is much to be said in favour of its being so, since in most other matters man is left a free choice. he is often able to find out how he ought to think and how he ought to act, but he is not forced to do either. and god may have wished that the same rule should be followed in regard to a revelation, and that man should be left free to believe it or not, just as he is left free to act on it or not, if he does believe it, and just as he is left free to choose right or wrong in other cases. therefore we cannot say that no revelation can come from god unless the evidence for it is overwhelming. it would doubtless be sufficient to convince a man if he took the trouble to examine it carefully; only it need not be such as to compel conviction. what kind of evidence we may expect will be considered in the next chapter. neither of these difficulties, then, is at all serious; and we are forced back to the conclusion that, provided man is immortal, a revelation seems for several reasons to be somewhat probable. to put it shortly, if god is good and really cares for man's welfare, it seems unlikely that he should withhold from him that knowledge which is the highest, the noblest, and the most longed for;--the knowledge of himself. while, if man is a free and immortal being, occupying a unique position in the world, and intended to live for ever, it seems unlikely that he should be told nothing, and therefore know nothing, as to why he was created, or what is his future destiny. thus when we consider both god's character and man's character, it seems on the whole to be somewhat _probable_, that god would make a revelation to man; telling him how he ought to use his freedom in this world, and possibly what future is in store for him hereafter. chapter vii. that a miraculous revelation is credible. a divine messenger would probably have credentials. (_a._) superhuman signs. these include superhuman _knowledge_, afterwards verified (such as prophecy), and superhuman _coincidences_; and there is nothing incredible in either. (_b._) supernatural signs, or miracles. these are 'marvels specially worked by god as signs to confirm a revelation.' this definition is threefold, referring to their outward appearance, cause, and purpose. ( .) _miracles as marvels_: though they seem to be contrary to experience, they are not really so, for we have no experience of the proper kind to refer to. ( .) _miracles as special works of god_: they only interfere with the uniformity of nature in the same way that human works interfere with it. ( .) _miracles as signs_: there is nothing to show that they are inconsistent with god's character. we decided in the last chapter that it was somewhat probable for god to make a revelation to man, that is to say, to certain men, for them to make known to others. and if so, it is also probable that these men would have some means of showing that the knowledge had come from god and not from themselves. in other words, if god sends a message to man, it is probable that the messenger would have _credentials_. and this is especially so when we remember that men have often appeared in the world's history who professed to have a revelation from god, and have misled mankind in consequence. is it not probable, then, that if god really did give a revelation, he would take care that his true messengers should have credentials which would distinguish them from all the others? these credentials, then, or _signs_, must plainly be such as could not be imitated by man; and must therefore of necessity be _superhuman_, if not _supernatural_. so we may divide them into these two classes; and we have now to consider whether they are _credible_. by this is meant something more than merely possible; for the possibility of such signs follows at once from the existence of god. but are they credible? is there, that is, at least a slight chance that they would occur? (_a._) superhuman signs. these include, to begin with, superhuman _knowledge_, which can be afterwards verified, such as _prophecy_. and there is no difficulty here, provided we admit a revelation at all. the only possible objection refers to prophecies regarding human conduct; which it may be said would interfere with man's freedom. but this is only part of the more general objection that any foreknowledge on god's part would interfere with man's freedom, which we have already considered in chapter ii.; and there is no special difficulty in regard to prophecies. in every case, as said before, god merely foreknows the use man will make of his freedom. therefore the event will not occur _because_ it was foretold, but rather it was foretold because god knew that it would occur. superhuman _coincidences_ form another, and very important class of superhuman signs. in these a man's acts or sayings are confirmed by natural events _coinciding_ with them in a remarkable manner. for example, suppose a prophet claimed to have a revelation from god; and, as a proof of this, invited the people to witness a sacrifice on a cloudless day. he then killed an animal, and placed it on an altar of stones, but put no fire under it, and even threw water over it. suddenly, however, a thunderstorm arose, and the sacrifice was struck by lightning. now the thunderstorm might have arisen and the lightning might have struck on that particular spot, in strict accordance with natural laws. yet the _coincidence_ of this occurring just when and where the prophet wanted it, would tend strongly to show that god, who must have foreknown and designed the coincidence, meant to confirm what the prophet said. or, to put the argument in other words, the lightning would seem to have struck the sacrifice _on purpose_; and therefore such events have been popularly described as _natural forces acting rationally_. of course, as a rule, the forces of nature do not act rationally. a falling meteorite, for instance, does not go a yard out of its way to kill anyone, or to spare him. man, on the other hand, does act rationally. his acts are directed for a purpose, and thus show design. and, in the events we are considering, the forces of nature seem also to act with a purpose; and this makes it probable that the author of these forces was really acting with this purpose. in short, the events seem to have been not only _superhuman_, but _designed_ coincidences. and they present no difficulty whatever from a scientific point of view, as they are part of the ordinary course of nature. of course, the value of such coincidences varies greatly according to whether the event is of a usual or unusual character. in the latter case, more especially if the event is very unusual or the coincidence very striking, they are popularly called miracles. and they may have considerable value, though there is always a slight chance of the agreement being, as we might say, accidental. (_b._) supernatural signs. we pass on now to supernatural signs or _miracles_ in the strict sense; which we will define as _marvels specially worked by god as signs to confirm a revelation_. this definition has, of course, been chosen so as to suit the miracles recorded in the bible, and it is really threefold. in the first place, a miracle is described as to its outward _appearance_. it is a marvel--that is to say, a strange and unusual event, which we cannot account for, and which thus attracts attention. secondly, it is described as to its _cause_. this marvel is said to have been specially worked by god--that is to say, by some action on his part different from his usual action in nature. while, lastly, it is described as to its _purpose_; it is a marvel worked by god as a sign to confirm a revelation. the first of these aspects is expressed in the old testament by the word _wonder_, the second by such phrases as god's _mighty hand_ or _outstretched arm_, and the third by the word _sign_; all these terms being often used together. while in the new testament the words used are _wonders_, _mighty works_, and _signs_, which again exactly correspond to these three aspects of the miracles. and it should be noticed these aspects are not chosen merely to suit the present argument, since other events can and ought to be looked at in the same way, not as mere facts, but also with reference to their alleged cause and purpose. and to show the great importance of this, we will consider an event from modern history; and select the well-known example of the mont cenis tunnel. suppose, then, that anyone heard of this as a _marvel_ only, the cause and purpose being left out of account. suppose, that is, he heard that a small straight cavity of uniform size, and several miles long, had been formed under a range of mountains; and that it had begun as two cavities, one from each end, which after years of growth, had exactly met in the middle. he would at once pronounce the event incredible, for the cavity is quite unlike all natural cavities. but now suppose the next point, as to its _cause_, to be introduced. it is said to be something more than a natural cavity, and to be the work of man. all previous difficulties would now vanish, but fresh ones would arise. for numbers of men must have worked together for years to excavate such a cavity, and from what we know of human nature, men will only do this for commercial or profitable ends, and not for boring useless holes through mountains; so the event is still practically incredible. but now suppose the last point of _purpose_ to be introduced. it is said that this is not a mere useless hole bored through a mountain; but a hole bored for a particular purpose; it is, in fact, a railway tunnel. then all difficulties would disappear. of course, whether we believe the tunnel was actually made depends upon what evidence we have; but it is clear that when we consider the _cause_ by which, and the _purpose_ for which, it is said to have been made, there is nothing incredible about it. now a similar method must be adopted in regard to miracles. they must not be regarded simply as _marvels_, but as marvels said to have been brought about by an adequate _cause_, and for a sufficient _purpose_. and it is just these elements of cause and purpose which may make the marvels credible. we will consider these points in turn. ( .) _miracles as marvels._ the first aspect of miracles is that of marvels. as such, they are events which seem to be _contrary to our experience_--contrary, that is, to what our experience of apparently similar events would lead us to expect. suppose, for instance, it were stated that on one occasion three men were thrown into a furnace, but instead of being burnt to death they walked about, and in a few minutes came out alive and unhurt. such a marvel would be contrary to our experience, and that it would be therefore _very improbable_ is obvious. but is this improbability sufficient in all cases to make the event incredible, no matter what testimony there may be in its favour? hume's argument that it is sufficient is well known. he says we can only judge of the probability of anything, whether it be the occurrence of an event, or the truthfulness of the narrator, by _experience_. and as it is contrary to experience for miracles to be true, but not contrary to experience for testimony to be false, the balance of probability must always be against the miracle. but of course this reasoning, if true, must apply to all alleged events which are contrary to experience; and yet such events have occurred by the thousand. let us take a single example. everyone has had some experience as to how far it is possible to hear the human voice distinctly, and till the last half century, the limit has always been fixed at a few hundred yards. now, suppose anyone were told for the first time that it was possible to speak right across england, he would justly say that it was utterly contrary to experience. no one, he would think, could possibly speak loud enough to be heard even twenty miles away. but ought he to add that it was therefore incredible? from this it is clear that there must be some flaw in hume's argument; and it is easily discovered. for the argument regards the event only as a marvel, and _without reference to its cause_. but we have no right to leave this out of account, nor do we in ordinary affairs. when anyone first hears of a marvel, he does not merely compare it with his previous experience, and then come to a decision; in which case, as hume supposes, it might be always against the marvel. but he first inquires how this strange event is said to have been brought about. for if any cause is stated to have been at work as to the influence of which he knows nothing, then he has no experience of the proper kind to appeal to. there is the testimony in favour of the event as before; and if he disbelieves it, he does so, not because it is contrary to his experience, but because he thinks the supposed cause either did not exist, or would not have had the effect asserted. a reference to the previous example will make this quite plain. when the man first heard of persons talking across england, instead of at once declaring it incredible, he would, if a reasonable man, inquire as to the _cause_ of this. he would then be told that a wire was stretched across england with an instrument called a telephone at each end. now, as to the possibility or adequacy of such a contrivance he might doubt a good deal; but one thing would be quite clear, that this was a case to which his experience, however large, did not apply. here, then, is the explanation of hume's argument. so long as a marvel, contrary to experience, is regarded _only_ as a marvel, the probability must be always against its truth. but if we inquire as to how it was brought about, and find that some _cause_ is said to have been at work, as to the influence of which we are ignorant, then the argument is no longer applicable. we have simply no experience of the proper kind to appeal to. now this is precisely the case with regard to miracles. as marvels they seem contrary to experience; but they claim to have a special _cause_, to be specially worked by god--that is to say, by some action on his part different from his usual action in nature; and of the influence of this cause we have no experience whatever. we may, of course, deny its existence or doubt its adequacy; but the argument, that the event is contrary to experience, vanishes. it is clear then that the fact of miracles appearing to be contrary to experience is no reason for disbelieving _them_, though it might be a reason for disbelieving other alleged marvels, because they claim to have a special cause, by which to account for this special character. we have now to examine whether this special cause really existed--that is to say, we pass on to the second aspect of the miracles; our conclusion thus far being that they are credible as _marvels_, if it be credible that they were _specially worked by god_. ( .) _miracles as special works of god._ now, any special action on god's part is often thought to present great difficulties, as interfering with the uniformity of nature. but, as we shall see, it would only interfere with it in the same way that human action interferes with it. neither of them violates the laws of nature, though both are able to bring about results which nature of itself could not have brought about. in the case of human action this is quite obvious. suppose, for example, a clock with an iron pendulum is placed on a table and keeps perfect time. suddenly, without anyone touching it, it begins to gain rapidly, and then, after a short time, goes on as before. to anyone unacquainted with the cause, this would appear a _marvel_: and might even be thought incredible, as (assuming the clock to be properly constructed) it would seem to imply some alteration in the laws of motion, or the force of gravity. yet we know a man can easily produce such a marvel by holding a magnet under the table. the disturbing cause, it will be noticed, was not really the magnet, which always acts according to law; nor the hand which held it; but the action of the _human will_ on matter. this took place in the man's brain, and enabled him to move first his hand, and then the magnet. thus we may say the marvel was produced by _natural means supernaturally applied_; for the magnet was undoubtedly a natural means, yet nature of itself would never have used it in the way described. it required something _above_ nature (something _super_-natural) and this was the free will of man. now, miracles claim to have been produced in a somewhat similar, though to us unknown, manner by the action of god's will on matter, that is to say, by natural means supernaturally applied; and, if so, they are certainly credible, under this head. for we know that god has the power of acting on matter, and that he used it once in creating the universe, so he might use it again if he thought fit. moreover, god's knowledge of the laws of nature is complete, while man's is only partial. as, then, man, with his limited power over nature and partial knowledge of its laws, can produce marvels so unlike nature's ordinary course (a steam engine, for instance), yet without violating any of its laws; still more can god, who has complete power over nature, and complete knowledge of its laws. for to deny this would be to deny to god the power which we concede to man; and which we must remember, god himself has given to man. and this would lead to the strange conclusion that god has enabled man to do what he cannot do himself. no doubt we cannot imagine _how_ god can exert his will over matter, but neither can we imagine how we can do it ourselves. the difficulty is as great in the one case as in the other. from this it is clear that miracles need not violate natural laws. and though at first one might be inclined to dispute this with regard to particular miracles; the statement is quite correct, provided we make due allowance for our own ignorance. take, for example, the supposed case of the men in the furnace. we certainly do not know how their bodies were kept cool, but we cannot say it was impossible. for extreme heat, and even _extreme_ cold, may be very close together, as is shown by the well-known experiment of freezing mercury inside a red-hot crucible. as a mere marvel this is quite as wonderful as the men in the furnace; and an ignorant man would probably pronounce both to be equally incredible. or, to take another example, suppose it were said that on one occasion a few loaves of bread were miraculously increased so as to feed some thousands of persons: could we say that this must have violated natural laws? certainly not, for bread is composed of carbon, and other elements, which were in abundance all round. and though we only know one way of forming them into bread, which is by means of a living plant, we cannot say that this is the only method. indeed, there is nothing incredible in substances like bread being made artificially some day. of course in all marvels produced by _man_, we know the special cause at work, but this does not justify us in saying that in a miracle, merely because we do not know it, the laws of nature must be violated. moreover there is much to be said in favour of what is usually called god's _immanence_ in nature, but which would perhaps be better described as _nature's immanence in god_.[ ] this means that all natural forces are due to the present and immediate action of god's will; and if it is correct, it greatly lessens the difficulty as to miracles. for then there would be no interference with nature at all, leave alone violating its laws, god would be working there all the time, only in a miracle he would not be working in exactly the same way as in ordinary events. [footnote : acts . ; col. . .] but in any case there is, as we have shown, nothing incredible in the way in which miracles are said to be _caused_, provided it is credible that god should wish to use his power over nature in the assumed manner; for natural forces are anyhow his servants, not his masters. and this brings us to the third aspect of the miracles; for whether god would wish to act in a certain way depends of course on what _purpose_ he had in doing so. ( .) _miracles as signs._ now the purpose for which miracles are said to be worked is as _signs to confirm a revelation_. therefore, since we have already shown that it is somewhat probable that god would make a revelation, we have now only to inquire whether miracles are suitable means for confirming it. and they appear to be the most suitable means possible; for they would both attract men's attention to the revelation, and also convince them of its superhuman character; which are precisely the two points required. it may still be objected, however, that god's character, as shown by nature, is _unchangeable_; and therefore it is most improbable that he would at times act in a special manner with regard to natural events. and the more nature is studied the stronger does this objection appear; since there are thousands of cases, such as storms and earthquakes, when it seems to us that a slight interference with nature would be most beneficial to man, yet it never occurs. or the objection may be otherwise expressed by saying that a miracle would reflect on either the wisdom or the power of god; since, if all-wise, he would have foreseen the occasion, and if all-powerful, he would have provided for it; so any subsequent interference with nature is something like having to remedy a fault. this is no doubt the most serious objection to miracles, but it is by no means insuperable. for, to begin with, god is a _free being_, who does not always act the same (chapter i.). and when we turn to the only other free being we know of, which is man himself, what do we find? a man may, as a rule, act uniformly, yet on some special occasion, and for some special reason, he may, and often does, act differently; and why should not god do the same? indeed the only changelessness in a man which we could admire, would be that of _moral character_, always and invariably acting right. and for all we know the changelessness of god may be only of such a kind, and this certainly would not prevent him from acting in some special manner, in order to obtain some special purpose. secondly, in the case before us, it is even probable that he would do so, since the chief object of the miracles could not have been obtained by the ordinary course of nature, though their immediate effects might have been. for example, instead of healing men miraculously, they might be healed naturally; but then there would be no evidence that the healer was sent by god, and was speaking in his name. in short, the messenger would be without _credentials_; and, as we have already shown, this seems unlikely. thirdly, though miracles do not show god's changelessness in the same manner as the unchanging course of nature, they are not inconsistent with it. for no one supposes them to be _after-thoughts_ with god, but to have been planned from the very beginning. and if god always intended to make a revelation to man, and always intended that when he did so, he would confirm it by miracles, they would involve no inconsistency or change on his part. fourthly, there may be some _other_ attributes of god which miracles show, and which the ordinary course of nature does not; such as his superiority over nature itself on the one hand, and the interest he takes in man on the other. one object of a revelation might be to convince man that though god was the ruler of the universe, he yet cared for man's happiness and valued his affections. and how could such a revelation _as this_, be better confirmed than by an (apparent) interference with nature for the benefit of man. for this would show, as nothing else could show, both that there was a being _above_ nature, and that he cared for man _more_ than he cared for nature. and it entirely agrees with what we decided in the last chapter, that the whole of nature seems to be only a means to an end, the end being the moral training of man, enabling, that is, a free man to become a _righteous_ man. and if so, it is out of the question to think that _in order to further this end_--the very end for which nature itself exists--god might not, if he thought fit, interfere with the course of nature. we may therefore answer the objection in one sentence, god is _all-good_, as well as all-wise, and all-powerful; and his goodness might induce him to use miracles, though by his wisdom and power he might have dispensed with them. we may now sum up the present argument. we showed that miracles are credible both as _marvels_ and as _special works of god_, if it be credible that they were brought about as _signs to confirm a revelation_. and we have now shown that, supposing god to make a revelation, which we have already admitted, there is nothing inconsistent with his character as far as we know it, and therefore nothing in the slightest degree incredible, in his using such signs, as one of the means of confirming its truth. on the whole, then, we conclude that a miraculous revelation is certainly _credible_. whether one has ever been made will be discussed in the following chapters. part ii. _the jewish religion._ chap. viii. that the account of the creation was divinely revealed. " ix. that its origin was confirmed by miracles. " x. that its history was confirmed by miracles. " xi. that its history was also confirmed by prophecies. " xii. that the jewish religion is probably true. chapter viii. that the account of the creation was divinely revealed. (_a._) its general principles. ( .) its pure monotheism; admittedly true. ( .) its seven days need not be taken literally. ( .) its gradual development; admittedly true. (_b._) its detailed order. ( .) the earliest state of the earth. ( .) light. ( .) the firmament. ( .) dry land. ( .) vegetation. ( .) the sun and moon. ( .) fishes and birds. ( .) land animals. ( .) man. (_c._) conclusion. the accuracy of the narrative points to its having been divinely revealed. having decided in the previous chapters on the existence of god, and that it was credible that he might make a miraculous revelation to man; we pass on now to the _jewish religion_, which (as well as the christian) actually claims to be such a revelation. and the first argument we have to consider in its favour is that afforded by the opening chapter of genesis. it is urged that this account of the creation must have been _divinely revealed_, since it contains a substantially correct account of events which could not have been otherwise known at the time. what then we have to examine is, whether this narrative is nearer the truth, as we now know it from geology and other sciences, than could have been the case, if written by a man ignorant of these sciences. and the ancient narratives of babylonia, india, persia, and elsewhere, show how far from the truth mere human conjecture on such a subject is likely to be. while if we admit a revelation at all, there is nothing improbable in some account of the creation of the world having been revealed to man very early in his history, and being accurately preserved by the jews, while only distorted versions of it occur among other nations. indeed considering the common custom among ancient nations of worshipping the heavenly bodies, animals, etc., no subject could have been more suited for a first revelation than the statement in simple language that all these were created by one supreme god. we will now consider the _general principles_ of the narrative, and then its _detailed order_. (_a._) its general principles. the most important of these are its pure monotheism, its seven days, and its gradual development, each of which we will notice in turn. ( .) _its pure monotheism._ this alone renders it almost, if not quite, unique among similar narratives. according to the writer, the whole universe, including sun, moon, and stars, was all due to _one_ god. and this is obvious enough now, but it was not so when the narrative was written. for other ancient accounts are either _pantheistic_, and confuse god with the universe; or _dualistic_, and assume two eternal principles of good and evil; or _polytheistic_, and make the universe the work of several gods. the jewish writer, on the other hand, has kept clear of all these theories; and he is admittedly right and all the others wrong. ( .) _its seven days._ next as to the seven days. now it is generally assumed, doubtless from their being referred to in the fourth commandment, that the writer intended these _days_ to be ordinary days of twenty-four hours each, but this is at least doubtful. for ordinary days depend on the _sun_, and would therefore have been impossible before the formation of the sun on the _fourth_ day; as the writer himself implies, when he says that the division of time into days and years was due to the sun. then there is the difficulty as to the _seventh_ day, when god rested from all his work. this, it will be remembered had no close, or _evening_, and it is implied that it has continued ever since. for if god only rested for twenty-four hours, and then set to work again it would not have been a rest from _all_ his work. but in this case, the seventh day would represent a long period of time, and if so the other days would probably do the same. moreover the writer, or compiler, of this very narrative, after describing the creation in six days, says it all occurred in _one_ day,[ ] so he could scarcely have thought the days to be literal. [footnote : gen. . .] there are thus great difficulties from the narrative itself in taking the word _day_ in its ordinary sense; and it seems better to consider it (like so many terms in the bible) as a human analogy applied to god. then god's _days_ must be understood in the same way as god's _eyes_ or god's _hands_; and this removes all difficulties. none of these terms are of course literally true, but they represent the truth _to man_ in such a way that he can to some extent understand it. for example, the phrase that god gained the victory _by his own right hand_ clearly means that he gained it not with the assistance of others, or with the help of weapons, but simply by his own unaided inherent strength. it was such a victory as might _in a man_ be described as gained by his own right hand. and the same may be said of the passage, _the eyes of the lord are over the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers_, and many others which occur in the bible. the terms hands, eyes, and ears, when applied to god, are thus human analogies, which must not be taken literally. and in one passage at least the word _day_ is used in a similar sense; for we read "hast thou eyes of flesh or seest thou as man seeth? are thy days as the days of man, or thy years as man's days?"[ ] here it will be noticed _days_ and _years_ are applied to god in precisely the same manner as _eyes_ and _seeing_. [footnote : job . , .] moreover similar terms occur all through the present narrative. even the simple words _god said_ cannot be taken literally, for there was no one to speak to. they must be meant in the sense that god _thought_, or that god _willed_. and we have no more right to suppose the days to be literal days than to suppose that god literally spoke. what we are to suppose in the one case is that god--the almighty one, for whom nothing is too hard--created all things in such a way as might _to man_ be best represented by a simple word of command. and what we are to suppose in the other case, is that god--the eternal one, to whom a thousand years are but as yesterday--created all things in such periods of time as might _to man_ be best represented by six days. vast as the universe was, man was to regard it as being to god no more than a week's work to himself. in short, the time of creation, however long in itself, was utterly insignificant in its relation to god; to _him_ each stage was a mere day. and this it may be added, is not a purely modern theory, made to reconcile the narrative with science; for the greek jew, philo, born about b.c. , who knew nothing of geology, ridicules the idea of the days of genesis being literal, or representing any definite periods of time.[ ] [footnote : works of philo judæus, first book of allegories of the sacred laws, yonge's translation, , vol. i., p. .] ( .) _its gradual development._ next, it must be noticed that, according to genesis, god did not create a perfect world all at once, but slowly built it up step by step. at first the earth was waste and void, and only after it had passed through several stages did it become fully inhabited. moreover, at every step (with two exceptions, the firmament and man, noticed later on), god examined the work and pronounced it _good_. he seems thus to have discerned a beauty and excellence in each stage; though it was not till the close of the whole work that he was completely satisfied, and pronounced it all _very_ good. and the narrative appears to be quite correct. for geology shows that the formation of the earth, with its various inhabitants, was a _gradual_ process, not accomplished all at once, but slowly step by step, through successive ages. and it also shows that these ages were of such magnitude and importance that we cannot regard them as mere preparations for man's coming, but as having a beauty and excellence of their own, so that they well deserved to be called _good_. but we may ask, how did the writer of genesis know all this? and then as to the way in which this development was brought about. according to genesis, each stage was due to what we may call a _special divine force_, represented by a word of command from god. and this also seems correct, for we cannot otherwise account for the first appearance of the various groups, such as plants, animals, and men. it is not disputed that these various stages may have been evolved from the previous ones, _e.g._, the living from the not-living, which the narrative itself suggests in the words, _let the earth put forth grass_; and also at its close, when it speaks of _the generations_ of the heaven and of the earth; which implies some kind of organic descent, or evolution. indeed the common expression that god _made_, is probably used in the sense of _evolved_; since the same word is employed in ver. ii of fruit-trees _making_ fruit (translated _bearing_ or _yielding_ fruit); yet we know they do not _make_ fruit suddenly out of nothing, but slowly produce it. what is disputed is, that this evolution took place merely under the influence of natural development, and without the additional influence of a new divine force. and considering that all attempts to effect a similar transition _now_ have failed completely, it is not unreasonable to suppose that there was some other and special cause at work _then_. nor is it easy to see how some of the changes could have been otherwise produced. take, for instance, this very subject of the origin of life. as far as we know, the only natural mode in which life can begin is from a living parent, yet there was a time when there were no living parents on this earth. how, then, could it have originated, except by some process other than natural, _i.e._, supernatural? or, again, to take another instance, when the first _free being_, whether animal or man, appeared on this planet, a force totally different from all natural forces was introduced, and one which could not have been derived from them alone. and then there is another, and very interesting point, to notice. it is that according to genesis, these steps were not all of equal importance. for while it describes most of them by the word _made_, which, as just said, seems to mean here _evolved_; on three occasions, and only three, it uses the word _create_. these refer to the origin of the _universe_, of _animal life_ (fishes and birds), and of _man_. and this is very significant, when we remember that these correspond to the beginning of _matter_, _mind_, and _spirit_; and are therefore (as said in chapter iv.) just the three places where something altogether _new_ was introduced; which could not, as far as we can see, have been evolved from anything else. and this double method of producing, partly by _creating_, and partly by _making_ or evolving, is again referred to at the close of the narrative, where we read that god rested from all his work, which he had _created and made_. so much for the general _principles_ of the narrative, we pass on now to its detailed _order_. (_b._) its detailed order. it will be remembered that in genesis, after describing the earliest state of the earth, there are eight stages in its development; two of which occurred on the third, and two on the sixth, day. we have thus altogether nine subjects to examine. ( .) _the earliest state of the earth._ now according to genesis, the earth was at first _waste and void_ and in _darkness_, and apparently surrounded by _the waters_. and if we adopt the usual nebula theory, and refer this to the first period after it became a separate planet, and had cooled so as not to give out any light itself, these statements seem quite correct. for we know from geology that the earth was then waste and void as far as any form of life was concerned, while it was probably surrounded by a dense mass of clouds and vapours sufficient to produce darkness. genesis then starts from the right starting-point, but again we must ask, how did the writer know this? ( .) _light._ the first step in the development of the earth was, we are told, the introduction of _light_. that this is what genesis means seems plain, for the _light_ must refer to the _darkness_ of the previous verse, and that referred to the _earth_. as to whether light previously existed in other parts of the universe, genesis says nothing, it is only concerned with this earth. and in the development of this earth, _light_ (which in nature always includes _heat_) must obviously have come first. for on it depend the changes in temperature, which lead to the formation of winds, clouds, and rain; while it also supplies the physical power that is necessary for the life of plants and animals; so in placing _light_ as the first step, genesis is certainly correct. of course, the _source_ of light at this early period was the remainder of the nebula from which our planet was thrown off. it was thus spread over an immense space, instead of being concentrated like that of our present sun; and probably only reached the earth through a partial clearing of the clouds just alluded to. ( .) _the firmament._ the next step was separating the waters _above_ (_i.e._, these dense clouds) from the waters _below_ which are stated to be the seas (v. - ) and forming between them a firmament or _expanse_ (see margin), that is to say, the _air_. the idea that the writer thought this expanse meant a solid plane holding up the waters above (because it is perhaps derived from a word meaning firm or solid) is scarcely tenable. for the firmament was called _heaven_, and the upper waters, above this _heaven_, must mean the sources from which the _rain_ usually comes, since it is called _rain from heaven_.[ ] and these sources are easily seen to be _clouds_; and no one could have thought that a _solid_ firmament was between the clouds, and the seas. [footnote : deut. . .] moreover this same word _heaven_ (though used in various senses) is translated _air_ later on in this very narrative when it speaks of fowls of the _air_ (verses - , ). and it also occurs in other passages, in some of which it cannot possibly mean anything but the air, _e.g._, 'any winged fowl that flieth in the _heaven_,' and 'the way of an eagle in the _air_,'[ ] which is an additional reason for thinking that it means the air here. [footnote : deut. . ; prov. . .] and the omission, before noticed, to say that god saw that the firmament was _good_, is quite natural, if this means only the air, _i.e._, the space between the clouds and the seas; just as an artist, though he might examine his pictures to see that they were _good_, would not examine the spaces between them. but it is difficult to account for, if it means a _solid_ firmament, which would seem to require god's approval like everything else. on the other side, we have the expression about opening the _windows_ of heaven when it rained at the time of the flood,[ ] which is sometimes thought to imply openings in a solid firmament. but it need not be taken literally, any more than that about the _doors_ of the sea;[ ] especially as in another place the _heavens dropping water_ is explained as meaning that the clouds dropped it.[ ] and since god promised that in future when a _cloud_ was seen it should not cause another _flood_,[ ] it is clear that the flood was thought to have come from the clouds, and not from any openings in a solid reservoir in the sky. [footnote : gen. . ; kings . ; mal. . .] [footnote : job . - .] [footnote : judges . (r.v.).] [footnote : gen. . .] there is also the passage about the sun and moon being _set in the firmament_. but the writer cannot have meant they were _fastened_ to the firmament, since the moon keeps changing its position relatively to the sun, just as a rainbow often does in regard to the cloud in which it is also said to be _set_.[ ] of course their being in the firmament at all, is not correct if this means only the air. but the word may be used here in a wider sense, like the english word _heaven_, to include both the air, and the space beyond. for we speak of the clouds of heaven, and the stars of heaven, and in neither case with any idea of their being _heaved up_, which is said to be the literal meaning of the word. and in its primary sense, as we have shown, the firmament or _expanse_ between the upper and lower waters (the clouds and the seas) must mean the _air_. and the order in which this is placed after light, and before plants and animals is obviously correct. [footnote : gen. . .] ( .) _dry land._ we now come to an important point, the appearance of _dry land_. according to genesis, there was not always dry land on the earth; the whole of it was originally covered by the waters. and science shows that this was probably the case; the earth being at first surrounded by watery vapours, which gradually condensed and formed a kind of universal ocean. and then, when the surface became irregular, through its contracting and crumpling up, the water would collect in the hollows, forming seas, and dry land would appear elsewhere. but how was it possible for the writer of genesis to know all this? there is nothing in the present aspect of nature to suggest that there was once a time when there was no _dry land_; and if it was a guess on his part, it was, to say the least, a very remarkable one. ( .) _vegetation._ we next come to vegetation; and it is placed in exactly its right position. for it requires four things: _soil_, _air_, _water_, and _light_ including heat; and these were the four things which then existed. the narrative, it will be noticed, speaks of three groups, _grass_, _herbs_, and _fruit-trees_; and it seems to imply that they appeared at the same time. but since its general plan is that of a series of events, the other view, that they appeared successively, is at least tenable. there is, however, this difficulty. none of these groups were complete before the following periods. some plants, for instance (including both herbs and fruit-trees), appeared long after the commencement of fishes and birds, and similarly some fishes and birds after the commencement of land-animals. but the difficulty is due to the fact that the classes _overlap_ to a large extent. and the order given in genesis is nearer the truth than any other would be. had the writer, for example, placed them plants, animals, birds, fishes; he would have been quite wrong. as it is, by placing them plants, fishes, birds, animals, he is as near the truth as he can be, if classes which really overlap have to be arranged in a consecutive narrative. ( .) _the sun and moon._ we next come to the formation (that is the _making_, or evolving) of the sun and moon. the stars are also mentioned, but it is not said that they were made on the fourth day, and they are not alluded to in the opening command. now, this alleged formation of the sun _after_ that of light is certainly the most striking point in the narrative, and was long thought to be a difficulty. but science has now shown that it is correct. however strange we may think it, light did undoubtedly exist long before the sun. in other words, the original nebula of our solar system was luminous, and lighted the earth, long before it contracted into a body with a definite outline, and producing such an intense and concentrated light, as could be called a sun. and since the earth would cool much quicker than the large nebula from which it was thrown off, vegetation might commence here before the nebula had become a sun, though this latter point is doubtful. two objections have now to be noticed. the first refers to the _moon_, which must have been thrown off from the earth long before the dry land and vegetation appeared; and being so small, would have consolidated sooner. but when considered only as _lights_, as they are in the narrative, it is quite correct to place the moon with the sun; since moonlight is merely reflected sunlight, and must obviously have commenced at the same time. the other objection is, that according to genesis, the earth seems to be the centre of everything, and even the sun exists solely for the sake of lighting the earth. but (as before pointed out) the narrative is only concerned with this earth; and while we know that sunlight is of use to the inhabitants of our planet, we do not know that it serves any other useful purpose. these, however, are but minor matters; the important point, as before said, is that genesis places the formation of the sun _after_ that of light. this must have appeared when it was written, and for thousands of years afterwards, an obvious absurdity, since everyone could see that the sun was the source of light. we now know that it is correct. but how could the writer have known it, unless it had been divinely revealed? ( .) _fishes and birds._ we next come to fishes and birds, which formed the commencement of animal life, and thus involved the beginning of _mind_ in some form; so genesis (as before said) appropriately uses the word _create_ in regard to them. it is not clear whether the narrative means that they appeared at the same time, or successively, though here, as in other cases, the latter is the more probable. and science entirely agrees in thus placing fishes before birds and both of these after plants. this latter point indeed must be obvious to every naturalist, since the food of all animals is derived, either directly or indirectly, from the vegetable world. and genesis is equally correct in emphasising the great abundance of _marine_ life at this period--the waters were to _swarm with swarms of living creatures_ (r.v. margin), and also in specially alluding to the great _sea-monsters_ (wrongly translated _whales_ in a.v.), since these huge saurians were a striking feature of the time. the hebrew word is said to mean _elongated_ or stretched-out creatures, and as several of them were over feet long, no more suitable term can be imagined. but again we must ask how did the writer know that such creatures were ever plentiful enough, or important enough, to deserve this special mention? what are called _invertebrate_ animals, such as insects, and shell-fish, do not seem to be included in the narrative. but it never claims to describe everything that was created; and its extreme brevity, combined with the insignificance of these creatures, may well account for their being omitted. ( .) _land animals._ we next come to land animals, which we are told the earth was to _bring forth_. as however it is said in the next verse that god _made_ (or evolved) these creatures, this need not mean that they were produced directly from the earth, as in the case of plants. and the position in which they are placed, after fishes and birds and before man, is again correct. it is true that a few animals such as kangaroos, seem to have appeared as early as birds, but land animals as a whole undoubtedly succeeded them. three classes are mentioned, _beasts of the earth_, _cattle_, and _creeping things_, probably small animals, since another hebrew word is used for them, later on, which is said elsewhere to include weasels and mice.[ ] [footnote : gen. . ; lev. . .] ( .) _man._ last of all we come to the creation of man. four points have to be noticed here. the first refers to the _time_ of man's appearance, which everyone now admits was not till towards the close of the tertiary or most recent group of strata; so genesis is quite correct in placing him last of all. as to the actual date, it says nothing; for its chronology only leads back to the creation of _adam_ in chapter , and not to that of the _human race_ (male and female) in chapter . and it is implied in several places, that there were men before adam[ ] and this was in consequence maintained by some writers long before geology was thought of.[ ] we need not therefore discuss the difficulties connected with the story of adam and eve, as to which the present writer has never seen a satisfactory explanation. [footnote : gen. . - , ; . - .] [footnote : _e.g._, peyreyrius, a.d. , quoted in the speaker's commentary.] secondly, the creation of man is represented as of an altogether _higher order_, than any of the previous ones, since god did not say, "let the earth bring forth a thinking animal" or anything of that kind, but '_let us make man_.' and this also is quite correct, for man, as we know (chapter iv.) has a _free will_, which makes him a personal being, and therefore far above everything else on this planet. and when we consider the vast possibilities, involved in the creation of such a being,--able to act right or wrong, and therefore able, if he wishes, to act in opposition to the will of his maker, thus bringing sin into the world with all its consequent miseries,--it seems only suitable that such a momentous step should have been taken with apparent deliberation and in a manner different from all the others. and it explains why no such expression as _after its kind_, which is so frequently used of plants and animals, is ever applied to man; for he is not one of a kind in the same sense. each man is _unique_, a separate personal being, distinct from all else in the world, and not (like a tree for instance) merely one example of a certain way in which molecules may be grouped. it also explains why man (unlike plants, animals, etc.) is not said to have been created _good_. for goodness in a free being must include moral goodness, or _righteousness_; and, as explained in chapter vi., man could not have been _created_ righteous. he might have been created _perfect_, like a machine, or _innocent_, like a child, but to be _righteous_ requires his own co-operation, his freely choosing to act right, though he might act wrong. no doubt he was made in a condition perfectly suited for the _exercise_ of his free choice; but this seems included in god's final approval of the whole creation that it was all _very good_. thirdly we are told that man (and man alone) was created _in the image of god_. and once more the narrative is quite correct; for that which distinguishes man from the rest of creation is his _free will_, to which we have just alluded. and that which distinguishes god's action from all natural forces is also his _freedom_, (chapter i.). so it is perfectly true to say that man was created _in the image of god_, since the special attribute which separates him from all else on this planet is precisely the attribute of god himself. and here we may notice in passing, that though god intended man to be both in his image and _likeness_; he only created him in his _image_ (vv. , ). and the reason is probably that while image means resemblance in _nature_ (possessing free will, etc.), likeness means resemblance in _character_[ ] (always acting right). therefore, of course, though god wished man to be both in his image and likeness, he could only create him in his _image_; the other point, that of _likeness_ in character, depending (as just said) on the free will of the man himself. [footnote : the hebrew word appears to be sometimes used in this sense. _e.g._, ps. . ; isa. . . in one brief reference in gen. . - , when speaking of adam, _likeness_ is used where we should have expected _image_; though even here it is not said that man was _created_ in god's likeness, but merely that he was so _made_.] the fourth, and last point is that though the writer assigns to man this unique position, he does not give him, as we might have expected, a _day_ to himself, but _connects him with land animals_, as both appearing on the sixth day. and this also seems correct, for in spite of his immense superiority, man, in his physical nature, is closely connected with animals. therefore the writer appropriately uses both words, _made_ and _created_, in regard to him. the former shows that in one respect (as to his body) he was evolved like the rest of nature; the latter, that in another respect (as to his spirit) he was essentially distinct. (_c._) conclusion. we have now discussed the narrative at some length, and (omitting details) it shows three great periods of life. each of these has a leading characteristic; that of the third day being vegetation; that of the fifth day fishes and birds, special mention being made of great sea-monsters; and that of the sixth day land animals, and at its close man. and though these groups _overlap_ to a large extent, yet speaking broadly, the three periods in geology have much the same characteristics. the primary is distinguished by its vegetation (_e.g._, the coal beds); the secondary by its saurians, or great sea-monsters; and the tertiary by its land animals, and at its close (now often called the quaternary) by man. the harmony between the two is, to say the least, remarkable. and the theory of evolution which like geology, was unknown when the narrative was written, also supports it, as has been admitted by some of its leading exponents. thus romanes once said, and as if the fact was undisputed, 'the order in which the flora and fauna are said, by the mosaic account, to have appeared upon the earth corresponds with that which the theory of evolution requires, and the evidence of geology proves.'[ ] we decide, then, that the order of creation, as given in genesis, is in most cases certainly, and in all cases probably, correct. [footnote : _nature_, th august, .] and this is plainly of the utmost importance, for the points of agreement between genesis and science are far too many, and far too unlikely to be due to accident. they are far too many; for the chance against eight events being put down in their correct order by guesswork is , to . and they are far too unlikely; for what could have induced an ignorant man to say that light came before the sun, or that the earth once existed without any dry land? moreover, the general principles of the narrative, especially its pure monotheism and its gradual development, are very strongly in its favour. and so are some individual points, such as the idea of creation, in its strict sense, being limited to matter, mind, and spirit. while our admiration for it is still further increased by its extreme conciseness and simplicity. seldom, indeed, has such a mass of information been condensed into as few lines; and seldom has such a difficult subject been treated so accurately yet in such simple and popular language. now what conclusion can be drawn from all this? there seem to be only two alternatives: either the writer, whoever he was, knew as much about science as we do, or else the knowledge was revealed to him by god. and if we admit a revelation at all, the latter certainly seems the less improbable. and this, it may be added, was the opinion of the great geologist dana, who said (after carefully considering the subject) that the coincidences between the narrative, and the history of the earth as derived from nature, were such as to imply its divine origin.[ ] we therefore conclude that this account of the creation was _divinely revealed_. [footnote : bibliotheca sacra, april, , p. .] chapter ix. that its origin was confirmed by miracles. importance of the pentateuch, as the only record of the origin of the jewish religion. (_a._) its egyptian references. these are very strongly in favour of its early date; ( .) in the history of joseph. ( .) in the history of moses. ( .) in the laws and addresses. (_b._) its laws. these are also in favour of its early date: ( .) the subjects dealt with. ( .) their connection with the history. ( .) their wording. (_c._) the theory of a late-date. there are four chief arguments in favour of this, but they are not at all convincing: ( .) the language of the pentateuch. ( .) its composite character. ( .) its laws being unknown in later times. ( .) the finding of deuteronomy. (_d._) conclusion. the pentateuch was probably written, as it claims to be, by moses; and we must therefore admit the miracles of the exodus. we pass on now to the _origin_ of the jewish religion--that is to say, the events connected with the exodus from egypt. and as the only account we have of these is contained in the _pentateuch_, we must examine this book carefully. is it a trustworthy, and, on the whole, accurate account of the events which it records? and this depends chiefly on its _date_. is it a _contemporary_ document, written by, or in the time of, moses? and modern discoveries have at least shown that it may be so. for egypt was then in such a civilised state, that it is practically certain that moses, and the other leaders of israel, could have written had they chosen. and as they somehow or other brought the people out of egypt, it is extremely probable that they would have recorded it. but did they, and do we possess this record in the pentateuch? this is the question we have to decide; and we will first consider the _egyptian references_ in the pentateuch, and then its _laws_, both of which are very strongly in favour of an early date. then we will see what can be said for the opposite theory, or that of a _late-date_; and lastly, the _conclusion_ to be drawn from admitting its genuineness. (_a._) its egyptian references. now a considerable part of the pentateuch deals with egyptian matters, and it appears to be written with correct details throughout. this would of course be only natural in a contemporary writer living in egypt, but would be most unlikely for a late writer in canaan. the question is therefore of great importance in deciding on the date of the book; so we will first consider these _egyptian references_ (as they are called) in the history of joseph, then in that of moses, and then in the laws and addresses. they cannot of course be properly appreciated without some knowledge of ancient egypt, but they are far too important to be omitted. it is disappointing to have to add that the evidence is almost entirely indirect, but up to the present no reference to either joseph, or moses, has been found on the egyptian monuments, and none to the israelites themselves that are at all conclusive. ( .) _in the history of joseph._ to begin with, there are three cases where it is sometimes said that the writer seems _not_ to have been a contemporary, since egyptian customs are there explained, as if unknown to the reader. these are their eating at different tables from the hebrews, their dislike of shepherds, and their habit of embalming.[ ] but the inference from the first two is extremely doubtful; though that from the third is rather in favour of a late date. there is not, however, a single word here (or anywhere else) which is _incorrect_ for egypt, or which shows that the writer himself was unaware of its customs. [footnote : gen. . ; . ; . .] on the other hand, there is abundant evidence in favour of a contemporary date. the pharaoh is generally thought to be apepi ii., who belonged to a _foreign_ dynasty of shepherd kings, probably asiatic tribes like the israelites themselves. and this will explain the evident surprise felt by the writer that one of his chief officers should be an _egyptian_, which seems so puzzling to the ordinary reader.[ ] it will also account for joseph and his brethren being so well received, and for their telling him so candidly that they were _shepherds_, though they knew that shepherds were hated by the egyptians. had the pharaoh himself been an egyptian, this was hardly the way to secure his favour. [footnote : gen. . .] we will now consider a single chapter in detail, and select gen. ; nearly every incident in which shows a knowledge of ancient egypt: ver. . to begin with, the words _pharaoh_ and _the river_ (_i.e._, the nile), though they are the proper egyptian names, seem to have been adopted in hebrew, and occur all through the old testament; so they afford no indication of date. - . the _dreams_, however, are peculiarly egyptian. cattle along the river bank, and feeding on the _reed-grass_ (an egyptian word for an egyptian plant), was a common sight in that country, but must have been almost unknown in canaan. and their coming up _out of the river_ was specially suitable, as they represented the years of plenty and famine, which in egypt depend entirely on the rise of the nile. - . in the same way wheat with _several ears_ is known to have been produced in egypt; but is nowhere mentioned as grown in canaan. . moreover, we know that the pharaohs attached great importance to dreams, and used to consult their _magicians_ and _wise men_ when in doubt; both these classes being often mentioned--and mentioned together--on the monuments. - . we also know that there were officials corresponding to the _chief butler_ and the _chief baker_. and a reference has even been found to the curious custom of the former giving the king _fresh grape-juice_, squeezed into a cup (gen. . ), which is not likely to have been known to anyone out of egypt. . and hanging the chief baker evidently means, from gen. . , hanging up the dead body, after he had been _beheaded_; which latter was an egyptian, and not a jewish, punishment. . next we are told, that when joseph was hurriedly sent for by pharaoh, he yet stopped to _shave_. and this was only natural, as the upper class of egyptians always shaved; but it would scarcely have occurred to anyone in canaan, as the israelites always wore beards.[ ] [footnote : sam. . .] . so again the custom of laying up corn in storehouses, to provide against the frequent famines, and for taxation, was thoroughly egyptian, the superintendent of the granaries being a well-known official. but as far as we know nothing of the kind existed in canaan. . we then come to the promotion of joseph; and several instances are known of foreigners, and even slaves, being promoted to high offices in egypt. . and the monuments show that it was the regular egyptian custom to have a superintendent, who should _be over the house_. . joseph is then given pharaoh's _signet ring_, the use of which, at this early period, has been fully confirmed by the inscriptions. and he also receives _fine linen_ (an egyptian word being used for this) and a _gold chain about his neck_. this latter was a peculiarly egyptian decoration, being called _receiving gold_, and is continually alluded to on the monuments. and a specimen may be seen in the cairo museum, which happens to date from about the time of joseph. - . and the apparently insignificant detail that joseph rode _in a chariot_ (implying horses) is also interesting, since, as far as we know, horses had only recently been introduced into egypt by the shepherd kings. and had they been mentioned earlier--as, for instance, among the presents given to abraham[ ]--it would have been incorrect. and the expression _abrech_, translated _bow the knee_, is probably an egyptian word (margin r.v.). [footnote : gen. . .] . we also know that when foreigners rose to great importance in egypt they were often given a new _name_. and joseph's new name, zaphenathpaneah, (probably meaning head of the college of magicians, a title he had just earned[ ]) as well as asenath, and potiphera, are all genuine egyptian names; though (with the exception of asenath) they have not at present been found as early as the time of joseph. [footnote : h. e. naville, professor of egyptology, at the university of geneva, 'archæology of the old testament,' , p. .] . lastly, the usual egyptian custom (as shown by the monuments) of having a scribe to _count_ the quantity of corn as it is stored, is incidentally implied in the statement that on this occasion, owing to its great abundance, joseph had _to leave off numbering it_. thus everything in this chapter, _and the same may be said of many others_, is perfectly correct for egypt; though much of it would be incorrect for canaan, and is not likely to have been known to anyone living there. yet the writer not only knows it, but _takes for granted that his readers know it too_, as he never explains anything. so the narrative is not likely to have been written after the time of moses, when the israelites left egypt. and this, it may be added, is the opinion of many who have made a special study of ancient egypt. thus prof. naville declares 'i do not hesitate to say that he (moses) was the only author who could have written the history of joseph, such as we have it.'[ ] [footnote : transactions of victoria institute, vol. xlvii., , p. .] there is also evidence of quite another kind that this latter part of genesis was written in egypt. this is afforded by six passages, where, after the name of a place, is added some such phrase as _which is in canaan_.[ ] yet there do not appear to be any other places of the same name liable to be confused with these. when then would it be necessary to explain to the israelites that these places, shechem, etc., were in canaan? certainly not after the conquest, when they were living there, and it was obvious to everyone; so we must refer them to the time when they were in egypt. [footnote : gen. . , ; . ; . ; . ; . .] and this is strongly confirmed by a little remark as to the _desert of shur_, which lies between egypt and canaan, and which is described as being _before egypt as thou goest towards assyria_.[ ] clearly then this also must have been written in egypt, since only to a person living there would shur be on the way to assyria. [footnote : gen. . .] and the same may be said of the curious custom of first asking after a person's health, and then, if he is still alive.[ ] this was thoroughly egyptian, as some exactly similar cases have been found in a papyrus dated in the eighth year of menephthah, generally thought to be the pharaoh of the exodus.[ ] but it is scarcely likely to have been adopted by a writer in canaan, as it makes the narrative seem so ridiculous. [footnote : gen. . - .] [footnote : chabas, mélanges Ã�gyptologiques, third series, vol. ii., paris, , p. .] ( .) _in the history of moses._ secondly, as to the history of _moses_. the name itself is egyptian;[ ] and his being placed in an ark of _papyrus_ smeared with bitumen was quite suited to egypt, where both materials were commonly used, but would have been most unsuitable anywhere else. and several of the words used here, as well as in other parts of the pentateuch, show that the writer was well acquainted with the egyptian _language_. in this single verse for instance, there are as many as six egyptian words, _ark_, _papyrus_, _pitch_, _flags_, _brick_, and _river_; though some of these were also used in hebrew.[ ] then as to the israelites making bricks with _straw_. this is interesting, because we know from the monuments that straw was often used for the purpose, the nile mud not holding together without it, and that its absence was looked upon as a hardship. so here again the narrative suits egypt, and not canaan; where as far as we know, bricks were never made with straw. and it so happens that we have a little direct evidence here. for some excavations were made at tel-el-muskhuta in ; which turns out to be _pithom_, one of the _store cities_ said to have been built by the israelites.[ ] and nearly its whole extent is occupied by large brick stores; some of the bricks being made with straw, some with fragments of reed or stubble used instead, and some without any straw at all. while, unlike the usual egyptian custom, the walls are built with mortar; all of which exactly agrees with the narrative.[ ] [footnote : driver's exodus, , p. .] [footnote : exod. . .] [footnote : exod. . . transactions of victoria institute, vol. xviii., p. .] [footnote : exod. . ; . .] next, as to the _ten plagues_. there is much local colouring here, and hardly one of them would have been suitable in canaan. moreover, the order in which they come is very significant, as it makes them agree with the natural calamities of egypt. (i.) the water being turned into blood cannot, of course, be taken literally, any more than when joel speaks of the moon being turned into blood.[ ] it refers to the reddish colour, which is often seen in the nile about the end of june; though it is not as a rule sufficient to kill the fish, or render the water unfit to drink. and the mention of _vessels of wood and stone_[ ] is interesting, as it was the custom in egypt to _purify_ the nile water by letting it stand in such vessels; and the writer evidently knew this, and took for granted that his readers knew it too, though it seems to have been peculiar to that country. [footnote : joel . .] [footnote : exod. . .] (ii.) frogs are most troublesome in september. (iii.) lice, perhaps mosquitoes or gnats, and (iv.) flies, are usually worst in october. (v.) murrain among the cattle, and (vi.) boils cannot be identified for certain, but their coming on just after the preceding plagues is most natural, considering what we now know, as to the important part taken by mosquitoes and flies in spreading disease. (vii.) the hail must have occurred about the end of january, as the barley was then in the ear, but the wheat not grown up; and severe hailstorms have been known in egypt at that time. (viii.) locusts are known to have visited egypt terribly in march, which seems the time intended, as the leaves were then young. (ix.) the darkness _which might be felt_ was probably due to the desert wind, which blows at intervals after the end of march, and sometimes brings with it such clouds of sand as to darken the atmosphere.[ ] and curiously enough it often moves in a narrow belt, so that the land may be dark in one place, and light in another close by, as recorded in the narrative. [footnote : i have noticed the same in the transvaal, in particular a sandstorm at christiana, on th october, , which so darkened the sky that for about a quarter of an hour i had to light a candle.] (x.) the death of the _firstborn_, which occurred in april (abib), was evidently not a natural calamity. but what is specially interesting is the statement _against all the gods of egypt i will execute judgments_, without any explanation being given of what is meant by this.[ ] it refers to the egyptian custom of worshipping _living_ animals, the firstborn of which were also to die; but this would only be familiar to a writer in egypt, since, as far as we know, such worship was never practised in canaan. the agreement all through is most remarkable, and strongly in favour of a contemporary date. [footnote : exod. . ; num. . .] ( .) _in the laws and addresses._ and the same familiarity with egypt is shown in the subsequent laws and addresses of the pentateuch. thus we read of laws being written on the doorposts and gates of houses, and on great stones covered with plaster, both of which were undoubtedly egyptian customs; and the latter was not, as far as we know, common elsewhere.[ ] similarly the egyptian habit of writing persons' names on sticks, was evidently familiar to the writer.[ ] and so was the curious custom of placing food _for the dead_,[ ] which was common in egypt, though it never prevailed among the israelites. [footnote : deut. . ; . ; . .] [footnote : num. . .] [footnote : deut. . .] again the ordinary _food_ of the people in egypt is given as fish, cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic, all of which were commonly eaten there.[ ] but as the hebrew names of four out of the five vegetables do not occur elsewhere in the bible, they could scarcely have been very common in canaan; while none of the characteristic productions of that land, such as honey, milk, butter, figs, raisins, almonds, and olives, are mentioned. the list is, as it ought to be, thoroughly egyptian. [footnote : num. . .] it must next be noticed that a large part of the _religious worship_ prescribed in the pentateuch was obviously borrowed from egypt; the most striking instance being that of the _ark_. a sacred ark is seen on egyptian monuments long before the exodus, and is sometimes surmounted by winged figures resembling the cherubim.[ ] and the _materials_ said to have been used for this worship are precisely such as the israelites might have then employed. the ark, for instance, and also the tabernacle were not made of cedar, or of fir, or of olive, as would probably have been the case in canaan (for these were the materials used in the temple)[ ] but of shittim, _i.e._, acacia which is very common near sinai, though scarcely ever used in canaan. and the other materials were goats' hair, rams' skins, sealskins (or porpoise skins) from the red sea, and gold, silver, brass, precious stones, and _fine linen_ from the egyptian spoils; the latter, as before said, being an egyptian word.[ ] there is no mistake anywhere, such as a late writer might have made. [footnote : comp. exod. . - .] [footnote : kings . - .] [footnote : exod. . - .] moreover, in other places, the writer of the pentateuch frequently assumes that his readers know egypt as well as himself. thus the people are twice reminded of the _diseases_ they had in egypt--'_the evil diseases of egypt which thou knowest_' or '_which thou wast afraid of_'--and they are warned that if they deserve it, god will punish them with the same diseases again.[ ] but such a warning would have been quite useless many centuries later in canaan; just as it would be useless to warn an englishman now of the diseases of normandy, _which thou wast afraid of_, if this referred to some diseases our ancestors had before they left normandy in the eleventh century. such words must clearly have been written soon afterwards. similarly the people are urged to be kind to strangers, and to love them as themselves, because _they knew the heart of a stranger_, having been strangers in the land of egypt. and this again could scarcely have been written centuries after they left egypt.[ ] [footnote : deut. . ; . .] [footnote : exod. . ; lev. . .] elsewhere the writer describes the climate and productions of canaan; and with a view to their being better understood, he contrasts them with those of _egypt_.[ ] obviously, then, the people are once more supposed to know egypt, and not to know canaan. for instance, canaan is described as a country of hills and valleys, and consequently of running brooks; and not like egypt where they had to water the land with their _feet_. but no explanation is given of this. it probably refers to the _water-wheels_, which were necessary for raising water in a flat country like egypt, and which were worked by men's _feet_. but can we imagine a late writer in canaan using such a phrase without explaining it? on the other hand, if the words were spoken by moses, all is clear; no explanation was given, because (for persons who had just left egypt) none was needed. [footnote : deut. . - ; . - .] on the whole, then, it is plain that when egyptian matters are referred to in the pentateuch, we find the most thorough familiarity with native customs, seasons, etc., though these are often quite different from those of canaan. and we therefore seem forced to conclude that the writer was a contemporary who lived in egypt, and knew the country intimately, and as we have shown, he evidently wrote for persons who had only recently come from there. (_b._) its laws. we pass on now to the laws of the pentateuch, which are found in the middle of exodus, and occupy the greater part of the remaining books. and as we shall see, they also (quite apart from their references to egypt) bear strong marks of a contemporary origin. ( .) _the subjects dealt with._ in the first place several of the laws refer exclusively to the time when the israelites lived _in the desert_, and would have been of no use whatever after they settled in canaan. among these are the laws regarding the _camp_ and _order of march_.[ ] full particulars are given as to the exact position of every tribe, and how the levites were to carry the tabernacle. and what could have been the object of inventing such laws in later times, when, as far as we know, the people never encamped or marched in this manner? [footnote : num. . -- . .] then there is the extraordinary law as to the _slaughter of animals_. it is stated in leviticus that every ox, lamb, or goat, intended for food, was to be first brought to the tabernacle, as a kind of offering, and there killed. but plainly this could only have been done, when the people were in the desert, living round the tabernacle. so when the law is again referred to in deuteronomy, just before they entered canaan, it is modified by saying that those living at a distance might kill their animals at home.[ ] [footnote : lev. . ; deut. . .] moreover, some of the other laws, though applicable to canaan, are of such a character as to be strongly in favour of an early date. take, for instance, the remarkable law about _land_, that every person who bought an estate was to restore it to its original owner in the year of jubilee, the price decreasing according to the nearness of this year.[ ] how could anyone in later times have made such a law, and yet assert that it had been issued by moses centuries before, though no one had ever heard of it? [footnote : lev. . .] or take the law about the levites.[ ] they, it will be remembered, had no separate territory like the other tribes, but were given some special cities. and it is scarcely likely that such a curious arrangement could have been made at any time except that of the conquest of canaan; still less that it could have been made centuries afterwards, and yet ascribed to moses, without everyone at once declaring it to be spurious. [footnote : num. . - .] ( .) _their connection with the history._ it must next be noticed that the laws are not arranged in any regular order, but are closely connected with the history; many of them being _dated_, both as to time and place. for instance, 'the lord spake unto moses in the wilderness of sinai, in the first month of the second year after they were come out of the land of egypt, saying,' etc.[ ] and several others are associated with the events which led to their being made; and these are often of such a trivial nature, that it is hard to imagine their being invented.[ ] thus the pentateuch shows, not a complete code of laws, but one that was formed _gradually_, and in close connection with the history. [footnote : num. . ; . ; deut. . ; see also lev. . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; num. . ; . ; . ; . ; deut. . ; . .] [footnote : lev. . ; num. . ; . ; . ; . .] and this is confirmed by the fact that in some cases the same laws are referred to both in leviticus, (near the beginning) and in deuteronomy (at the end) of the forty years in the desert, but with slight differences between them. and these _exactly correspond_ to such a difference in date. one instance, that referring to the _slaughter of animals_, has been already alluded to. another has to do with the animals, which might, and might not, be _eaten_. leviticus includes among the former, several kinds of locusts, and among the latter the mouse, weasel, and lizard; all of which deuteronomy omits. clearly then, when leviticus was written, the people were in the desert, and there was a lack of animal food, which might tempt them to eat locusts or mice; but when deuteronomy was written, animal food was plentiful, and laws as to these were quite unnecessary. in each of these cases, then, and there are others like them, the differences must be due either to the various laws dating from the times they profess to, when all is plain and consistent; or else to the carefully planned work of some late writer, who was trying in this way to pretend that they did. still more important is the fact that in several places stress is laid on the people's _personal knowledge_ of the events referred to; _e.g._, 'the lord made not this covenant with our fathers, but with us, even us, who are all of us here alive this day.'[ ] and what is more, this personal knowledge is often appealed to as a special reason for obeying the laws.[ ] for instance, 'i speak not with your children which have not known, and which have not seen the chastisement of the lord, ... but your eyes have seen all the great work of the lord which he did. _therefore_ shall ye keep all the commandments,' etc. plainly this would have had no force in later times; indeed it would have provided an excuse for _not_ obeying the laws, since the people of those days had no personal knowledge of the events referred to. and we may ask, is it likely that a late author, who falsely ascribed his laws to moses, in order to get them obeyed, should yet put into the mouth of moses himself an excuse for not obeying them? [footnote : deut. . ; . , , ; . .] [footnote : deut. . - ; . - ; . - .] moreover, combined with this assumed personal knowledge on the part of the people there is a clear indication of _personal authority_ on the part of the writer. the later prophets always speak in god's name, and such expressions as _thus saith the lord, hear ye the word of the lord_, are extremely common, occurring altogether over times. but in the laws of the pentateuch nothing of the kind is found. they are delivered by moses in his own name, often with the simple words, _i command thee_, which occur thirty times in deuteronomy. and, of course, if the laws are genuine, there is nothing surprising in this, as moses had been the great leader of the people, for forty years; but a late author would scarcely have adopted a style so different from that of all the other prophets. ( .) _their wording._ lastly we must consider the _wording_ of the laws; and this also is strongly in favour of a contemporary origin. thus, as many as sixteen of them, which have special reference to canaan, begin with some such phrase as _when ye be come into the land of canaan_,[ ] which plainly supposes that the people were not there already. and the same may be said of numerous other laws, which the people are told to obey when they enter into canaan; or are even urged to obey in order that they may enter in, both of which again, imply that they were not there already.[ ] while several of the laws refer to the _camp_, and sometimes to _tents_, in such a way as to show that when they were written, the people were still living in a camp.[ ] [footnote : exod. . ; . ; lev. . ; . ; . ; . ; num. . , ; . ; deut. . ; . , , ; . ; . ; . .] [footnote : _e.g._, deut. . , , ; . ; . , ; . .] [footnote : _e.g._, exod. . ; lev. . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; num. . ; . , .] the wording, then, of all these laws bears unmistakable signs of contemporary origin. of course, these signs may have been inserted in later laws to give them an air of genuineness, but they cannot be explained in any other way. therefore the laws must be either of _contemporary date_, or else _deliberate frauds_. no innocent mistake in ascribing old laws to moses, can possibly explain such language as this; either it was the natural result of the laws being genuine, or else it was adopted on purpose to mislead. nor can the difficulty be got over by introducing a number of compilers and editors. for each individual law, if it falsely _claims_ to date from before the conquest of canaan (and, as we have seen, numbers and numbers of laws do so claim, _when ye be come into the land of canaan_, etc.), must have been made by _someone_. and this someone, though he really wrote it after the conquest of canaan, must have inserted these words to make it appear that it was written before. practically, then, as just said, there are but two alternatives--that of genuine laws written in the time of moses, and that of deliberate frauds. and bearing this in mind, we must ask, is it likely that men with such a passion for truth and righteousness as the jewish prophets--men who themselves so denounced lying and deception in every form[ ]--should have spent their time in composing such forgeries? could they, moreover, have done it so _skillfully_, as the laws contain the strongest marks of genuineness; and could they have done it so _successfully_ as never to have been detected at the time? this is the great _moral_ difficulty in assigning these laws to a later age, and to many it seems insuperable. [footnote : jer. . ; . ; ezek. . .] we have thus two _very strong_ arguments in favour of an early date for the pentateuch: one derived from its _egyptian references_, the other from its _laws_. the former shows that no israelite in later times could have written the book; and the latter that he would not have done so, if he could. (_c._) the theory of a late date. we pass on now to the opposite theory, or that of a _late date_. according to this the pentateuch, though no doubt containing older traditions, and fragments of older documents, was not written till many centuries after the death of moses. and the four chief arguments in its favour are based on the _language_ of the pentateuch, its _composite character_, its laws being _unknown_ in later times, and the _finding of deuteronomy_ in the reign of josiah. we will examine each in turn. ( .) _the language of the pentateuch._ now in general character the language of the pentateuch undoubtedly resembles that of some of the prophets, such as jeremiah; so it is assumed that it must date from about the same time. but unfortunately critics who maintain this view do not admit that we have _any_ hebrew documents of a much earlier date, with which to compare it. therefore we have no means of knowing how much the language altered, so this of itself proves little. but it is further said that we have three actual _signs of late date_. the first is that the word for _west_ in the pentateuch really means _the sea_, (_i.e._, the mediterranean) and hence, it is urged, the writer's standpoint must have been that of canaan, and the books must have been written after the settlement in that country. but, very possibly the word was in use before the time of abraham, when the sea actually was to the west. and in later years a hebrew, writing in egypt or anywhere else, would naturally use the word, without thinking that it was inappropriate to that particular place. the second expression is _beyond jordan_, which is often used to denote the _eastern_ bank; so here again, it is urged, the writer's standpoint must have been that of canaan. but this is also untenable. for the same term is also used for the _western_ bank in several places,[ ] and sometimes for both banks in the same chapter.[ ] the third is joseph's speaking of canaan as the _land of the hebrews_, long before they settled there, which is difficult to explain on any theory, but rather in favour of a late date.[ ] [footnote : _e.g._, deut. . ; josh. . .] [footnote : _e.g._, eastern in deut. . ; josh. . ; and western in deut. . , ; josh. . .] [footnote : gen. . .] on the other hand, the language contains several _signs of early date_, though most of these can only be understood by a hebrew scholar, which the present writer does not profess to be. but a couple of examples may be given which are plain to the ordinary reader. thus the pronoun for _he_ is used in the pentateuch both for male and female; while in the later writings it is confined to males, the females being expressed by a derived form which is very seldom used in the pentateuch. similarly, the word for _youth_ is used in the pentateuch for both sexes, though afterwards restricted to males, the female being again expressed by a derived form. these differences, though small, are very significant, and they clearly show that the language was at a less developed, and therefore earlier, stage in the pentateuch than in the rest of the old testament. ( .) _its composite character._ the next argument is that the pentateuch seems to have had _several authors_; since the same words, or groups of words, occur in different passages all through the book. and this, combined with slight variations of style, and other peculiarities, have led some critics to split up the book into a number of different writings, which they assign to a number of unknown writers from the ninth century b.c. onwards. for instance, to take a passage where only three writers are supposed to be involved, exod. . - . these twelve verses seem to the ordinary reader a straightforward narrative, but they have been thus split up.[ ] verses , , and parts of , , are assigned to p, the supposed writer of the priestly code of laws; v. and parts of , , , to e; and the remainder to j; the two latter writers being thus named from their generally speaking of the deity as _elohim_ and _jehovah_ (translated _god_, and _lord_) respectively. [footnote : driver's introduction to literature of old testament, sixth edition, , p. . a slightly different division is given in his exodus, , p. .] fortunately, we need not discuss the minute and complicated arguments on which all this rests, for the idea of any writings being so hopelessly mixed together is most improbable. while it has been shown in recent years to be very doubtful whether these names, _elohim_ and _jehovah_, occurred in the original hebrew, in the same places as they do now.[ ] and if they did _not_, the theory loses one of its chief supports. [footnote : the name of god in the pentateuch by troelstra; translated by mcclure, ] and in any case there are at least four plain and simple arguments against it. the first is that the _egyptian references_, to which we have already alluded extend to all the parts j, e, and p; as well as to deuteronomy, which these critics assign to yet another author d. they are thus like an egyptian _water-mark_ running all through the pentateuch. and while it is difficult enough to believe that even one writer in canaan should have possessed this intimate knowledge of egypt, it is far more difficult to believe that _four_ should have done so. the second is that all the writers must have been equally _dishonest_, for they all contain passages, which they assert were written by moses (see further on). and here again it is hard to believe, that even one writer (leave alone four) should have been so utterly unscrupulous. the third is that the curious custom of god speaking of himself in the _plural_ number, which would be strange in any case, and is especially so considering the strong monotheism of the jews, is also common to both j and p.[ ] and so is the puzzling statement that it was god himself who hardened pharaoh's heart, which is also found in e.[ ] [footnote : gen. . (p): . (j).] [footnote : exod. . (e): . (p.): . (j).] the fourth is that parallel passages to the supposed two narratives of the flood, ascribed to j and p (and which are thought to occur alternately _nineteen_ times in gen. . .) have been found _together_ in an old babylonian story of the flood, centuries before the time of moses; and also in layers corresponding to j and p.[ ] and this alone seems fatal to the idea that j and p were originally separate narratives that were afterward combined in our genesis. [footnote : sayce's monument facts, , p. ; driver's book of genesis, , pp. - , .] of course those who maintain that moses wrote the pentateuch, quite admit that he made use of previous documents, one of which, the book of the _wars of the lord_, he actually quotes.[ ] nor is it denied that some _additions_ have been made since his time, the most important being the list of kings, who are said to have reigned in edom _before there reigned any king over the children of israel_.[ ] and this brings the passage down to the time of saul at least who was israel's first king. but it is probably a later insertion, since these kings are referred to in a different way from the dukes, who precede and follow them. and the same may be said of a few other passages[ ] such as that _the canaanite was then in the land_, which must clearly have been written after the israelites conquered the country. but they can all be omitted without breaking the continuity of the narrative. [footnote : num. . .] [footnote : gen. . - .] [footnote : gen. . ; . ; exod. . ; deut. . - , - ; . .] ( .) _its laws being unknown in later times._ passing on now to the third argument for a late date, it is urged that the laws of the pentateuch cannot really have been written by moses, since, judging from the other old testament books, they seem to have been _unknown_ for many centuries after his time. but this is scarcely correct, for even the earliest books, joshua and judges contain some references to a _written_ law of moses;[ ] while both in judges and samuel there are numerous agreements between what is described there, and what is commanded in the pentateuch.[ ] and similar evidence is afforded by the later books, david, for instance, alluding to the _written_ law of moses, as if it was well known.[ ] so in regard to the prophets. two of the earliest of these are hosea and amos; and they both contain frequent points of agreement;[ ] as well as one reference to a large number of _written_ laws.[ ] [footnote : joshua . , ; . , ; . ; , . judges . .] [footnote : judges . , ; . ; sam. . - ; . ; . ; . ; . .] [footnote : kings . . kings . .] [footnote : hos. . - ; . , ; . ; . ; amos . , ; . , ; . - ; . .] [footnote : hos. . (r.v.).] on the other side, we have the statement in jeremiah, that god did not command the israelites concerning burnt-offerings, and sacrifices, when he brought them out of egypt.[ ] but the next verse certainly implies that it was placing these before obedience that god condemned. and hosea in a similar passage declares this to be the case, and that god's not desiring sacrifice means his not caring so much about it, as about other things.[ ] it is also urged that there were practices which are _inconsistent_ with these laws; the most important being that the sacrifices were not limited to one place, or the offerers to priests. as to the former, the principle of the law was that the place of sacrifice should be of divine appointment, _where god had chosen to record his name_, (_i.e._, where the _ark_ was), and not selected by the worshippers themselves.[ ] in exodus it is naturally implied that there should be many such places, as the israelites were then only beginning their wanderings; and in deuteronomy that there should be only one, as they were then about to enter canaan. [footnote : jer. . .] [footnote : hosea . ; sam. . .] [footnote : exod. . ; deut. . .] but for many years, owing to the unsettled state of the country, and the ark having been captured by the philistines, the law could not be obeyed. when however, the people had rest from their enemies (which was the condition laid down in deuteronomy) and the temple was built at jerusalem, the law was fully recognised. after this the worship at _high places_ is spoken of as a _sin_, while hezekiah is commended for destroying these places, and for keeping the commandments _which the lord commanded moses_.[ ] [footnote : kings . ; . ; kings . - .] the discovery, however in , that there was a jewish temple of jehovah at elephantine, near assouan in egypt, with sacrifices, as early as the sixth century b.c., and that it had apparently the approval of the authorities at jerusalem, makes it doubtful if the law as to the one sanctuary was ever thought to be absolutely binding. as to the other point--the sacrifices not being offered only by _priests_--there is an apparent discrepancy in the pentateuch itself; since deuteronomy (unlike the other books) seems in one passage to recognise that _levites_ might perform priestly duties.[ ] various explanations have been given of this, though i do not know of one that is quite satisfactory. there are also a few cases, where men who were neither priests, nor levites, such as gideon, david, and elijah, are said to have offered sacrifices.[ ] but these were all under special circumstances, and in some of them the sacrifice was directly ordered by god. there is thus nothing like sufficient evidence to show that the laws of the pentateuch were not known in later days, but merely that they were often not obeyed. [footnote : deut. . - .] [footnote : _e.g._, judges . ; sam. . ; kings . .] ( .) _the finding of deuteronomy._ lastly we have the finding of the _book of the law_ (probably deuteronomy) when the temple was being repaired in the reign of josiah, about b.c., which is regarded by some critics as its first publication.[ ] but this is a needless assumption, for there is no hint that either the king or the people were surprised at such a book being found, but merely at what it contained. and as they proceeded at once to carry out its directions, it rather shows that they knew there was such a book all the time, only they had never before read it. and this is easily accounted for, as most copies would have been destroyed by the previous wicked kings.[ ] on the other hand, an altogether new book is not likely to have gained such immediate and ready obedience; not to mention the great improbability of such an audacious fraud never being detected at the time. [footnote : kings .] [footnote : kings . , .] nor is it easy to see why, if deuteronomy was written at a late date, it should have contained so many obsolete and useless instructions; such as the order to destroy the canaanites, when there were scarcely any canaanites left to destroy.[ ] yet the people are not only told to destroy them, but to do it _gradually_, so that the wild beasts may not become too numerous;[ ] which shows that the passage was written centuries before the time of josiah, when there was no more danger from wild beasts than from canaanites. nor is it likely, if deuteronomy was written at that time, when jerusalem claimed to be the central sanctuary, that the city itself should never once be named in the book, or even alluded to. [footnote : deut. . ; . .] [footnote : deut. . .] moreover, discoveries in egypt have shown that in early times religious writings were sometimes buried in the foundations, or lower walls of important temples; where they were found centuries afterwards when the temples were being repaired; so the account, as we have it in the bible, is both natural and probable.[ ] [footnote : e. naville, discovery of the book of the law, , pp. - .] on the whole, then, none of these arguments for a _late date_ are at all conclusive, and we therefore decide that this theory is not only very improbable in any case, but quite untenable in face of the strong evidence on the other side. (_d._) conclusion. having thus shown that the pentateuch appears to date from the time of moses, it only remains to consider its authorship, and the witness it bears to the miracles of the exodus. now that the greater part should have been written by moses himself is plainly the most probable view. and this is strongly confirmed by the book itself; for a large part of it distinctly _claims_ to have been written by moses. it is not merely that this title is given in a heading, or opening verse, which might easily have been added in later times. but it is asserted, positively and repeatedly, all through the book itself, both in exodus, numbers, and deuteronomy, that many of the events, and laws referred to (often including several chapters) were actually _written down_ by moses.[ ] this is an important point, and it must be allowed great weight. [footnote : exod. . ; . ; . ; num. . ; . ; deut. . , , . the first two passages in exod. are assigned to the supposed e, the third to j, those in num. to p, and those in deut. to d.] and the first passage, that moses was to write the threat against amalek _in a book_, is specially interesting; because we cannot think that the book contained nothing but this single sentence. it evidently means in _the_ book (see american r. v.), implying that a regular journal was kept, in which important events were recorded. and this is confirmed by another of the passages, which says that moses wrote down something that occurred _the same day_;[ ] and by another which gives a long and uninteresting list of journeys in the desert,[ ] which certainly looks like an official record kept at the time. while the concluding passage relates how moses, when he had finished writing the book, gave it to the levites to keep beside the ark, in order to preserve it, and anything more precise than this can scarcely be imagined.[ ] [footnote : deut. . ; comp. exod. . .] [footnote : num. .] [footnote : deut. . - .] moreover, the frequent references of moses to his own exclusion from canaan, and his pathetic prayer on the subject, have a very genuine tone about them.[ ] and his bitter complaint that god had broken his promise, and not delivered the people,[ ] could scarcely have been written by anyone but himself; especially after the conquest of canaan, when it was so obviously untrue. [footnote : _e.g._, deut. . - ; . ; . ; . .] [footnote : exod. . .] and his authorship is further confirmed by the fact that so little is said in his praise. his faults are indeed narrated quite candidly, but nothing is said in admiration of the great leader's courage, and ability, till the closing chapter of deuteronomy. this was evidently written by someone else, and shows what we might have expected had the earlier part been the work of anyone but moses himself. nor is there anything surprising in his writing in the third person, as numbers of other men--cæsar, for instance--have done the same. but now comes the important point. fortunately it can be stated in a few words. if the pentateuch is a contemporary document, probably written by moses, can we reject the miracles which it records? can we imagine, for instance, a _contemporary_ writer describing the ten plagues, or the passage of the red sea, if nothing of the kind had occurred? the events, if true, must have been well known at the time; and if untrue, no contemporary would have thought of inventing them. we therefore conclude, on reviewing the whole chapter, that the _origin_ of the jewish religion _was confirmed by miracles_. chapter x. that its history was confirmed by miracles. (_a._) the later old testament books. ( .) undesigned agreements; the rebellion of korah. ( .) alleged mistakes; unimportant. ( .) modern discoveries; these support their accuracy. (_b._) the old testament miracles. ( .) their credibility; this can scarcely be disputed, if miracles at all are credible; the silence of the sun and moon, two other difficulties. ( .) their truthfulness; list of eight public miracles, two examples, elijah's sacrifice on mount carmel, and the destruction of the assyrian army, considered in detail; conclusion. having now examined the origin of the jewish religion, we have next to consider its _history_; which also claims to have been confirmed by miracles. so we will first notice (very briefly) the old testament _books_, from joshua onwards; and then consider some of the _miracles_ which they record. (_a._) the later old testament books. now, the arguments for, and against the genuineness of these books need not be discussed at length, since we have already decided in favour of that of the pentateuch, and most critics who admit the one, admit the other. but a few remarks may be made on three subjects, those of _undesigned agreements_, the importance of which is not obvious at first sight; the _alleged mistakes_ in the old testament; and the effect of _modern discoveries_. ( .) _undesigned agreements._ now, if we find two statements regarding an event, or series of events, which, though not identical, are yet perfectly consistent, this agreement must be either _accidental_ or _not accidental_. and supposing it to be too minute in detail to be accidental it shows that the statements are somehow connected together. of course, if the events are true, each writer may know them independently, and their statements would thus be in perfect, though unintentional agreement. but if the events are not true, then either one writer must have made his account agree with the other, or else both must have derived their information from a common source. in the former case, there would be intentional agreement between the writers; in the latter, between the various parts of the original account. in any case, there would be designed agreement somewhere; for, to put it shortly, the events, being imaginary, would not fit together of necessity, nor by accident, which is excluded, and hence must do so by design. this has been otherwise expressed by saying that truth is necessarily consistent, but falsehood is not so; therefore, while consistency in truth may be undesigned, consistency in falsehood can only result from design. and from this it follows that an _undesigned agreement_ between two statements--provided of course it is too minute to be accidental--is a sure sign of truthfulness. it shows, moreover, that both writers had independent knowledge of the event, and were both telling the truth. and of course the same argument applies if the two statements are made by the same writer, though in this case there is a greater probability that the agreement is not undesigned. we will now consider a single example in detail, and select that referring to the rebellion of korah, dathan, and abiram, as it is connected with an important miracle. korah, we are told,[ ] belonged to the family of kohath and the other two to that of reuben; and from incidental notices _in another part of the book_, we learn the position of the _tents_ of these men. the former was to the south of the central tabernacle, or tent of meeting, on an inner line of tents, while the latter were also to the south, though on an outer line of tents. [footnote : num. ; . , ; . .] this explains how, when moses was talking to korah, he had to _send for_ dathan and abiram, and how next morning he left the central tabernacle, where the men had assembled to offer incense, (and where they were afterwards destroyed, probably by lightning) and _went unto_ dathan and abiram (vv. - ). it explains how, later on, the _tents_ of dathan and abiram are twice mentioned, while that of the leading conspirator, korah, is strangely omitted. it explains how the _families_ of these two were destroyed, though no mention is made of that of korah; since the destruction was probably limited to the tents of dathan and abiram, who were brothers, and the small tabernacle they had erected alongside, and from which alone the people were told to _depart_ (vv. , ). we may therefore conclude that korah's _family_ was not destroyed, since their tent was at some distance. and this accounts for what some have thought to be a discrepancy in another passage, where we read that the _sons_ of korah did not die; as well as for dathan and abiram, being mentioned alone later on.[ ] in fact, the position of these tents is the key to the whole narrative, though we are left to discover it for ourselves. [footnote : num. . ; deut. . .] now if the account is true and written by a contemporary, all is plain; for truth, as said before, is necessarily consistent. but if the story is a late fiction, all this agreement in various places is, to say the least, very remarkable. can we imagine a writer of fiction _accidentally_ arranging these details in different parts of his book, which fit together so perfectly? or can we imagine his doing so _intentionally_, and yet never hinting at the agreement himself, but leaving it so unapparent that not one reader in a thousand ever discovers it? this single instance may be taken as a sample of numerous others which have been noticed all through the old testament; and they certainly tend to show its accuracy. ( .) _alleged mistakes._ we pass on now to the alleged mistakes in the old testament, and considering the long period covered, and the variety of subjects dealt with, and often the same subject by various writers, the number of even apparent discrepancies is not very great. and it is beyond dispute that many of these can be explained satisfactorily, and doubtless many others could be so, if our knowledge were more complete. moreover, they are, as a rule, _numerical_ mistakes, such as the incredibly large numbers in some places,[ ] and the rather discordant chronology in kings and chronicles. but the former may be due to some error in copying, and the latter to the different ways of counting a king's reign. [footnote : num. . ; deut. . .] the only mistake of any real importance refers to the large numbers of the israelites, who are said to have left egypt,--some , men, besides children, or probably over two million altogether. for on two subsequent occasions, when the census of the tribes is given, it totals up to about the same number.[ ] this is no doubt a serious difficulty; as anyone can see, who will take the trouble to calculate the space they would require on the march, or in camp. if we assume, for instance, that they crossed the arm of the red sea in, say, _forty_ parallel columns, these would still have to be of enormous length to contain , persons each, with their flocks and herds. [footnote : exod. . . num. . .] perhaps the best explanation is that suggested by professor flinders petrie, that the word translated _thousands_ should be _families_,[ ] so that the tribe of reuben, for instance,[ ] instead of having forty-six _thousand_ five hundred men, would have forty-six _families_, (making about) five hundred men. the chief arguments in favour of this are, first, that the same word is used in judges . , where it so obviously means family and not thousand, that it is so translated in both the authorised and revised versions. [footnote : egypt and israel, , p. .] [footnote : num. . .] and secondly, it would account for the remarkable fact that though there were twelve tribes, and they were each counted twice, yet the number of the hundreds is never , , or ; but always one of the other six digits. it is extremely unlikely (practically incredible)[ ] that this would occur in an ordinary census, but the proposed theory explains it at once. for the hundreds could scarcely be , or , as this would mean too few men in a family; or or , which would mean too many; while the other digits always work out to what (allowing for servants) is a reasonable proportion, from to . on this theory the number of men would be reduced to , , which is much more intelligible. but some other passages scarcely seem capable of this interpretation, so it must be admitted that the number forms a difficulty, whatever view we adopt. [footnote : the chance of its occurring would be only ( / )^ or less than in , .] ( .) _modern discoveries._ lastly, as to the effect of modern discoveries on the accuracy of the old testament. in the case of the pentateuch, as we have seen, there is very little _direct_ evidence either way; but it is different in regard to some of the later books. in the first place, and this is very important, modern discoveries have shown that the period of jewish history from the time of moses onwards was distinctly _a literary age_. in egypt, babylonia, syria, and elsewhere, it was the custom, and had been for centuries, to record all important events, at least all those that were creditable to the people concerned; so it is almost certain that the jews, like the surrounding nations, had their historians. in every age conquerors have loved to record their conquests, and why should the jews alone have been an exception? yet the historical books of the old testament have no competitors. if, then, we deny that these are in the main a contemporary record, we must either assume that the jews, unlike the surrounding nations, had no contemporary historians, which is most unlikely; as well as being contrary to the books themselves, where the _recorders_ are frequently mentioned, even by name.[ ] or else we must assume that their works were replaced in later days by other and less reliable accounts, which were universally mistaken for the originals, and this seems equally improbable. [footnote : _e.g._, sam. . ; kings . ; chron. . .] passing on now to the evidence in detail, it may be divided into two classes, geographical and historical. in the first place the _geography_ of palestine has been shown to be minutely accurate. but this does not prove the old testament books to be genuine, but merely that they were written by jews who knew the country intimately. it helps, however, in some cases to remove apparent difficulties. thus the discoveries at jericho, in , have shown that the place was merely a small fortified hill, the length of the surrounding wall being about half a mile, so there was no difficulty in the israelites walking round it seven times in the day.[ ] and much the same may be said of the _historical_ notices. the monumental records of the kings of judah and israel have not at present been discovered, but we can often check the history by the records of other countries. and these are as a rule in perfect agreement, not only as to the actual facts, but as to the society, customs, and state of civilisation, of the period. indeed, in some cases where this was formerly disputed, as in the importance assigned to the _hittites_, it has been fully justified by modern discoveries.[ ] but this again does not prove the genuineness of the books, though it certainly raises a probability in their favour. [footnote : josh. . .] [footnote : kings . ; kings . .] sometimes, however, the evidence is stronger than this, one of the best known instances being daniel's mention of _belshazzar_.[ ] he states that the last king of babylon was nebuchadnezzar's son, or grandson (margin, a.v.) called belshazzar, who was slain at night when the city was captured (about b.c. ). but according to berosus, who wrote about the third century b.c., all this appears to be wrong. the last king of babylon was a usurper called nabonidus, and any such person as belshazzar is quite unknown. and so matters remained till some cuneiform inscriptions were discovered at mugheir in . [footnote : dan. . .] from these it appears that belshazzar was the eldest son of nabonidus, and was apparently associated with him in the government. and an inscription recently found at erech shows that this was the case for several years.[ ] there is no proof that he ever had the title of _king_, unless he is the same as one _mardukshazzar_, about this time (not otherwise identified), which is not unlikely, as we know marduk was sometimes called _bel_--_i.e._, baal, or lord. and another inscription, somewhat mutilated, seems to show that he was slain at babylon in a night assault on the city (or some portion of it) as described by daniel, some months after nabonidus had been taken prisoner.[ ] as to his relationship with nebuchadnezzar perhaps his mother (or grandmother) was a royal princess. and there certainly seems to have been some connection between the families, as we know from the inscriptions that he had a brother called nebuchadnezzar. [footnote : expository times, april, . comp. dan. . .] [footnote : transactions of victoria institute, vol. xxxviii., , p. ; vol. xlvi., , p. .] now, of course, if daniel himself wrote the book, he would have known all about belshazzar, however soon afterwards it was forgotten. but, if the book is a late fiction, written by a jew in palestine about b.c. , which is the rationalistic theory, as the wars between egypt and syria up to that date are clearly foretold, how did he know the name of belshazzar at all, or anything about him, when such a person was unknown to previous historians? plainly then, this is a distinct argument in favour of the contemporary date of the book.[ ] [footnote : it is worth noting that this rationalistic theory, which was generally accepted by the so-called higher critics, has now become so difficult to maintain in the face of archæology that dr. pinches, lecturer in assyriology at university college, london, said recently 'i am glad to think with regard to the book of daniel that the higher criticism is in fact buried.' transactions of victoria institute, vol. xlix., , p. .] and much the same may be said of isaiah's mention of _sargon_ of assyria, who is stated to have taken ashdod. yet the very existence of such a king was unknown to secular history, till the last century; when his palace was discovered at khorsabad, with inscriptions recording, among other things, his capture of ashdod.[ ] [footnote : isa. . . orr's problem of old test., , p. .] two other cases are of special interest, because the monuments seemed at first to show that the bible was wrong. one of these refers to a so-called _pul_, king of assyria;[ ] but when the list of assyrian monarchs was discovered, no such king could be found. it looked like a serious discrepancy, and was even spoken of as 'almost the only important historical difficulty' between the bible and the monuments.[ ] but it has now been discovered that _pulu_ was the original name of a usurper, who changed it to tiglath pileser iii. on ascending the throne; though he was still sometimes called pulu.[ ] this not only removes the difficulty, but tends to show the early date of the narrative; for a late writer would probably have called him by his better-known name. [footnote : kings . .] [footnote : rawlinson, historical illustrations of the old testament, , p. .] [footnote : hastings, dict. of the bible, vol. iv., p. .] the other instance refers to _jehu_, who is stated in the assyrian inscriptions to be the son of omri; though according to the bible he was no relation whatever. but it has now been shown that the words translated _son of omri_ may only mean _of the land or house of omri_, which is a common assyrian name for the kingdom of israel.[ ] [footnote : driver, schweich lecture, , p. .] as a last example we will take the _dates_ given for the fall of the two capital cities, samaria and jerusalem. these were calculated long ago (margin, a.v.) from a number of statements in the bible, giving the lengths of different reigns, etc., at b.c. and respectively.[ ] and now the inscriptions from assyria and babylonia fix the former at _b.c._ and the latter at .[ ] everyone must admit that these are remarkable agreements, considering the way in which they have had to be calculated. [footnote : kings . ; . .] [footnote : hastings, dict. of the bible, vol. i., p. .] we have now briefly considered the books of the old testament, both as to their _undesigned agreements_, which are very interesting; their _alleged mistakes_, which are unimportant; and the effect of _modern discoveries_, which has undoubtedly been to support their accuracy. what, then, is the value of the evidence they afford as to the history of the jewish religion having been confirmed by miracles? (_b._) the old testament miracles. we will include under this term superhuman coincidences as well as miracles in the strict sense; and they occur all through the historical books of the old testament. a few of them have been already noticed in the last chapter, but we must now discuss them more fully, first considering whether they are credible, and then whether they are true. ( .) _their credibility._ now this can scarcely be disputed, _provided miracles at all are credible_, which we have already admitted, since scientific difficulties affect all miracles equally; and of course the superhuman coincidences have no difficulties of this kind whatever. among these may be mentioned most of the ten plagues, the destruction of korah, the falling of the walls of jericho, probably due to an earthquake; the lightning which struck elijah's sacrifice; and many others. the _passage of the red sea_, for instance, almost certainly belongs to this class. the water, we are told, was driven back by a strong east wind, lasting all night; and this was doubtless due to natural forces, though, in common with other natural events (such as the growth of grass[ ]), it is in the bible ascribed to god. and the statement, _the waters were a wall unto them_, need not be pressed literally, so as to mean that they stood upright. it may only mean here, as it obviously does in some other cases, that the waters were a defence on each side, and secured them from flank attacks.[ ] and as they must have advanced in several parallel columns, probably half a mile wide, this certainly seems the more likely view. [footnote : ps. . - .] [footnote : exod. . , ; nahum . ; sam. . .] and what makes it still more probable is that much the same thing occurred in this very neighbourhood in recent times. for in january, , a large expanse of water, about feet deep, near the suez canal, was exposed to such a strong gale (also from the east) that next morning it had been entirely driven away, and men were walking about on the mud, where the day before the fishing-boats had been floating.[ ] moreover, on this theory, the miracle would not lose any of its evidential value. for the fact of such a strip of dry land being formed just when and where the israelites so much wanted it, and then being suddenly covered again, through the wind changing round to the west (which it must have done for the dead egyptians to have been cast up on the _east_ side)[ ], would be a coincidence far too improbable to be accidental. [footnote : transactions of victoria institute, vol. xxviii., , p. . it is vouched for by major-general tulloch, who was there on duty at the time.] [footnote : exod. . .] another well known miracle, which probably belongs to this class, is the _'silence' (or standing still) of the sun and moon_.[ ] this is often thought to mean that the earth's rotation was stopped, so that the sun and moon apparently stood still. but a miracle on so vast a scale, was quite needless for the destruction of a few canaanites, and there is another, and far better explanation. [footnote : josh. . - .] it is that the miracle, instead of being one of prolonged light, the sun remaining visible after it should have set, was really one of prolonged _darkness_. the sun, which had been hidden by thick clouds, was just about to shine forth, when joshua prayed to the lord that it might be _silent_, _i.e._, remain obscured behind the clouds, which it did during the rest of the day. the hebrew seems capable of either meaning. for the important word translated _stand still_ is literally _be silent_ (see margin), both in verses and ; and while this would be most suitable to the sun's remaining obscured by clouds during the day, it could scarcely be used of its continuing to shine at night. on the other hand, the rest of the passage seems to favour the ordinary view. but if we admit that this is what joshua _prayed for_, that the sun and moon should remain _silent_ or obscured, the rest of the passage can only mean that this is what took place. and it may be mentioned that, as early as the fourteenth century, a jewish writer levi ben gershon maintained that the words did not mean that the sun and moon literally _stood still_, or in any way altered their motion; though it is only fair to add that this was not the general view.[ ] [footnote : numerous quotations are given in 'a misunderstood miracle,' by rev. a. s. palmer, , pp. - .] moreover, even if the word did mean _stand still_, joshua would only be likely to have asked for the sun and moon to stand still, if they were apparently _moving_. and they only move fast enough to be apparent when they are just coming out from behind a dense bank of clouds, due, of course, to the clouds really moving. and to _stand still_ in such a case, would mean to stay behind the clouds, and remain _obscured_, the same sense as before. and the words could then have had an _immediate_ effect; visible at once to all the people, which certainly seems implied in the narrative, and which would not have been the case on the ordinary view. assuming, then, that either meaning is possible, a prolonged darkness is much the more probable for three reasons. to begin with, the miracle must have occurred in the early _morning_, gibeon, where the sun was, being to the south _east_ of beth-horon, the scene of the incident. and it is most unlikely that joshua, with the enemy already defeated, and nearly all the day before him, should have wished to have it prolonged. secondly, just _before_ the miracle there had been a very heavy thunderstorm, involving (as here required) thick clouds and a dark sky; and this is stated to have been the chief cause of the enemy's defeat. so joshua is more likely to have asked for a continuance of this storm, _i.e._, for prolonged darkness, than for light. thirdly, the moon is mentioned as well as the sun, and, if joshua wanted darkness, both would have to be _silent_; but if he wanted light, the mention of the moon was quite unnecessary. on the whole, then, the miracle seems to have been a superhuman coincidence between a prayer of joshua and an extraordinary and unique thunderstorm, which caused the sun to remain _silent_ or invisible all day. and if the canaanites were sun-worshippers (as many think probable), it was most suitable that at the time of their great battle with the israelites, the sun should have been obscured the whole day, and it naturally led to their utter confusion. before passing on, we may notice two objections of a more general character, that are often made to the jewish miracles. the first is that some of them were very _trivial_, such as elisha's purifying the waters of jericho, increasing the widow's oil, and making the iron axe-head to float;[ ] and hence it is urged they are most improbable. and no doubt they would be so, if we regard them as mere acts of kindness to individual persons. but if we regard them as so many signs to the israelites (and through them to the rest of the world), that elisha was god's prophet; and that god was not a far-off god, but one who knew about and cared about the every-day troubles of his people, they were certainly not inappropriate. indeed, if this was the end in view, they were just the kind of miracles most likely to attain it. [footnote : kings . ; . ; . .] the second and more important objection would destroy, or at least lessen, the value of all the miracles. they could not, it is urged, have really confirmed a revelation from god, since the same writers who describe them, also describe _other_ miracles, which, they say, were worked in opposition to god's agents. but if we exclude some doubtful cases, we have only one instance to judge by. it is that of the _magicians of egypt_, who imitated some of the earlier miracles of moses and aaron; and here the inference is uncertain. for we are told that this was due to their _enchantments_ (or _secret arts_, margin r.v.), a term which might very possibly cover some feat of jugglery; as they knew beforehand what was wanted, and had time to prepare. while the fact that they tried and failed to imitate the next plague, which they frankly confessed was a divine miracle, makes this a very probable solution.[ ] [footnote : exod. . , ; . , , .] we decide, then, that none of the jewish miracles can be pronounced _incredible_; though some of them no doubt seem, at first sight, very improbable. ( .) _their truthfulness._ now, of course, the miracles vary greatly in evidential value, the following being eight of the most important: the destruction of korah, num. . the passage of the jordan, josh. . - . the capture of jericho, josh. . - . elijah's sacrifice on mount carmel, kings . - . the cure of naaman's leprosy, kings . - . the destruction of the assyrian army, kings . . the shadow on the dial, kings . - . the three men in the furnace, dan. . - . we will examine a couple of instances in detail and select first _elijah's sacrifice on mount carmel_. this is said to have occurred on the most public occasion possible, before the king of israel and thousands of spectators. and as a miracle, or rather _superhuman coincidence_, it presents no difficulty whatever. the lightning which struck the sacrifice was doubtless due to natural causes; yet, as before explained (chapter vii.), this would not interfere with its evidential value. moreover, it was avowedly a test case to definitely settle whether jehovah was the true god or not. the nation, we learn, had long been in an undecided state. some were worshippers of jehovah, others of baal; and these rival sacrifices were suggested for the express purpose of settling the point. so, if miracles at all are credible, there could not have been a more suitable occasion for one; while it was, for the time at least, thoroughly successful. all present were convinced that jehovah was the true god, and, in accordance with the national law, the false prophets of baal were immediately put to death. now could any writer have described all this, even a century afterwards, if nothing of the kind had occurred? the event, if true, must have been well known, and remembered; and if untrue, no one living near the time and place would have thought of inventing it. and (what renders the argument still stronger) all this is stated to have occurred, not among savages, but among a fairly civilised nation and in a literary age. next as to _the destruction of the assyrian army_. here it will be remembered that when sennacherib came to attack jerusalem, he publicly, and in the most insulting manner, defied the god of israel to deliver the city out of his hand (probably about b.c. ).[ ] we then read how isaiah declared that god accepted the challenge, and would defend jerusalem, and would not allow it to be destroyed. '_i will defend this city to save it, for mine own sake, and for my servant david's sake._' and the sacredness of the city is very strongly insisted on. [footnote : kings . - ; . , .] now it is inconceivable that this could have been written after jerusalem had been captured by nebuchadnezzar in _b.c._ ; though there is no real inconsistency in god's preserving the city in the one case, and not in the other. for nebuchadnezzar is always represented as being, though unconsciously, god's servant in punishing the jews; while sennacherib openly defied jehovah. then comes the sudden destruction of the assyrian army, probably by pestilence;[ ] and the extreme fitness of this, after sennacherib's challenge, must be obvious to everyone. moreover, such a very public event, if untrue, could not have been recorded till long afterwards; yet, as we have seen, the narrative could not have been written long afterwards. sennacherib does not of course allude to it himself in his inscriptions, for kings never like to record their own defeats; but this is no reason for doubting that it occurred, especially as it is confirmed by the babylonian historian berosus.[ ] and even sennacherib himself, though he mentions the campaign, and says that he shut up hezekiah in jerusalem, never claims to have taken the city. [footnote : comp. kings . ; chron. . .] [footnote : quoted by josephus, antiq. x. .] we need not examine the other miracles in detail, since the argument is much the same in every case. they are all said to have occurred on important and critical occasions when, if we admit miracles at all, they would be most suitable. they are all said to have been _public_ miracles, either actually worked before crowds of persons, or else so affecting public men that their truth or otherwise must have been well-known at the time. and they were all of such a kind that any mistake or fraud as to their occurrence was out of the question. it is, then, on the face of it, most unlikely that miracles, _such as these_, should have been recorded unless they were true. indeed, if the old testament books were written by contemporaries, or even within a century of the events they relate, it is very difficult to deny their occurrence. we decide, therefore, that the _history_ of the jewish religion was _confirmed by miracles_. chapter xi. that its history was confirmed by prophecies. (_a._) general prophecies. three examples considered: ( .) the desolation of assyria and babylonia. ( .) the degradation of egypt. ( .) the dispersion of the jews, including the roman siege of jerusalem. (_b._) special prophecies. list of eight important ones: a single example, the destruction of jerusalem by the babylonians considered in detail; some general remarks. (_c._) conclusion. the cumulative nature of the evidence. we pass on now to the jewish prophecies. it should be explained at starting that the word _prophecy_ is used here in the sense of _prediction_; and not as it often is, in the bible, to include various kinds of teaching. and the prophecies may be divided into two classes, general and special. (_a._) general prophecies. we will consider the general prophecies first, the most important of which concern the jews themselves, and their great neighbours assyria and babylonia, on the one hand, and egypt on the other. all these nations had existed for centuries, and there was nothing to indicate what was to be their future; yet the prophets foretold it, and with remarkable accuracy. ( .) _the desolation of assyria and babylonia._ and first as to assyria and babylonia. the future of these countries was to be utter _desolation_. the kingdoms were to be destroyed, the land was to become a wilderness, and the cities to be entirely forsaken. we read repeatedly that they were to be desolate _for ever_; and though this cannot be pressed as meaning literally for all eternity, it certainly implies a long duration.[ ] a single passage referring to each may be quoted at length. [footnote : isa. . - ; . , ; jer. . , , ; . , , ; nahum . ; zeph. . - .] thus zephaniah says of assyria, 'and he will stretch out his hand against the north, and destroy assyria; and will make nineveh a desolation, and dry like the wilderness. and herds shall lie down in the midst of her, all the beasts of the nations; both the pelican and the porcupine shall lodge in the chapiters thereof [the capitals of the fallen columns]: their voice shall sing in the windows; desolation shall be in the thresholds: for he hath laid bare the cedar work.' and isaiah says of babylon, 'and babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the chaldean's pride, shall be as when god overthrew sodom and gomorrah. it shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation; neither shall the arabian pitch tent there; neither shall shepherds make their flocks to lie down there. but wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and ostriches shall dwell there, and satyrs [or goats] shall dance there. and wolves shall cry in their castles, and jackals in the pleasant palaces: and her time is near to come, and her days shall not be prolonged.' it seems needless to comment on prophecies so plain and straightforward. nor need we insist at any length on their exact fulfilment; it is obvious to everyone. for two thousand years history has verified them. the utter desolation of these countries is without a parallel: the empires have vanished, the once populous land is deserted, and the cities are heaps of ruins, often the dens of wild beasts,--lions, hyænas, and jackals having all been seen among the ruins of babylon. in short, the prophecies have been fulfilled in a manner which is, to say the least, very remarkable. ( .) _the degradation of egypt._ next as to egypt. the future foretold of this country was not desolation but _degradation_. ezekiel tells us it was to become a _base kingdom_, and he adds, 'it shall be the basest of the kingdoms; neither shall it any more lift itself up above the nations: and i will diminish them, that they shall no more rule over the nations.'[ ] and here also prophecy has been turned into history. the permanent degradation of egypt is a striking fact which cannot be disputed. when the prophets wrote, egypt had on the whole been a powerful and independent kingdom for some thousands of years: but it has never been so since. persians, greeks, romans, byzantine greeks, saracens, memlooks, turks, and we may now add british, have in turn been its masters; but it has been the master of no one. it has never more _ruled over the nations_ as it used to do for so many centuries. its history in this respect has been unique--an unparalleled period of prosperity followed by an unparalleled period of degradation. [footnote : ezek. . .] with such an obvious fulfilment of the main prophecy, it seems needless to insist on any of its details, though some of these are sufficiently striking. thus, we are told, _her cities shall be in the midst of the cities that are wasted_.[ ] and though it is doubtful to what period this refers, no more accurate description can be given of the present cities of egypt, such as cairo, than that they are in the midst of the cities that are wasted, such as memphis, bubastis, and tanis. while a few verses farther on we read, _there shall be no more a prince out of the land of egypt_; yet, when this passage was written, there had been independent egyptian sovereigns, off and on, from the very dawn of history. but there have been none since. stress, however, is not laid on details like these, some of which are admittedly obscure, such as the forty years' desolation of the land with the scattering of its inhabitants;[ ] but rather on the broad fact that egypt was not to be destroyed like assyria and babylonia, but to be _degraded_, and that this has actually been its history. [footnote : ezek. . , .] [footnote : ezek. . - .] ( .) _the dispersion of the jews._ lastly, as to the jews. their future was to be neither desolation, nor degradation, but _dispersion_. this is asserted over and over again. they were to be scattered among the nations, and dispersed through the countries; to be wanderers among the nations; sifted among all nations; tossed to and fro among all the kingdoms of the earth; and scattered among all peoples from one end of the earth even unto the other end of the earth.[ ] [footnote : ezek. . ; hos. . ; amos . ; deut. . , ; see also deut. . ; neh. . ; jer. . .] moreover, in their dispersion they were to be subjected to continual _suffering_ and _persecution_. they were to become a proverb, and a byword among all people. their curses were to be upon them, for a sign and for a wonder, and upon their seed for ever. they were to have a yoke of iron upon their necks; and to have the sword drawn out after them in all lands, etc. yet, in spite of all this, they were not to be absorbed into other nations, but to remain _distinct_. they and their seed _for ever_ were to be a separate people, a sign and a wonder at all times; and god would never make a full end of _them_, as he would of the nations among whom they were scattered. indeed heaven and earth were to pass away, rather than the jews cease to be a distinct people.[ ] [footnote : deut. . , , ; lev. . ; jer. . ; . ; . ; . - .] and here again history has exactly agreed with prophecy. the fate of the jews, since the destruction of jerusalem in a.d. , has actually been _dispersion_, and this to an extent which is quite unique. it has been combined, moreover, with incessant suffering and persecution, yet they have always remained a separate people. the jews are still everywhere, though the jewish nation is nowhere. they are present in all countries, but with a home in none, having been literally _scattered among the nations_. we will now examine a single passage in detail, and select the latter part of deut. . the whole chapter is indeed full of prophecies as to the future condition of the jews, some of which seem to point to the babylonian captivity, (_e.g._, v. ); but after this we come to another and final catastrophe in v. . this evidently begins a fresh subject, which is continued without a break till the end of the chapter. and it is specially interesting because, not only is the world-wide dispersion of the jews, and their continual sufferings, clearly foretold; but also the _previous war_ which led up to it. we have, as is well known, a full account of this in the history of josephus, and as he never alludes to the prophecy himself (except in the most general terms), his evidence is above suspicion. ver. . first of all the conquerors themselves are described as a nation _from far, from the end of the earth, as the eagle flieth, a nation whose tongue thou shalt not understand_, etc. and this is very applicable to the romans, whose general, vespasian, had come from britain, and their troops from various countries, who had the eagle as their standard, and whose language, latin, was unknown to most of the jews. . and the merciless way in which these fierce warriors were to spare neither old nor young was painfully true in their treatment of the jews. . and they also of course destroyed or confiscated their property. . then the war is foretold as one of _sieges_ (he shall _besiege_ thee in all thy gates), rather than of open battles. and this was certainly the case, since a large number of towns, including jotapata, gamala, masada, and jerusalem itself, suffered terrible sieges. and these were to be continued _till the high walls came down_, which is very appropriate to the roman battering rams that were actually used at all these places. . then we have the dreadful famine, due to the severity (or _straitness_) of the siege, evidently the great siege, that of jerusalem. this is strongly insisted on, being repeated three times, and it was to drive the wretched inhabitants to cannibalism of the most revolting kind, which it actually did. . it was also to lead to considerable strife _within the city_; even between members of the same family. and this, though by no means common in all sieges, was abundantly fulfilled in the case of jerusalem. . and they were to grudge their nearest relatives a morsel of food; which again exactly agrees with josephus, who says that parents would fight with their own children for pieces of food. . and all this was to be the fate, not only of the poor; but, what is very remarkable, and perhaps unique in the world's history, of the _wealthy_ also. it was even to include one instance at least (perhaps several) of a lady of high position. she is described as not _setting her foot upon the ground_; which means that she was accustomed to be carried about in a chair, or ride on an ass; and was therefore rich enough to buy anything that could be bought. . and she was to _eat her own children secretly_. here was the climax of their sufferings. yet this very detail, so unlikely to have occurred, and so unlikely to have been discovered if it did occur (as it was to be done secretly), is fully confirmed by josephus. for he mentions one instance that actually was discovered, in which a lady _eminent for her family and wealth_ (mary, the daughter of eleazar) had secretly eaten half her own child.[ ] [footnote : wars, vi. .] . and these miseries were to come upon the jews for their disobedience of god's laws; and again josephus says that their wickedness at this time was so great that if the romans had not destroyed their city, he thinks it would have been swallowed up by the earth.[ ] [footnote: : wars, v. .] . moreover, the plagues of themselves, and of their seed, were to be _wonderful, even great plagues, and of long continuance_. and no one who has read the account of the siege, and the subsequent treatment of the jews, will think the description at all exaggerated. . and the people are specially threatened with _the diseases of egypt, which thou wast afraid of_, and this, as said in chapter ix., implies that the passage was written soon after the people left egypt, and therefore centuries before any siege or dispersion. . and it was to end, as it actually did end, in the destruction of the nation, _until thou be destroyed_. . while the jews that survived were to be left comparatively _few in number_; which was certainly the case, even allowing that the statement of josephus that , perished in the siege may be an exaggeration. . and these were to be forcibly expelled from the land of canaan, which they were just about to conquer. and they actually were so expelled by the romans, partly after this war, and still more so after their rebellion in a.d. , when for many centuries scarcely any jews were allowed to live in their own country, an event probably unique in history. . but instead of being taken away to a single nation, as at the babylonian captivity, they were now to be scattered over the whole world, _among all peoples, from one end of the earth, even unto the other end of the earth_. and how marvellously this has been fulfilled is obvious to everyone. no mention is made of a _king_ here, as in ver. ; so while that suits the babylonian captivity, this suits the later dispersion, though in each case there is a reference to their serving other gods, for which it must be admitted there is very little evidence. . then we have the further _sufferings_ that the jews were to undergo in their dispersion. among these nations they were to find _no ease, nor rest for the sole of their foot_, but were to have _a trembling heart, and failing of eyes, and pining of soul_. and here, again, the event is as strange as the prophecy. nowhere else shall we find a parallel to it. for centuries the jews were not only persecuted, but were often expelled from one country to another, so that they found _no rest_ anywhere, but were driven from city to city, and from kingdom to kingdom. . and their life was to hang in doubt night and day; . and they were to be in a continual state of fear and alarm; all of which was completely fulfilled. . lastly, we read, that some of the jews, instead of being dispersed, were to be _brought to egypt again with ships_, and to be in bondage there. and this also came true, after the siege, when many of the jews were sold for slaves, and sent to the mines in egypt, probably in slave ships. everyone must admit that the agreement all through is very remarkable; in fact, the prophecies about the dispersion of the jews--and we have only examined a single instance in detail--are even more striking than those about the desolation of assyria and babylonia, or the degradation of egypt. and to fully realise their importance, let us suppose that anyone _now_ were to foretell the future of three great nations, saying that one was to be utterly destroyed, and the land desolated; another to sink to be a base kingdom; and the third to be conquered and its inhabitants forcibly expelled, and scattered over the whole world. what chance would there be of any one of the prophecies (leave alone all three) coming true, and _remaining true for two thousand years_? yet this would be but a similar case. what conclusion, then, must be drawn from all these prophecies, so clear in their general meaning, so distinctive in their character, so minute in many of their details, so unlikely at the time they were written, and yet one and all so exactly fulfilled? there appear to be only three alternatives. either they must have been random _guesses_, which certainly seems incredible. or else they must have been due to deep _foresight_ on the part of the writers, which seems equally so; for the writers had had no experience of the permanent desolation of great empires like assyria and babylonia, while as to the fate of egypt and the jews themselves, history afforded no parallel. or else, lastly, the writers must have had _revealed_ to them what the future of these nations would be; in which case, and in which case alone, all is plain. (_b._) special prophecies. we pass on now to the special prophecies. these are found all through the old testament, the following being eight of the most important. the fact that david's throne should always be held by his descendants, _i.e._, till the captivity, about years;[ ] and its fulfilment is specially remarkable when contrasted with the rival kingdom of samaria, where the dynasty changed eight or nine times in years. [footnote : sam. . - ; kings . , .] the division of the kingdom into ten and two tribes, evidently announced at the time, since jeroboam had to go away in consequence, and apparently the reason why the rebels were not attacked.[ ] [footnote : kings . , ; . .] the destruction, rebuilding, and final destruction of the temple; the first of these prophecies being made so publicly that it caused quite a commotion, and nearly cost the prophet his life.[ ] [footnote : jer. . - ; isa. . ; dan. . .] the destruction of the altar at bethel, which was set up as a rival to that at jerusalem; publicly announced some centuries before, including the name of the destroyer.[ ] [footnote : kings . ; kings . , .] the destruction of israel by the assyrians.[ ] [footnote : kings . ; isa. . .] the destruction of jerusalem by the babylonians.[ ] [footnote : kings . .] the captivity of the jews, including its duration of seventy years, their most unlikely restoration, and the name of the restorer.[ ] [footnote : jer. . ; isa. . .] the wars between syria and egypt.[ ] [footnote : dan. .] we will examine a single instance in detail, and select that referring to the _destruction of jerusalem_ by the babylonians, as this is connected with one of the miracles mentioned in the last chapter, _the shadow on the dial_. now, it will be remembered that, on one occasion, the jewish king hezekiah was seriously ill, and on being told of his unexpected recovery, he naturally asked for a _sign_. and then in accordance with his demand the shadow on his dial went back ten _steps_.[ ] [footnote : kings . - (margin, r.v.); isa. . .] this _dial_ was evidently a flight of steps, with some object on the top, perhaps an obelisk, which threw a shadow on a gradually increasing number of these as the sun set. and a sudden vibration of the ground, due perhaps to an earthquake, and causing the obelisk to slope to one side, would quite account for the shadow _going backward_, and leaving some of the steps which it had covered. and the narrative certainly implies that the effect was sudden, and apparently limited to this one dial. it seems, however, to have attracted considerable attention; since messengers came from babylon to _enquire about it_, and to congratulate the king on his recovery.[ ] and if the sloping obelisk, and perhaps broken steps, were still visible, this would be much more natural than if there was nothing left for them to see. though in any case, as they called it the wonder that was done _in the land_, it evidently was not noticed elsewhere, and must have been due to some local cause. and we may ask, how could any writer have asserted all this, even a century afterwards, if no such sign had occurred? [footnote : chron. . , .] we are then told that hezekiah showed these messengers all his treasures, which leads up to the _prophecy_ that the treasures should be carried away and jerusalem destroyed by these very babylonians. this is introduced in the most natural way possible, as a rebuke to the king for his proud display; and it is difficult to consider it a later insertion. yet the event could not have been humanly foreseen. for babylon was then but a comparatively small and friendly nation, shortly to be absorbed into assyria (in b.c. ), and only when it regained its independence nearly a century later did it become strong enough to cause any fear to the jews. we need not discuss the other prophecies at length, since that they all refer to the events in question is generally admitted. indeed, in some cases, owing to the mention of names and details, it can scarcely be denied. therefore those who disbelieve in prophecy have no alternative but to say that they were all written _after the event_. at this lapse of time it is difficult to prove or disprove such a statement. but it must be remembered that to say that any apparent prophecies were written after the event is not merely to destroy their superhuman character, and bring them down to the level of ordinary writings, but far below it. for ordinary writings do not contain wilful falsehoods, yet every pretended prophecy written after the event cannot possibly be regarded in any other light. the choice then lies between _real prophecies_ and _wilful forgeries_. there is no other alternative. and bearing this in mind, we must ask, is it likely that men of such high moral character as the jewish prophets would have been guilty of such gross imposture? is it likely that, if guilty of it, they would have been able to pass it off successfully on the whole nation? and is it likely that they would have had any sufficient motive to induce them to make the attempt? moreover, many of these prophecies are stated to have been made _in public_, and to have been talked about, and well known long before their fulfilment. and it is hard to see how this could have been asserted unless it was the case, or how it could have been the case unless they were superhuman. it should also be noticed that in deuteronomy the occurrence of some definite and specified event is given as the _test_ of a prophet, and one of the later prophets (isaiah) appeals to this very test. for he challenges the false prophets to foretell future events, and repeatedly declares that this was the mark of a true prophet.[ ] and it is inconceivable that men should thus court defeat by themselves proposing a test which would have shown that they were nothing more than impostors. yet this would have been the case if all their so-called prophecies had been written after the events. [footnote : deut. . ; isa. . ; . ; . - ; see also deut. . - .] (_c._) conclusion. in concluding this chapter, we must notice the _cumulative nature_ of the evidence. the prophecies we have referred to, like the miracles in the last chapter, are but specimens, a few out of many which might be given. this is very important, and its bearing on our present argument is naturally twofold. in the first place, it does not increase, and in some respects rather decreases, the difficulty of believing them to be true, for thirty miracles or prophecies, provided they occur on suitable occasions, are scarcely more difficult to believe than three. and the number recorded in the old testament shows that, instead of being mere isolated marvels, they form a complete series. their object was to instruct the jews, and through them the rest of the world, in the great truths of natural religion, such as the existence of one supreme god, who was shown to be _all-powerful_ by the miracles, _all-wise_ by the prophecies, and _all-good_ by his rewarding and punishing men and nations alike for their deeds. and when we thus regard them as confirming a revelation, which was for the benefit of the whole human race, they lose a good deal of their improbability. indeed many who now believe natural religion alone, and reject all revelation, would probably never have believed even this, but for the bible. on the other hand, the number and variety of these alleged events greatly increases the difficulty of any _other_ explanation; for thirty miracles or prophecies are far more difficult to _disbelieve_ than three. a successful fraud might take place once, but not often. an imitation miracle might be practised once, but not often. spurious prophecies might be mistaken for genuine once, but not often. yet, if none of these events are true, such frauds and such deceptions must have been practised, and practised successfully, over and over again. in fact, the old testament must be a collection of the most dishonest books ever written, for it is full of miracles and prophecies from beginning to end; and it is hard to exaggerate the immense _moral_ difficulty which this involves. many of the jewish prophets, as before said, teach the highest moral virtues; and the jewish religion, especially in its later days, is admittedly of high moral character. it seems, then, to be almost incredible that its sacred writings should be merely a collection of spurious prophecies uttered after the event, and false miracles which never occurred. we therefore decide in this chapter that the _history_ of the jewish religion _was confirmed by prophecies_. chapter xii. that the jewish religion is probably true. only two subjects remain to be discussed. (_a._) the existence of angels. no difficulty here, nor as to their influence. (_b._) the character of god. the jewish idea of god often thought to be defective. ( .) its partiality; but any revelation must be more or less partial. ( .) its human element; we must, however, use analogies of some kind when speaking of god, and human analogies are the least inappropriate. ( .) its moral defects; since god is shown as approving of wicked men, ordering wicked deeds, and sanctioning wicked customs; but these difficulties are not so great as they seem. ( .) its general excellence. on the other hand, the jews firmly believed in monotheism, and had the highest mental and moral conception of god; so that their god was the true god, the god of natural religion. (_c._) conclusion. four further arguments; the jewish religion is probably true. we have been considering in the previous chapters several strong arguments in favour of the jewish religion; and before concluding we must of course notice _any_ adverse arguments which we have not already dealt with. the only two of any importance refer to the existence of angels, and the character ascribed to god; so we will consider these first, and then conclude with some general remarks. (_a._) the existence of angels. now the old testament always takes for granted the existence and influence of angels, yet at the present day this is often thought to be a difficulty. but as to the mere _existence_ of angels, there is no difficulty whatever. for the whole analogy of nature would teach us that since there are numerous beings in the scale of life below man, so there would be some beings above man--that is to say, between him and the supreme being. and this is rendered still more probable when we reflect on the small intervals there are in the descending scale, and the immense interval there would be in the ascending scale if man were the next highest being in the universe to god. and that these higher beings should be entirely _spiritual_, _i.e._, without material bodies, and therefore beyond scientific discovery, is not improbable. indeed, considering that man's superiority to lower beings lies in this very fact of his having a partly spiritual nature, the idea that higher beings may be entirely spiritual is even probable. and though it is difficult for us to imagine how angels can see, or hear without a material body, it is really no more difficult than imagining how we can do it with a body. take for instance the case of seeing. neither the eye nor the brain sees, they are mere collections of molecules of matter, and how can a molecule see anything? it is the _man himself_, the _personal being_, who in some mysterious way sees by means of both eyes and brain; and for all we know he might see just as well without them. and the same applies in other cases. then that angels should have as great, if not greater, intellectual and moral faculties than man seems certain; otherwise they would not be higher beings at all. and this necessitates their having _free will_, with the option of choosing good or evil. and that, like men, some should choose one, and some the other, seems equally probable. hence the _existence_ of both good and evil angels presents no difficulty. and that the good angels should have a leader, or captain (called in the old testament, michael), and that the evil angels should have one too (called satan) is only what we should expect. next, as to their _influence_. now that good angels should wish to influence men for good, and might occasionally be employed by god for that purpose, scarcely seems improbable. while, on the other hand, that evil angels should wish to act, as evil men act, in tempting others to do wrong, is again only what we should expect. and that god should allow them to do so is no harder to believe than that he should allow evil men to do the same. it may still be objected however that we have no actual _evidence_ as to the influence of angels at the present day. but this is at least doubtful. for what evidence could we expect to have? we could not expect to have any physical sensation, or anything capable of scientific investigation, for angels, if they exist at all, are spiritual beings. if, then, they were to influence man, say, by tempting him to do evil, all we could know would be the sudden presence of some evil thought in our minds, without, as far as we could judge, any previous cause for it. and who will assert that this is an unknown experience? yet if it is known, does it not constitute all the proof we could expect of the action of an evil spirit? and of course the same applies to good spirits. there is thus no difficulty as to the existence, and influence of angels. (_b._) the character of god. we pass on now to the character ascribed to god in the old testament, first considering its difficulties, under the three heads of its _partiality_, its _human element_, and its _moral defects_; and then what can be said on the other side as to its _general excellence_. ( .) _its partiality._ the objection here is that god is the just god of all mankind, and it is therefore incredible that he should have selected a single nation like the jews to be his special favourites, more particularly as his alleged attempt to make them a holy people proved such a hopeless failure. while it is further urged that the very fact of the jews believing jehovah to be their special god shows that they regarded him as a mere national god, bearing the same relation to themselves as the gods of other nations did to them. but, as said in chapter vi., any revelation implies a certain _partiality_ to the men or nation to whom it is given; though it is not on that account incredible. and there is certainly no reason why the jews should not have been the nation chosen, and some slight reason why they should; for their ancestor abraham was not selected without a cause. he did, partly at least, deserve it, since, judging by the only accounts we have, he showed the most perfect obedience to god in his willingness to sacrifice isaac. it must also be remembered that god's so-called partiality to the jews did not imply any indulgence to them in the sense of overlooking their faults. on the contrary, he is represented all along as blaming and punishing them, just as much as other nations, for their sins. next, as to god's purpose in regard to the jews having been a _failure_. this is only partly true. no doubt they were, on the whole, a sinful nation; but they were not worse than, or even so bad as, the nations around them; it was only the fact of their being the chosen race that made their sins so serious. they had free will, just as men have now; and if they chose to misuse their freedom and act wrong, that was not god's fault. moreover, the jewish nation was not selected merely for its own sake, but for the sake of all mankind; as is expressly stated at the very commencement, '_in thee shall all the families of the earth be blessed_.'[ ] thus god did not select the jews, and reject other nations; but he selected the jews in order that through them he might bless other nations. the religious welfare of the whole world was god's purpose from the beginning; and the jews were merely the means chosen for bringing it about. and to a great extent the purpose has been fulfilled; for however sinful the nation may have been, they preserved and handed on god's revelation, and the old testament remains, and will always remain, as a permanent and priceless treasure of religion. [footnote : gen. . .] the last part of the objection may be dismissed at once. for if the jews regarded jehovah as their special god, it was merely because he had specially _selected_ them to be his people. he must therefore have had a power of choice, and might, if he pleased, have selected some other nation, so he could not have been a mere national god, but the god of all nations with power to select among them. and this is distinctly asserted by many of the writers.[ ] [footnote : _e.g._, exod. . ; deut. . ; chron. . ; isa. . .] we conclude, then, that god's so-called partiality to the jews does not, when carefully considered, form a great difficulty. to put it shortly, if a revelation is given at all, some individuals must be selected to receive it; if it is given gradually (and god's methods in nature are always those of gradual development) these men would probably belong to a single nation; and if one nation had to be selected, there is no reason why the jews should not have been the one chosen. while, if they were selected for the purpose of handing on god's revelation to the world at large, the purpose has been completely successful. ( .) _its human element._ the next difficulty, is that the jewish idea of god was thoroughly _human_, the deity being represented as a great _man_, with human form, feelings, attributes, and imperfections. thus he has hands and arms, eyes and ears; he is at times glad or sorry, angry or jealous; he moves about from place to place; and sometimes repents of what he has done, thus showing, it is urged, a want of foresight, on his part. and all this is plainly inconsistent with the character of the immaterial, omnipresent, omniscient god of nature. the answer to this objection is twofold. in the first place, we must of necessity use analogies of some kind when speaking of god, and _human_ analogies are not only the easiest to understand, but are also the least inappropriate, since, as we have shown, man resembles god in that he is a personal and moral being. therefore likening god to man is not so degrading as likening him to mere natural forces. such expressions, then, must always be considered as descriptions drawn from human analogies, which must not be pressed literally. while, secondly, it is plain that the jewish writers themselves so understood them, for they elsewhere describe the deity in the most exalted language, as will be shown later on. and this is strongly confirmed by the remarkable fact that the jews, unlike other ancient nations, had no material idol or representation of their god. inside both the tabernacle and the temple there was the holy of holies with the mercy seat, but no one sat on it. an empty throne was all that the shrine contained. their jehovah was essentially an invisible god, who could not be represented by any human or other form; and this alone seems a sufficient answer to the present objection. ( .) _its moral defects._ lastly as to the supposed moral defects in god's character. the three most important are that god is frequently represented as approving of wicked men, as ordering wicked deeds, and even in his own laws as sanctioning wicked customs. we will consider these points in turn. and first as to god's _approving of wicked men_; that is, of men who committed the greatest crimes, such as jacob and david. this is easily answered, since approving of a man does not mean approving of _everything_ he does. the case of david affords a convincing example of this; for though he is represented as a man after god's own heart, yet we are told that god was so extremely displeased with one of his acts that he punished him for it severely, in causing his child to die. in the same way no one supposes that god approved of jacob because of his treachery, but in spite of it; and even in his treachery, he was only carrying out (and with apparent reluctance) the orders of his mother.[ ] moreover, in estimating a man's character, his education and surroundings have always to be taken into account. and if the conduct of one man living in an immoral age is far better than that of his contemporaries, he may be worthy of praise, though similar conduct at the present day might not deserve it. [footnote : gen. . - .] and if it be asked what there was in the character of these men, and many others, to counterbalance their obvious crimes, the answer is plain; it was their intense belief in the spiritual world. the existence of one supreme god, and their personal responsibility to him, were realities to them all through life; so, in spite of many faults, they still deserved to be praised. next as to god's _ordering wicked deeds_. in all cases of this kind it is important to distinguish between a man's personal acts, and his official ones. at the present day the judge who condemns a criminal, and the executioner who hangs him are not looked upon as murderers. and the same principle applies universally. now in the old testament the jews are represented as living under the immediate rule of god. therefore when a man, or body of men, had to be punished for their crimes, he commanded some prophet or king, or perhaps the whole people, to carry out the sentence. and of course, if they failed to do so they were blamed, just as we should blame a hangman at the present day who failed to do his duty. thus, in the case of _destroying the canaanites_, which is the instance most often objected to, the people were told, in the plainest terms, that they were only acting as god's ministers, and that if they became as bad as the canaanites, who were a horribly polluted race, god would have them destroyed as well.[ ] [footnote : _e.g._, lev. . - ; deut. . .] a more serious objection is that god is occasionally represented as if he himself _caused_ men to do wrong, such as his _hardening pharaoh's heart_.[ ] but, as we shall see later on, the bible often speaks of everything that occurs, whether good or evil, as being, in a certain sense, god's doing. and since the writer asserts more than once that pharaoh hardened his own heart, there can be little doubt that he intended the two expressions to mean the same. indeed the whole narrative represents pharaoh as extremely obstinate in the matter, refusing to listen even to his own people.[ ] [footnote : _e.g._, exod. . .] [footnote : exod. . , ; . ; . , .] thirdly, as to god's _sanctioning wicked customs_. the most important is that of _human sacrifice_; but it is very doubtful whether the passages relied on do sanction this custom;[ ] since it is clearly laid down elsewhere that the firstborn of _men_ are never to be sacrificed, but are always to be redeemed.[ ] moreover human sacrifices among other nations are strongly condemned, in one passage jehovah expressly saying that they were not to be offered to him.[ ] it is, however, further urged that we have two actual instances of such sacrifices in regard to _isaac_ and _jephthah_.[ ] but jephthah had evidently no idea when he made his vow that it would involve the sacrifice of his daughter; and there is nothing to show that it was in any way acceptable to god. [footnote : exod. . , ; lev. . , .] [footnote : exod. . ; . ; num. . .] [footnote : deut. . .] [footnote : gen. ; judg. . .] in the case of _isaac_ we have the one instance in which god did order a human sacrifice; but then he specially intervened to prevent the order from being carried out. and the whole affair, the command and the counter-command, must of course be taken together. it was required to test abraham's faith to the utmost, therefore as he most valued his son, he was told to offer him. and since children were then universally regarded as property, and at the absolute disposal of their parents, human sacrifices being by no means uncommon, the command, however distressing to his heart, would have formed no difficulty to his conscience. but when his faith was found equal to the trial, god intervened, as he had of course intended doing all along, to prevent isaac from being actually slain. with regard to the other practices, such as _slavery_, and _polygamy_, it is undisputed that they were recognised by the jewish laws; but none of them were _instituted_ by these laws. the pentateuch neither commands them, nor commends them; it merely mentions them, and, as a rule, to guard against their abuse. take, for instance, the case of slavery. the custom was, and had been for ages, universal. all that the laws did was to recognise its existence and to provide certain safeguards; making kidnapping, for instance, a capital offence, and in some cases ordering the release of slaves every seventh year.[ ] [footnote : exod. . , ; lev. . .] on the other hand, many _worse customs_ existed at the time which the jewish laws did absolutely forbid;[ ] and they also introduced a code of morals, summed up in the decalogue, of such permanent value that it has been practically accepted by the civilised world. while the highest of all virtues, that of doing good to one's _enemies_, which was scarcely known among other nations, is positively enjoined in the pentateuch.[ ] [footnote : _e.g._, lev. - .] [footnote : exod. . - .] ( .) _its general excellence._ having now discussed at some length the alleged difficulties in god's character, it is only fair to see what can be said on the other side. and much indeed may be said; for the jewish conception of the deity, when considered as a whole, and apart from these special difficulties, was one of the noblest ever formed by man. to begin with, the jews firmly believed in _monotheism_, or the existence of one supreme god. this was the essence of their religion. it is stamped on the first page of genesis; it is implied in the decalogue; it occurs all through the historical books; and it is emphasised in the psalms and prophets; in fact they were never without it. and in this respect the jews stood alone among the surrounding nations. some others, it is true, believed in a god who was more or less supreme; but they always associated with him a number of lesser deities which really turned their religion into polytheism. with the jews it was not so. their jehovah had neither rivals nor assistants. there were no inferior gods, still less goddesses. he was the one and only god; and as for the so-called gods of other nations, they either did not believe in their existence, or thought them utterly contemptible, and even ridiculed the idea of their having the slightest power.[ ] and it may be added, this is a subject on which the jews have become the teachers of the world, for both the great monotheistic religions of the present day, christianity and mohammedanism, have been derived from them. [footnote : deut. . ; kings . ; kings . - ; ps. . - .] moreover, the great problem of the _existence of evil_ never led the jews, as it did some other nations, into dualism, or the belief in an independent evil power. difficult as the problem was, the jews never hesitated in their belief that there was but one supreme god, and that everything that existed, whether good or evil, existed by his permission, and was in a certain sense his doing.[ ] and they gave to him the very highest attributes. [footnote : isa. . ; prov. . ; amos . .] they described him as _omnipotent_; the creator, preserver, and possessor of all things, the cause of all nature, the sustainer of all life, almighty in power, and for whom nothing is too hard.[ ] [footnote : gen. . ; neh. . ; gen. . ; amos . ; job . ; chron. . ; jer. . .] they described him as _omniscient_; infinite in understanding, wonderful in counsel, perfect in knowledge, declaring the end from the beginning, knowing and foreknowing even the thoughts of men.[ ] [footnote : ps. . ; isa. . ; job . ; isa. . ; ezek. . . ps. . .] they described him as _omnipresent_; filling heaven and earth, though contained by neither, existing everywhere, and from whom escape is impossible.[ ] [footnote : jer. . ; kings . ; prov. . ; ps. . .] they described him as _eternal_; the eternal god, the everlasting god, god from everlasting to everlasting, whose years are unsearchable, the first and the last.[ ] [footnote : deut. . ; gen. . ; ps. . ; job . ; isa. . .] they described him as _unchangeable_; the same at all times, ruling nature by fixed laws, and with whom a change of purpose is impossible.[ ] [footnote : mal. . ; ps. . ; num. . .] and lastly, they described him as in his true nature _unknowable_; a hidden god, far above human understanding.[ ] this will be enough to show the lofty _mental_ conception which the jews formed of the deity. [footnote : isa. . ; job . .] now for their _moral_ conception. they believed their god to be not only infinite in power and wisdom, but, what is more remarkable, they ascribed to him the highest moral character. he was not only a _beneficent_ god, whose blessings were unnumbered, but he was also a _righteous_ god. his very name was holy, and his hatred of evil is emphasised all through to such an extent that at times it forms a difficulty, as in the case of the canaanites. thus the _goodness_ they ascribed to god was a combination of beneficence and righteousness very similar to what we discussed in chapter v. moreover, in this respect the god of the jews was a striking contrast to the gods of other nations. we have only to compare jehovah with moloch and baal, or with the egyptian gods, ptah and ra, or with the classical gods, jupiter and saturn, and the superiority of the jewish conception of the deity is beyond dispute. in particular it may be mentioned that among other nations, even the god they worshipped as supreme always had a _female companion_. thus we have baal and astaroth, osiris and isis, jupiter and juno, and many others. it is needless to point out how easily such an idea led to immorality being mixed up with religion, a vice from which the jews were absolutely free. indeed, few things are more remarkable, even with this remarkable people, than that in the innermost shrine of their temple, in the ark just below the mercy-seat, there was a code of _moral laws_, the _ten commandments_. this was the very centre of their religion, theirgreatest treasure; and they believed them to have been written by god himself. nor can it be said that this high conception of the deity was confined to the later period of jewish history. for the above texts have been purposely selected from all through the old testament, and even abraham, the remote ancestor of the jews, seems to have looked upon it as self-evident that jehovah, the _judge of all the earth_, should _do right_.[ ] no wonder, then, believing in such a perfect being as this, the jews, in contrast with most other nations, thought that their first and great commandment was to _love_ god rather than to _fear_ him, that they were each individually responsible to him for their conduct, and that every sin was a sin against god, who was a searcher of hearts, and the impartial judge of all men.[ ] so much, then, for the jewish conception of the deity when considered as a whole and apart from special difficulties. [footnote : gen. . .] [footnote : deut. . ; eccles. . ; gen. . ; chron. . ; job . .] and from this it follows that the jewish god, jehovah, was the true god, the god of natural religion, the being who is all-powerful, all-wise, and all-good. yet strange to say the jews were not a more advanced nation than those around them. on the contrary, in the arts both of peace and war they were vastly inferior to the great nations of antiquity, but in their conception of the deity they were vastly superior; or, as it has been otherwise expressed, they were men in religion, though children in everything else. and this appears to many to be a strong argument in favour of their religion. for unless it had been revealed to them, it is not likely that the jews alone among ancient nations would have had such a true conception of the deity. and unless they were in some special sense god's people, it is not likely that they alone would have worshipped him. (_c._) conclusion. before concluding this chapter, we must notice four arguments of a more general character; all of which are undisputed, and all of which are distinctly in favour of the jewish religion. the first is that the jews are all descended from _one man_, abraham. they have always maintained this themselves, and there seems no reason to doubt it. yet it is very remarkable. there are now about _sixteen hundred_ million persons in the world, and if there were at the time of abraham (say) _one_ million men (_i.e._, males), each of these would, on an average, have , descendants now.[ ] but the jews now number, not , , but over , , . this extraordinary posterity would be strange in any case, but is doubly so, considering that it was foretold. it was part of the great promise made to abraham, for his great faith, that his seed should be as _the stars of heaven_, and as _the sand which is upon the sea-shore_ for multitude.[ ] [footnote : _i.e._, descendants in the male line; descendants through daughters are of course not counted.] [footnote : gen. . .] the second is that the jews are anyhow _a unique nation_. for centuries, though scattered throughout the world, they have been held together by their religion. and according to the bible, their religion was given them for this very purpose, it was to make them a _peculiar people_, unlike everyone else.[ ] if then it was, as far as it went, the true religion, revealed by god, the fact is explicable; but if it was nothing better than other ancient and false religions, it is hopelessly inexplicable. [footnote : deut. . ; . .] the third is that the early history of the jews, either real or supposed, has exerted a greater and more beneficial influence on the world for the last thousand years, than that of all the great nations of antiquity put together. millions of men have been helped to resist sin by the psalms of david, and the stories of elijah, daniel, etc., over whom the histories of egypt and assyria, greece, and rome, have had no influence whatever. and the _effect_ of the religion being thus unique, makes it probable that its _cause_ was unique also; in other words, that it was divinely revealed. the fourth is that the jews themselves always prophesied that their god, jehovah, would one day be universally acknowledged.[ ] and (however strange we may think it) this has actually been the case; and the god of this small and insignificant tribe--_the god of israel_--is now worshipped by millions and millions of men (christians) of every race, language, and country, throughout the civilised world. these are facts that need explanation, and the truth of the jewish religion seems alone able to explain them. [footnote : _e.g._, ps. . ; . ; isa. . ; zeph. . .] in conclusion, we will just sum up the arguments in these chapters. we have shown that there are strong reasons for thinking that the account of the _creation_ was divinely revealed; that the _origin_ of the jewish religion was confirmed by miracles; and that its _history_ was confirmed both by miracles and prophecies. and it should be noticed, each of these arguments is independent of the others. so the evidence is all cumulative and far more than sufficient to outweigh the improbability of the religion, due to its apparent _partiality_, which is the most important argument on the opposite side. moreover, we know so little as to why man was created, or what future, god intended for him, that it is not easy to say whether the religion is really so improbable after all. on the other hand, the evidence in its favour is plain, direct, and unmistakable. and we therefore decide that the _jewish religion is probably true_. part iii. _the christian religion_. chap. xiii. that the christian religion is credible. " xiv. that the four gospels are genuine from external testimony. " xv. that the gospels are genuine from internal evidence. " xvi. that the gospels are genuine from the evidence of the acts. " xvii. that the resurrection of christ is probably true. " xviii. that the failure of other explanations increases this probability. " xix. that the other new testament miracles are probably true. " xx. that the jewish prophecies confirm the truth of christianity. " xxi. that the character of christ confirms the truth of christianity. " xxii. that the history of christianity confirms its truth. " xxiii. that on the whole the other evidence supports this conclusion. " xxiv. that the three creeds are deducible from the new testament. " xxv. that the truth of the christian religion is extremely probable. chapter xiii. that the christian religion is credible. by the christian religion is meant the three creeds, its four great doctrines. (_a._) the trinity. ( .) its meaning; three persons in one nature. ( .) its credibility; this must be admitted. ( .) its probability more likely than simple theism. (_b._) the incarnation. ( .) its difficulties; not insuperable. ( .) its motive; god, it is said, loves man, and wishes man to love him, not improbable for several reasons. ( .) its historical position. (_c._) the atonement. the common objections do not apply because of the _willingness_ of the victim. ( .) as to the victim; it does away with the injustice. ( .) as to the judge; it appeals to his mercy not justice. ( .) as to the sinner; it has no bad influence. (_d._) the resurrection. ( .) christ's resurrection; not incredible, for we have no experience to judge by. ( .) man's resurrection; not incredible, for the same body need not involve the same molecules. (_e._) conclusion. three considerations which show that the christian religion, though improbable, is certainly not incredible. we pass on now to the christian religion, by which we mean the facts and doctrines contained in the _three creeds_, commonly, though perhaps incorrectly, called the apostles', the nicene, and the athanasian. and, as these doctrines are of such vast importance, and of so wonderful a character, we must first consider whether they are _credible_. is it conceivable that such doctrines should be true, no matter what evidence they may have in their favour? in this chapter, therefore, we shall deal chiefly with the difficulties of christianity. now its four great and characteristic doctrines are those of the trinity, the incarnation, the atonement, and the resurrection. we will examine each in turn, and then conclude with a few general remarks. (_a._) the trinity. to begin with, the christian religion differs from all others in its idea of the nature of god. according to christianity, the deity exists in some mysterious manner as a _trinity of persons_ in a _unity of nature_; so we will first consider the meaning of this doctrine, then its credibility, and lastly its probability. it is not, as some people suppose, a kind of intellectual puzzle, but a statement which, whether true or false, is fairly intelligible, provided, of course, due attention is given to the meaning of the words employed. ( .) _its meaning._ in the first place, we must carefully distinguish between _person_ and _substance_; this is the key to the whole question. the former has been already considered in chapters iii. and iv., though it must be remembered that this term, like all others, when applied to god, cannot mean exactly the same as it does when applied to man. all we can say is that, on the whole, it seems the least inappropriate word. the latter is a little misleading, since it is not the modern english word _substance_, but a latin translation of a greek word, which would be better rendered by _nature_ or _essence_. but though difficult to explain, its meaning is tolerably clear. take, for instance, though the analogy must not be pressed too far, the case of three men; each is a distinct human _person_, but they all have a common human _nature_. this human nature, which may also be called human substance (in its old sense), humanity, or manhood, has of course no existence apart from the men whose nature it is; it is merely _that_ which they each possess in common, and the possession of which makes each of them a man. and hence, any attribute belonging to human nature would belong to each of the three men, so that each would be mortal, each subject to growth, etc. each would in fact possess the complete human nature, yet together there would not be three human natures, but only one. bearing this in mind, let us now turn to the doctrine of the trinity. this is expressed in vv. - of the athanasian creed as follows:-- . 'the catholic faith is this, that we worship one god in trinity, and trinity in unity. . 'neither confounding the persons, nor dividing the substance. . 'for there is one person of the father, another of the son, and another of the holy ghost. . 'but the godhead of the father, of the son, and of the holy ghost, is all one, the glory equal, the majesty co-eternal.' here, it will be noticed, vv. and give the _reasons_ for v. , so that the godhead in v. is, as we should have expected, the same as the divine _substance_ or nature in v. . thus the meaning is as follows:-- we must worship one god (as to nature) in trinity (of persons) and trinity (of persons) in unity (of nature); neither confusing the persons, for each is distinct; nor dividing the nature, for it is all one. thus far there is no intellectual difficulty in the statements of the creed. we do not mean that there is no difficulty in believing them to be true, or in accurately defining the terms used; but that, as statements, their meaning is quite intelligible. we now pass on to the following verses which are deductions from this, and show that as each of the three persons possesses the divine nature, all attributes of the godhead (_i.e._, of this one divine nature) are possessed by each of the three. each is therefore _eternal_, and yet there is only _one_ eternal nature. but this is expressed in a peculiarly short and abrupt manner. no one, of course, supposes that god is three _in the same sense_ in which he is one, but the creed does not sufficiently guard against this, perhaps because it never occurred to its author that anyone would think it meant such an obvious absurdity. moreover, even grammatically the verses are not very clear. for the various terms _uncreate_, _incomprehensible_ (_i.e._, boundless, or omnipresent), _eternal_, _almighty_, _god_, and _lord_ are used as if they were adjectives in the first part of each sentence, and nouns in the latter part. but we must remember these verses do not stand alone. if they did, they might perhaps be thought unintelligible. but they do not. as just said, they are deductions from the previous statement of the doctrine of the trinity; and, therefore, they must in all fairness be interpreted so as to agree with that doctrine, not to contradict it. and the previous verses ( - ) show clearly that where _three_ are spoken of, it refers to persons; and where _one_ is spoken of, it refers to substance or nature. it must however be admitted that the _names_ of these divine persons imply some closer union between them than that of merely possessing in common one divine nature. for they are not independent names like those of different men or of heathen gods, each of whom might exist separately; but they are all _relative_ names, each implying the others. thus the father implies the son, for how can there be a father, unless there is a son (or at least a child)? and of course an eternal father implies an eternal son, so any idea that the father must have lived first, as in the case of a human father and son, is out of the question. similarly the son implies the father, and the spirit implies him whose spirit he is. and though these names are no doubt very inadequate; they yet show that the three persons are of the same nature, which is the important point. we conclude then that the doctrine of the trinity means the existence of three divine persons, each possessing in its completeness the one divine nature; and closely united together; though in a manner, which is to us unknown. ( .) _its credibility._ having now discussed the meaning of the christian doctrine, we have next to consider whether it is credible. it must of course be admitted that the doctrine is very mysterious, and though fairly intelligible as a doctrine, is extremely hard to realise (indeed some might say inconceivable) when we try to picture to ourselves what the doctrine actually means. but we must remember that the nature of god is anyhow almost inconceivable, even as simple theism. we cannot picture to ourselves a being who is omnipresent,--in this room, for instance, as well as on distant stars. nor can we imagine a being who is grieved every time we commit sin, for if so, considering the number of people in the world, he must be grieved many thousands of times _every second_; as well as being glad whenever anyone resists sin, also, let us hope, several thousand times a second. all this may be true, just as the marvels of science--the _ether_, for instance, which is also omnipresent, and has millions of vibrations every second--may be true, but our minds are quite unable to realise any of them. thus, as said in chapter iii., though we have ample means of knowing what god is _in his relation to us_ as our creator and judge, yet as to his real nature we know next to nothing. nor is this surprising when we remember that the only being who in any way resembles god is _man_; and man's nature, notwithstanding all our opportunities of studying it, still remains a mystery. now christianity does attempt (in its doctrine of the trinity) to state what god is _in himself_, and without any reference to ourselves, or to nature; and that this should be to a great extent inconceivable to our minds seems inevitable. for the nature of god must be beyond human understanding, just as the nature of a man is beyond the understanding of animals; though they may realise what he is _to them_, in his power or his kindness. and for all we know, trinity in unity, like omnipresence, may be one of the unique attributes of god, which cannot be understood (because it cannot be shared) by anyone else. therefore the mysteriousness of the christian doctrine is no reason for thinking it incredible. nor is it inconsistent with natural religion, for though this shows the _unity_ of god, it is only a unity of _outward action_. it does not, and cannot tell us what this one god is _in himself_, whether, for instance, he exists as one or more persons. in the same way (if we may without irreverence take a homely illustration) a number of letters might be so extremely alike as to show that they were all written by one man. but this would not tell us what the man was _in himself_, whether, for instance, he had a free will, as well as a body and mind; or how these were related to one another. hence natural religion can in no way conflict with christianity. ( .) _its probability._ but we may go further than this, and say that the christian doctrine of _three_ divine persons is (when carefully considered) _less_ difficult to believe than the unitarian doctrine of only _one_. for this latter leads to the conclusion, either that god must have been a solitary god dwelling alone from all eternity, before the creation of the world; or else that the world itself (or some part of it) must have been eternal, and have formed a kind of companion. and each of these theories has great difficulties. take for instance the attributes of _power_ and _wisdom_, both of which, as we have seen, must of necessity belong to god. how could a solitary god dwelling alone before the creation of the world have been able to exercise either his power or his wisdom? as far as we can judge, his power could have produced nothing, his wisdom could have thought of nothing. he would have been a _potential_ god only, with all his capacities unrealised. and such a view seems quite incredible. yet the only alternative--that the world itself is eternal--though it gets over this difficulty, is still inadequate. for as we have seen god possesses _moral_ attributes as well, such as goodness. and all moral attributes--everything connected with right and wrong--can only be thought of as existing between two _persons_. we cannot be good to an atom of hydrogen, or unjust to a molecule of water. we can it is true be kind to _animals_, but this is simply because they resemble personal beings in having a capacity for pleasure and pain. but moral attributes in their highest perfection can only exist between two persons. therefore as the eternal god possesses, and must always have possessed, such attributes, it seems to require some other eternal _person_. the argument is perhaps a difficult one to follow, but a single example will make it plain. take the attribute of _love_. this requires at least two persons--one to love, the other to be loved. therefore if love has always been one of god's attributes, there must always have been some _other_ person to be loved. and the idea that god might have been eternally _creating_ persons, like men or angels, as objects of his love, though perhaps attractive, is still inadequate. for love in its perfection can only exist between two beings _of the same nature_. a man cannot love his dog, in the same way that he can love his son. in short, _personality_, involving as it does moral attributes like love, implies _fellowship_, or the existence of other and _similar_ persons. yet, when we think of the meaning of the term god, his omnipresence and omnipotence, it seems impossible that there can be more than one. we must then believe in at least two eternal and divine persons, yet in but one god; and the christian doctrine of the trinity in unity, with all its difficulties, still seems the _least_ difficult explanation. but this is not all, for natural religion itself leads us to look upon god in _three_ distinct ways, which correspond to the three chief arguments for his existence. (chaps. i., ii., and v.) thus we may think of him as the eternal, self-existent one, altogether independent of the world--the all-powerful _first cause_ required to account for it. or we may think of him in his relation to the world, as its maker and evolver, working everywhere, in everything and through everything,--the all-wise _designer_ required by nature. or we may think of him in his relation to ourselves as a spirit holding intercourse with our spirits, and telling us what is right--the all-good _moral_ god required by conscience. and how well this agrees with the christian doctrine scarcely needs pointing out; the father the source of all, the son by whom all things were made, and the spirit bearing witness with our spirits; and yet not three gods, but one god. on the whole, then, we decide that the doctrine of the trinity is certainly credible and perhaps even probable. for to put it shortly, nature forces us to believe in a personal god; yet, when we reflect on the subject, the idea of a personal god, who is only one person, seems scarcely tenable; since (as said above) personality implies fellowship. (_b._) the incarnation. we next come to the doctrine of the incarnation; which however is so clearly stated in the athanasian creed, that its meaning is quite plain. god the son, we are told, the second person of the trinity, was pleased to become man and to be born of the virgin mary, so that he is now both _god_ and _man_. he is god (from all eternity) of the substance or nature of his divine father, and man (since the incarnation) of the substance or nature of his human mother. he is thus complete god and complete man; equal to the father in regard to his godhead, for he is of the same nature; and inferior to the father, in regard to his manhood, for human nature must be inferior to the divine. moreover, though he possesses these two natures, they are not changed one into the other, or confused together; but each remains distinct, though both are united in his one person. this is in brief the doctrine of the incarnation; and we will first consider its difficulties, then its motive, and lastly its historical position. ( .) _its difficulties._ the first of these is that the incarnation would be a _change_ in the existence of god, who is the changeless one. he, it is urged, is always the same, while an incarnation would imply that at some particular time and place a momentous change occurred, and for ever afterwards god became different from what he had been for ever before. this is no doubt a serious difficulty, but it must not be exaggerated. for an incarnation would not, strictly speaking, involve any change in the divine nature itself. god the son remained completely and entirely god all the time, he was not (as just said) in any way changed into a man, only he united to himself a human nature as well. and perhaps if we knew more about the nature of god, and also about that of man (who we must remember was made to some extent in god's image, and this perhaps with a view to the incarnation), we should see that it was just as natural for god to become man, as it was for god to create man. we have really nothing to argue from. an incarnation seems improbable, and that is all we can say. but if it took place at all, there is nothing surprising in this planet being the one chosen for it. indeed, as far as we know, it is the only one that could be chosen, since it is the only one which contains personal beings in whom god could become incarnate. of course other planets _may_ contain such beings; but as said before (chapter v.) this is only a conjecture, and in the light of recent investigations not a very probable one. while if they do contain such beings, these may not have sinned, in which case our little world, with its erring inhabitants, would be like the lost sheep in the parable, the only one which the ruler of the universe had come to save. the second difficulty is, that the incarnation would lead to a _compound being_, who is both divine and human at the same time, and this is often thought to be incredible. but here the answer is obvious, and is suggested by the creed itself. man himself is a compound being; he is the union of a material body and an immaterial spirit, in a single person. his spirit is in fact _incarnate_ in his body. we cannot explain it, but so it is. and the incarnation in which christians believe is the union of the divine nature and the human nature in a single person. both appear equally improbable, and equally inconceivable to our minds, if we try and think out all that they involve; but as the one is actually true, the other is certainly not incredible. the third and last of these difficulties refers to the miraculous _virgin-birth_. but if we admit the possibility of an incarnation, no method of bringing it about can be pronounced incredible. the event, if true, is necessarily unique, and cannot be supposed to come under the ordinary laws of nature. for it was not the birth of a _new_ being (as in the case of ordinary men), but an already existing being entering into new conditions. and we have no experience of this whatever. indeed, that a child born in the usual way should be the eternal god, is just as miraculous, and just as far removed from our experience, as if he were born in any other way. while considering that one object of the incarnation was to promote moral virtues in man, such as purity, the virgin-birth was most suitable, and formed an appropriate beginning for a sinless life. ( .) _its motive._ but we now come to a more important point, for the incarnation, if true, must have been the most momentous event in the world's history; and can we even imagine a sufficient reason for it? god we may be sure does not act without motives, and what adequate motive can be suggested for the incarnation? now the alleged motive, indeed the very foundation of christianity, is that god _loves_ man; and as a natural consequence wishes man to love him. is this then incredible, or even improbable? certainly not, for several reasons. to begin with, as we have already shown, god is a personal and moral being, who cares for the welfare of his creatures, more especially for man. and this, allowing for the imperfection of human language, may be described as god's _loving_ man, since disinterested love for another cannot be thought an unworthy attribute to ascribe to god. on the other hand, man is also a personal and moral being, able to some extent to love god in return. and to this must be added the fact that man, at least some men, do not seem altogether unworthy of god's love, while we certainly do not know of any other being who is more worthy of it. moreover, considering the admitted resemblance between god and man, the analogy of human parents loving their children is not inappropriate. indeed it is specially suitable, since here also we have a relationship between two personal and moral beings, one of whom is the producer (though not in this case the creator) of the other. and human parents often love their children intensely, and will sometimes even die for them; while, as a rule, the better the parents are the more they love their children, and this in spite of the children having many faults. is it, then, unlikely that the creator may love his children also, and that human love may be only a reflection of this--another instance of how man was made in the image of god? the evidence we have may be slight, but it all points the same way. now, if it be admitted that god loves man, we have plainly no means of estimating the _extent_ of this love. but by comparing the other attributes of god, such as his wisdom and his power, with the similar attributes of man, we should expect god's love to be infinitely greater than any human love; so great indeed that he would be willing to make any sacrifice in order to gain what is the object in all love, that it should be returned. might not then god's love induce him to become man, so that he might the more easily win man's love? and we must remember that man's love, like his will, is _free_. compulsory love is in the nature of things impossible. a man can only love, what he can if he chooses hate. therefore god cannot force man to love him, he can only induce him; and how can he do this better than by an incarnation? for it would show, as nothing else could show, that god's love is a self-sacrificing love; and this is the highest form of love. indeed, if it were not so, in other words, if god's love cost him nothing, it would be _inferior_ in this respect to that of many men. but if, on the other hand, god's love involved self-sacrifice;--if it led to calvary--then it is the highest possible form of love. and then we see that god's attributes are all, so to speak, on the same scale; and his goodness is as far above any human goodness, as the power which rules the universe is above any human power; or the wisdom which designed all nature is above any human wisdom. hence, if the incarnation still seems inconceivable, may it not be simply because the love of god, like his other attributes, is so inconceivably greater than anything we can imagine? moreover a self-sacrificing love is the form, which is most likely to lead to its being returned. and experience proves that this has actually been the case. the condescending love of christ in his life, and still more in his death, forms an overpowering motive which, when once realised, has always been irresistible. but more than this. not only does the incarnation afford the strongest possible motive for man to love god, but it _enables_ him to do so in a way which nothing else could. man, it is true, often longs for some means of intercourse, or communion with his maker, yet this seems impossible. the gulf which separates the creator from the creature is infinite, and can never be bridged over by man, or even by an angel, or other intermediate being. for a bridge must of necessity touch _both sides_; so if the gulf is to be bridged at all, it can only be by one who is at the same time both god and man. thus the incarnation brings god, if we may use the expression, within man's reach, so that the latter has no mere abstract and invisible being to love, but a definite person, whose character he can appreciate, and whose conduct he can to some extent follow. in short, the incarnation provides man with a worthy being for his love and devotion, yet with a being whom he can partly at least understand and partly imitate. and he is thus able to become in a still truer sense a _child of god_; or, as it is commonly expressed, god became man in order that man might become as far as possible, like god. and this brings us to another aspect of the incarnation. christ's life was meant to be an _example_ to man, and it is clear that a _perfect_ example could only be given by a being who is both god and man. for god alone is above human imitation, and even the best of men have many faults; so that from the nature of the case, christ, and christ alone, can provide us with a perfect example, for being man he is capable of imitation, and being god he is worthy of it. now what follows from this? if christ's life was meant to be an example to man, it was essential that it should be one of _suffering_, or the example would have lost more than half its value. man does not want to be shown how to live in prosperity, but how to live in adversity, and how to suffer patiently. the desertion of friends, the malice of enemies, and a cruel death are the occasional lot of mankind. they are perhaps the hardest things a man has to bear in this world, and they have often had to be borne by the followers of christ. is it incredible, then, that he should have given them an example of the perfect way of doing so; gently rebuking his friends, praying for his murderers, and acting throughout as only a perfect man could act? no doubt such a life and death seem at first sight degrading to the deity. but strictly speaking, suffering, if borne voluntarily and for the benefit of others, is not degrading; especially if the benefit could not be obtained in any other way. when we consider all this, it is plain that many reasons can be given for the incarnation. of course it may be replied that they are not adequate; but we have no means of knowing whether god would consider them adequate or not. his ideas are not like ours; for what adequate motive can we suggest for his creating man at all? yet he has done so. and having created him and given him free will, and man having misused his freedom, all of which is admitted, then that god should endeavour to restore man cannot be thought incredible. indeed it seems almost due to himself that he should try and prevent his noblest work from being a failure. and if in addition to this god loves man still, in spite of his sins, then some intervention on his account seems almost probable. ( .) _its historical position._ it may still be objected that if the above reasons are really sufficient to account for the incarnation, it ought to have taken place near the commencement of man's history. and no doubt when we contemplate the great antiquity of man, this often seems a difficulty. but we have very little to judge by, and that little does not support the objection. for in nature god seems always to work by the slow and tedious process of evolution, not attaining what he wanted all at once, but by gradual development. therefore, if he revealed himself to man, we should expect it to be by the same method. at first it would be indistinctly, as in _natural religion_; which dates back to pre-historic times, since the burial customs show a belief in a future life. then it would be more clearly, as in the _jewish religion_; and finally it might be by becoming man himself, as in the _christian religion_. according to christianity, the whole previous history of the world was a preparation for the incarnation. but only when the preparation was complete, _when the fullness of the time came_, as st. paul expresses it,[ ] did it take place. and it has certainly proved, as we should have expected, an epoch-making event. in all probability the history of the world will always be considered relatively to it in years b.c. and a.d. and very possibly it has a significance far beyond man or even this planet. for we must remember, man is not merely a link in a series of created beings indefinitely improving, but, as shown in chapter v., he is the _end_ of the series, the last stage in evolution, the highest organised being that will ever appear on this planet, or, as far as we know, on any planet. [footnote : gal. . .] therefore, man's rank in the universe is not affected by the insignificance of this earth. where else shall we find a personal being with attributes superior to those of man? where else indeed shall we find a personal being at all? the only answer science can give is _nowhere_. but if so, man's position in the universe is one of unique pre-eminence. and it is this inherent greatness of man, as it has been called, which justifies the incarnation. _he is worthy that thou should'st do this for him._ moreover when we consider god the son as the divine person who is specially _immanent_ in nature, and who has been evolving the universe through countless ages from its original matter into higher and higher forms of life, there seems a special fitness in its leading up to such a climax as the incarnation. for then by becoming man, he united himself with matter in its highest and most perfect form. thus the incarnation, like the nebula theory in astronomy, or the process of evolution, if once accepted, throws a new light on the entire universe; and it has thus a grandeur and impressiveness about it, which to some minds is very attractive. on the whole, then, we decide that the doctrine is certainly not incredible, though it no doubt seems improbable. (_c._) the atonement. we pass on now to the doctrine of the atonement, which is that christ's death was in some sense a sacrifice for sin, and thus reconciled (or made 'at-one') god the father and sinful man. and though not actually stated in the creeds, it is implied in the words, _was crucified also for us_, and _who suffered for our salvation_. the chief difficulty is of course on moral grounds. the idea of atonement, it is said, or of one man being made to suffer as a substitute for another, and thus appeasing the deity, was well-nigh universal in early times, and is so still among savage nations. such a sacrifice, however, is a great injustice to the _victim_; it ascribes an unworthy character to god, as a _judge_, who can be satisfied with the punishment of an innocent man in place of the guilty one; and it has a bad influence on the _sinner_, allowing him to sin on with impunity, provided he can find another substitute when needed. the answer to this difficulty is, that it takes no account of the most important part of the christian doctrine, which is the _willingness_ of the victim. according to christianity, christ was a willing sacrifice, who freely laid down his life;[ ] while the human sacrifices just alluded to were not willing sacrifices, since the victims had no option in the matter. and, as we shall see, this alters the case completely both in regard to the victim himself, the judge, and the sinner. [footnote : _e.g._, john . .] ( .) _as to the victim._ it is plain that his willingness does away with the injustice altogether. there is no injustice in accepting a volunteer for any painful office, provided he thoroughly knows what he is doing, for he need not undertake it unless he likes. if, on the other hand, we deny the voluntary and sacrificial character of christ's death, and regard him as merely a good man, then there certainly was injustice--and very great injustice too, that such a noble life should have ended in such a shameful death. ( .) _as to the judge._ next as to the judge. it will be seen that a willing sacrifice, though it does not satisfy his _justice_, makes a strong appeal to his _mercy_; at least it would do so in human cases. suppose for instance a judge had before him a criminal who well deserved to be punished, but a good man, perhaps the judge's own son, came forward, and not only interceded for the prisoner, but was so devotedly attached to him as to offer to bear his punishment (pay his fine, for instance), this would certainly influence the judge in his favour. it would show that he was not so hopelessly bad after all. mercy and justice are thus both facts of human nature; and it is also a fact of human nature, that the voluntary suffering, or willingness to suffer, of a good man for a criminal whom he deeply loves, does incline man to mercy rather than justice. now, have we any reason for thinking that god also combines, in their highest forms, these two attributes of mercy and justice? certainly we have; for, as shown in chapter v., the goodness of god includes both _beneficence_ and _righteousness_; and these general terms, when applied to the case of judging sinners, closely correspond to mercy and justice. god, as we have seen, combines both, and both are required by the christian doctrine. mercy alone would have forgiven men without any atonement; justice alone would not have forgiven them at all. but god is both merciful and just, and therefore the idea that voluntary atonement might incline him to mercy rather than justice does not seem incredible. and this is precisely the christian doctrine. the mercy of god the father is obtained for sinful man by christ's generous sacrifice of himself on man's behalf; so that, to put it shortly, _god forgives sins for christ's sake_. and it should be noticed, the idea of sins being _forgiven_ which occurs all through the new testament, and is alluded to in the apostles' creed, shows that christ's atonement was not that of a mere substitute, for then no forgiveness would have been necessary. if, for example, i owe a man a sum of money, and a friend pays it for me, i do not ask the man to forgive me the debt; i have no need of any forgiveness. but if, instead of paying it, he merely intercedes for me, then the man may forgive me the debt for my friend's sake. and in this way, though christ did not, strictly speaking, bear man's _punishment_ (which would have been eternal separation from god), his sufferings and death may yet have procured man's _pardon_; he suffered on our behalf, though not in our stead. and some atonement was certainly necessary to show god's _hatred for sin_, and to prevent his character from being misunderstood in this respect. and it probably would have been so, if men had been forgiven without any atonement, when they might have thought that sin was not such a very serious affair after all. ( .) _as to the sinner._ lastly, the willingness of the victim affects the sinner also. for if the changed attitude of the judge is due, not to his justice being satisfied, but to his mercy being appealed to, this is plainly conditional on a _moral change_ in the sinner himself. a good man suffering for a criminal would not alter our feelings towards him, if he still chose to remain a criminal. and this exactly agrees with the christian doctrine, which is that sinners cannot expect to avail themselves of christ's atonement if they wilfully continue in sin; so that _repentance_ is a necessary condition of forgiveness. therefore instead of having a bad influence on the sinners themselves; it has precisely the opposite effect. and what we should thus expect theoretically has been amply confirmed by experience. no one will deny that christians in all ages have been devotedly attached to the doctrine of the atonement. they have asserted that it is the cause of all their joy in this world, and all their hope for the next. yet, so far from having had a bad influence, it has led them to the most noble and self-sacrificing lives. it has saved them from _sin_, and not only the penalties of sin, and this is exactly what was required. the greatness of man's sin, and the misery it causes in the world, are but too evident, apart from christianity. man is indeed both the glory and the scandal of the universe--the _glory_ in what he was evidently intended to be, and the _scandal_ in what, through sin, he actually became. and the atonement was a 'vast remedy for this vast evil.' and if we admit the _end_, that man had to be redeemed from sin, impressed with the guilt of sin, and helped to resist sin; we cannot deny the appropriateness of the _means_, which, as a matter of fact, has so often brought it about. this completes a brief examination of the moral difficulties connected with the atonement; and it is clear that the _willingness_ of the victim makes the whole difference, whether we regard them as referring to the victim himself, the judge, or the sinner. (_d._) the resurrection. the last great christian doctrine is that of the resurrection. according to christianity, all men are to rise again, with their bodies partly changed and rendered incorruptible; and the resurrection of christ's body was both a pledge of this, and also to some extent an example of what a risen body would be like. he was thus, as the bible says, the _firstborn_ from the dead.[ ] now this word _firstborn_ implies, to begin with, that none had been so born before, the cases of lazarus, etc., being those of _resuscitation_ and not _resurrection_; they lived again to die again, and their bodies were unchanged. and it implies, secondly, that others would be so born afterwards, so that our risen bodies will resemble his. the resurrection of christ is thus represented not as something altogether exceptional and unique, but rather as the first instance of what will one day be the universal rule. it shows us the last stage in man's long development, what he is intended to become when he is at length perfected. we will therefore consider first christ's resurrection, and then man's resurrection. [footnote : col. . ; rev. . ; cor. . ; acts. . .] ( .) _christ's resurrection._ now according to the gospels, christ's risen body combined material and immaterial properties in a remarkable manner. thus he could be touched and eat food, and yet apparently pass through closed doors and vanish at pleasure; and this is often thought to be incredible. but strictly speaking it is not _incredible_; since no material substance (a door or anything else) is _solid_. there are always spaces between the molecules; so that for one such body to pass through another is no more difficult to imagine, than for one regiment to march through another on parade. and if a regiment contained anything like as many men, as there are molecules in a door, it would probably look just as solid. moreover christ's risen body, though possessing some material properties, is represented to have been _spiritual_ as well. and the nearest approach to a spiritual substance of which we have any scientific knowledge is the _ether_, and this also seems to combine material and immaterial properties, being in some respects more like a solid than a gas. yet it can pass through all material substances; and this certainly prevents us from saying that it is incredible that christ's spiritual body should pass through closed doors. indeed for all we know, it may be one of the properties of spiritual beings, that they can pass through material substances (just as the x-rays can) and be generally invisible; yet be able, if they wish, to assume some of the properties of matter, such as becoming visible or audible. in fact, unless they were able to do this, it is hard to see how they could manifest themselves at all. and a slight alteration in the waves of light coming from a body would make it visible or not to the human eye. and it is out of the question to say that god--the omnipotent one--could not produce such a change in a spiritual body. while for such a body to become tangible, or to take food, is not really more wonderful (though it seems so) than for it to become visible or audible; since when once we pass the boundary between the natural and the supernatural everything is mysterious. it may of course be replied that though all this is not perhaps incredible, it is still most improbable; and no doubt it is. but what then? we have no adequate means of judging, for the fact, if true, is, up to the present, unique. it implies a _new_ mode of existence which is neither spiritual nor material, though possessing some of the properties of each, and of which we have no experience whatever. so we are naturally unable to understand it. but assuming the resurrection of christ to be otherwise credible, as it certainly is if we admit his incarnation and death, we cannot call it incredible, merely because the properties of his risen body are said to be different from those of ordinary human bodies, and in some respects to resemble those of spirits. it is in fact only what we should expect. ( .) _man's resurrection._ next as to man's resurrection. the christian doctrine of the resurrection of the _body_ must not be confused with that of the immortality of the _spirit_, discussed in chapter vi., which is common to many religions, and is certainly not improbable. but two objections may be made to the resurrection of the body. the first is that it is _impossible_, since the human body decomposes after death, and its molecules may afterwards form a part of other bodies; so, if all men were to rise again at the same time, those molecules would have to be in two places at once. but the fallacy here is obvious, for the molecules composing a man's body are continually changing during life, and it is probable that every one of them is changed in a few years; yet the identity of the body is not destroyed. this identity depends not on the identity of the molecules, but on their relative position and numbers so that a man's body in this respect is like a whirlpool in a stream, the water composing which is continually changing, though the whirlpool itself remains. therefore the resurrection need not be a resurrection of _relics_, as it is sometimes called. no doubt in the case of christ it was so, and perhaps it will be so in the case of some christians, only it _need_ not be so; and this removes at once the apparent impossibility of the doctrine. secondly, it may still be objected that the doctrine is extremely _improbable_. and no doubt it seems so. but once more we have no adequate means of judging. apart from experience, how very unlikely it would be that a seed when buried in the ground should develop into a plant; or that plants and trees, after being apparently dead all through the winter, should blossom again in the spring. thus everything connected with life is so mysterious that we can decide nothing except by experience. and therefore we cannot say what may, or may not happen in some future state, of which we have no experience whatever. indeed, if man's spirit is immortal, the fact that it is associated with a body during its life on this earth makes it not unlikely that it will be associated with a body of some kind during its future life. and that this body should be partly spiritual, and so resemble christ's risen body, is again only what we should expect. thus, on the whole, the doctrine of the resurrection is certainly credible. (_e._) conclusion. we have now examined the four great doctrines of christianity, the others either following directly from these, or not presenting any difficulty. and though, as we have shown, not one of these doctrines can be pronounced _incredible_, yet some of them, especially those of the incarnation and the atonement, certainly seem _improbable_. this must be fully and freely admitted. at the same time, it is only fair to remember that this improbability is distinctly lessened by the three following considerations. first, in regard to all these doctrines we have no _adequate_ means of deciding what is or is not probable. reason cannot judge where it has nothing to judge by; and apart from christianity itself, we know next to nothing as to what was god's object in creating man. if, then, these doctrines are true, their truth depends not on reason, but on revelation. all reason can do is to examine most carefully the evidence in favour of the alleged revelation. of this we should expect it to be able to judge, but not of the doctrines themselves. we are hence in a region where we cannot trust to our own sense of the fitness of things; and therefore the christian doctrines must not be condemned merely because we think them contrary to our reason. moreover many thoughtful men (including agnostics) do not consider them so. thus the late professor huxley once wrote, 'i have not the slightest objection to offer _a priori_ to all the propositions of the three creeds. the mysteries of the church are child's play compared with the mysteries of nature.'[ ] [footnote : quoted with his permission in bishop gore's bampton lectures, , p. , edition.] and this brings us to the next point, which is that many _other_ facts which are actually true appear equally improbable at first sight; such, for instance, as the existence of the ether, or the growth of plants. apart from experience, what an overwhelming argument could be made out against such facts as these. yet they concern subjects which are to a great extent within our comprehension, while christianity has to do with the nature and character of a god who is admittedly beyond our comprehension. may not the difficulties in both cases, but especially in regard to the latter, be due to our _ignorance_ only? the christian doctrines, we must remember, do not claim to have been revealed in all their bearings, but only in so far as they concern ourselves. thirdly, it should be noticed that, though individually these doctrines may seem improbable, yet, when considered as a whole, as in all fairness they ought to be, there is a complete harmony between them. their improbability is not _cumulative_. on the contrary, one often helps to explain the difficulties of another. this has been recognised by most writers, including many who can scarcely be called theologians. thus the great napoleon is reported to have said, 'if once the divine character of christ is admitted, christian doctrine exhibits the precision and clearness of algebra; so that we are struck with admiration at its scientific connection and unity.'[ ] [footnote : beauterne, sentiment de napoleon ^er sur le christianisme, new edition, paris, , p. .] in conclusion, it must be again pointed out that we are only now considering the _credibility_ of christianity, and not trying to make out that it appears a probable religion, at first sight, which it plainly does not. only its improbability is not so extremely great as to make it useless to consider the evidence in its favour. this is especially so when we remember that this improbability must have seemed far greater when christianity was first preached than it does now, when we are so accustomed to the religion. yet, as a matter of fact, the evidence in its favour did outweigh every difficulty, and finally convince the civilised world. what this evidence is we proceed to inquire. chapter xiv. that the four gospels are genuine from external testimony. (_a._) the undisputed testimony. end of second century; irenæus, his evidence of great value. (_b._) the almost undisputed testimony. ( .) justin martyr, a.d. , refers to some apostolic _memoirs_, which were publicly read among christians; and his quotations show that these were our four gospels. ( .) tatian, justin's disciple, a.d. , wrote the diatessaron, or harmony of four gospels. ( .) marcion, a.d. , wrote a gospel based on st. luke's. (_c._) the disputed testimony. ( .) papias, mentions the first two gospels by name. ( .) aristides, a.d. , alludes to some gospel as well known. ( .) the apostolic fathers, polycarp, ignatius, clement, barnabas, and the teaching of the twelve, seem to contain references to our gospels. having shown in the last chapter that the christian religion is _credible_, we have next to consider what evidence there is in its favour. now that it was founded on the alleged miracles and teaching of christ, and chiefly on his resurrection, is admitted by everyone. so we must first examine whether we have any trustworthy testimony as to these events; more especially whether the four gospels, which appear to contain such testimony, are genuine. by the _four gospels_, we of course mean those commonly ascribed to ss. matthew, mark, luke, and john; and by their being _genuine_, we mean that they were written, or compiled by those persons. and we will first consider the _external testimony_ borne by early christian writers to these gospels, leaving _the internal evidence_ from the books themselves for the next chapter. it may be mentioned at starting that we have no complete manuscripts of the gospels earlier than the beginning of the fourth century; but there is nothing surprising in this, as for the first two centuries books were generally written on _papyrus_, an extremely fragile material. therefore, with the exception of some fragments preserved in egypt, all documents of this period have entirely perished. a much better material, _vellum_, began to take the place of papyrus in the third century; but did not come into common use till the fourth. moreover, during the persecutions, which occurred at intervals up to the fourth century, all christian _writings_ were specially sought for, and destroyed. so the absence of earlier manuscripts though very unfortunate, is not perhaps unnatural; and it is anyhow no worse than in the case of classical works. i have seen it stated, for instance, that there are no manuscripts of either cicero, cæsar, tacitus, or josephus, within years of their time. (_a._) the undisputed testimony. passing on now to the testimony of early writers; we need not begin later than the end of the second century; since it is admitted by everyone that our four gospels were then well known. they were continually quoted by christian writers; they were universally ascribed to the authors we now ascribe them to; and they were always considered to be in some sense divinely inspired. as this is undisputed, we need not discuss the evidence; but one writer deserves to be mentioned, which is _irenæus_, bishop of lyons. his works date from about a.d. ; and he not only quotes the gospels frequently (about times altogether), but shows there were only _four_ of acknowledged authority. since the fanciful analogies he gives for this, likening the four gospels to the four rivers in paradise, and the four quarters of the globe, render it certain that the fact of there being four, neither more nor less, must have been undisputed in his day. moreover he had excellent means of knowing the truth; for he was born in asia minor, about a.d. , and brought up under polycarp, bishop of smyrna. and in later years he tells us how well he remembered his teacher. 'i can even describe the place where the blessed polycarp used to sit and discourse--his going out, too, and his coming in--his general mode of life and personal appearance, together with the discourses which he delivered to the people; also how he would speak of his familiar intercourse with john, and with the rest of those who had seen the lord; and how he would call their words to remembrance.'[ ] [footnote : irenæus, fragment of epistle to florinus. the translations here and elsewhere are from the ante-nicene christian library.] the importance of this passage, especially in regard to the fourth gospel, can scarcely be exaggerated. for is it conceivable that irenæus would have ascribed it to st. john, unless his teacher polycarp had done the same? or is it conceivable that polycarp, who personally knew st. john, could have been mistaken in the matter? the difficulties of either alternative are very great; yet there is no other, unless we admit that st. john was the author. it should also be noticed that irenæus, when discussing two readings of rev. . , supports one of them by saying that it is found _in all the most approved and ancient copies_; and was also maintained by men _who saw john face to face_.[ ] he had thus some idea as to the value of evidence; and he is not likely to have written as he did about the four gospels, unless he had seen of them equally _approved and ancient_ copies. [footnote : irenæus, bk. . .] (_b._) the almost undisputed testimony. we next come to the testimony of some earlier writers, which was formerly much disputed, but is now admitted by nearly all critics. ( .) _justin martyr._ by far the most important of these is _justin martyr_; whose works--two _apologies_ (or books written in defence of christianity) and a _dialogue_--date from about a.d. - . he was no ordinary convert, but a philosopher, and says that before he became a christian, he studied various philosophical systems and found them unsatisfactory; so we may be sure that he did not accept christianity without making some inquiries as to the facts on which it rested.[ ] and as his father and grandfather were natives of palestine, where he was born, he had ample means of finding out the truth. [footnote : dial., .] now justin does not allude to any of the evangelists by name, but he frequently quotes from the '_memoirs of the apostles_,' which he says were sometimes called _gospels_,[ ] and were publicly read and explained in the churches, together with the old testament prophets. and he gives no hint that this was a local or recent practice, but implies that it was the universal and well-established custom. these memoirs, he tells us,[ ] were written _by the apostles and their followers_, which exactly suits our present gospels, two of which are ascribed to apostles (st. matthew and st. john), and the other two to their immediate followers (st. mark and st. luke). and as justin was writing for unbelievers, not christians, there is nothing strange in his not mentioning the names of the individual writers. [footnote : apol. . ; dial., .] [footnote : dial., .] he has altogether about sixty quotations from these memoirs, and they describe precisely those events in the life of christ; which are recorded in our gospels, with scarcely any addition. very few of the quotations however are verbally accurate, and this used to be thought a difficulty. but as justin sometimes quotes the same passage differently, it is clear that he was relying on his memory; and had not looked up the reference, which in those days of manuscripts, without concordances, must have been a tedious process. also when quoting the old testament, he is almost equally inaccurate. moreover later writers, such as irenæus, who avowedly quoted from our gospels, are also inaccurate in small details. it is hence practically certain that justin was quoting from these gospels. ( .) _tatian._ and this is strongly confirmed by justin's disciple, _tatian_. he wrote a book about a.d. , discovered last century, called the _diatessaron_, which, as its name implies, was a kind of harmony of _four_ gospels. it was based chiefly on st. matthew's, the events peculiar to the others being introduced in various places. and its containing nearly the whole of _st. john's_ gospel is satisfactory; because it so happens that justin has fewer quotations from that gospel, than from the other three. we may say then with confidence, that our four gospels were well known to christians, and highly valued by them, in the middle of the second century. ( .) _marcion._ another important witness is marcion. he wrote (not later than a.d. ), a kind of gospel, so similar to st. luke's that one was evidently based on the other. and though his actual work is lost, tertullian (about a.d. ) quotes it so fully that it is fairly well-known; and that st. luke's is the earlier is now admitted by critics of all schools. therefore as matthew and mark are generally allowed to be earlier than luke, this shows that all these gospels were in circulation before a.d. . (_c._) the disputed testimony. we pass on now to the testimony of still earlier writers, all of which is more or less disputed by some critics. ( .) _papias._ and first as to papias. he was bishop of hierapolis in asia minor (about a hundred miles from ephesus) early in the second century; and only a few fragments of his writings have been preserved by irenæus and eusebius. we learn from the former that he was a disciple of st. john and a companion of polycarp; and considering that irenæus was himself polycarp's pupil, there is no reason to doubt this.[ ] now papias tells us himself what were his sources of information: 'if, then, anyone who had attended on the elders came, i asked minutely after their sayings,--what andrew or peter said, or what was said by philip, or by thomas, or by james, or by john, or by matthew, or by any other of the lord's disciples: which things aristion and the presbyter john, the disciples of the lord, say. for i imagined that what was to be got from books was not so profitable to me as what came from the living and abiding voice.' [footnote : irenæus, bk. . .] he had thus very good means of knowing the truth, for though the apostles themselves were dead, two of christ's disciples (aristion and the presbyter john) were still alive when he made his inquiries. and he refers to the first two gospels by name. he says, 'matthew put together the oracles in the hebrew language, and each one interpreted them as best he could.' and 'mark, having become the interpreter of peter, wrote down accurately whatsoever he remembered. it was not, however, in exact order that he related the sayings or deeds of christ. for he neither heard the lord nor accompanied him. but afterwards, as i said, he accompanied peter.'[ ] [footnote : eusebius, hist., iii. .] and his testimony in regard to _st. matthew_ is specially important, because in the passage just quoted he says that he had spoken to those who had known st. matthew personally; and had carefully questioned them about what he had said. and this makes it difficult to believe that he should have been mistaken as to his having written the gospel. nor is it likely that the work of st. matthew known to papias was different from the gospel which we now have, and which was so frequently quoted by justin a few years later. whether papias was acquainted with the third and fourth gospels cannot be decided for certain, unless his works should be recovered; but there are slight indications that he knew them. ( .) _aristides._ next as to aristides. he was a philosopher at athens, and addressed an apology to the emperor, hadrian, in a.d. , which was recovered in . he has no _quotation_ from the gospels, but what is equally important, he gives a summary of christian doctrine, including the divinity, incarnation, virgin-birth, resurrection and ascension of christ; and says that it is _taught in the gospel_, where men can _read_ it for themselves. and this shows that some gospel, containing this teaching, was then in existence, and easily accessible. ( .) _the apostolic fathers._ the last group of writers to be examined are those who lived soon after the apostles. the chief of these are _polycarp_ of smyrna, the disciple of st. john, martyred in a.d. , when he had been a christian years; _ignatius_ of antioch, also martyred in his old age, about a.d. ; _clement_ of rome, perhaps the companion of st. paul;[ ] and the writers of the so-called _epistle of barnabas_, and _teaching of the twelve apostles_. their dates are not known for certain, but it is now generally admitted by rationalists as well as christians that they all wrote before a.d. , and probably before . thus the _encyclopædia biblica_ (article _gospels_) dates their works, polycarp ; ignatius ( epistles) before ; barnabas, probably before ; clement ; teaching - . [footnote : phil. . .] now none of these writers mention the gospels by _name_; but this is no argument to show that they were not quoting them, because the same writers, when admittedly quoting st. paul's epistles, also do it at times, without in any way referring to him. and later christian writers do precisely the same; the gospels are often not quoted by name, but their language is continually employed, much as it is by preachers at the present day. if, then, we find in these writers passages similar to those in our gospels, the inference is that they are quoting from them; and, as a matter of fact, we do find such passages, though they are not numerous. a single example may be given from each. _polycarp._ 'but being mindful of what the lord said in his teaching; judge not, that ye be not judged; forgive, and it shall be forgiven unto you; be merciful, that ye may obtain mercy; with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again; and once more, blessed are the poor, and those that are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of god.'[ ] [footnote : polycarp, ch. ii.; luke . - ; matt. . , .] _ignatius._ 'for i know that after his resurrection also, he was still possessed of flesh, and i believe that he is so now. when, for instance, he came to those who were with peter, he said to them, "lay hold, handle me, and see that i am not an incorporeal spirit."'[ ] [footnote : ignatius to smyrnæans, ch. iii.; luke . .] _barnabas._ 'let us beware lest we be found, as it is written, many are called, but few are chosen.'[ ] [footnote : barnabas, ch. iv.; matt. . .] _clement._ 'remember the words of our lord jesus christ, how he said, woe to that man! it were better for him that he had never been born, than that he should cast a stumbling-block before one of my elect. yea, it were better for him that a millstone should be hung about (his neck), and he should be sunk in the depths of the sea, than that he should cast a stumbling-block before one of my little ones.'[ ] [footnote : clement, ch. xlvi.; luke . . .] _teaching._ 'having said beforehand all these things, baptize ye in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost in living water.'[ ] [footnote : teaching, ch. vii.; matt. . .] the passage from barnabas deserves special mention, since here we have words which only occur in our gospels, introduced with the phrase _as it is written_, which is only used of scripture quotations. and this shows conclusively that at the time of the writer, some gospel containing these words must have been well known, and considered of high authority. and the attempts to explain it away as being from the book of esdras,[ ] where the words are, 'there be many created, but few shall be saved;' or else as an error on the part of the writer, who thought they came somewhere in the old testament, are quite inadmissible. [footnote : esdr. . .] but it may be said, may not all these quotations be from some _lost gospel_? of course they may. it is always possible to refer quotations not to the only book in which we know they do occur, but to some imaginary book in which they might occur. there is, however, no need to do so in this case, as all the evidence points the other way. though, even if we do, it does not materially affect the argument; for while it weakens the evidence for our gospels, it increases that for the _facts_ which they record; and this is the important point. suppose, for instance, the passage in ignatius was not taken from st. luke's, but from some _lost_ gospel. it could not then be quoted to show that st. luke's gospel was known to ignatius. but it would afford additional evidence that christ really did rise from the dead, that when he appeared to his apostles, they at first thought he was a spirit; and that he took the obvious means of convincing them, by asking them to handle his body. all this would then be vouched for, not only by st. luke's gospel; but also by some _other_ early christian writing, which as ignatius quotes it in a.d. must certainly have been written in the first century, and must have been considered by him as conclusive evidence. for he is careful to distinguish between what he thus _knows_ (that christ had a body after his resurrection) and what he merely _believes_ (that he has one now). and the same applies in other cases. and if it be further urged that these writers would have referred more frequently to the gospels, had they really known them, we must remember that their writings are generally short; and while a single quotation proves the previous existence of the document quoted, ten pages without a quotation do not disprove it. moreover when they refer to the sayings of christ, or the events of his life, they always do so without the slightest hesitation; as if everyone acknowledged them to be true. and as we have seen, their allusions often begin with the words _remember_ or _be mindful of_, clearly showing that they expected their readers to know them already. hence some books must then have existed which were well known, containing a life of christ; and the improbability of these having perished, and a fresh set of gospels having been published in a few years, is very great. and the evidence in regard to the _third_ gospel is particularly strong, since it was addressed to theophilus, who was clearly a prominent convert; and he must have known from whom the book came, even if for some reason this was not stated in the heading. and as he is not likely to have kept it secret, the authorship of the book must have been well known to christians from the very beginning. therefore the testimony of early writers, like irenæus, who always ascribed it to st. luke, becomes of exceptional value; and makes it almost certain that he was the author. we may now sum up the _external testimony_ to the four gospels. it shows that at the _beginning_ of the second century they were well known to christian writers, and this alone would necessitate their having been written in the first century, or at all events before a.d. . and thanks to modern discoveries, especially that of the _diatessaron_, this is now generally admitted. it may indeed be considered as one of the definite results of recent controversies. but if so, it is, to say the least, distinctly probable that they were written by the men to whom they have been universally ascribed. we have thus strong external testimony in favour of the genuineness of the four gospels. chapter xv. that the gospels are genuine from internal evidence. (_a._) the first three gospels. ( .) their general accuracy; this is shown by secular history, where they can be tested. ( .) their sources; the triple tradition; other early documents. ( .) their probable date; before the destruction of jerusalem, a.d. . (_b._) the fourth gospel. ( .) its authorship. the writer appears to have lived in the first century, and to have been an eye-witness of what he describes; so probably st. john. ( .) its connection with the other gospels. it was meant to supplement them; and it does not show a different christ, either in language or character. ( .) its connection with the book of revelation. this admitted to be by st. john, and the gospel was probably by the same author. having decided in the last chapter that the four gospels are probably genuine from _external testimony_, we pass on now to the _internal evidence_, which, it will be seen, strongly supports this conclusion. for convenience we will examine the first three, commonly called the _synoptic_ gospels, separately from the fourth, which is of a different character. (_a._) the first three gospels. in dealing with these gospels, we will first consider their general accuracy, then their sources, and then their probable date. ( .) _their general accuracy._ it is now admitted by everyone that the writers show a thorough acquaintance with palestine both as to its geography, history, and people, especially the political and social state of the country in the half-century preceding the fall of jerusalem (a.d. ). the jewish historian josephus, who wrote about a.d. , gives us a vivid description of this; and everything we read in the gospels is in entire agreement with it. in regard to the actual events recorded, we have, as a rule, no other account, but where we have, with the doubtful exception of the enrolment under _quirinius_, their accuracy is fully confirmed. according to st. luke[ ] this enrolment occurred while herod was king, and therefore not later than what we now call b.c. , when herod died; but, according to josephus and other authorities, quirinius was governor of syria, and carried out his taxing in a.d. . [footnote : luke . (r.v.).] this used to be thought one of the most serious mistakes in the bible, but modern discoveries have shown that it is probably correct. to begin with, an inscription was found at tivoli in , which shows that quirinius was _twice_ governor of syria, or at least held some important office there. and this has been confirmed quite recently by an inscription found at antioch, which shows that the former time was about b.c. .[ ] there is thus very likely an end of that difficulty, though it must be admitted that it would place the birth of christ a little earlier than the usually accepted b.c. , which however some critics think probable for other reasons. [footnote : ramsay, 'bearing of recent discovery on new testament.' , p. - .] next it will be noticed that st. luke says that this was the _first_ enrolment, implying that he knew of others; and discoveries in egypt have confirmed this in a remarkable manner. for they have shown that it was the custom of the romans to have a _periodical_ enrolment of that country (and therefore presumably of the adjacent country of syria) every fourteen years. some of the actual census papers have been found for a.d. , , , , etc., and it is extremely probable that the system started in b.c. - , though the first enrolment may have been delayed a few years in palestine, which was partly independent. and st. luke's statement that everyone had to go to _his own city_, which was long thought to be a difficulty, has been partly confirmed as well. for a decree has been discovered in egypt, dated in the seventh year of trajan (a.d. ), ordering all persons to return to their own districts before the approaching census,[ ] which is worded as if it were the usual custom. the next census in a.d. , which is the one referred to by josephus, is also mentioned by st. luke;[ ] but he knew, what his critics did not, that it was only one of a series, and that the _first_ of the series took place at an earlier date. [footnote : ramsay, p. .] [footnote : acts. . .] curiously enough, there used to be a very similar error, charged against st. luke, in regard to lysanias; whom he says was tetrarch of abilene, a district near damascus, in the fifteenth year of tiberius, about a.d. .[ ] yet the only ruler of this name known to history in those parts was a king, who was killed in b.c. . but inscriptions found at baalbec, and abila (the latter dating somewhere between a.d. - ) show that there was a second lysanias, hitherto unknown, who is expressly called the _tetrarch_ and who is now admitted to be the one referred to by st. luke.[ ] on the whole then, these gospels, wherever we have any means of testing them by secular history, appear to be substantially accurate. [footnote : luke . .] [footnote : boeckh's corp. ins. gr., no. ; ramsay, 'bearing of recent discovery on new testament.' , p. .] but it may be said, do not the gospels themselves contradict one another in some places, and if so they cannot all be correct? now that there are some apparent contradictions, especially in the narratives of the resurrection (see chapter xvii.), must of course be admitted; but many of these can be explained satisfactorily, and those which cannot are as a rule quite trivial. for example,[ ] st. matthew relates that at christ's baptism the voice from heaven said, '_this_ is my beloved son in _whom_ i am well pleased;' and the other evangelists, '_thou_ art my beloved son, in _thee_ i am well pleased.' there is a clear verbal discrepancy, whatever words were used, or in whatever language they were spoken. again, st. matthew records the passage about the queen of the south as being spoken just after, and st. luke as just before, the similar passage about the men of nineveh, though both can hardly be correct. such mistakes as these, however, do not interfere with the substantial accuracy of the narratives. [footnote : matt. . ; . ; mark . ; luke . ; . .] ( .) _their sources._ now the first three gospels have, as is well known, a number of identical passages, which must plainly be due to _copying_ in some form, either two evangelists copying the third, or all three some earlier document. the portion they have in common (often called the _triple tradition_) includes some of the parables of christ, and several of his miracles, such as calming the storm, feeding the five thousand, curing the man at gadara, and raising the daughter of jairus. if, as is probable, it represents the testimony of a single witness, there is little difficulty in identifying him with st. peter. but it is _most unlikely_ for the _whole_ of this earlier document to have been included in three separate gospels; it is sure to have contained something that was only copied by one or two. therefore most scholars are now of opinion that the so-called triple tradition was merely our st. mark's gospel, practically all of which was copied, either by st. matthew or st. luke, if not by both. and this is certainly probable, for the many graphic details in this gospel show that it must date from an extremely early time; so it was most likely known to the other evangelists. it would also agree with the statement of papias (quoted in the last chapter) that st. mark got his information from st. peter. and as some of it has to do with events, such as the transfiguration, when st. peter was present, and st. matthew was not, there is nothing improbable in st. matthew (as well as st. luke) including part of it in his gospel. this however is not all; for our first and third gospels also contain a good deal in common, which is not in mark, and this looks like another older document, often called 'q' from the german _quelle_, meaning '_source_.' it consists chiefly of discourses and parables, though including at least one miracle, that of healing the centurion's servant, and is admitted by most critics to date from before a.d. . but here again, it is unlikely for the _whole_ of this earlier document to have been included in two separate gospels, it is sure to have contained something else besides. moreover, _as thus restored_ (from matthew and luke) it is obviously incomplete. it contains scarcely any narrative to explain how the discourses arose, and of necessity it omits everything in christ's life which is recorded by st. mark as well, for this has been already assigned to the so-called triple tradition. therefore when it was complete, it must have contained a good deal more, which may well have been the remainder of our st. matthew's gospel. st. luke would then have only included _a part_ of what st. matthew wrote, just as they both only included a part of what st. mark wrote. and the supposed second document would be our st. matthew's gospel, just as the supposed triple tradition is now thought to be our st. mark's gospel. there are difficulties on every theory, but on the whole this seems as satisfactory as any other, and it accounts fairly well for the first two gospels. but the third gospel requires further explanation, for besides what is copied from the other two, it contains a good deal of additional matter, such as the parable of the prodigal son, which st. luke must have got from some other source. while he expressly says that _many_ had written before himself; so there were several such sources in existence. and this was only natural, for the christian religion spread rapidly, and st. luke himself shows us what its converts were taught. for he says that he only wrote his gospel to convince theophilus of the things about which he had already been instructed.[ ] clearly then the course of instruction must have included what the gospel included; and this was the whole of christ's life, from his virgin-birth to his ascension. it is hence probable that from the very first christian teachers had some account of that life. [footnote : luke . - .] and this probability becomes almost a certainty in the light of modern discoveries. for quantities of old _papyri_ have been found in egypt, which show that at the time of christ, writing was in common use among all classes; soldiers, farmers, servants, schoolboys, were all accustomed to write. therefore, as it has been well said, 'so far as antecedent probability goes, founded on the general character of preceding and contemporary society, the first christian account of the circumstances connected with the death of jesus must be presumed to have been written in the year when jesus died.'[ ] and since st. luke, when he was at jerusalem met several of the _elders_ there, including christ's brother, st. james,[ ] he probably had access to all existing documents. [footnote : ramsay, transactions of victoria institute, vol. xxxix., , p. .] [footnote : acts . .] there is thus no reason to doubt his own statement, that he had ample means of knowing the truth, _from the beginning_. and this, he says, was the very reason why he determined to write; so a more trustworthy historian can scarcely be imagined.[ ] fortunately, however, though dividing the gospels into their original parts is an interesting study, it is in no way essential to our present argument. [footnote : luke . - .] ( .) _their probable date._ we now come to the _probable date_ of the first three gospels; and there are strong reasons for fixing this before the fall of jerusalem, in a.d. . in the first place several _subjects_ are discussed, such as the lawfulness of the jews paying tribute to cæsar,[ ] which would have had no interest after that event. and that conversations on such subjects should have been composed in later days, or even thought worth recording, is most unlikely. nor are christ's instructions as to what persons should do when they bring their gifts to the altar, likely to have been recorded after the altar, and everything connected with it, had been totally destroyed.[ ] [footnote : matt. . .] [footnote : matt. . .] secondly, nearly all the _parables_ of christ have very strong marks of truthfulness, as they are thoroughly natural in character, and suit the customs and scenery of palestine. moreover, they are unique in christian literature. however strange we may think it, the early christians never seem to have adopted christ's method of teaching by parables. yet, if they had composed these parables, instead of merely recording them, they would doubtless have composed others like them. it is hence probable that these discourses are genuine; and, if so, they must obviously have been written down very soon afterwards. thirdly, there are a few passages which deserve special mention. two of these are christ's saying that (apparently) there would not be time to go through the cities of israel before his second coming; and that some of his hearers would not die till the end of the world.[ ] that such statements should have been composed in later years is out of the question; so we can only conclude that they were actually spoken by christ. and they show that the gospels must not only have been written when some of christ's hearers were still alive, but that they could not have been revised afterwards; or the passages would not have been allowed to remain as they are. [footnote : matt. . ; . ; mark . ; luke . ; but some other texts imply the contrary--_e.g._, matt. . ; mark . , ; . ; luke . .] another is the statement that the potter's field was called the field of blood _unto this day_;[ ] which could scarcely have been written when the whole city was little more than a heap of ruins. of course, on the other hand, it could not have been written immediately after the time of christ, but twenty years would probably be a sufficient interval. [footnote : matt. . ; see also . .] fourthly, there is the prophetic description of the _fall of jerusalem_ itself, which seems confused by the evangelists with that of the day of judgment, st. matthew saying, and both the others implying, that the one would immediately follow the other.[ ] had the gospels been written after the former event, it is almost certain that the writers would have distinguished between the two; indeed, their not doing so is scarcely intelligible, unless we assume that when they wrote, both events were still future. [footnote : matt. . , ; mark . ; luke . .] and this is confirmed by the curious hint given to the readers both in matthew and mark to _understand_, and act on christ's advice, and leave the city and go to the mountains, before the siege became too severe.[ ] plainly such a warning could not have been written _after_ the siege, when it would have been useless. it must have been written _before_; so if it is a later insertion, as it seems to be, it proves a still earlier date for the rest of the chapter. moreover, none of the evangelists have altered the passage, as later writers might have done, to make it agree with the event; since as far as we know, the christians did not go to _the mountains_, but to pella, a city in the jordan valley.[ ] [footnote : matt. . ; mark . ; luke . .] [footnote : eusebius, hist., iii. .] st. luke, it will be noticed, omits the hint just referred to, and as his account of christ's prophecy of the siege is rather more detailed than the others, it is sometimes thought to have been written _after_ the event. but this is a needless assumption, for the hint would have been quite useless to theophilus, to whom the gospel was addressed; and the prophecy is anyhow no closer than that in deut. ., which everyone admits was written centuries before (chapter xi.). on the whole, then, everything points to our first three gospels having been written some years before the destruction of jerusalem, a.d. ; and most likely by the evangelists, to whom they have been universally ascribed. it may also be added, in regard to the evangelists themselves, _st. matthew_ the apostle was a publican or tax-collector, so just the sort of person to keep records, in either greek or hebrew.[ ] _st. mark_ came of a wealthy family, as his relative, barnabas, had some property; and his mother, mary, had a large house at jerusalem, where christians used to assemble, and where it has been thought the last supper was held.[ ] and the _young man_ who followed from here to gethsemane was probably st. mark himself, or he would not have recorded such a trivial incident.[ ] [footnote : matt. . .] [footnote : acts . ; . ; . ; col. . .] [footnote : mark . .] and _st. luke_, as we shall see in the next chapter, was a doctor, who says he got his information from _eye-witnesses_. and if he was the companion of cleopas, as is perhaps probable (for such a graphic narrative must have come from one who was present, yet the language is thoroughly that of st. luke), he would also have had some slight knowledge of christ himself.[ ] and in similar cases where st. john speaks of two disciples, but gives the name of only one, it is practically certain that he himself was the other.[ ] moreover st. luke says that his gospel, which only goes as far as the ascension, was about _those matters which have been fulfilled among us_[ ] (_i.e._, which have _occurred_ among us), and this implies that it was written in palestine at a very early date, and that st. luke himself was there during at least part of the time referred to. [footnote : luke . ; _expositor_, feb., .] [footnote : john . ; . .] [footnote : luke . . (r.v.). a short paper on _fulfilled among us_, by the present writer, appeared in the _churchman_, aug. .] all three must thus have been well-educated men, and quite in a position to write gospels if they wanted to. while as none of them seem to have taken a prominent part in the founding of christianity, there was no reason for ascribing the gospels to them, rather than to such great men as st. peter and st. paul, unless they actually wrote them. (_b._) the fourth gospel. we pass on now to the fourth gospel, and will first examine the internal arguments as to its authorship, which are strongly in favour of its being the work of st. john; and then the two arguments on the opposite side, said to be derived from its connection with the other gospels, and the book of revelation. ( .) _its authorship._ to begin with, the writer appears to have lived in the _first century_. this is probable from his intimate acquaintance with jerusalem, and as before said that city was only a heap of ruins after a.d. . thus he speaks of bethesda, the pool near the sheep-gate, having five porches; of solomon's porch; of the pool of siloam; and of the temple, with its treasury; its oxen, sheep, and doves for sacrifice; and its money-changers for changing foreign money into jewish, in which alone the temple tax could be paid. and his mention of bethesda is specially interesting as he uses the present tense, _there is in jerusalem_, etc., implying that the gate and porches were still standing (and therefore the city not yet destroyed) when he wrote.[ ] [footnote : john . .] secondly, the writer appears to have been an _eye-witness_ of what he describes. he twice asserts this himself, as well as in an epistle which is generally admitted to be by the same writer, where he declares that he had both seen, heard, and touched his master.[ ] so, if this is not true, the work must be a deliberate forgery; which is certainly improbable. moreover, he frequently identifies himself with the twelve apostles, recording their feelings and reflections in a way which would be very unlikely for any late writer to have thought of. would a late writer, for instance, have thought of inventing questions which the apostles wanted to ask their master, but were afraid to do so? or would he have thought it worth repeating so often that they did not understand at the time the real significance of the events they took part in?[ ] [footnote : john . ; . ; john . .] [footnote : _e.g._, john . , ; . ; . ; . .] the author is also very particular as to times and places. take, for instance, the passage . - . , with its expressions _on the morrow_, _again on the morrow_, _about the tenth hour_, _on the morrow_, _and the third day_, _and there they abode not many days_. it reads like extracts from an old diary, and why should all these insignificant details be recorded? what did it matter half a century later whether it was the same day, or on the morrow, or the third day; or whether they stayed many days in capernaum, or only a few; as no hint is given as to why they went there, or what they did? the only reasonable explanation is that the writer was present himself (being of course the unnamed companion of st. andrew); that this was the turning-point in his life when he first saw his lord; and that therefore he loved to recall every detail. and it may be noticed in passing that this passage explains an apparent difficulty in the other gospels, where it is stated that these apostles were called to follow christ, after the death of st. john the baptist; though with a suddenness and ready obedience on their part, which is hard to believe.[ ] but we here learn that they had already been with christ some months before, in company with the baptist, so they were doubtless prepared for the call when it came. and the passage, like many others, bears internal marks of truthfulness. in particular may be mentioned the words of nathanael, _thou art the son of god, thou art the king of israel_, implying that the latter title was at least as honourable as the former. no christian in later times, when christ was obviously not the king of israel (except in a purely spiritual sense), and when the title _son of god_ had come to mean so much more than it ever did to the jews, would have arranged it thus. [footnote : _e.g._, mark . - .] lastly, if we admit that the writer was an eye-witness, it can hardly be disputed that he was the apostle _st. john_. indeed, were he anyone else, it is strange that an apostle of such importance should not be once mentioned throughout the gospel. it is also significant that the other john, who is described in the first three gospels as john the _baptist_, to distinguish him from the apostle, is here called merely _john_. no confusion could arise if, and only if, the writer himself were the apostle john. while still more important is the fact that at the close of the gospel, we have a solemn declaration made by the author's own friends that he was the _disciple whom jesus loved_ (admitted by nearly everyone to be st. john), that he had witnessed the things he wrote about, and that what he said was true. and testimony more ancient or more conclusive can scarcely be imagined. with regard to the _date_ of the book, we can say little for certain. but the extreme care which is taken in these closing verses to explain exactly what christ did, and did not say, as to st. john's dying, before his coming again, seems to imply that the matter was still undecided, in other words that st. john was still alive, though very old, when they were written. and if so the gospel must have been _published_ (probably in some gentile city, like ephesus, from the way the jews are spoken of)[ ] towards the close of the first century; though a large part of it may have been _written_ in the shape of notes, etc., long before. [footnote : _e.g._, john . ; . ; . .] ( .) _its connection with the other gospels._ but, as before said, there are two arguments against the genuineness of this gospel. the first is that the christ of the fourth gospel is almost a different person from the christ of the other three. the _events_ of his life are different, his _language_ is different, and his _character_ is different; while, when the gospels cover the same ground, there are _discrepancies_ between them. but every part of this objection admits of a satisfactory answer. to begin with, the fact that the fourth gospel narrates different _events_ in the life of christ from what we find in the other three must of course be admitted. but what then? why should not one biography of christ narrate certain events in his life, which the writer thought important, but which had been omitted in previous accounts? this is what occurs frequently at the present day, and why should it not have occurred then? the fourth gospel may have been written on purpose to _supplement_ some other accounts. and there is strong evidence from the book itself that this was actually the case. for the writer refers to many events without describing them, and in such a way as to show that he thought his readers knew about them. he assumes, for instance, that they know about st. john the baptist being imprisoned, about joseph being the supposed father of christ, and about the appointment of the twelve.[ ] it is probable then that the gospel was written for well-instructed christians, who possessed some other accounts of christ's life. and everything points to these being our first three gospels. [footnote : john . ; . , .] then as to the _language_ ascribed to christ in the fourth gospel being different from that in the others. this is no doubt partly true, especially in regard to his speaking of himself as _the son_, in the same way in which god is _the father_. but it so happens that we have in these other gospels at least three similar passages[ ] which show that christ did occasionally speak in this way. and there is no reason why st. john should not have preserved such discourses because the other evangelists had omitted to do so. on the other hand, the title _son of man_ (applied to christ) occurs repeatedly in all the gospels, though strange to say only in the mouth of christ himself. this is a striking detail, in which st. john entirely agrees with the other evangelists. [footnote : matt. . - ; . ; . ; mark . ; luke . , .] the next part of the objection is that the _character_ assigned to christ in the fourth gospel is different from that in the other three; since instead of teaching moral virtues as in the sermon on the mount, he keeps asserting his own divine nature. and this also is partly true, for the fourth gospel shows the divinity of christ more directly than the others, which only imply it (chapter xxi.). and very probably the writer did so on purpose, thinking that this aspect of christ's character had not been sufficiently emphasised in the previous accounts. indeed, he implies it himself, for he says that he omitted much that he might have inserted, and merely recorded what he did in order to convince his readers that jesus was the christ, the son of god.[ ] [footnote : john . .] but no argument for a late date can be drawn from this. because four of st. paul's epistles (_i.e._ rom.; cor.; cor.; and gal.) which have been admitted to be genuine by critics of all schools, describe exactly the same christ as we find in the fourth gospel, speaking of his divinity, pre-existence, and incarnation (chapter xxi.). and from the way in which st. paul alludes to these doctrines he evidently considered them the common belief of all christians when he wrote, about a.d. . so the fact of the fourth gospel laying stress on these doctrines is no reason whatever against either its genuineness or its early date. indeed, it seems to supply just those discourses of christ which are necessary to account for st. paul's language. lastly, as to the _discrepancies_. the one most often alleged is that according to the first three gospels (in opposition to the fourth) christ's ministry never reached jerusalem till just before his death. but this is a mistake, for though they do not relate his attendance at the jewish feasts, like st. john does, they imply by the word _often_ ('how _often_ would i have gathered thy children,'[ ] etc.) that he had frequently visited the city, and preached there. and one of them also refers to an earlier visit of christ, to martha and mary, which shows that he had been to bethany (close to jerusalem) some time before.[ ] [footnote : matt. . ; luke . .] [footnote : luke . .] another difficulty (it is scarcely a discrepancy) is the fact that such a striking miracle as the raising of lazarus, which is described in the fourth gospel, should have been _omitted_ in the other three. it is certainly strange, but these evangelists themselves tell us there were _other_ instances of raising the dead, which they do not record,[ ] and they probably knew of it, as it alone explains the great enthusiasm with which christ was received at jerusalem. this they all relate, and st. luke's saying that it was due to the _mighty works_, which the people had _seen_, implies that there had been some striking miracles in the neighbourhood.[ ] [footnote : matt. . ; . ; luke . .] [footnote : luke . .] on the other hand, there are several _undesigned agreements_ between the gospels, which are a strong argument in favour of their accuracy. take, for instance, the accusation brought against christ of destroying the temple, and rebuilding it in three days. this is alluded to both by st. matthew and st. mark; but st. john alone records the words on which it was founded, though he does not mention the charge, and quotes the words in quite a different connection.[ ] [footnote : matt. . ; mark . ; john . .] or take the feeding of the five thousand.[ ] st. mark says that this occurred in a desert place, where christ had gone for a short rest, and to avoid the crowd of persons who were _coming and going_ at capernaum. but he gives no hint as to why there was this crowd just at that time. st. john says nothing about christ's going to the desert, nor of the crowd which occasioned it; but he happens to mention, what fully explains both, that it was shortly before the passover. now we know that at the time of the passover numbers of people came to jerusalem from all parts; so capernaum, which lay on a main road from the north, would naturally be crowded with persons _coming and going_. and this explains everything; even st. mark's little detail, as to the people sitting on the _green_ grass, for grass is only green in palestine in the spring, _i.e._, at the time of the passover. but can anyone think that the writer of the fourth gospel purposely made his account to agree with the others, yet did this in such a way that not one reader in a hundred ever discovers it? the only reasonable explanation is that the event was true, and that both writers had independent knowledge of it. [footnote : matt. . ; mark . ; luke . ; john . .] the objection, then, as to the connection of the fourth gospel with the other three must be put aside. it was plainly meant to _supplement_ them; and it shows not a different christ, either in _language_ or _character_, but merely a different aspect of the same christ, while the slight _discrepancies_, especially when combined with the undesigned coincidences, rather support its genuineness. ( .) _its connection with the book of revelation._ we pass on now to the other argument. the book of revelation is generally admitted to be the work of st. john, and it is ascribed to him by justin martyr.[ ] its date is usually fixed at a.d. ; though many critics prefer a.d. , which is the date given by irenæus. [footnote : dial., .] yet it is said it cannot be by the same writer as the fourth gospel because the _greek_ is so different, that of the revelation being very abrupt, with numerous faults of grammar, while the gospel is in good greek. therefore it is urged that a galilean fisherman like st. john, though he might have been sufficiently educated to have written the former, as his father was well off and kept servants, and he himself was a friend of the high priest,[ ] could scarcely have written the latter. various explanations have been given of this. perhaps the best is that the revelation was written by st. john himself, since he is not likely to have had friends in patmos; and that when writing the gospel he had the assistance of a greek disciple. [footnote : mark . ; john . .] on the other side, it must be remembered that though the two books are different in language, they are the same in their _teaching_; for the great doctrine of the fourth gospel, that of the divinity of christ, is asserted almost as plainly in the revelation. and even the striking expression that christ is the _logos_, or _word_, occurs in both books, though it is not found elsewhere in the new testament, except in one of st. john's epistles.[ ] and the same may be said of another striking expression, that christ is the _lamb_, which also occurs in the gospel and revelation, though not elsewhere in the new testament.[ ] this similarity in doctrine is indeed so marked that it strongly suggests the same authorship; and if so, it makes it practically certain that the fourth gospel was written by st. john. [footnote : john . ; john . ; rev. . .] [footnote : john . , ; rev. . ; . .] on the whole, then, these objections are not serious; while, as already shown, the fourth gospel has very strong internal marks of genuineness. and when we combine these with the equally strong external testimony, it forces us to conclude that st. john was the author. this gospel, then, like the other three, must be considered _genuine_; indeed, the evidence in favour of them all is overwhelming. chapter xvi. that the gospels are genuine from the evidence of the acts. importance of the acts, as it is by the writer of the third gospel. (_a._) its accuracy. three examples of this: ( .) the titles of different rulers. ( .) the riot at ephesus. ( .) the agreement with st. paul's epistles. (_b._) its authorship. the writer was a companion of st. paul, and a medical man; so probably st. luke. (_c._) its date. there are strong reasons for fixing this at the close of st. paul's imprisonment at rome, about a.d. ; and this points to an earlier date for the first three gospels. we have next to consider an argument of great importance derived from the acts of the apostles. this book is universally admitted to be by the same writer as the third gospel, as is indeed obvious from the manner in which both are addressed to theophilus, from the _former treatise_ being mentioned in the opening verse of the acts, and from the perfect agreement in style and language. hence arguments for or against the antiquity of the acts affect the third gospel also, and therefore, to some extent, the first and second as well. so we will consider first its _accuracy_, then its _authorship_, and lastly its _date_. (_a._) its accuracy. now, this book, unlike the gospels, deals with a large number of public men and places, many of which are well known from secular history, while inscriptions referring to others have been recently discovered. it is thus liable to be detected at every step if inaccurate; yet, with the doubtful exception of the date of the rebellion of theudas, and some details as to the death of herod agrippa, no error can be discovered. as this is practically undisputed, we need not discuss the evidence in detail, but will give three examples. ( .) _the titles of different rulers._ we will commence with the _titles_ given to different rulers. as is well known, the roman provinces were of two kinds, some belonging to the emperor, and some to the senate. the former were governed by _proprætors_, or when less important by _procurators_, and the latter by _proconsuls_, though they frequently changed hands. moreover, individual places had often special names for their rulers; yet in every case the writer of the acts uses the proper title. for example, the ruler at cyprus is rightly called _proconsul_.[ ] this used to be thought a mistake, but we now know that it is correct; for though cyprus had previously belonged to the emperor, it had been exchanged with the senate for another province before the time in question. and an inscription[ ] found there at soli has the words in greek, _paulus proconsul_, probably the sergius paulus of the acts. cyprus, it may be added, subsequently changed hands again. [footnote : acts. . .] [footnote : cyprus, by cesnola (london, ), p. .] in the same way gallio is correctly described as _proconsul_ of achaia.[ ] for though this province belonged to the emperor for some years before a.d. , and was independent after a.d. , it belonged to the senate in the interval, when the writer referred to it. and an inscription, recently found at delphi, shows that gallio was proconsul in a.d. , which agrees well with the chronology of the acts.[ ] equally correct is the title of _governor_ or _procurator_, applied to both felix and festus.[ ] while it is satisfactory to add that the title _lord_, addressed to the emperor nero, which used to be thought rather a difficulty, as it was not known to have been adopted till the time of domitian (a.d. - ), has now been found in papyri of the age of nero.[ ] [footnote : acts . .] [footnote : palestine exploration quarterly, july, .] [footnote : acts . ; . ; . .] [footnote : acts . ; deissman, new light on the new testament, , p. .] again, herod (_i.e._, agrippa i.) shortly before his death, is styled _king_.[ ] now we learn from other sources that he had this title for the last three years of his government (a.d. - ), though there had been no king in judæa for the previous thirty years, nor for many centuries afterwards. [footnote : acts . ; josephus, antiq., xviii. , xix. .] moreover, his son is also called _king_ agrippa, though it is implied that he was not king of judæa, which was governed by festus, but of some other province. yet, strange to say, he seems to have held some official position in regard to the jews, since festus _laid paul's case before him_, as if he were in some way entitled to hear it.[ ] and all this is quite correct; for agrippa, though king of chalcis, and not judæa, was yet (being a jew) entrusted by the emperor with the management of the jewish temple and treasury, and the choice of the high priests, so he was a good deal mixed up in jewish affairs.[ ] and this, though only a trifle, is interesting; because a late writer, who had taken the trouble to study the subject, and find out the position agrippa occupied, is not likely to have shown his knowledge in such a casual way. scarcely anyone notices it. and equally correct is the remarkable fact that his sister _bernice_ used to act with him on public occasions.[ ] [footnote : acts . , .] [footnote : josephus, antiq., xx., , , .] [footnote : acts . ; josephus, wars, ii. ; life, xi.] again at malta we read of the _chief-man_ publius; the accuracy of which title (for it is a _title_, and does not mean merely the most important man) is also proved by inscriptions, though as far as we know it was peculiar to that island.[ ] at thessalonica, on the other hand, the magistrates have the curious title of _politarchs_, translated 'rulers of the city.'[ ] this name does not occur in any classical author in this form, so the writer of the acts used to be accused of a blunder here. his critics were unaware that an old arch was standing all the time at this very place, the modern salonica, with an inscription containing this very word, saying it was built when certain men were the politarchs. the arch was destroyed in , but the stone containing the inscription was preserved, and is now in the british museum.[ ] and since then other inscriptions have been found, showing that the term was in use all through the first century. [footnote : acts . ; boeckh's corp. ins. lat. x., no. ; corp. ins. gr., no. .] [footnote : acts . .] [footnote : in the central hall, near the library.] nor is this accuracy confined to well-known places on the coast; it extends wherever the narrative extends, even to the interior of asia minor. for though the rulers there are not mentioned, the writer was evidently well acquainted with the places he refers to. take _lystra_, for instance.[ ] according to the writer, it was a city of lycaonia, though the adjacent town of iconium was not, and this has been recently proved to be correct. and it is interesting, because many classical authors wrongly assign iconium to lycaonia; while lystra, though belonging to that province in the first century, was separated from it early in the second; so a late writer, or one ignorant of the locality, might easily have made a mistake in either case. and an inscription found near lystra, in , shows that the two gods, jupiter and mercury (_i.e._, zeus and hermes) were commonly associated together by the inhabitants, as they are represented to be in the acts. [footnote : acts . - ; ramsay, bearing of recent discovery on new testament, , pp. - .] ( .) _the riot at ephesus._ as a second example we will take the account of the _riot at ephesus_. all the allusions here to the worship of diana, including her image believed to have fallen from heaven (perhaps a meteorite roughly cut into shape), her magnificent shrine, the small silver models of this, her widespread worship, and the fanatical devotion of her worshippers, are all in strict agreement with what we know from other sources. moreover, inscriptions discovered there have confirmed the narrative to a remarkable extent. they have shown that the _theatre_ was the recognised place of public meeting; that there were certain officers (who presided at the games, etc.) called _asiarchs_; that another well-known ephesian officer was called the _town-clerk_; that ephesus had the curious designation of _temple-keeper_ of diana (long thought to be a difficulty); that _temple-robbing_ and _blasphemy_ were both crimes which were specially recognised by the ephesian laws; and that the term _regular assembly_ was a technical one in use at ephesus.[ ] the reference to the _town-clerk_ is particularly interesting, because what is recorded of him is said to agree with the duties of the town-clerk at ephesus, though not with those of the same official elsewhere.[ ] all this minute accuracy is hard to explain unless the narrative came from one who was present during the riot, and recorded what he actually saw and heard. [footnote : _comp._ acts . - ; with inscriptions found in the great theatre. wood's discoveries at ephesus, , pp. , , , , , .] [footnote : harnack, the acts of the apostles, translated by wilkinson, , p. .] ( .) _the agreement with st. paul's epistles._ our third example shall be of a different kind. it is that if we compare the biography of st. paul given in the acts with the letters of that apostle, many of them written to the very churches and persons described there, we shall find numerous _undesigned agreements_ between them. and these, as before explained (chapter x.) form a strong argument in favour of the accuracy of both. take, for instance, the epistle to the romans. though not dated, it was evidently written at the close of st. paul's second visit to greece; and therefore, if mentioned in the acts, it would come in at chapter . . and the following are two, out of the numerous points of agreement. the first is st. paul's saying that he was going to jerusalem, with alms from macedonia and achaia for the poor in that city. now in the acts it is stated that st. paul had just passed through these provinces, and was on his way to jerusalem, though there is no mention about the alms there. but it happens to be alluded to some chapters later, without, however, mentioning then where the alms came from.[ ] the agreement is complete though it is certainly not designed. [footnote : rom. . , ; acts . ; . .] the other refers to st. paul's travels, which he says extended from jerusalem as far as _illyricum_. now illyricum is not once mentioned in the acts; so there can be no intentional agreement here. and yet there is agreement. for we learn from various places that st. paul had gone from jerusalem all through what we now call asia minor, and just before the date of this epistle had passed through macedonia, which was his limit in this direction. and as this was the next province to illyricum, it exactly agrees with the epistle.[ ] [footnote : rom. . ; acts . .] we may now sum up the evidence as to the accuracy of the acts. the above instances are only specimens of many which might be given. the writer knew about jerusalem and athens just as well as about ephesus. while his account of st. paul's voyage from cæsarea to italy, including as it does, references to a number of places; to the climate, and prevailing winds of the mediterranean; and to the phrases and customs of seamen, is so accurate, that critics of all schools have admitted that he is describing a voyage he had actually made. in short, the book of the acts is full of correct details throughout, and it is hard to believe that anyone but a contemporary could have written it. (_b._) its authorship. now if we admit the general accuracy of the book, there is little difficulty in deciding on its _authorship_. as is well known, certain portions of it (describing some of st. paul's travels, including his voyage to italy) are written in the first person plural, and are commonly called the "_we_" sections.[ ] this shows that the writer was a _companion_ of st. paul at that time; and then the great similarity in _language_, between these sections and the rest of the book, shows that they had the same author. for they are both written in the same style, and they both contain over forty important words and expressions, which do not occur elsewhere in the new testament, except in the third gospel. this is indeed so striking that it practically settles the point.[ ] [footnote : acts . - ; . - . ; . - . .] [footnote : harnack, luke the physician, translated by wilkinson, , p. .] but there are also slight _historical_ connections between the two portions. for example, in the earlier chapters some incidents are recorded, in which a certain philip (one of the _seven_) was concerned; and why should these have been selected? the writer was not present himself, and many far more important events must have occurred, of which he gives no account. but a casual verse in the _we_ sections explains everything: the writer, we are told, stayed _many days_ with philip, and of course learnt these particulars then. and as it seems to have been his rule only to record what he knew for certain, he might well have left out other and more important events, of which he had not such accurate knowledge.[ ] and the earlier reference, which ends with the apparently pointless remark that _philip came to cæsarea_, without saying why or wherefore, is also explained, since this was the place where the writer afterwards met him. it is then practically certain that the whole book was written by one man, and that he was a companion of st. paul in many of his travels. [footnote : acts . ; . , , ; . .; luke . .] it is also practically certain that he was a _medical man_. the evidence for this is overwhelming, but as the fact is generally admitted, we need not discuss it at length. all we need say is that places have been counted in the acts, and in the third gospel, where words and expressions occur which are specially, and many of them exclusively, used by greek medical writers, and which, with few exceptions, do not occur elsewhere, in the new testament.[ ] for instance, we read of the many proofs of the resurrection; the word translated _proofs_ being frequently used by medical writers to express the infallible symptoms of a disease, as distinct from its mere signs, which may be doubtful, and they expressly give it this meaning. and we read of the restoration of all things; the word translated _restoration_ being the regular medical term for a complete recovery of a man's body or limb.[ ] [footnote : hobart's medical language of st. luke ( ); some of his examples are rather doubtful.] [footnote : acts . ; . .] we conclude then, from the book itself, that the writer was an intimate friend of st. paul and a medical man; and from one of st. paul's epistles we learn his name, _luke the beloved physician_.[ ] and this is confirmed by the fact that both this epistle and that to philemon, where st. paul also names luke as his companion, appear to have been written from rome, when, as we know, the writer of the acts was with him. and he seems to have remained with him to the last, _only luke is with me_.[ ] yet this beloved and ever-faithful friend of st. paul is not once named in the acts, which would be most unlikely unless he were the author. [footnote : col. . ; philemon .] [footnote : tim. . .] (_c._) its date. the _date_ of the book can also be fixed with tolerable certainty. it is implied in its abrupt ending. the last thing it narrates is st. paul's living at rome, two years before his expected trial (a.d. - ).[ ] it says nothing about this trial, nor of st. paul's release, nor of his subsequent travels, nor of his second trial and martyrdom (probably under nero, a.d. ); though had it been written after these events, it could hardly have failed to record them. this is especially the case as the martyrdom of st. peter and st. paul, which, according to early authorities, occurred together at rome, would have formed such a suitable conclusion for a work chiefly concerned with their labours. [footnote : rackham's commentary on the acts, , p. lxvii; many place it a year or two later, some a little earlier.] on the other hand, the abrupt ending of the book is at once accounted for if it was written at that time, about a.d. , by st. luke, who did not relate anything further, because nothing further had then occurred. and it is obvious that these two years would not only have formed a most suitable period for its compilation, but that he is very likely to have sent it to his friend theophilus just before the trial, perhaps somewhat hurriedly, not knowing whether it might not involve his own death, as well as that of st. paul. this would also account for the great prominence given to the events of the immediately preceding years in chapters . to ., which is quite unintelligible, unless the book was written soon afterwards. they were nothing like as important as the events of the next few years, about which the writer says nothing. and why should he go through the earlier stages of st. paul's arrest and trial, so carefully, step by step, from lysias to felix, from felix to festus, and then to agrippa, and on to rome; and then when he comes to the crisis, and the apostle is about to appear before cæsar, suddenly break off, without giving a hint as to which way it was decided? everyone must feel how tantalising it is; and how unlikely he is to have stopped here, if he could have gone on. this abrupt ending, then, is the great argument for dating the book about a.d. ; but it is supported by several others. in the first place, the journey to rome itself, especially the shipwreck, is described with such minute and graphic details, that it seems likely to have been written down very soon afterwards, probably in that city. secondly, the roman judges and officials are always represented as treating the christians with fairness, and even kindness; and the writer leaves st. paul appealing to cæsar, with every hope of a favourable verdict. there is no sign of bitterness or ill-feeling anywhere. and all this would have been most unlikely after the great persecution in a.d. ; when christians regarded rome with the utmost horror.[ ] compare the somewhat similar case of the indian mutiny. can we imagine an englishman in india writing soon after the mutiny a history, say of cawnpore, up to , and then closing it, without ever letting a hint fall that he was aware of the terrible tragedy which happened in , or showing the slightest ill-feeling towards its perpetrators? the only reasonable conclusion would be that such a history must have been written _before_ the mutiny. in the same way the acts must have been written _before_ nero's great persecution. [footnote : _e.g._, rev. . .] thirdly, the same sort of argument is afforded by the destruction of jerusalem in a.d. . had the book been written after this, it is strange that the writer should seem to be entirely unaware of it; more especially as it had so close a bearing on the events described in the acts, such as the jewish law not being binding on gentile christians. and it is the more significant, because he records the prophecy of the event in his gospel,[ ] but nowhere hints that the prophecy had been fulfilled. [footnote : luke . .] lastly, an early date is implied by the passage, where st. paul tells his friends near ephesus, that they would not see him again. it was quite natural for him to have said so at the time, as his feelings were very despondent; but no one, writing many years later, would have recorded it _without comment_; since it is almost certain that st. paul, after his release from rome, did revisit ephesus.[ ] [footnote : acts . , ; tim. . .] on the whole, then, there is very strong evidence in favour of the acts of the apostles having been written by st. luke about a.d. ; and this of course proves an earlier date for _st. luke's gospel_. and this again proves a still earlier one for _st. mark's gospel_, which is now generally admitted to have been written before st. luke's; and probably for _st. matthew's_ as well. the evidence of the acts, then, while confirming our previous conclusion that the first three gospels were certainly written before a.d. , enables us to add with some confidence that they were also written before a.d. . and, it may be added, prof. harnack, who long maintained the opposite view, has at last accepted this early date for all these gospels.[ ] the book has of course no direct bearing on the date of st. john's gospel. [footnote : date of acts, and synoptic gospels, translated by wilkinson, , pp. , , . some writers would place them still earlier. thus canon birks, dates them all between a.d. - , and he gives strong reasons for thinking that st. luke, and his gospel, are referred to in cor. . . (horæ evangelicæ, , edit., pp. , , ); and archdeacon allen places the second gospel, about a.d. , and the first about a.d. . (introduction to the books of the new testament, , p. .)] chapter xvii. that the resurrection of christ is probably true. (_a._) its importance. the third day, the empty tomb. (_b._) the narratives. the various accounts, table of christ's appearances, the three groups, the double farewell. (_c._) their difficulties. ( .) discrepancies; often due to the appearances being placed together; the disciples going to galilee. ( .) omissions; the gospels only record selected instances, and st. paul refers to them in groups. (_d._) their truthfulness. ( .) agreements; very important. ( .) mutual explanations; very numerous. ( .) signs of early date; very interesting. conclusion, the narratives appear to be thoroughly trustworthy. we decided in the previous chapters that the four gospels, and also the acts of the apostles, were _genuine_; that is to say, they were written by the persons to whom they are commonly ascribed. and to these may be added the four great epistles of st. paul, and the revelation of st. john, which, as before said, are admitted to be genuine by critics of all schools. we have thus direct testimony as to the life of christ, that is to say, the testimony of contemporaries, some of whom must have known him well. st. matthew and st. john were two of his apostles; st. mark and st. luke had exceptionally good means of knowing the truth, and may perhaps have had some slight knowledge of christ themselves, as had also st. paul.[ ] we have now to examine the value of this testimony, more especially as to the _resurrection of christ_. so in the present chapter we will consider the _importance_ of the resurrection, and the _narratives_ we have of it; both as to their _difficulties_, and their _truthfulness_; and in the next the various alternative theories. [footnote : cor. . .] (_a._) its importance. in the first place, we cannot overestimate the importance of the resurrection, for this fact, either real or supposed, was the foundation of christianity. this is plain not only from the gospels, but still more from the acts, where we have numerous short speeches by the apostles, given under various circumstances, and to various audiences, including jewish councillors, greek philosophers, and roman governors. and in nearly all of them the resurrection of christ is not only positively asserted, but is emphasised as a fact established by indisputable evidence and as being the foundation of christianity.[ ] it is even said that it was the special duty of an apostle to bear witness to it; and st. paul seems to have been aware of this, since, when claiming to be an apostle, he is careful to show that he was thus qualified. and for himself he makes it the basis of all his teaching, _if christ hath not been raised, then is our preaching vain_.[ ] it is certain, then, that the first preachers of christianity preached the resurrection of christ. [footnote : acts . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; . .] [footnote : acts . ; cor. . ; . - .] it is equally certain that they preached that it occurred on the _third day_, counting from the crucifixion.[ ] this also is stated not only in the gospels, but by st. paul; who in one place bases his whole argument on the fact that the body of christ (unlike that of david) _saw no corruption_, a point also alluded to by st. peter, and implying a resurrection in a few days.[ ] while if further evidence is required, the fact that this third day (the first day of the week) became _the lord's day_--the christian sunday--seems to put the matter beyond dispute. [footnote : sometimes described as _after three days_, but that the two expressions are intended to mean the same is clear from matt. . - , where christ's saying that he would rise again _after three days_ is given as the reason for guarding the sepulchre _until the third day_. in the same way _after eight days_ evidently means _on the eighth day_ (john . ).] [footnote : cor. . ; acts . - ; . .] once more it is certain that the christians believed that this resurrection was one of christ's _body_, not his _spirit_. this again is clear not only from the gospels, which all speak of the _empty tomb_; but also from st. paul's epistles. for when he says that christ _died_, and was _buried_, and was _raised on the third day_, and _appeared_ to cephas, etc., he must mean christ's _body_ (for a spirit cannot be _buried_); and he must mean that it was the _same_ body that died and was buried, that was afterwards raised, and appeared to them, including himself.[ ] christ's being _raised_, it will be noticed, was distinct from, and previous to, his _appearing_ to anyone, just as in the gospels the empty tomb is always mentioned _before_ any of the appearances. [footnote : cor. . - .] and even in the one case, where st. paul alludes to what he saw as a _heavenly vision_, he refers to it in order to prove that it is not incredible that god should _raise the dead_;[ ] which again shows that he thought it was a _body_, for a _spirit_ cannot be raised from the _dead_. and his specifying _the third day_ makes this (if possible) still plainer, for the life of the spirit after death does not commence on the third day; nor would it have prevented christ's body from seeing corruption. [footnote : acts . , .] from all this it is abundantly clear that st. paul, like the four evangelists, and the other apostles, believed in what is called the _physical_ resurrection, in the sense that christ's body was restored to life, and left the tomb. though like them, he also believed that it was no longer a _natural_ body, bound by the ordinary laws of nature, but that it had been partly changed as well, so that it shared to some extent the properties of spirits. nor is his statement that _flesh and blood_ cannot inherit the kingdom of god, opposed to this.[ ] for when he uses the same expression elsewhere (_e.g._, _i conferred not with flesh and blood_)[ ] it is evidently not used in a literal sense. it does _not_ mean flesh and blood, in the same way in which we might speak of bones and muscles. it means _men_. so his meaning here is probably that mere men--human beings as such--cannot inherit the future life of glory. their bodies will first have to be changed, and made incorruptible; but they will still be _bodies_. and as just said, st. paul is quite definite as to its being the body of christ that was _buried_, that was afterwards raised on the third day. [footnote : cor. . .] [footnote : gal. . ; eph. . ; comp. matt. . .] we may say, then, with confidence, that wherever the resurrection was believed, the fact that it occurred on the third day, and the fact that it was a physical resurrection, involving the empty tomb, was believed also. the three invariably went together. but was this belief justified? this is the question we have to discuss. (_b._) the narratives. now we have five different accounts of the resurrection; and these are so thoroughly independent that not one of them can be regarded as the source of any of the others. little stress, however, can be laid on the latter part of st. mark's account, as the genuineness of the last twelve verses is doubtful; but it anyhow represents a very early christian belief, aristion being sometimes named as the author. and even the earlier part is conclusive as to the empty tomb, and the promised appearance in galilee. on the other hand, st. paul's account, which is perhaps the strongest, is universally allowed to have been written within thirty years of the event; the most probable date for which is a.d. or , and for the epistle a.d. . and it should be noticed that st. paul reminds the corinthians that what he here says about the resurrection is what he preached to them on his first visit (about a.d. ), and that as they had _received_ it from him, so he had himself _received_ it from others at a still earlier date.[ ] [footnote : cor. . - .] and we can even fix this date approximately, for two of the appearances he records were to st. peter and st. james; and he happens to mention elsewhere[ ] that these were the two apostles he met at jerusalem, three years after his conversion (a.d. , or earlier); so he doubtless heard the whole account then, even if he had not heard it before. and this was certainly within _ten years_--probably within _seven_ years--of the crucifixion. more ancient testimony than this can scarcely be desired. and if anything could add to its importance it would be st. paul's own statement that in this respect his teaching was the same as that of the original apostles: _whether then it be i or they, so we preach and so ye believed_.[ ] [footnote : gal. . .] [footnote : cor. . .] we need not quote the various accounts here, but the accompanying table gives them in a convenient form for reference. altogether christ seems to have been seen on thirteen different occasions; and there may have been others, which are not recorded, though they are perhaps hinted at.[ ] [footnote : acts . ; . ; john . .] it is doubtful however if the eighth appearance was separate from the ninth, for st. matthew says that when the eleven saw him, on the mountain in galilee, as he had appointed, _they_ worshipped him, but _some_ doubted. this _some_ can scarcely mean some of the eleven, who had just worshipped. it probably refers to some others who were present (_i.e._, some of the five hundred) who doubted at first if it was really he, as he was some way off, and it was before he _came_ to them. and since the command to preach the gospel to all the world, which st. matthew records, was probably addressed to the eleven only, it will account for his not mentioning that others were present. in the same way st. luke relates the ascension, as if only the eleven were there, though it is clear _from his own narrative_ that he knew there were others with them; since he afterwards records st. peter as saying so.[ ] [footnote : acts . - ; - .] on the other hand, the appearance to the five hundred must have been on a _mountain_, or some other open space, as a room would not have been large enough. it must have been in _galilee_, as there were not so many disciples in jerusalem.[ ] it must have been _by appointment_, as they could hardly have come together by accident; and they are not likely to have come together at all unless the _eleven_ had collected them. and all this is an additional reason for identifying it with that recorded by st. matthew. [footnote : acts . .] it must next be noticed that the appearances form _three groups_. first a group in or near jerusalem, which was chiefly to the twelve apostles, and extended over eight days. secondly a group in galilee, the most important being that to the five hundred, which was a sort of _farewell_ to his galilean disciples. and thirdly to a group back again at jerusalem, chiefly to the twelve, but including others, and ending with the ascension, or _farewell_ to his judæan disciples. table of christ's appearances. +-----------------------+--------+-------+--------+---------+---------+ | |_ cor._|_matt._| _mark._| _luke._ | _john._ | +-----------------------+--------+-------+--------+---------+---------+ | | | | | | | |empty tomb visited }| | | {| . - ,|} | | by women }| .. | . - | . - {| - |} . - | | | | | | | | | and by apostles | .. | .. | .. | , | - | | | | | | | | |an appearance in }| | | | | | | galilee foretold }| .. | | . | .. | .. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |then christ was seen | | | | | | | _in or near | | | | | | | jerusalem, by_ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | (i.) mary magdalene | .. | .. | - | .. | - | | | | | | | | | (ii.) the two marys | .. | - | .. | .. | .. | | | | | | | | | (iii.) st. peter | . | .. | .. | | .. | | | | | | | | | ( iv.) cleopas and }| | | | | | | another, }| | | | | | | perhaps st. }| | | | | | | luke, at }| | | | | | | emmaus }| .. | .. | - | - | .. | | | | | | | | | (v.) the apostles }| | | | | | | and others }| | | | | | | (without }| | | | | | | st. thomas) }| | .. | | - | - | | | | | | | | | (vi.) the apostles }| | | | | | | (with st. }| | | | | | | thomas) }| .. | .. | .. | .. | - | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |_in galilee, by_ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | (vii.) seven apostles}| | | | | | | on the lake }| .. | .. | .. | .. | . - | | | | | | | | |(viii.) the apostles }| | | | | | | on the }| | | | | | | mountain }| .. | - | - | .. | .. | | | | | | | | | (ix.) over }| | | | | | | persons }| | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | | | | | | | (x.) st. james | | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |_back at jerusalem, by_| | | | | | | | | | | | _acts._ | | (xi.) the apostles }| | | | | | | at jerusalem}| .. | .. | .. | - | . - | | | | | | | | | (xii.) the apostles }| | | | | | | and others }| | | | | | | at bethany }| | .. | - | - | - , | | | | | | | | |(xiii.) st. paul | | .. | .. | .. | . - | | | | | | | | +-----------------------+--------+-------+--------+---------+---------+ and though this _double_ farewell is sometimes thought to be a difficulty, yet as christ's resurrection was meant to be the proof of his mission, it seems only natural that he should have appeared again to _all_ his disciples, and have taken leave of them; both those in galilee, and those at jerusalem, the apostles themselves being of course present on each occasion. and as the words _when they were come together_ imply that the meeting in jerusalem, like that in galilee, had been previously announced, all the judæan disciples may well have been there; and this we know was the case with matthias, justus, and others.[ ] [footnote : acts . , .] (_c._) their difficulties. passing on now to the difficulties in the narratives; they may be conveniently placed under the two heads of _discrepancies_ and _omissions_. ( .) _discrepancies._ these seem to be chiefly due to two of the evangelists, st. mark and st. luke, recording separate appearances as if they were continuous. but it so happens that they do much the same in the rest of their gospels, often recording separate sayings of christ as if they were one discourse; and even in closely-connected passages a break has sometimes to be assumed.[ ] while in these very narratives, st. luke describes an appearance at jerusalem in acts . , and continues without any change of place till v. , when he says _they returned to jerusalem_. plainly he is here grouping together words spoken on different occasions. [footnote : _e.g._, in luke . - .] therefore he may have done the same at the end of his gospel. indeed, it is almost certain that he did, otherwise we should have to place the ascension in the middle of the night, which is scarcely probable. moreover, in the acts he expressly says that the appearances lasted _forty days_; and he quotes st. paul, as saying that they lasted _many days_.[ ] he seems to have thought it unnecessary in his gospel to explain that they were at different times; and if st. mark did the same, it would account for most, though not all, of the discrepancies between them. [footnote : acts . ; . .] these discrepancies, however, are often much exaggerated. take for instance the fifth appearance in the previous list. st. luke and st. john evidently refer to the same occasion, as it was on the evening of easter day; yet one says the apostles were _terrified_, and thought they saw a spirit; while the other says they were _glad_. can both be true? certainly they can, if we assume (as is most natural) that the apostles were _at first_ terrified, and thought they saw a spirit; but were afterwards glad, when on christ's showing them his hands and side, they were convinced that it was really himself. and he may then have reproached them for their unbelief as recorded by st. mark. or take the case of the angels at the tomb. these are referred to by every evangelist, though some call them men (in white or dazzling apparel) and others angels. but as st. luke uses both words,[ ] and as angels are not likely to have appeared in any but a human form, there is no real difficulty here. while if the second angel was not always visible, it would account for some of the evangelists speaking of only one. and it may be mentioned in passing, that one of the angels is said to have been seen by the roman soldiers as well, who went and told the jews about it.[ ] and this is not likely to have been asserted within twenty years unless it had been the case, as the jews would have contradicted it. yet if it was the case, it affords an additional argument for the resurrection, and one derived from christ's enemies, not his friends. [footnote : luke . , . similarly gabriel is called a _man_ in dan. . , and an _angel_ in luke . .] [footnote : matt. . , .] a more important difficulty is caused by christ's command to the women, that they and the apostles were to proceed to galilee to meet him, when, as he knew, he was going to appear to them in jerusalem the same day. the most probable explanation is that the meeting in galilee was the one _intended_ all along, in fact we are definitely told so.[ ] but when the women, in consequence of the angel's message, and after they had recovered from their fright (which at first made them run away and say nothing to anyone),[ ] went and told the apostles to go there, they were _disbelieved_.[ ] this naturally made the women doubt too, so they returned to the grave to make further inquiries, none of them having the slightest intention of going to galilee. [footnote : mark . .] [footnote : mark . .] [footnote : luke . .] under these circumstances, something more was necessary, so christ appeared first to mary magdalene, and then to her with the other mary, when he told them himself to warn the apostles to proceed to galilee, which they again did, and were again _disbelieved_.[ ] then he appeared to the two disciples on the way to emmaus, and when they came back, and told the rest, they were also at first _disbelieved_; the apostles, though now admitting that christ had been seen by st. peter, still denying such a bodily resurrection (able to eat food, etc.) as they described.[ ] [footnote : mark . .] [footnote : mark . ; luke . .] after this there was nothing for it, but for christ to appear to the apostles himself, and convince them personally by eating food in their presence, which he did, when most of them were assembled together the same evening. and he may then have told them to remain in jerusalem till they were _all_ convinced, as they could scarcely have been expected to collect the five hundred for the meeting in galilee, so long as they kept disputing among themselves as to whether he had really risen. and it was thus another week before the last sceptic (st. thomas) was convinced, and they finally started for galilee. these discrepancies then are not nearly so serious as is commonly supposed. ( .) _omissions._ with regard to the _omissions_, none of our lists are at all complete, and this is often thought to be a difficulty. but as far as the _gospels_ are concerned, the writers nowhere profess to give a complete list of christ's appearances, any more than of his parables, or his miracles; they only record (as one of them tells us)[ ] _selected instances_. and in the present case their choice is quite intelligible. thus st. matthew closes his gospel, which is concerned chiefly with the galilean ministry, with the farewell meeting in galilee; st. john, whose gospel is concerned chiefly with the judæan ministry, ended his (before the last chapter was added, which seems a sort of appendix) with some of the appearances in jerusalem. while st. luke, who was more of an historian, and wrote everything _in order_,[ ] though he describes most in detail the appearance to the two disciples at emmaus (which is only natural if he was one of them), is yet careful to carry his narrative right on to the ascension. therefore, though they only record certain appearances, they may well have known of the others; and there can be little doubt that they did. [footnote : john . .] [footnote : luke . .] thus, st. matthew speaks of the eleven meeting christ by _appointment_, so he must have known of some interview when this appointment was made, (perhaps the one on the lake), as the messages to the women did not fix either the time or place.[ ] in the same way st. mark must have known of a meeting in galilee, as he refers to it himself, and st. luke of an appearance to st. peter.[ ] while st. john, though he does not record the ascension, must certainly have known of it, as he refers to it twice in the words, _if ye should behold the son of man ascending_, and _i ascend unto my father_, the former passage clearly showing that it was to be a visible ascent, and that the apostles were to see it.[ ] plainly, then, the evangelists did not relate every appearance they knew of, and the objection as far as they are concerned, may be dismissed at once. [footnote : matt. . , , .] [footnote : mark . ; luke . .] [footnote : john . ; . .] on the other hand, _st. paul's list_ certainly looks as if it were meant to be complete; and this is no doubt a real difficulty. surely, it is said, if the other appearances had occurred, or were even supposed to have occurred, when st. paul wrote, he would have heard of them; and if he had heard of them, he would have mentioned them, as he was evidently trying to make out as strong a case as he could. he might perhaps have omitted the appearances to _women_, as their testimony was not considered of much value at the time; and they were not witnesses of the resurrection, in the sense he alludes to--_i.e._, persons who went about preaching it;[ ] but why should he have omitted the rest? [footnote : cor. . .] there is however a fairly good explanation. the appearances it will be remembered form _three groups_. now st. paul mentions two appearances to individual apostles--st. peter and st. james; and this was doubtless because he had had such vivid accounts of them from the men themselves, when he met them at jerusalem. for we may be sure that if they had not told him, he would not have accepted it from anyone else. but he seems to refer to the others _in these groups_, first to the twelve (at jerusalem), then to the five hundred (in galilee), and then to all the apostles, evidently meaning more than the twelve (back again at jerusalem). but by so doing, he does not limit it to only one appearance in each group. in the same way a man might say that on returning to england he saw first his parents, then his brothers, then his cousins; though he had seen his parents on two days a week apart, his brothers for only a few hours, and his cousins for several successive days. and the fact that st. paul, in one of his speeches in the acts,[ ] expressly says that christ was seen for _many days_ at jerusalem, strongly confirms this view. we conclude, then, that in his epistle he is mentioning the appearances by groups, rather than every single one; wishing to emphasise the number of men who had seen christ, rather than the number of times they had seen him; and if so it does away with the difficulty. none of these objections, then, are of much importance. [footnote : acts . .] (_d._) their truthfulness. turning now to the other side, the narratives bear abundant marks of truthfulness. these we will consider under the three heads of _agreements_, _mutual explanations_, and _signs of early date_. ( .) _agreements._ in the first place it is important to notice that in spite of the discrepancies and omissions just alluded to, there is an extraordinary amount of _agreement_ in the narratives. for all the more important points--the third day, the empty tomb, the visit of the women, the angelic message, the first appearance being in jerusalem, the incredulity of some of the disciples, and christ's not only appearing, but speaking as well, and this in the presence of all the apostles--are _all_ vouched for by _every_ evangelist. they also agree in saying that the apostles _remained in jerusalem_ after christ's arrest, and did not as we might have expected return at once to galilee? for the last two gospels expressly state that they were in jerusalem on easter day; and the first two imply it, or how could the women have been told to take them a message to _go_ to galilee? further they all agree in _not_ giving (what imaginary accounts might well have contained) any description of the resurrection itself, any appearance of christ to his enemies; or any information as to the other world, though this last would have been so eagerly welcomed, and could have been so easily invented. moreover the _order_ in which the appearances are placed is also the same in every account, that to mary magdalene for instance (wherever it occurs) being, always placed first, that to st. peter next, that to cleopas next, then that to the twelve, etc. and this is the more remarkable because the narratives are so obviously independent, and the order is not at all a likely one. writers of fiction, for instance, would never have made christ first appear to so little known a person as mary magdalene, rather than to his mother or his apostles. once more the narratives all agree in the extreme _calmness_ with which they are written. one would have thought it almost impossible for anyone after relating the story of the cross, to have avoided some word of triumph, or exultation, in regard to the resurrection and ascension. but nothing of the kind is found. the writers record them, like the rest of the history, as simple matters of fact, apparently regarding them as the natural close for such a life, and calling for no comment. how unlikely this would be in legendary accounts scarcely needs pointing out. it may also be added (though it does not concern these actual narratives) that the evangelists all agree in saying that christ had _prophesied_ his own resurrection.[ ] and while this does not of course prove it to have been true, it yet forms a difficulty on any other theory. [footnote : _e.g._, matt. . ; mark . ; luke . ; john . - .] ( .) _mutual explanations._ in the next place it is surprising to find how often a slight remark in one of the narratives will help to explain some apparent improbability, or difficulty in another. and since, as just said, the narratives are quite independent, and were certainly not written to explain one another; such indications of truthfulness are of great value. we will therefore consider several examples.[ ] [footnote : these and some others are discussed in a paper in the _expositor_, may, , by the present writer.] to begin with, st. john records mary magdalene as visiting the empty tomb, and then telling the disciples _we know not where they have laid him_. but to whom does the _we_ refer, as she was apparently alone all the time? st. john does not explain matters; but the other evangelists do. for they say that though mary magdalene was the leader of the party, and is always named first, yet as a matter of fact there were other women with her; and this accounts for the _we_. later on no doubt she was alone; but then she uses the words _i know not_.[ ] [footnote : john . , .] secondly, st. luke says that _peter_ was the disciple who ran to the tomb on hearing of the angel's message, without however giving any reason why he should have been the one to go. but st. mark, though he does not mention the visit of peter, records that the message had been specially addressed to him; and st. john says that mary magdalene had specially informed him; and this of course explains his going. st. luke, it may be added, in the subsequent words, _certain of them that were with us_,[ ] implies that at least one other disciple went with him, which agrees with st. john. [footnote : luke . .] st. luke then says that when peter arrived at the tomb, he saw the linen cloths _by themselves_, and went home _wondering_. this seems only a trifle, but what does it mean? st. luke does not explain matters, but st. john does; for he describes how the cloths were arranged. this was in a way which showed that the body could not have been hurriedly stolen, but had apparently vanished without disturbing them. it convinced st. john that the disappearance was supernatural, and would quite account for st. peter's wondering.[ ] [footnote : luke . ; john . - .] again, st. matthew narrates that when christ appeared to mary magdalene, and the other mary, he was at once recognised, held by the feet, and worshipped. and they do not seem to have been at all surprised at meeting him near the tomb, in spite of the angel's message that they should go to galilee to see him. evidently something must have occurred between, making a break in the narrative after v. , which is quite possible, for the words, _and behold_ (rev. vers.) do not always imply a close connection.[ ] and from the other evangelists we learn what this was. for st. john describes an appearance to mary magdalene _alone_, when she was rebuked for wishing to touch him, apparently in the old familiar way, and without any act of reverence; and st. mark says this was the _first_ appearance. if then a few minutes later, she, in company with the other mary, saw christ again, it would quite account for their not being surprised at meeting him, and also for their altered behaviour in prostrating themselves to the ground, and being in consequence permitted to hold him by the _feet_, and worship him. [footnote : _e.g._, matt. . .] once more st. luke says that when christ appeared to the apostles in the evening, he was mistaken for a _spirit_; but he gives no reason for this, and it was apparently the only occasion on which it occurred. st. john however, though he does not mention the incident, fully explains it; for he says that _the doors were shut_ for fear of the jews; and obviously if christ suddenly appeared within closed doors, it would account for their thinking that he must be a spirit. on the other hand, st. john speaks of christ's showing them his hands (and also his side) though without giving any reason for this. but st. luke's statement that they at first took him for a spirit, and that he did this to convince them of his identity, quite accounts for it; so each of the narratives helps to explain the other. but this is not all, for st. luke then adds that as they still disbelieved, christ asked if they had anything to eat (_i.e._, if they would give _him_ something to eat) and they at once offered him a piece of broiled fish. but he gives no hint as to why they happened to have any fish ready. st. mark however, though he does not mention either the request, nor its response, fully explains both; for he says they were _sitting at meat_ at the time, probably just concluding their evening meal. and all this still further explains st. john's narrative, that christ said to them _again_, the second time, _peace be unto you_; which would be much more natural if something had occurred between, than if (as st. john implies) it was just after the first time. again, st. mark records christ as saying, after his command to preach the gospel to all the world, 'he that believeth _and is baptised_ shall be saved,' though without any previous reference to baptism. but st. matthew says the command was not only to make disciples of all nations, but to _baptise_ them as well, and this of course explains the other passage, though curiously enough st. matthew himself does not refer to it. and then as to the appearance to the five hundred recorded by st. paul. none of the evangelists mention this, but it explains a good deal that they do mention. thus st. john alludes to the apostles being in _galilee_, (instead of staying in jerusalem) after the resurrection, but he gives no hint as to why they went there. nor do st. matthew and st. mark, who say christ told them to go there, give any hint as to why he told them; but this appearance to the five hundred, who had to be collected in galilee, explains everything. it also accounts for st. matthew's curious remark (before noticed) that when the eleven saw christ in galilee, _they worshipped him, but some doubted_. and it probably explains st. luke's omission of galilee among the places where the apostles themselves had to preach the resurrection; as there were so many witnesses there already.[ ] [footnote : acts . .] now of course too much stress must not be laid on small details like these, but still the fact that such short and independent accounts should explain one another in so many ways is a distinct evidence of truthfulness. legendary accounts of fictitious events would not be likely to do so. ( .) _signs of early date._ in conclusion, it is interesting to note that these accounts, especially those in the first three gospels, show signs of an extremely early, if not a _contemporary_ date. thus st. peter is still called by his old name of _simon_,[ ] and it is the last occasion when that name is used, without explaining to whom it refers; st. paul, some years later, though alluding to this same appearance, calling him by what was then his usual name of cephas or peter. whilst st. john, writing many years afterwards, though he is equally accurate as to simon being the name in use at the time, thinks it necessary to explain who was meant by it ('jesus saith to simon _peter_, simon son of john, lovest thou me?').[ ] [footnote : luke . .] [footnote : john . ; comp. acts. . , .] similarly the apostles are still spoken of as _the eleven_, though they could only have had this title for _just these few weeks_.[ ] and the fact of their having had it seems to have been soon forgotten. for st. paul even when alluding to this very time prefers to call them by the familiar title of _the twelve_, which was equally correct, as we are specially told that st. matthias, who was afterwards chosen as the twelfth, had been with them all along.[ ] [footnote : mark . ; luke . , .] [footnote : acts . ; cor. . .] there are also some incidental remarks in the narratives, which seem so natural, and yet so unlikely to have been invented. thus we read that on one occasion after christ appeared to the apostles, they still disbelieved _for joy_; and on another, that though they knew it was the lord, they yet wanted to ask him _who art thou?_[ ] such bewildered feelings are quite intelligible at the time, but are not likely to have been thought of afterwards. [footnote : luke . ; john . .] moreover the _kind_ of resurrection asserted (though no doubt presenting great difficulties) is strongly in favour of a contemporary date. for it was not (as said in chapter xiii.) a mere resuscitation of christ's natural body, but his rising again in a body which combined material and spiritual properties in a remarkable manner. and there was nothing in the old testament, or anywhere else, to suggest such a resurrection as this; it was quite unique. indeed the _combination_ of these properties--and they occur in the same gospel--is so extremely puzzling, that it is hard to see how anything but actual experience (or what they believed to be such) could ever have induced men to record it. and much the same may be said of their ascribing an _altered appearance_ to christ's body, so that he was often not recognised at first. late writers are not likely to have imagined this. lastly, the utter absence of any attempt at harmonising the narratives, or avoiding the apparent discrepancies between them, also points to their extreme antiquity. the writers in fact seem to narrate just what they believed to have happened, often mentioning the most trivial circumstances, and without ever attempting to meet difficulties or objections. and while such disconnected accounts might well have been written by the actual witnesses of a wonderful miracle, they are not such as would have been deliberately invented; nor are they like subsequent legends and myths. these narratives then appear throughout to be thoroughly trustworthy; and we therefore decide that the _resurrection of christ is probably true_. in the next chapter we will consider the various alternative theories. chapter xviii that the failure of other explanations increases this probability. the first witnesses of the resurrection. the value of all testimony depends on four questions about the witnesses, and here the denial of each corresponds to the four chief alternative theories. (_a._) the falsehood theory. this would be to deny their _veracity_, and say that they did not speak the truth, as far as they knew it. but it is disproved by their motives, their conduct, and their sufferings. (_b._) the legend theory. this would be to deny their _knowledge_, and say that they had not the means of knowing the truth. but amply sufficient means were within their reach, and they were quite competent to use them. (_c._) the vision theory. this would be to deny their _investigation_, and say that they were too excited to avail themselves of these means. but this theory has immense difficulties. ( .) arguments in its favour. ( .) arguments against it. ( .) its failure to account for the facts. ( .) the theory of real visions. (_d._) the swoon theory. this would be to deny their _reasoning_, and say that they did not draw the right conclusion, since christ's appearances were due to his not having died. but this theory also has immense difficulties. (_e._) conclusion. the alleged difficulties of the christian theory, extremely strong argument in favour of the resurrection. we decided in the last chapter that the resurrection of christ was _probably true_; that is to say, we carefully examined the various narratives, and came to the conclusion that they had every appearance of being candidly and truthfully written. we have now to consider, more in detail, _the testimony of its first witnesses_. and, as we shall see, this affords strong additional evidence in its favour; since all attempts to account for this testimony, without admitting its truth, fail hopelessly. by the _first witnesses_, we mean those persons who saw, or said they saw, christ alive after his crucifixion. this will include the twelve apostles, and over other christians, most of whom st. paul says were still alive when he wrote. it will also include two persons, who at the time were _not_ christians,--st. paul himself, an avowed enemy, and st. james who, though he was christ's brother, does not seem to have believed in him.[ ] [footnote : john . .] and before discussing the value of their testimony, it may be well to glance at some general rules in regard to all testimony. if, then, a person plainly asserts that a certain event took place, before we believe that it did take place, we must inquire first as to his _veracity_: did he speak the truth as far as he knew it? next as to his _knowledge_: had he the means of knowing the truth? next as to his _investigation_: did he avail himself of those means? and lastly, as to his _reasoning_: did he draw the right conclusion? and all possible ways of denying the truth of a man's statement can be brought under one or other of these heads. for if it is not true, it must be either:-- intentionally false = want of veracity. { had not the } { means of } or { knowing the } = want of knowledge. { truth } { unintentionally { false, in which { or { did not } = want of investigation. case he either { { use them } { had the means,{ or { and either { used them } { { wrongly } = want of reasoning. from this it is clear that for anyone to deny a man's statement, without disputing either his veracity, knowledge, investigation, or reasoning, is very like denying that one angle is greater than another, without disputing that it is neither equal to it, nor less than it. we have now to apply these general rules to the testimony in favour of the resurrection of christ. and, as we shall see, the denial of these four points corresponds to the four chief alternative theories, which, may be called the _falsehood_, the _legend_, the _vision_, and the _swoon_ theory. (_a._) the falsehood theory. we will begin with the falsehood theory. this would be to deny the _veracity_ of the witnesses, and say that though they asserted that christ rose from the dead, and appeared to them, they did not really believe it. in other words they were deliberate impostors, who, knowing that their master did not rise from the dead, yet spent their whole lives in trying to persuade people that he did. and, as we shall see, their _motives_, their _conduct_, and their _sufferings_, are all strongly opposed to such a theory. and first as to their _motives_, had they any interest in asserting that christ rose from the dead unless they really believed it? clearly they had _not_, for they were so few or so faint-hearted that they could not prevent their master being crucified. what chance was there then of persuading the world that he had risen from the dead, and why should they have embarked on such a hopeless scheme? nothing indeed but the most firm conviction of their lord's resurrection, and therefore of supernatural assistance, would ever have induced men to have ventured on it. if they believed the resurrection to be true, then, and only then, would they have had any motive whatever for preaching it. next as to their _conduct_, did this show that they really believed what they preached? and here also the evidence is overwhelming. when their master was crucified his followers were naturally filled with gloom and despair; but in a few days this was changed to intense joy and confidence. they preached the resurrection in the very place where he was crucified, and boldly went forth to convert the world in his name. it is clear that before such a marvellous change could take place they must at least have thought they had, what st. luke asserts they actually did have, _many proofs_ of the resurrection.[ ] to them, at all events, the evidence must haveseemed conclusive, or christianity would have perished on calvary. [footnote : acts . .] lastly as to their _sufferings_. this is the most important point, since voluntary suffering in any form, but especially in its extreme form of martyrdom, seems conclusive as to a man's veracity. persons do not suffer for what they believe to be false; they must have believed it to be true, though this does not of course prove that it actually was true. and here is the answer to the common objection, that since all religions have had their martyrs, this kind of evidence proves nothing. on the contrary, it does prove something, though it does not prove everything. it does not prove that what the man died for was true, but it does prove that he believed it to be true. it is therefore a conclusive test as to his _veracity_. what evidence have we, then, that the first witnesses suffered for the truth of what they preached? and once more the evidence is complete and overwhelming, both from the acts and st. paul's epistles. we need only refer to these latter, as their genuineness is undisputed. st. paul then, in one place, gives a list of the actual sufferings he had undergone; he alludes to them in numerous other places, and often as if they were the common experience of all christians at the time; and in one passage he expressly includes the other apostles with himself in the long list of sufferings he describes. while he elsewhere declares that at a still earlier time, before his conversion, he himself persecuted the christians _beyond measure_.[ ] [footnote : cor. . - ; rom. . ; cor. . - ; gal. . .] there can thus be no doubt as to the continual sufferings of the first witnesses, and, as just said, it is a decisive proof of their veracity. we conclude therefore that when they asserted that christ rose from the dead, they were asserting what they honestly believed whether rightly or wrongly, to be true. and as this belief was due, simply to the witnesses believing that they saw christ alive after his death; we must further conclude that they honestly believed in the appearances of christ as recorded by themselves, and their friends, in the new testament. in other words, these accounts are not _intentionally_ false. so much for the _veracity_ of the witnesses. it is not, as a rule, denied by modern opponents of the resurrection; but in early times, when men ought to have known best, it was evidently thought to be the only alternative. st. paul declares emphatically that unless christ had risen, he and the other apostles were _false witnesses_, in plain words _liars_.[ ] that was the only choice. they were either saying what they knew to be true, or what they knew to be false. and the idea of there being some _mistake_ about it, due to visions, or swoons, or anything else, never seems to have occurred to anyone. [footnote : cor. . .] (_b._) the legend theory. we pass on now to the legend theory. this would be to deny the _knowledge_ of the witnesses: and say that our gospels are not genuine, but merely record subsequent legends; so we cannot tell whether the first witnesses had, or had not, the means of knowing the truth. but if we admit the genuineness of our gospels, and the veracity of their writers (both of which have been admitted), the legend theory is out of the question. they asserted, it will be remembered, that christ's _body_, not his spirit, appeared to them, after the crucifixion; and from their own accounts it is clear that they had ample means of finding out if this was true. whether they used these means, and actually did find out, is, of course, another question; but as to sufficient means being available, and their being quite competent to use them if they liked, there can be no doubt whatever. as has been well said, it was not one person who saw him, but many; they saw him not only separately, but together; not only for a moment, but for a long time; not only by night, but by day; not only at a distance, but near; not only once, but several times. and they not only saw him, but they touched him, walked with him, conversed with him, ate with him, and examined his body to satisfy their doubts. in fact, according to their own accounts, christ seems to have convinced them in every way in which conviction was possible that he had really risen from the dead. and even apart from our gospels, the legend theory is still untenable. for st. paul mentions several of the appearances, and as this was within a few years of the events, there was no time for the growth of legends. moreover he heard of them direct from those who saw them, st. peter, st. james, etc., so he must have known the circumstances under which they occurred, and, being an educated man, is not likely to have been taken in by any imposture. while his saying that some of the five hundred had died, though most of them were still alive when he wrote, implies that he had also made some enquiries about that appearance. his testimony is thus very valuable from every point of view, and absolutely fatal to the legend theory. (_c._) the vision theory. we now come to the vision theory. this would be to deny the _investigation_ of the witnesses; and say that they were so excited, or so enthusiastic, or perhaps so stupid, that they did not avail themselves of the ample means they had of finding out the truth. in other words they so expected their lord to appear to them after his death, and kept so dwelling on the thought of him, as though unseen, yet perhaps very near to them, that after a time they fancied they actually saw him, and that he had risen from the dead. the wish was, in fact, father to the thought; so that when a supposed appearance took place, they were so filled with joy at their master's presence, that they neglected to ascertain whether the appearance they saw was real, or only due to their own fancy. such is the theory; though it is often modified in regard to particular appearances, by ascribing them to dreams, or to someone being mistaken for christ. and as it is at present the favourite one with those who reject the resurrection, we must examine it carefully; first considering the arguments in its favour, then those against it, then its failure to account for the facts recorded, and lastly what is known as the theory of real visions. ( .) _arguments in its favour._ now we must at once admit that it is possible for an honest man to mistake a phantom of his own brain, arising from some diseased state of the mind or body, for a reality in the outer world. such _subjective_ visions, as they are called, are by no means unheard of, though they are not common. and of course the great, if not the only argument in its favour is that it professes to account for the alleged resurrection, without on the one hand admitting its truth, or on the other that the witnesses were deliberate impostors. here, it is urged, is a way of avoiding both difficulties, by allowing that the witnesses honestly believed all they said, only they were _mistaken_ in supposing the appearances to be real, when they were merely due to their own imagination. and undoubtedly the fact that men have often thought they saw ghosts, visions, etc., when there was really nothing to see, gives it some support. ( .) _arguments against it._ let us now consider how this vision theory would suit the accounts of the resurrection written by the witnesses themselves, and their friends. as will be seen, we might almost imagine that they had been written on purpose to contradict it. to begin with, the writers were not unacquainted with visions, and occasionally record them as happening to themselves or others. but then they always use suitable expressions, such as falling into a trance.[ ] no such language is used in the gospels to describe the appearances of christ, which are always recorded as if they were actual matters of fact. while as to st. paul, he never confuses the revelations and visions, which he sometimes had, with the one great appearance of christ to him near damascus, which qualified him to be an apostle.[ ] [footnote : _e.g._, acts . ; . ; . .] [footnote : cor. . ; . ; gal. . - .] secondly, the appearances did not take place (as visions might have been expected to do, and generally did)[ ] when the disciples were engaged in prayer, or in worship. but it was during their ordinary everyday occupations; when for instance they were going for a walk, or sitting at supper, or out fishing. and they were often simple, plain, and almost trivial in their character, very different from what enthusiasts would have imagined. [footnote : _e.g._, acts . ; . ; . .] thirdly, subjective visions due to enthusiasm, would not have started so soon after the crucifixion as the _third_ day. it would have required a much longer time for the disciples to have got over their utter confusion, and to have realised (perhaps by studying the old prophecies) that this humiliation was, after all, part of god's scheme, and was to be followed by a resurrection. nor again would such visions have only lasted for a short time; yet with the single exception of that to st. paul, they were all over in a few weeks, though the enthusiasm of the witnesses lasted through life. fourthly, it is plain from all the accounts that the apostles did not _expect_ the resurrection, and were much surprised at it, though they afterwards remembered that christ had foretold it. this is shown, not only by the christians bringing spices, to embalm the body, and persons do not embalm a body unless they expect it to remain in the grave; but also by the account of the appearances themselves. for with the exception of the two farewell meetings (and possibly that to the two marys), christ's appearance was wholly unexpected. no one was looking for it, no one was anticipating it. when for instance mary magdalene found the tomb empty, it never even occurred to her that he had come to life again, she merely thought the body had been removed. fifthly, and this is very remarkable, when christ did appear, he was often _not recognised_. this was the case with mary magdalene, with cleopas and his companion, and with the disciples at tiberias. but it is plain that, if they so hoped to see their risen master, that they eventually fancied they did see him, they would at once have recognised him; and their not doing so is quite inconsistent with the vision theory. sixthly, we are repeatedly told that at first some of the disciples _disbelieved_ or _doubted_ the resurrection.[ ] this is an important point, since it shows that opinions were divided on the subject, and therefore makes it almost certain that they would have used what means they had of finding out the truth. and a visit to the grave would have shown them at once whether the body was there, or not: and they are not likely to have preached the resurrection, without first ascertaining the point. moreover, some of them remained doubtful even after the others were persuaded, st. thomas in particular requiring the most convincing proof. his state of mind was certainly not that of an enthusiast, since, instead of being so convinced of the resurrection as to have imagined it, he could with great difficulty be got to believe it. indeed, according to these accounts, scarcely one of the witnesses believed the resurrection till the belief was almost forced on him. [footnote : matt. . ; mark . - ; luke . , ; john . .] seventhly, subjective visions do not occur to different persons _simultaneously_. a man's private illusions (like his dreams) are his own. a number of men do not simultaneously dream the same dream, still less do they simultaneously see the same subjective vision--at least a vision like that here referred to, of a person moving about among them, and speaking to them. this is quite different from constantine's army thinking that they saw a luminous cross in the sky, or a body of spanish troops that they saw their patron (st. james) riding at their head, or anything of that kind; several instances of which are known. but a subjective vision, at all resembling what is described in the gospels, is extremely rare. it may perhaps happen to one person in ten thousand once in his life. it is difficult to believe that even two persons should have such an experience at the same time, while the idea that a dozen or more men should simultaneously see such a subjective vision is out of the question. and the gospels, it may be added, always imply that christ was visible _to all present_ (though some of them doubted as to his identity), which was not, as a rule, the case in other alleged visions. eighthly, how are we to account for visionary _conversations_? yet these occurred on _every_ occasion. christ never merely appeared, and then vanished. he always spoke, and often for a considerable time, giving detailed instructions; and can we imagine anyone believing a mere vision to have done all this? is it possible, for instance, for st. thomas to have believed that christ conversed with him, and for the other apostles, _who were all present_, to have believed it too, if the whole affair was only a vision? indeed, conversations _in the presence of others_ seem peculiarly hard to explain as visions, yet they are mentioned more than once. for all these reasons then--because the appearances are not described in suitable language, did not occur on suitable occasions, began and ended too soon, were not expected, were not recognised, were not believed, occurred simultaneously, and always included conversations as well--the vision theory is to say the least extremely improbable. ( .) _its failure to account for the facts._ but this is not all; the theory is not only improbable, it does not account for the actual _facts_ recorded--facts concerning which, unless the writings are intentionally false, there could be no doubt whatever. a vision, for instance, could not have rolled away the stone from the door of the tomb, yet this is vouched for by _every_ evangelist. again, persons could not have honestly believed that they went to the tomb, and found it empty, if the body was there all the time. and this also is vouched for by _every_ evangelist. nor could they have thought that they _touched_ their master, _i.e._, took hold of his feet, if he existed only in their imagination; for the attempt to touch him would at once have shown them their mistake.[ ] nor could they have seen him _eat food_, for a vision, like a dream, would not explain the disappearance of the food. nor again could a mere vision take bread, and on another occasion bread and fish, and give it them to eat.[ ] in regard to all these particulars, then, the vision theory is hopelessly untenable. [footnote : matt. . .] [footnote : luke . , ; john . ; acts . .] there is also the great difficulty as to what became of the _dead body_ of christ. for if it was still in the grave, the jews would have produced it, rather than invent the story about its being stolen; and if it was not in the grave, its removal could not have been due to visions. with regard to this story it may be noticed that st. matthew says it was _spread abroad_ among the jews; and justin martyr, himself a native of palestine, also alludes to it. for he says that the jews sent men all over the world to proclaim that the disciples _stole_ the body at _night_;[ ] so there can be no doubt that some such story existed. [footnote : matt. . ; justin, dial., .] but its weakness is self-evident. for if the soldiers (who were probably posted on the saturday evening, and thus not known to the women) were, as they said, _asleep_ at the time, how could they tell whether the disciples had stolen the body, or whether christ had come forth of his own accord? moreover that roman soldiers, with their strict discipline, who were put there on purpose to keep the body, should really have gone to sleep, and allowed it to be stolen, is _most improbable_. and though it seems unlikely that they could have been bribed to say they were asleep, if they were not, as it was a capital offence; we must remember that they were _already_ liable to death; since they had left the tomb, and the body was gone. so whether they were asleep, or awake, at the time mattered little. and in any case, the fact of their having left it (which is plain from all the accounts) shows that something very extraordinary must have happened. all, then, that the story proves is this (but this it does prove unquestionably), that though the body was guarded, yet when it was wanted it was gone, and could not be found. and this is a strong argument not only against the vision theory, but against every theory except the christian one. for when the resurrection was first announced, the most obvious and decisive answer would have been for the jews to have produced the dead body; and their not doing this strongly supports the christian account. indeed, the _empty tomb_, together with the failure of all attempts to account for it, was doubtless one of the reasons why the apostles gained so many converts the first day they preached the resurrection.[ ] [footnote : acts . .] lastly, we must remember that this gaining of converts, _i.e._, the _founding of christianity_, is, after all, the great fact that has to be explained. and even if the vision theory could account for the apostles themselves believing that they had seen christ, it would not account for their being able to convince others of this belief, especially if the body was still in the tomb. for a mere vision, like a ghost story, would begin and end in nothing; and if the resurrection also began in nothing, how are we to account for its ending in so much? summing up these arguments, then, we conclude that the vision theory is most improbable in any case; and can only be accepted at all by admitting that nearly the whole of our accounts are not only untrue, but intentionally so. but then it is quite needless. its object was to explain the alleged resurrection without disputing the _veracity_ of the writers, and this it is quite unable to do. in short, if the writers honestly believed the accounts as we have them, or indeed any other accounts at all resembling them, the vision theory is out of the question. it does not even account satisfactorily for the one appearance, that to st. paul, which it might be thought capable of explaining. for his _companions_ as well as himself saw the light and (apparently) heard the voice, though not the actual words.[ ] and how could a subjective vision of st. paul have thus affected all his companions? moreover physical blindness does not result from such a vision, and to say that in his case the wish was father to the thought, and that his expectation and hope of seeing christ eventually made him think that he did see him, is absurd. for even when he did see him, he did not recognise him; but had to ask _who art thou, lord?_ here then was the case of an avowed enemy, and a man of great intellectual power, who was converted, and that against his will, solely by the appearance of christ. and as he had access to all existing evidence on both sides, and had everything to lose and nothing to gain from the change, his conversion alone is a strong argument in favour of the resurrection, more especially as the fact itself is beyond dispute. [footnote : acts . ; . ; . , .] ( .) _the theory of real visions._ before passing on, we must just glance at a modification of the vision theory, that has been suggested in recent years; which is that the apostles saw _real_ visions, miraculously sent by god, to persuade them to go on preaching the gospel. and no doubt this theory avoids many of the difficulties of the ordinary vision theory, especially in regard to the appearances beginning so soon as the third day, their not being expected, and their occurring simultaneously. but it has even greater difficulties of its own. for it admits the supernatural, and yet these divinely sent visions were such as to _mislead_ the apostles, and to make them think that christ's body had risen from the grave, and saw no corruption, when in reality it was still decaying in the tomb. and this alone is fatal to the theory. for if god gave a supernatural vision, it would certainly be to convince men of what was true, not of what was false. and even a real miracle is easier to believe, than that god should found his church on a false one. moreover supernatural visions are just as unable as natural ones to account for the facts recorded, such as the rolling away of the stone, the empty tomb, the holding of christ by his feet, or the disappearance of the food. while the great difficulty as to what became of the dead body, applies to this as much as to the ordinary vision theory. (_d._) the swoon theory. lastly we come to the swoon theory. this would be to deny the _reasoning_ of the witnesses; and say that though they saw christ alive after his crucifixion, they did not draw the right conclusion in thinking that he had risen from the dead, since as a matter of fact he had never died, but had only fainted on the cross. and in support of this, it is urged that death after crucifixion did not generally occur so quickly, since pilate _marvelled if he were already dead_; and that he might easily have been mistaken for dead, as no accurate tests were known in those days. while the blood coming out of his side is also appealed to, because blood does not flow from a dead body. moreover, as he was then placed in a cool rock cave, with aromatic spices, he would probably recover consciousness; when he would come forth and visit his friends, and ask for something to _eat_: which is what he did according to st. luke. and they, superstitious men, looking upon their master as in some sense divine, and perhaps half expecting the resurrection, would at once conclude that he had risen from the dead; especially if they had already heard that the tomb was empty. and the chief argument in favour of the theory is, of course, the same as that in favour of the vision theory. it professes to account for the recorded appearances, without admitting either the truth of the resurrection, or deliberate falsehood on the part of the witnesses; who, according to this theory, were themselves mistaken in thinking that christ had risen from the dead, when in reality he had never died. they could not therefore have helped in restoring him; he must have recovered by himself. this is essential to the theory; so it is quite unlike a case recorded by josephus, where a man who had been crucified, and taken down alive, was gradually restored by a doctor.[ ] [footnote : josephus, life, .] how then would this theory suit the facts of the case? while admitting its possibility, it is hard to find words to express its great _improbability_. it has immense difficulties, many of them peculiarly its own. and first as to christ himself. he must have been extremely exhausted after all the ill-treatment he had received, yet he is supposed not only to have recovered consciousness, but to have come out of the tomb by himself, rolling away the large stone. and then, instead of creeping about weak and ill, and requiring nursing and medical treatment, he must have walked over twelve miles--and this with pierced feet[ ]--to emmaus and back. and the same evening he must have appeared to his disciples so completely recovered that they, instead of looking upon him as still half-dead, thought that he had conquered death, and was indeed the prince of life. all this implies such a rapid recovery as is quite incredible. [footnote : the feet being pierced is often disputed, but st. luke (who probably knew more about crucifixion than we do) evidently thought they were; for he records christ as saying, _see my hands and my feet that it is i myself_, which implies that his hands and feet would identify him.] next as to the piercing of his side with a spear.[ ] this is recorded by an eye-witness, and would doubtless of itself have caused death, though st. john's statement that he was dead already seems the more probable. nor did the blood coming out, in any way, disprove this. for blood (as long as it remains liquid) will of course flow out _downwards_ from any body, just as other liquids would do. only when a person is alive, the action of the heart will make it flow out upwards as well. [footnote : john . .] again, it is most unlikely that so many persons, both friends and foes, should have mistaken christ for dead. yet according to this theory the _soldiers_ entrusted with the execution, who must have had a good deal of experience in such matters; the _centurion_, who was sent for by pilate on purpose to ascertain this very point; the _christians_, who took down the body and wrapped it in linen cloths; and the _jews_, who are not likely to have left their victim without making sure of the fact, must all have honestly believed that christ was dead when he was not. moreover, the tomb was carefully guarded by his enemies for the express purpose of securing the body. how then did they let it escape? if they were not asleep at the time, they must either have done this _willingly_, because they were bribed; or _unwillingly_, because they could not help it, being overcome by some supernatural power; and either alternative is fatal to the swoon theory. this theory also requires not only that the apostles should have been mistaken in thinking that christ had risen from the dead, but that christ himself should have countenanced the mistake; or he would have explained the truth to his disciples. he is thus made to be a deceiver instead of his apostles, which all will admit to be most improbable. and then, what became of him afterwards? if he died again within a few weeks, his disciples could scarcely have thought him the prince of life, who had the keys of death and of hades;[ ] and if he continued to live, where did he go to? moreover he must have died again at some time, and his real tomb is sure to have been much venerated by his followers; and it would have prevented any belief in the ascension. yet as said before (chapter xv.), this seems to have formed a part of christian instruction from the very first. [footnote : acts . ; rev. . .] but perhaps the chief argument against this theory is that it does not account for many of the actual _facts_ recorded; such as christ passing through closed doors, his vanishing at pleasure, and his ascension. these details present no difficulty on the vision theory, nor on that of deliberate falsehood; but they are inconsistent with the present one. and though it accounts to some extent for the empty tomb; it does not account for the _angels_ being there, announcing the resurrection. nor does it account for the _grave-clothes_ being so carefully left behind. for if christ had come out of the tomb by himself, he could scarcely have left his clothes behind; not to mention the difficulty of taking them off, caused by the adhesive myrrh, which would have stuck them together, and to the body. these grave-clothes are thus fatal to this, as to every other theory, except the christian one; yet it was a simple matter of fact, as to which there could be no possible _mistake_. either the clothes were there, or else the persons who said they saw them were telling a falsehood. moreover, in any case christ could not have walked to emmaus and back, or appeared to the apostles, or to anyone else, in his _grave-clothes_, so he must have obtained some others, and how did he get them? his enemies are not likely to have supplied them, and if his friends did, they must have been aware of the fraud. on the whole then, we decide that the _swoon theory_, like the vision theory, is very improbable in any case, and only tenable at all by supposing a large part of our narratives to be intentionally false. but then it is quite needless. (_e._) conclusion. before concluding this chapter a few remarks may be made on the alleged difficulties of the _christian_ theory. there are only two of any importance. the first is that the resurrection would be a _miracle_, and probably nine out of ten men who disbelieve it, do so for this reason. it is not that the evidence for it is insufficient (they have perhaps never examined it) but that no conceivable evidence would be sufficient to establish such an event. miracles, they say, are incredible, _they cannot happen_, and that settles the point; for it is of course easier to believe _any_ explanation, visions, swoons, or anything else, than the occurrence of that which cannot happen. but we have already admitted, in chapter vii., that miracles are _not_ incredible. and though no doubt, _under ordinary circumstances_, a dead man coming to life again would be so _extremely_ improbable as to be practically incredible; yet these were not ordinary circumstances, and christ was not an ordinary man. on the contrary, as we shall see, he was an absolutely unique man, claiming moreover to be divine, and having a mass of powerful evidence both from his own character, from previous prophecies, and from subsequent history, to support his claims. therefore that he should rise from the dead, as a proof that these claims were well-founded, does not seem so very improbable after all. the other difficulty refers to christ's not appearing _publicly_ to the jews. why, it is asked, did he only appear to his own disciples? surely this is very suspicious. if he really did rise from the dead, and wished the world to believe it, why did he not settle the point by going publicly into jerusalem? but we cannot feel sure that this would have _settled the point_. no doubt the jews who saw him would have been convinced, but the nation as a whole might, or might not, have accepted christianity. if they did _not_, saying for instance it was due to a pretender, it would have been worse than useless. while if they did, the romans would very likely have looked upon it as a national insurrection, and its progress would have been more than ever difficult. it would also have greatly weakened the force of _prophecy_; since, in the absence of ancient manuscripts, people might think that the old jewish prophecies had been tampered with, to make them suit their christian interpretation. but now these prophecies, having been preserved by men who are opposed to christianity, are above suspicion. moreover, to get the world to believe in the resurrection required not only evidence, but _missionaries_, that is to say, men who were so absolutely convinced of its truth, as to be willing to spend their whole lives in witnessing for it, in all lands and at all costs. and the chief object of the appearances may have been to produce such men; and it is obvious that (apart from a miraculous conversion like st. paul's) there could not have been more than a few of them. for only a _few_ could have conversed with christ, and eaten with him after his death, so as to be quite certain that he was then alive; only a _few_ could have known him so intimately before, as to be quite certain that it was really he, and only a _few_ had loved him so dearly as to be willing to give up everything for his sake. in short, there were only a few _suitable_ witnesses available. and christ's frequently appearing to these few--the _chosen witnesses_ as they are called[ ]--in the private and intimate manner recorded in the gospels, was evidently more likely to turn them into ardent missionaries (which it actually did) than any public appearance. indeed it so often happens that what everybody should do, nobody does; that it may be doubted whether christ's publicly appearing to a number of persons in jerusalem would have induced even one of them to have faced a life of suffering, and a death of martyrdom, in spreading the news. this objection, then, cannot be maintained. [footnote : acts . .] in conclusion, it seems scarcely necessary to sum up the arguments in this chapter. we have discussed at some length the veracity, knowledge, investigation, and reasoning of the _first witnesses_ of the resurrection; and as we have seen, not one of these points can be fairly doubted. in fact the evidence in favour of each is overwhelming. therefore the alternative theories--the falsehood, the legend, the vision, and the swoon theory--which are founded on denying these points, are all untenable. and this greatly supports the conclusion we arrived at in the last chapter; so that combining the two; we have an _extremely strong_ argument in favour of the resurrection of christ. chapter xix. that the other new testament miracles are probably true. (_a._) their credibility. they present few difficulties; the casting out of evil spirits. (_b._) their truthfulness. ( .) general marks of truthfulness. ( .) special marks of truthfulness. (_c._) their publicity. ( .) they occurred in public. ( .) they were publicly appealed to. ( .) they were never disputed. ( .) the silence of classical writers. (_d._) conclusion. futile attempts to explain them away, the subject of modern miracles. having discussed in the last two chapters the resurrection of christ, we pass on now to the other new testament miracles, and will consider in turn their _credibility_, their _truthfulness_, and their _publicity_. (_a._) their credibility. now with one exception, the casting out of evil spirits, the miracles present scarcely any difficulty provided miracles at all are credible, which we have already admitted. most of them, especially those of healing, were very suitable from a moral point of view, while that they were meant to confirm christ's teaching and claims is beyond dispute. not only do all the evangelists declare this, but christ himself though he refused to work a miracle when challenged to do so--he would not work one _to order_, as we might say--yet appealed to his _public_ miracles in the most emphatic manner. thus, when st. john the baptist sent messengers to inquire whether he was the messiah, his only answer was, 'go your way, and tell john the things which ye do hear and see; the blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up,'[ ] etc. and this is specially important because christians would not have _invented_ an incident which shows that christ's own messenger had (apparently) lost faith in him. yet it is not easy to separate his question from the reply which it received; while if we admit that christ gave this reply, it seems to settle the question as to his working miracles. [footnote : matt. . ; luke . ; see also mark . ; john . .] and he afterwards condemned chorazin, and other cities, in the strongest terms, because, although he had done so many miracles there, they had not repented; which again shows both the publicity of the miracles, and their intended evidential value.[ ] and this passage also is very important, since its genuineness is confirmed by the fact that not a single miracle is recorded as having been worked at chorazin. yet, if the evangelists (or anyone else) had invented the saying, they would surely have invented some miracles there to justify it. if on the other hand, they did not invent it, and the words were actually spoken by christ, is it conceivable that he should have blamed these cities for not believing on him in spite of his miracles, if he had done no miracles? [footnote : matt. . - ; luke . - . both this passage, and the last, belong to q, the supposed earliest source of our gospels.] we pass on now to the _casting out of evil spirits_, which implies that persons may sometimes be _possessed_ by such spirits, and this is often thought to be a difficulty. but though our ignorance on the subject is undoubtedly great, there is nothing incredible here. for we have already admitted the _influence_ of such spirits (chapter xii.), and what is called _possession_ is merely an extreme form of influence. indeed, the accounts of mesmerism at the present day, though they cannot always be trusted, seem to show that even one man may so entirely _possess_ the mind and will of another as to make him do whatever he wishes. and it is certainly no more difficult to believe that this power may in some cases be exercised by an evil spirit. with regard to the outward symptoms mentioned in the gospels, they seem to have resembled certain forms of madness; though, as the patients are now kept under restraint in civilised countries, they have not the same notoriety. but it may be said, why ascribe this madness to an evil spirit? but why not? madness often follows the frequent yielding to certain temptations, such as drunkenness or impurity; and that it may really be due to the action of an evil spirit (an _unclean_ spirit is the significant term used in the gospels) and be the appropriate punishment for yielding to _his_ temptation, is certainty not incredible. and if so, considering the immoral state of the world at the time of christ, we cannot be surprised at such cases being far more common then than now. and the writers, it may be added, do not (like some early nations) attribute _all_ maladies to evil spirits, for we read of men having fever and palsy, as well as being blind, lame, deaf, and dumb, without any hint of its being due to an evil spirit; so they were quite able to distinguish between the two. there is, however, one instance--the swine at gadara--of _animals_ being thus afflicted,[ ] which undoubtedly forms a difficulty, and i have never seen a satisfactory explanation of it. but still our ignorance about animals, combined with the fact that they resemble man in so many respects, prevents us from saying that it is absolutely incredible. and as to the alleged _injustice_ of the miracle (which is often objected to) we must remember that if christ were the divine being he claimed to be, the world and all it contained belonged to him; so his allowing the swine to be destroyed by evil spirits was no more unjust to their owners, than if he had allowed them to die by disease. [footnote : matt. . - ; mark . - ; luke . - .] lastly, all the christian miracles lose a great deal of their improbability when we consider the _unique position of christ_. and what would be incredible, if told of another man who had done nothing to alter the history of the world, may easily be credible of _him_. we decide, then, that all the new testament miracles are _credible_: we have next to consider whether they are _true_. (_b._) their truthfulness. now the testimony in favour of these miracles is very similar to that in favour of the resurrection of christ. they are recorded by the same writers and in the same books, and everything points to these accounts being trustworthy. to put it shortly, the writers had no motive for recording the miracles unless they believed them to be true, and they had ample means of finding out whether they were true or not; while many of them are such as cannot possibly be explained by want of investigation, or an error in reasoning. moreover, as we shall see, they contain numerous marks of truthfulness. these may be divided into two classes, _general_, or those which concern the miracles as a whole; and _special_, or those which concern individual miracles, or sayings about them; and we will consider each in turn. ( .) _general marks of truthfulness._ among these we may notice first the extremely _simple and graphic_ way in which many of the miracles are described, such as the curing of the man who was born blind, with the repeated questioning of the man himself.[ ] then there is the raising of the daughter of jairus, and the curing of the man who was deaf and had a difficulty in speaking, both of which are described with the most minute details, including the actual aramaic words spoken by christ.[ ] it is difficult to think that they do not come from eye-witnesses. and the same may be said of a large number of the miracles. [footnote : john . - .] [footnote : mark . ; . .] secondly, the _kind_ of miracles ascribed to christ seem (as far as we can judge) to be worthy of him. they were not for his own benefit, but for that of other people, and they are a great contrast to the imaginary miracles ascribed to him in the apocryphal gospels, most of which are extremely childish. when for instance christ was a boy, we read of his making clay birds fly; of his turning children into kids for refusing to play with him; and of his cursing another boy who had run against him, and who in consequence fell down dead.[ ] how different such miracles are from those in our gospels scarcely needs pointing out. nor is the case of the _barren fig-tree_, so often objected to, an exception. for the tree itself could have felt no injury, and as far as we know, its destruction injured no one else. [footnote : gospel of the infancy, chapters xv., xvii., xix.] thirdly, the miracles are closely connected with the _moral teaching_ of christ, and it is difficult either to separate the two, or to believe the whole account to be fictitious. his wonderful works, and his wonderful words involve each other, and form together an harmonious whole, which is too life-like to be imaginary. indeed, a life of christ without his miracles would be as unintelligible as a life of napoleon without his campaigns. and it is interesting to note in this connection that our earliest gospel, st. mark's, contains (in proportion to its length) the most miracles. as we should expect, it was christ's miracles, rather than his moral teaching, which first attracted attention. fourthly, the miracles were as a rule miracles of _healing_: that is to say, of restoring something to its natural state, such as making blind eyes see; and not doing something unnatural, such as giving a man a third eye. miracles of either kind would of course show superhuman power; but the former are obviously the more suited to the god of nature. and this _naturalness_ of the miracles, as we may call it, seems to many a strong argument in their favour. fifthly, there were an immense _number_ of miracles, the ones recorded being mere _examples_ of those that were actually worked. thus in st. mark's gospel we are told that on one occasion, christ healed _many_ who were sick with _divers_ diseases; on another that he had healed so _many_, that those with plagues pressed upon him to touch him; and on another that everywhere he went, into the villages, cities, or country, the sick were laid out, so that they might touch his garment, and _as many as touched him were made whole_.[ ] [footnote : mark . ; . ; . ] sixthly, there was a great _variety_ in the miracles. they were of various kinds, worked in various places, before various witnesses, and with various details and characteristics. they occurred in public as well as in private; in the towns as well as in the country; at sea as well as on land; in groups as well as singly; at a distance as well as near; after due notice as well as suddenly; when watched by enemies as well as among friends; unsolicited as well as when asked for; in times of joy, and in times of sorrow. they were worked on the blind as well as the deaf; the lame as well as the dumb; the leprous as well as the palsied; the dead as well as the living. they concerned men as well as women; the rich as well as the poor; the educated as well as the ignorant; the young as well as the old; multitudes as well as individuals; gentiles as well as jews; nature as well as man--in fact, according to our accounts, it is difficult to imagine any miracles that could have been more absolutely convincing. seventhly, the miracles of christ were (with trifling exceptions) worked _suddenly_. they were not like gradual cures, or slow recoveries, but they were done in a moment. the blind man _immediately_ received his sight; the palsied _immediately_ took up his couch: the leper was _straightway_ cleansed; the infirm was _straightway_ made whole; the dead _immediately_ rose up, etc.[ ] this was evidently a striking feature in the miracles, and the evangelists seem to have been much impressed by it. [footnote : luke . ; . ; mark . ; matt. . ; john . ; luke . .] eighthly, many of the miracles were of a _permanent_ character, and such as could be examined again and again. when, for instance, a man who had long been lame, or deaf, or blind, was restored to health, the villagers, as well as the man himself, could certify to the cure for years to come. and miracles such as these are obviously of much greater value than what we may call _momentary_ miracles (such as christ's calming the storm) where the only possible evidence is that of the actual spectators. lastly, and this is very remarkable, the evangelists nearly always relate that christ worked his miracles _by his own authority_: while the old testament prophets, with scarcely an exception, worked theirs by calling upon god. take for instance the similar cases of raising a widow's son.[ ] elijah prays earnestly that god would restore the child to life; christ merely gives the command, _i say unto thee, arise_. the difference between the two is very striking, and is of itself a strong argument in favour of christ's miracles; for had the evangelists invented them, they would certainly have made them resemble those of the old testament. but instead of this, they describe them as worked in a new and unprecedented manner, and one which must at the time have seemed most presumptuous. [footnote : kings . ; luke . .] the gospel miracles then, from the simple and graphic way in which they are described; their not containing anything childish or unworthy; their close connection with the moral teaching of christ; their naturalness; their number; their variety; their suddenness; their permanence; and above all from the authoritative way in which they are said to have been worked; have every appearance of being truth fully recorded. ( .) _special marks of truthfulness._ moreover several individual miracles, and sayings about them, are of such a kind as could scarcely have been invented. take, for instance, the raising of the daughter of jairus.[ ] now of course anyone, wishing to magnify the power of christ, might have invented this or any other miracle. but if so, he is not likely to have put into the mouth of christ himself the words, _the child is not dead but sleepeth_. these words seem to imply that christ did not consider it a miracle; and though we may be able to explain them, by the similar words used in regard to lazarus,[ ] they certainly bear the marks of genuineness. [footnote : mark . .] [footnote : john . .] we are also told, more than once, that christ's power of working miracles was _conditional_ on the faith of the person to be healed, so that in one place he could do scarcely any miracles _because of their unbelief_.[ ] this is not the sort of legend that would have grown up round a glorified hero; it bears unmistakably the mark of truthfulness. but then if the writer had good means of knowing that christ could do no miracles in one place, because of their unbelief; had he not equally good means of knowing that christ could, and did, do miracles in other places? [footnote : matt. . ; mark . - ; luke . .] and what shall we say of christ's frequent commands to keep his miracles _secret_?[ ] there were doubtless reasons for this in every case; but christ's followers, who presumably recorded the miracles in order to get them known, are not likely to have invented, and put into his mouth the command to keep them secret. nor is christ likely to have given it, had there been no miracles to keep secret. nor again is anyone likely to have added, unless it was the case, that the command was generally _disobeyed_. this seems surprising, yet it is very true to human nature that a man who had been suddenly cured of a long complaint, should insist on talking about it. [footnote : _e.g._, mark . ; . ; . .] in the same way the discussions about working miracles _on the sabbath day_ have a very genuine tone about them and it is difficult to imagine them to be inventions.[ ] yet such discussions could not have arisen, if there had been no miracles on the sabbath, or any other day. [footnote : mark . - ; luke . - ; john . - ; . - .] then there is the striking passage where christ warned his hearers that even working miracles in his name, without a good life, would not ensure their salvation.[ ] this occurs in one of his most characteristic discourses, the sermon on the mount, and it is hard to doubt its genuineness. but even if we do, it is not likely that christ's followers would have invented such a warning, if as a matter of fact no one ever did work miracles in his name. [footnote : matt. . .] and much the same may be said of another passage where christ is recorded as saying that _all_ believers would be able to work miracles.[ ] if he said so, he must surely have been able to work them himself; and if he did not say so, his followers must have been able to work them, or their inventing such a promise would merely have shown that they were not believers. on the whole, then, as said before, the accounts of the new testament miracles have every appearance of being thoroughly truthful. [footnote : mark . .] (_c._) their publicity. but the most important point has still to be noticed, which is the alleged _publicity_ of these miracles; and as this renders the testimony in their favour peculiarly strong, we must examine it at some length. ( .) _they occurred in public._ to begin with, according to our gospels, all the miracles of christ occurred during his _public ministry_, when he was well known, that at cana being definitely called the first.[ ] and as they were meant to confirm his teaching and claims, it was only natural for them to begin when his teaching began. but if they had been invented, or had grown up as legends, some at least would have been ascribed to his earlier years (as they are in the apocryphal gospels) when there was less chance of their being disputed. [footnote : john . .] moreover, many of them are stated to have been worked openly, and before crowds of people, including scribes, pharisees, and lawyers.[ ] and the _names_ of the places where they occurred, and even of the persons concerned, are given in some cases. among these were _jairus_, a ruler of the synagogue; _lazarus_, a well known man at bethany; _malchus_, a servant of the high priest; and the _centurion_ at capernaum, who, though his name is not given, must have been well known to the jews, as he had built them a synagogue. while the miracles recorded in the acts concern such prominent persons as the _proconsul_, sergius paulus, at cyprus, and the _chief man_, publius, at malta. and it is hard to overestimate the immense difficulty of thus asserting _public_ miracles, with the names of persons, and places, if none occurred; yet the early christians asserted such miracles from the very first. [footnote : _e.g._, luke . - .] take for instance the feeding of the five thousand, near the lake of galilee. this is recorded in the earliest gospel, st. mark's, and must therefore have been written down very soon after the event, when a large number of the five thousand were still alive. now is it conceivable that anyone would have ventured to make up such an account, even twenty years afterwards, if nothing of the kind had occurred? and if he had done so, would not his story have been instantly refuted? or take the case of healing the centurion's servant at capernaum. this, as before said, belongs to q, the supposed source common to matthew and luke, and admitted by most critics to date from before a.d. . and how could such a story have been current within twenty years of the event, if nothing of the kind had occurred? it is also declared that the miracles were much talked about at the time, and caused widespread astonishment. the people _marvelled_ at them, they _wondered_, they were _amazed_, they were _beyond measure astonished_, there had been nothing like them _since the world began_.[ ] the miracles were in fact the talk of the whole neighbourhood. and we are told that in consequence several of those which occurred at jerusalem were at once officially investigated by the jewish rulers, who made the most searching inquiries about them;[ ] and in two instances, at least, publicly admitted them to be true.[ ] and this also is not likely to have been asserted, unless it was the case; and not likely to have been the case, if there had been no miracles. [footnote : matt. . ; . ; mark . ; . ; john . .] [footnote : _e.g._, john . - ; acts . - .] [footnote : john . ; acts . .] ( .) _they were publicly appealed to._ moreover, these public miracles were _publicly appealed to_ by the early christians. according to the _acts_, this was done in the very first public address, that at pentecost, by st. peter, who reminds his hearers that they had themselves seen the miracles (_even as ye yourselves know_), as well as in one other speech at least.[ ] and this is important, because even those critics, who deny the genuineness of the acts, yet admit that these speeches date from a very early time. and if so, it shows conclusively that some of christ's immediate followers not only believed themselves that he had worked miracles, but spoke as if their opponents believed it too. [footnote : acts . ; . .] that they are not more frequently alluded to in the acts is not surprising, when we remember that, according to the writer,--and he was an _eye-witness_ in some cases, as they occur in the _we_ sections,[ ]--the apostles themselves worked miracles. there was thus no occasion for them to appeal to those of christ as proving the truth of what they preached; their own miracles being quite sufficient to convince anyone who was open to this kind of proof. but still the important fact remains that in the first recorded christian address the public miracles of christ were publicly appealed to. and this was within a few months of their occurrence; and at jerusalem, where the statement, if untrue, could have been more easily refuted than anywhere else. [footnote : acts . , ; . , - .] passing on to _st. paul's epistles_; it is true that they do not contain any reference to christ's miracles, except of course the resurrection. but as they were not written to convert heathens, but to instruct those who were already christians, there is nothing surprising in this; and they do not mention any of his parables either. on the other hand, they do contain direct reference to _apostolic_ miracles. st. paul in two of his undisputed epistles positively asserts that he had worked miracles himself; and he uses the same three words, _signs_, _wonders_, and _mighty works_, which are used in the gospels to describe the miracles of christ.[ ] [footnote : rom. . , ; cor. . .] the second passage is extremely important, since he speaks of them as the _signs of an apostle_; and calls upon his opponents at corinth to admit that he was an apostle _because_ he had worked these miracles. and this implies not only that the miracles were done in public, but that his readers as well as himself believed that the power of working miracles belonged to all the apostles. and it will be noticed that he is addressing the very persons among whom he declares he had worked the miracles; which makes it almost inconceivable that his claim was unfounded, quite apart from the difficulty of believing that such a man as st. paul would wilfully make a false statement. from all this it follows that the first preachers of christianity not only appealed to christ's miracles; but also to their own, in support of their claims. and, as just said, how they could have done so, if they worked no miracles, is not easy to understand. we next come to a class of writings where we should expect to find christ's miracles alluded to, and these are the first christian _apologies_. nor are we disappointed. the three earliest, of which we have any knowledge, were by quadratus, aristides, and justin; the first two being presented to the emperor hadrian, when he visited athens, a.d. . _quadratus_, in a passage preserved by eusebius, lays stress on what we have called the _permanent_ character of christ's miracles. he says: 'the works of our saviour were always conspicuous, for they were real; both they that were healed and they that were raised from the dead were seen, not only when they were healed or raised, but for a long time afterwards; not only whilst he dwelt on this earth, but also after his departure, and for a good while after it, insomuch that some of them have reached to our times.'[ ] [footnote : eusebius, hist., iv. .] _aristides_ bases his defence of christianity on its moral character, and does not appeal to any public miracles, though as before said (chapter xiv.) he asserts the divinity, incarnation, virgin-birth, resurrection, and ascension of christ. lastly, _justin_, about a.d. , not only specifies many of christ's miracles; but also says in general terms that he 'healed those who were maimed, and deaf, and lame in body from their birth, causing them to leap, to hear, and to see by his word. and having raised the dead, and causing them to live, by his deeds he compelled the men who lived at that time to recognise him. but though they saw such works, they asserted it was magical art.'[ ] justin, however, does not base his argument on miracles, but on prophecy, because, as he tells us again, the former might be ascribed to magic. [footnote : dial., ; apol. . .] but still, the actual occurrence of the miracles, he evidently thought to be indisputable. he even says that the emperor and senate can learn for themselves that christ worked miracles (healing the lame, dumb, and blind, cleansing the lepers, and raising the dead) by consulting the _acts of pilate_.[ ] and this certainly implies that such a document, whether genuine or not, then existed in rome; and that it contained an account of the miracles. thus two out of the three earliest writers in defence of christianity appealed to christ's miracles, in the most public manner possible, when addressing the emperor. [footnote : apol. . , .] ( .) _they were never disputed._ but now comes another important point. though these public miracles were publicly appealed to by the early christians, and though written accounts of them were in circulation very soon after they are stated to have occurred; yet, as far as we know, they were _never disputed_. and this is the more remarkable, since they are said to have been worked among enemies as well as friends. they were thus peculiarly open to hostile criticism; and we may be sure that the bitter opponents of christ, who had brought about his death, would have exposed them if they could. yet, as just said, they were never disputed, either by jews or gentiles; though, of course, they both denied their evidential value. the _jews_--that is to say the scribes and pharisees--did this, by ascribing them to the evil one. and though this was a very strange expedient, as their effect was obviously good, and not evil, they had really no alternative. the common people were much impressed by the miracles, and were anxious to welcome christ as their messiah;[ ] yet the pharisees decided that such a man as this--so unlike what they expected--could not possibly be their messiah. they had then to explain away the miracles somehow. and since they denied that they were worked by god, they were bound to ascribe them to the devil, for these were the only supernatural powers they believed in; though of course both of these had subordinate angels under them. but we may ask, would the jews have adopted such an expedient had there been any possibility of denying that the miracles occurred? yet that they did adopt it can scarcely be disputed. it is positively asserted in each of the first three gospels;[ ] and christians are not likely to have reported such a horrible suggestion as that their master was an agent of the evil one, unless it had been made. [footnote : john . ; mark . .] [footnote : matt. . ; . ; mark . ; luke . .] the _gentiles_ on the other hand, believed in a variety of gods, many of whom were favourable to mankind, and could be invoked by _magic_; so they could consistently ascribe the miracles to some of these lesser deities; or, in popular language, to magic. and we have abundant evidence that they did so. as we have seen, it is expressly asserted by justin, who in consequence preferred the argument from prophecy; and irenæus did the same, and for avowedly the same reason.[ ] [footnote : bk. ii. .] moreover, _celsus_, the most important opponent of christianity in the second century, also adopted this view. his works are now lost, but origen in answering him frequently and positively asserts it; saying that he often spoke of the miracles as _works of sorcery_.[ ] and though celsus lived some years after the time in question, it is most unlikely, if the early opponents of christianity had denied that the miracles occurred, that its later opponents should have given up this strong line of defence, and have adopted the far weaker one that they did occur, but were due to magic. we are quite justified, then, in saying that christ's miracles were not disputed at the time, and considering their alleged publicity, this is a strong additional argument in their favour. [footnote : origen cont. cels., i. ; ii. .] ( .) _the silence of classical writers._ all that can be said on the other side is from the _silence_ of classical writers. had the miracles really occurred, it is said, especially in such a well-known place as palestine, the writers of the day would have been full of them. yet, with the single exception of tacitus, they do not even allude to christianity; and he dismisses it with contempt as a _pernicious superstition_.[ ] [footnote : tacitus annals. bk. xv., ch. .] now these words of tacitus show that he had never studied the subject, for whatever may be said against the religion, it certainly was not pernicious; so he must have rejected christianity _without examination_. and if the other classical writers did the same, there is nothing remarkable in their not alluding to it. alleged marvels were common enough in those days, and they probably did not think the christian miracles worth inquiring about. but we do not know of any writer who did inquire about them, and was not convinced of their truth. it may, of course, be replied that some of the events ought anyhow to be alluded to, such as the _darkness over all the land_ at the time of the crucifixion. and if this extended over the whole of palestine, it is certainly strange that it should not be noticed. but it may only refer to the neighbourhood of jerusalem. compare the expression _all the country of judæa_[ ] (when referring to the people being baptized) which is evidently not meant to be taken literally. and if the darkness was limited to the neighbourhood of jerusalem, there is nothing surprising in its not being recorded by any except christians, for whom of course it had a special significance. [footnote : mark . .] it should also be noticed that in some respects the testimony of christian writers is _more_ valuable than that of either jews or gentiles: since none of the writers of that country were brought up as christians. they were all unbelievers before they were believers; and if such testimony from unbelievers would be valuable, it is still more so from those who showed how thoroughly convinced they were of its truth by becoming believers. indeed, the best jewish or gentile evidence conceivable is that of well-educated men, like st. paul and st. luke, who, on the strength of it, became christians. lastly, it must be remembered that the argument from silence is proverbially unsound. we have, for instance, over two hundred letters of the younger pliny, and in only one of these does he mention christianity. suppose this one had been lost, what a strong argument could have been formed against the spread of christianity from the silence of pliny, yet this one shows its marvellous progress (see chapter xxii.). this objection, then, is quite insufficient to outweigh the positive testimony in favour of the miracles, to which we have already alluded. (_d._) conclusion. in conclusion we must notice certain rationalistic explanations which have been given of the miracles. it was hardly to be expected that, with such strong evidence in their favour, the modern opponents of christianity would merely assert that the accounts were pure fiction from beginning to end. attempts have of course been made to explain the miracles in such a way that, while depriving them of any supernatural character, it may yet be admitted that some such events occurred, which gave rise to the christian accounts. the miracles of _healing_ are perhaps the easiest to explain in this way, as some wonderful instances of sudden, though natural, cures have been known. but it is doubtful whether any of christ's miracles were of such a kind, for st. paul is careful to distinguish between _gifts of healing_ and _working of miracles_.[ ] both were evidently known to the early church, and known to be different. [footnote : cor. . - , .] and of course no such explanations will apply to most of the miracles, which have to be got rid of in various other ways. thus christ's walking on the sea is explained as his walking on a ridge of sand or rock running out just under the water; the raising of lazarus as his having had himself buried alive, so that when christ came, there might be a pretended miracle;[ ] and feeding the five thousand as nothing more than the example of christ and his friends, who so freely shared their small supply with those around them, that others did the same, and thus everyone had a little. it seems scarcely necessary to discuss these theories in detail, as they are all most improbable. [footnote : this extraordinary theory was maintained by rénan in the earlier editions of his _life of jesus_, though he afterwards abandoned it.] moreover, their difficulties are all _cumulative_. the christian explanation has but _one_ difficulty for all the miracles, which is that they _are_ miracles, and involve the supernatural. once admit this, and twenty miracles (provided they occur on suitable occasions) are no more difficult to believe than two. but the difficulties of these explanations are all cumulative. if for instance, the raising of lazarus is explained by his having been buried alive, it does not account for christ's walking on the sea. if this is explained by the supposed ridge of sand, it does not account for feeding the five thousand, etc. thus each difficulty has to be added to all the others, so taken together they are quite insuperable. one other point has still to be considered, which is the subject of modern miracles. why, it is said, are there no miracles _now_, when they could be properly tested? if they were really employed by god as helps to the spread of his religion, why should they not have accompanied it at intervals all along, as it is said they did the jewish religion? they are surely wanted for the support of christianity at the present day; and if god were, _after due warning_, to work a public and indisputable miracle every half-century, all the other evidences of christianity might be dispensed with. the answer to this objection is that the christian revelation does not claim to be a gradual one, like the jewish; but a final and complete revelation, made once for all through christ and his apostles. therefore, as there is to be no fresh revelation, there can be no fresh miracles to confirm it. the question of _other_ miracles, such as those which are said to have been worked by christians at various periods, need not be considered here. if _true_, they would of course tend to prove the new testament ones; while, if _untrue_, they would not disprove them, any more than imitation diamonds would disprove the existence of real diamonds. of course, it may be replied that god might still work a miracle now by a man, who stated that it was not to confirm anything that he said himself, but merely what the founder of christianity had said; and this is no doubt possible. but it would be a different method from that recorded in the bible, where a messenger from god always brings his own credentials, even though, as in the case of a prophecy, they may not be verified till afterwards. and what reason have we for thinking that god would change his method now? it is also very doubtful whether a public miracle at the present day, would convince everybody. this objection, then, must be put aside, and we therefore conclude, on reviewing the whole subject, that the new testament miracles are not only _credible_, but that there is extremely strong evidence in their favour. indeed their marks of _truthfulness_, combined with their alleged _publicity_, form together a very powerful argument. and it is rendered all the stronger by their having been so thoroughly successful. their object was to establish the truth of christianity, and this is precisely what they did. the evidence they afforded was so decisive, that a hostile world found it irresistible. moreover it is doubtful whether any other religion, except, of course, the jewish, has ever claimed to have been confirmed by public miracles. christianity thus rests upon a unique foundation. unlike other religions, it appealed at first not to abstract reasoning, or moral consciousness, or physical force, but to miraculous events, of the truth or falsehood of which others could judge. they did judge, and they were convinced. we decide, then, that the new testament miracles are probably true. chapter xx. that the jewish prophecies confirm the truth of christianity. (_a._) isaiah's prophecy of the lord's servant. ( .) the historical agreement, very striking. ( .) the doctrinal agreement, equally so. ( .) the modern jewish interpretation, quite untenable. (_b._) the psalm of the crucifixion. ( .) its close agreement, all through. ( .) two objections, unimportant. (_c._) the divinity of the messiah. at least three prophecies of this; it is also involved in some hints as to the doctrine of the trinity. (_d._) conclusion. why are not the prophecies plainer? cumulative nature of the evidence. we propose to consider in this chapter what is called the argument from _prophecy_, using the word, as we did in chapter xi., in the sense of _prediction_. now it is a remarkable and undisputed fact that for many centuries before the time of christ, it was foretold that a member of the jewish nation--small and insignificant though it was--should be a blessing _to all mankind_. this promise is recorded as having been made both to abraham, to isaac, and to jacob;[ ] and as a matter of fact, christianity was founded by a jew, and has undoubtedly been a blessing to the human race. this is at least a remarkable coincidence. and as we proceed in the old testament, the statements about this future messiah become clearer and fuller, till at last, in the prophets, we find whole chapters referring to him, which christians assert were fulfilled in christ. [footnote : gen. . ; . ; . .] this argument is plainly of the utmost importance. fortunately it is much simplified by the question of _dates_ being altogether excluded. as a rule, the most important point in an alleged prophecy is to show that it was written before its fulfilment. but here this is undisputed, since everyone admits that the whole of the old testament, except some of the apocryphal books, was written before the time of christ. and as the writings have been preserved by the jews themselves, who are opposed to the claims of christianity, we may be sure that not a single alteration in its favour has been made anywhere. we will now examine a few of the strongest prophecies, avoiding all those that were only fulfilled in a figurative, or spiritual sense; and selecting whole passages rather than single texts. for though many of these latter are very applicable to christ, they might also be applicable to someone else. so we will first discuss somewhat fully isaiah's prophecy of the lord's servant, and the psalm of the crucifixion; and then examine more briefly a group of prophecies referring to the divinity of the messiah. (_a._) isaiah's prophecy of the lord's servant ( . - . ). it may be pointed out at starting that no one denies the antiquity of the passage, even if it was not written by isaiah. and it forms a complete whole, closely connected together and not mixed up with any other subject. so in regard to its fulfilment, most of the details mentioned occurred within a few hours. we will consider first the historical, and then the doctrinal agreement. ( .) _the historical agreement._ with regard to this, the following is the translation from the revised version, together with the corresponding events. it will be observed that the sufferings of the servant are usually expressed in the past tense, and his triumph in the future, the prophet placing himself, as it were, between the two. but the hebrew tenses are rather uncertain, and what is translated as _past_ in the revised version is translated as _future_ in the authorised (_e.g._, . ). . . 'behold, my servant shall deal wisely, he shall be exalted and lifted up, and shall be very high. the excellence of christ's teaching and conduct is now generally admitted; while as to his exalted position, he is worshipped by millions of men. . 'like as many were astonied at thee (his visage was so marred more than any man, and his form more than the sons of men) so shall he sprinkle many nations; yet at the time of his death, which was public so that _many_ saw him, the cruel treatment he had received must have terribly disfigured his face and body. . 'kings shall shut their mouths at him: for that which had not been told them shall they see; and that which they had not heard shall they understand. but now even kings are silent with reverence,[ ] when contemplating such a wonderful life. [footnote : _comp._ job . .] . . 'who hath believed our report? 'and to whom hath the arm of the lord been revealed? indeed what the prophet is about to declare, is so marvellous that it can scarcely be believed. the arm of the lord evidently means some instrument, or person, which god uses for his work, as a man might use his arm.[ ] and here it must be a _person_, from the following words, 'for _he_ grew up,' etc. it is thus a most suitable term for the messiah, who was to be recognised by hardly anyone. . 'for he grew up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. this was because he lived at a place (nazareth) which was always regarded as _dry ground_ so far as anything good was concerned.[ ] moreover, his appearance was humble, and when at his trial, pilate presented him to the people, they did not desire him. . 'he was despised, and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and as one from whom men hide their face he was despised, and we esteemed him not. but they at once rejected him as they had done often before. . 'surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of god, and afflicted. while his life was not only one of grief and sorrow, but such a death seemed to show that he was accursed of god, for the jews so regarded anyone who was crucified.[ ] . 'but he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. the scourging and other ill-treatment is here referred to; including probably the nails, and spear, for the word translated _wounded_ is literally _pierced_. [footnote : _comp._ isa. . ; . .] [footnote : john . .] [footnote : deut. . ; gal. . .] . 'all we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. . 'he was oppressed, yet he humbled himself and opened not his mouth; as a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep that before her shearers is dumb; yea, he opened not his mouth. christ, who is sometimes called the lamb of god, not only bore his ill-treatment patiently, but refused to plead at either of his trials (the verse repeats twice _he opened not his mouth_) to the utter astonishment of his judges.[ ] . 'by oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who among them considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living? for the transgression of my people was he stricken. he was not killed accidentally, or by the mob, but had a judicial trial; and was most unjustly condemned. while few, if any, of his contemporaries understood the real meaning of his death. . 'and they made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death (i.e., _when he was dead_. comp. ps. . ); although he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth. he was appointed to die between two robbers, and would doubtless have been buried with them, had not joseph of arimathea intervened; when, in strange contrast with his ignominious death, he was honourably buried, with costly spices, and in a rich man's tomb. although his judge repeatedly declared that he was innocent. . 'yet it pleased the lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the lord shall prosper in his hand. yet after his death he was to see his seed, and _prolong his days_, _i.e._, rise again from the dead. the word _seed_ cannot mean here, actual children,[ ] since he was to obtain them by his death. but it may well refer to the disciples, whom christ saw after his resurrection, and called his _children_.[ ] [footnote : matt. . ; . .] [footnote : _comp._ isa. . .] [footnote : mark . ; john . .] . 'he shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many: and he shall bear their iniquities. and this is confirmed by their being spoken of as _the travail of his soul_, not body. while the latter expression also implies that he had had some intense mental struggle comparable to the bodily pains of childbirth; which is very suitable to his mental agony in the garden and on the cross. . 'therefore will i divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he poured out his soul unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors: yet he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.' his subsequent triumph in the christian church is here alluded to. this implies that his sufferings were of some duration; and is thus very appropriate to a lingering death like crucifixion. while the closing words exactly agree with his dying a shameful death between two robbers; yet praying for his murderers, 'father, forgive them.' it seems hardly necessary to insist on the agreement shown above; it is indisputable. the sufferings and the triumph of the lord's servant are foretold with equal confidence and with equal clearness, though they might well have seemed incompatible. ( .) _the doctrinal agreement._ but the significance of the passage does not depend on these prophecies alone, though they are sufficiently remarkable, but on the _meaning_ which the writer assigns to the great tragedy. it is the christian doctrine concerning christ's death, and not merely the events attending it, which is here insisted on. this will be best shown by adopting the previous method of parallel columns, showing in the first the six chief points in the christian doctrine, and in the other the prophet's words corresponding to them. all mankind are sinners. 'all we like sheep have gone astray.' christ alone was sinless. 'my righteous servant.' 'he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.' he suffered not for his own sins, but for those of others. nor was this the mere accidental suffering of an innocent man for a guilty one; it was a great work of _atonement_, an offering for sin. this is the central feature of the christian doctrine, and it is asserted over and over again in the prophecy, which is above all that of a _saviour_. 'surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.' 'he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of (_i.e._, which procured) our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.' 'the lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.' 'for the transgression of my people was he stricken.' 'thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin.' 'he shall bear their iniquities.' 'he bare the sin of many.' and this atonement was the fulfilment of the old jewish sacrifices; especially that of the paschal lamb; so there was a special fitness in christ's being put to death at the time of the passover. this is shown by the language employed, the _offering for sin_ being the same word as that used for the old _guilt-offering_.[ ] and the curious expression _so shall he sprinkle many nations_ evidently refers to the sprinkling of the blood in the jewish sacrifices, as the same word is used, and means cleansing them from sin.[ ] yet it availed not only for the jews, but for all mankind. the _many nations_ must include gentiles as well as jews. lastly, christ's sacrifice was _voluntary_; he freely laid down 'he poured out his soul unto death,' implies that the act was [footnote : _e.g._, lev. . .] [footnote : _e.g._, lev. . .] his life, no one took it from him (john . ). _voluntary_, and this is rendered still clearer from the context; for it was _because_ he did this that he was to divide the spoil, etc. and the words _he humbled himself_, also imply that the humiliation was voluntary. all this, it is plain, exactly suits the christ in whom christians believe; and it does not and cannot suit anyone else, since several of the christian doctrines are quite unique, and do not occur in the jewish or any other religion. this is indeed so striking, that if anyone acquainted with christianity, but unacquainted with isaiah, came across the passage for the first time, he would probably refer it to one of st. paul's epistles. and every word of it might be found there with perfect fitness. ( .) _the modern jewish interpretation._ now, what can be said on the other side? many of the ancient jews interpreted the passage as referring to their future messiah;[ ] but the modern jews (and most critics who disbelieve in prophecy) refer it to the jewish nation, or to the religious part of it, which they say is here personified as a single man, the servant of the lord. and it must of course be admitted that isaiah does frequently speak of the jews as god's _servant_ (_e.g._, 'but thou israel, my servant, and jacob whom i have chosen,')[ ] though he nowhere else uses the term 'my _righteous_ servant,' which he does here, and which would have been inapplicable to the nation. [footnote : references are given in edersheim's 'life and times of jesus the messiah,' , vol. ii., p. .] [footnote : isa. . .] but it is important to remember that this prophecy does not stand alone, and a little before, we read in a similar passage, 'it is too light a thing that thou shouldest be my servant to raise up the tribes of jacob, and to restore the preserved of israel: i will also give thee for a light to the gentiles, that thou mayest be my salvation unto the end of the earth. thus saith the lord, the redeemer of israel, and his holy one, to him whom man despiseth, to him whom the nation abhorreth, to a servant of rulers: kings shall see and arise; princes, and they shall worship.'[ ] [footnote : isa. . - ; comp. . - .] here it will be noticed the lord's _servant_ is clearly distinguished from both jacob and israel, and evidently means the messiah. while his bringing salvation to the gentiles, as well as to the jews; his humiliation in being despised by men and hated by the jewish nation; and his subsequent triumph, even kings submitting themselves to him; are all alluded to, much as they are in the present passage. no doubt there is a difficulty in the prophet thus passing from one meaning of the word _servant_ to another (especially, in a closely connected passage),[ ] and various attempts have been made to explain it; but it does not alter the fact that he does so. perhaps the best explanation is that israel was _intended_ to be god's servant, but owing to their sins became unfitted; when god promised in the future to raise up a _righteous_ servant, who should do all his pleasure and atone for israel's failure. and, it may be added, the term _servant_ is applied to the messiah both by ezekiel and zechariah, as well as in the new testament.[ ] [footnote : isa. . , .] [footnote : ezek. . ; zech. . ; acts . (r.v.).] moreover, the jewish interpretation not only leaves all the details of the prophecy unexplained and inexplicable, but ignores its very essence, which, as before said, is the atoning character of the sufferings. no one can say that the sufferings of the jews were voluntary, or that they were not for their own sins, but for those of other people, which were in consequence atoned for. or, to put the argument in other words, if the _he_ refers to the jewish nation, to whom does the _our_ refer in such sentences as _he was wounded for our transgressions_? while v. expressly says that the jews (god's people) were not the sufferers, but those for whom he suffered. (for the transgression of _my people_ was _he_ stricken.) this interpretation then is hopelessly untenable, and the passage either means what christians assert, or it means nothing. in conclusion, it must be again pointed out that all these minute historical details attending christ's death, and all these remarkable christian doctrines concerning it, are all found within fifteen verses of a writing many centuries older than the time of christ. it would be hard to over-estimate the great improbability of all this being due to chance; indeed, such a conclusion seems incredible. (_b._) the psalm of the crucifixion (ps. ).[ ] [footnote : this is discussed more fully in an article in the _churchman_, april, , by the present writer.] we pass on now to another most remarkable prophecy; for this well-known psalm describes what can only be regarded as a _crucifixion_. the decisive verse is of course, _they pierced my hands and my feet_; but even apart from this, the various sufferings described cannot all be endured in any other form of death, such as stoning or beheading. and the psalm agrees with the death of christ, both in its numerous details, and in its whole scope and meaning. we will therefore consider this close agreement first, and then some of the objections. ( .) _its close agreement._ we need not quote the psalm, as it is so well known; but will point out the agreement verse by verse. ver. . his feeling forsaken by god, and using these actual words: 'my god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me?' . as well as praying for deliverance during the previous night; . though in spite of his sufferings, he casts no reproach upon god. . his belonging to god's chosen people, the jews, so that he could speak of _our_ fathers; . who had so often been helped by god before. . his pitiable condition in being exposed to the scorn and reproach of men, and despised by the people. . his being lifted up to die in public, so that those who passed by could see him; and the way in which they mocked him, shaking their heads, etc. . the exact words they used: _he trusted on the lord that he would deliver him, let him deliver him seeing he delighteth in him_ (margin). these words show that the speakers themselves were jews, and that he was thus put to death among his own nation. and the last clause can only be meant ironically in the sense that the sufferer _claimed_ that god delighted in him, claimed, that is, in some special sense to be beloved by god. . and, as a matter of fact, god had always watched over him, and had saved him in his infancy from being slain by herod. . and in return his whole life had been dedicated to god; so that he could say that god had been _his_ god, even from his birth. . his being abandoned by his disciples, and left without a helper; . though surrounded by his enemies, described as _bulls of bashan_. this curious term is used elsewhere for the unjust rulers of the people,[ ] and was therefore very applicable to the chief priests and rulers, who had so unjustly condemned him, and now stood round the cross reviling him. [footnote : amos. . .] . and they continually insulted him, _gaping with the mouth_ being a common expression of contempt;[ ] _ravening_ appropriate to the way in which they had thirsted for his blood before pilate; and _roaring_ to the great noise and tumult made at the time. [footnote : _e.g._, job . .] . his side being pierced, so that there poured out a quantity of watery fluid (mixed with clots of blood), the probable cause of this--the rupture of the heart[ ]--being also hinted at; while his bones were nearly out of joint, through the weight of the suspended body. [footnote : see 'the physical cause of the death of christ,' by dr. symes thompson, .] . his suffering extreme weakness, and extreme thirst, immediately before his death.[ ] [footnote : lam. . ; john . - .] . his being crucified (_i.e._, his hands and feet being pierced), the men who did this being here called _dogs_. they seem to have been a special set of men, different from the jews who had before been mocking him. and as this was the very term used by christ himself for the gentiles, in distinction to the jews,[ ] it was peculiarly appropriate to the gentile (roman) soldiers who crucified him. [footnote : matt. . .] . and they also exposed and stretched out his body, so that the bones stood out in relief. and they then stood watching him; . and divided his garments among them, casting lots for one of them. . then follows a short prayer. . the term _sword_, like the _dog_, the _lion's mouth_, and the _wild oxen_, need not be pressed literally; but may be used here (as in other places)[ ] for any violent death. and in the new testament it seems employed for all punishments, including probably a death by crucifixion (st. peter's).[ ] [footnote : _comp._ sam. . ; . .] [footnote : rom. . ; matt. . .] . yet in spite of his troubles, and even death, he feels sure of deliverance. . and now the strain suddenly changes, the sufferer is restored to life and freedom and at once declares god's name unto his brethren. and this exactly agrees with christ's now declaring for the first time god's complete _name_ of, father, son, and holy ghost, unto his _brethren_, as he calls them, the apostles.[ ] while if we identify this appearance with that to the five hundred, it was literally _in the midst of the congregation_--in the presence, that is, of the first large christian assembly. [footnote : matt. . , .] . moreover, his deliverance is of world-wide significance, and great blessings are to follow from it. these commence with the jews, who were to _praise_ and glorify god; though with a strange feeling of _awe_ and fear; all of which was exactly fulfilled.[ ] [footnote : acts . - .] . and the blessings are somehow connected with god's not having despised, but having accepted, his sufferings. . and they include a reference to some _vows_ (meaning uncertain); . and to a wonderful feast generally thought to refer to the holy communion. . and the blessings then extend to the gentile nations also, even to the most distant parts of the world, who are now to become worshippers of the true god, jehovah. and, as a matter of fact, christians exist in all known countries, and wherever there are christians, jehovah is worshipped. . to whom the whole earth, both the jewish kingdom and the gentile nations, really belongs. . and to whom everyone will eventually bow down. . after this we read of a _seed_ serving him, probably used here, as in isaiah, for disciples, each generation of whom is to tell of this wonderful deliverance to the next. and this they have been doing for eighteen centuries. . and so they will continue doing to generations that are yet unborn. while the closing words, _he hath done it_ (r.v.) are often taken as referring to the whole psalm, meaning that the work of suffering and atonement was now complete, _it is done_;[ ] and they would thus correspond to christ's closing words on the cross, _it it finished_. [footnote : hengstenberg, commentary on psalms, , vol. i., .] everyone must admit that the agreement all through is very remarkable; though there are two slight objections. ( .) _two objections._ the first is that there is nothing to show that the writer meant the psalm to refer to the messiah at all, though, strange to say, some of the jews so interpreted it;[ ] therefore if there is an agreement, it is at most only a chance coincidence. but the idea of _all_ these coincidences being due to chance is most improbable. and there certainly is some indication that it refers to the messiah, since, as we have seen, it leads up to the conversion of the gentiles, which the other jewish prophets always associate with the times of the messiah. [footnote : edersheim, , vol. ii., .] moreover, if the psalm does not refer to christ, it is difficult to see to whom it does refer, since it is quite inapplicable to david, or hezekiah, or anyone else at that time; as crucifixion was not a jewish punishment, though dead bodies were sometimes hung on trees. yet, as just said, verses - show that the sufferer was put to death among his own nation. this strange anomaly of a jew being put to death among jews, though not in the jewish manner by stoning, but by crucifixion, exactly suits the time of christ, when judæa was a roman province, and crucifixion a roman punishment. many of the _details_ also are quite inapplicable. david, for instance, never had his garments divided among his enemies; yet (even apart from our gospels) there can be little doubt that the garments of christ were so divided, as the clothes of a prisoner were usually taken by the guard who executed him. and any such reference (to david, etc.) is rendered still more improbable, because the sufferer appears to have no sense of _sin_, and never laments his own wickedness, as the writers so frequently do when speaking about themselves. and here also the psalm is entirely applicable to christ, since (as we shall see in the next chapter) his sinlessness was a striking feature in his character. nor again did the deliverance of david in any way lead to the _conversion of the gentiles_, which, as just said, is the grand climax of the psalm, and excludes all other interpretations. but in any case this objection (which is also made to other old testament prophecies) cannot be maintained; for _who_, we must ask, was their real author? was it the human prophet, or was it god who inspired the prophet to write as he did? and the prophets themselves emphatically declared that it was the latter. the word of the lord came unto them, or a vision was granted unto them, and they had to proclaim it, whether they liked it or not. in fact, as st. matthew says, it was not really the prophet who spoke, but god, who spoke _through the prophet_.[ ] there is thus no reason for thinking that they either knew, or thought they knew, the whole meaning of their prophecies; and the objection may be dismissed at once. [footnote : _e.g._, matt. . .] the second objection is, that some of the events fulfilling this, and other old testament prophecies, never occurred, but were purposely invented. this, however, destroys altogether the moral character of the evangelists, who are supposed to tell deliberate falsehoods, in order to get a pretended fulfilment of an old prophecy. and the difficulty of admitting this is very great. moreover, such explanations can only apply to a very few cases; since, as a rule, the events occurred in _public_, and must therefore have been well known at the time. and even in those cases where the event was so trivial, that it might possibly have been invented, such an explanation is often untenable. take, for example, the manner in which christ on the cross was mocked by his enemies, who said, 'he trusted in god, let him deliver him now if he desireth him.'[ ] a more probable incident under the circumstances can scarcely be imagined, the chief priests quoting the familiar language (just as men sometimes quote the bible now) without thinking of its real significance. but, supposing the words were never uttered, is it conceivable that the evangelist (or anyone else) would have invented them in order to get a pretended fulfilment of this psalm, where the crucified one is mocked with almost identical words; yet have never pointed out the fulfilment himself, but have trusted to the chance of his readers discovering it? [footnote : matt. . .] neither of these objections, then, is of much importance; while the agreement of the psalm with the events attending the death and resurrection of christ, seems, as in the previous case, to be far too exact to be accidental. (_c._) the divinity of the messiah. our last example shall be of a different kind from the others. it is that the old testament contains several passages which show that the future messiah was to be not only superhuman, but divine. and considering the strong monotheism of the jews this is very remarkable. the following are three of the most important:-- 'for unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called wonderful, counsellor, mighty god, everlasting father, prince of peace.'[ ] here we have a plain statement of the divinity of one who should be born a child. the two words translated _mighty god_ are incapable of any other translation, and no other is suggested for them in the margin of either the authorised or revised version; while the same two words occur in the next chapter, where they plainly mean _mighty god_ and nothing else. moreover, the term _everlasting father_ is literally _father of eternity_ (see margin) and means the eternal one. this is another divine title, and does not conflict with the christian doctrine that it was the son, and not the father, who became incarnate. while the following words, that of the increase of his government _there shall be no end_, and that it should be established _for ever_, also point to a divine ruler, in spite of the reference to david's throne. and it is significant that a few verses before it is implied that the ministry of this future messiah should commence in the land of zebulon, and naphtali, by the sea of galilee; where, as a matter of fact, christ's ministry did commence. [footnote : isa. . ; . ; . - .] 'but thou, bethlehem ephrathah, which art little to be among the thousands of judah, out of thee shall one come forth unto me that is to be ruler in israel; whose goings forth are from of old, from everlasting.'[ ] here we have a prophecy of the birth of one who had existed _from everlasting_; thus showing the pre-existence and apparent divinity of the messiah, who was to be born at bethlehem, where, again, as a matter of fact, christ actually was born. [footnote : mic. . .] 'awake, o sword, against my shepherd, and against the man that is my fellow, saith the lord of hosts.'[ ] the word translated _fellow_ is only found elsewhere in leviticus, where it is usually translated _neighbour_, and always implies an equality between the two persons.[ ] thus god speaks of the shepherd who was to be slain with the sword (a term, as before said, used for any violent death), as equal with himself, and yet at the same time man; so no one but a messiah who is both god and man--_fellow-god_ as well as _fellow-man_--can satisfy the language. [footnote : zech. . .] [footnote : lev. . ; . ; . , , ; . ; . , , .] and here again the reference to christ is confirmed by the fact that several incidents in his passion are alluded to, in some of which his divinity is likewise asserted. the most important are the way in which he (the just saviour) rode into jerusalem on an ass; and the rejoicing with which he was received, when the people welcomed him as their _king_. and the fact that he (the lord jehovah) should be sold for thirty pieces of silver, the money being cast down in the house of the lord, and afterwards given to the potter; and also that he (again the lord jehovah) should be pierced.[ ] these are, it is true, expressed in figurative language, and often mixed up with other subjects; so no instance by itself, affords a strong argument. but still their all occurring so close together, and all leading up to the violent death of a _man_, who was yet the _fellow_, or _equal_, with god, can scarcely be accidental. while the prophecy, like so many others, ends with the conversion of the gentiles, the lord jehovah being recognised as king over all the earth; which seems to place the messianic character beyond dispute. [footnote : zech. . ; . - ; . ; . ; luke . - .] the divinity of the messiah is also involved in some hints which occur in the old testament as to the doctrine of the _trinity_. for instance, the hebrew word for god, _elohim_, is a plural word, though, strange to say, it generally takes a singular adjective, and verb. thus if we tried to represent it in english, the first verse of the bible would read, 'in the beginning the gods, he created the heaven and the earth.' attempts have of course been made to reduce the significance of this by pointing out that a few other hebrew words, such as _lord_ and _master_, sometimes do the same; or by regarding it as a survival from some previous polytheistic religion; or else as being what is called the plural of majesty, a sort of royal _we_. this, however, does not seem to have been in use in early times, and never occurs in the bible, where kings always speak of themselves in the singular.[ ] anyhow it is very remarkable that the jews should have used a plural word for god with a singular verb; especially as the same word, when used of false gods, takes a plural verb. [footnote : _e.g._, gen. . ; ezra . ; . ; dan. . .] moreover, god is at times represented as speaking in the plural,[ ] saying, for instance, _let us make man in our image_, as if consulting with other divine persons; since it is obvious that the expression cannot refer to angels, who are themselves created, and not fellow creators. yet just afterwards we read, 'god created man in _his_ own image,' thus implying that there is still but one god. another and even more remarkable expression is, _behold, the man is become as one of us_. this cannot possibly be the plural of majesty; for though a king might speak of himself as _we_ or _us_, no king ever spoke of himself as _one of us_. such an expression can only be used when there are other persons of similar rank with the speaker; therefore when used by god, it shows conclusively that there are other divine persons. so again when god says, 'whom shall _i_ send, and who will go for _us_?' it implies that he is both one, and more than one; which the previous _thrice_ holy, points to as being a trinity.[ ] the existence of such passages seems to require some explanation, and christianity alone can explain them. [footnote : gen. . ; . ; . .] [footnote : isa. . .] (_d._) conclusion. before concluding this chapter there is still one objection to be considered. why, it is said, if these prophecies really refer to christ, are they not plainer? surely if god wished to foretell the future, he would have done it better than this: and a few words added here and there would have made the reference to christ indisputable. no doubt they would; but possibly god did not wish to make the reference indisputable. moreover, if the prophecies had been plainer, they might have prevented their own fulfilment. had the jews known for certain that christ was their messiah, they could scarcely have crucified him; and it seems to many that the prophecies are already about as plain as they could be without doing this. the important point, however, is not whether the prophecies might not have been plainer, but whether they are not already too plain to be accidental. lastly, we must notice the cumulative nature of the evidence. we have only examined a few instances, but, as said before, messianic prophecies of some kind more or less distinct, occur at intervals all through the old testament. and though some of those commonly brought forward seem weak and fanciful, there are numbers of others which are not. and here, as elsewhere, this has a double bearing on the argument. in the first place, it does not at all increase the difficulty of the _christian_ interpretation; for twenty prophecies are practically no more difficult to admit than two. indeed, the fact that instead of being a few isolated examples, they form a complete series, rather lessens the difficulty than otherwise. on the other hand, it greatly increases the difficulty of _any other_ interpretation; for twenty prophecies are far more difficult to deny than two. if one is explained as a lucky coincidence, it will not account for the next; if that is got rid of by some unnatural interpretation of the words, it will not account for the third, and so on indefinitely. the difficulties are thus not only great in themselves, but are all cumulative; and hence together they seem insuperable. anyhow, it is clear that these prophecies form another strong argument in favour of christianity. chapter xxi. that the character of christ confirms the truth of christianity. the character of christ can only be deduced from the new testament, any other christ being purely imaginary. (_a._) the teaching of christ. ( .) its admitted excellence. ( .) two objections. ( .) his sinlessness. (_b._) the claims of christ. ( .) his claim to be superhuman--declaring that he was the ruler, redeemer, and final judge of the world. ( .) his claim to be divine--declaring his equality, unity, and pre-existence with god. ( .) how these claims were understood at the time, both by friends and foes. (_c._) the great alternative. christ cannot, therefore, have been merely a good man; he was either _god_, as he claimed to be, or else a _bad_ man, for making such claims. but the latter view is disproved by his moral character. in this chapter we propose to consider the character of christ, and its bearing on the truth of christianity. now our knowledge of christ's character can only be derived from the four gospels; indeed, a christ with any other character assigned to him is a purely imaginary being, and might as well be called by some other name. taking, then, the gospels as our guide, what is the character of christ? clearly this can be best deduced from his own _teaching_ and _claims_, both of which are fortunately given at some length; so we will consider these first, and then the _great alternative_ which they force upon us. (_a._) the teaching of christ. under this head, we will first notice the admitted excellence of christ's teaching, then some objections which are often made, and lastly his sinlessness. ( .) _its admitted excellence._ to begin with, the excellence of christ's moral teaching hardly needs to be insisted on at the present day, and rationalists as well as christians have proclaimed its merits. for instance, to quote a few examples:-- 'religion cannot be said to have made a bad choice in pitching on this man as the ideal representative and guide of humanity; nor even now would it be easy, even for an unbeliever, to find a better translation of the rule of virtue from the abstract into the concrete, than to endeavour so to live that christ should approve our life.'--_j. s. mill_.[ ] [footnote : nature, the utility of religion and theism, nd edit., , p. .] 'jesus remains to humanity an inexhaustible source of moral regenerations.' and again, 'in him is condensed all that is good and lofty in our nature.'--_e. renan_.[ ] [footnote : life of jesus, translated by wilbour, new york, , pp. , .] 'it was reserved for christianity to present to the world an ideal character, which, through all the changes of eighteen centuries, has inspired the hearts of men with an impassioned love; has shown itself capable of acting on all ages, nations, temperaments, and conditions; has been not only the highest pattern of virtue, but the strongest incentive to its practice; and has exercised so deep an influence that it may be truly said that the simple record of three short years of active life has done more to regenerate and to soften mankind than all the disquisitions of philosophers, and all the exhortations of moralists.'--_w. e. h. lecky_.[ ] [footnote : history of european morals, rd edit., , vol. ii., p. .] these quotations are only examples of many which might be given; but it is practically undisputed that the morality taught by christ is the best the world has ever seen. it is also undisputed that his life was in entire harmony with his teaching. he lived, as far as we can judge, a holy and blameless life, and his character has never been surpassed either in history or fiction. ( .) _two objections._ there are, however, two slight objections. the first is that christ's teaching was not _original_; and, strictly speaking, this is perhaps true. something similar to all he taught has been discovered in more ancient times, either in egypt, india, china, or elsewhere. but this hardly affects the argument. an unlearned jew living at nazareth cannot be supposed to have derived his teaching from these sources; and it is a great improvement on all of them put together. the important point is, that there was nothing among the jews of his own time which could have produced, or even have invented, such a character. he was immeasurably better than his contemporaries, and all of them put together have not exerted an influence on the world a thousandth part that of christ. the second objection refers to _certain portions_ of christ's teaching. for example, he urges men not to resist evil, and seems to place virginity above marriage to an exaggerated extent.[ ] i have never seen a satisfactory explanation of the latter passage; but it is obvious on the face of it that it cannot be meant for universal application, or it would lead to the extinction of the human race. [footnote : matt. . ; . .] again, several of the _parables_ are said to be unjust such as that of the workmen in the vineyard, the unrighteous steward, and the wedding garment. but parables must not be pressed literally, and very different interpretations have been put on these. however, we will consider the two last, which are those most often objected to. with regard to the _unrighteous steward_, though apparently he had been guilty of dishonesty, we are told that his lord _commended_ him, because he had done wisely.[ ] but no one can think that his lord commended him, because he had just cheated him. so if his conduct was really dishonest (about which scholars are by no means agreed) we can only suppose that _in spite of this_, his lord commended him, because of his wisdom. in the same way, if an ingenious robbery were committed at the present day, even the man robbed, might say that he could not help admiring the scoundrel for his cleverness. the meaning then appears to be that _wisdom_ is so desirable that it is to be commended even in worldly matters, and even in a bad cause; and therefore of course still more to be aimed at in religious matters, and in a good cause. [footnote : luke . .] next as to the _wedding garment_. it is distinctly implied that there was only _one_ man without it,[ ] so obviously the first point to determine is how the other men got their garments. they could not have had them out in the roads, and there was no time to go home and get them, even if they possessed any. it follows then that they must each have been provided with a suitable garment (probably a cloak, worn over their other clothes) when they reached the palace. this appears to have been an eastern custom,[ ] and if one of them refused to put it on, he would certainly deserve to be excluded from the feast. thus the object of the parable seems to be to show that god's blessings can only be obtained on god's terms (_e.g._ _forgiveness_ on _repentance_), though there is no hardship in this, as he has himself given us grace to comply with these terms, if we like. neither of these objections, then, is of much importance. [footnote : matt. . .] [footnote : archb. trench, notes on the parables, , p. .] ( .) _his sinlessness._ a most remarkable point has now to be noticed. it is that, notwithstanding his perfect moral teaching, there is not in the character of christ the slightest consciousness of _sin_. in all his numerous discourses, and even in his prayers, there is not a single word which implies that he thought he ever had done, or ever could do, anything wrong himself. he is indeed most careful to avoid implying this, even incidentally. thus he does not tell his disciples, 'if _we_ forgive men their trespasses,' etc., but 'if _ye_,' as the former might imply that he, as well as they, had need of the father's forgiveness.[ ] nor did he ever regret anything that he had done, or ever wish that he had acted otherwise. and though he blamed self-righteousness in others, and urged them to repentance, he never hinted that he had any need of it himself; in fact, he expressly denied it, for he said that he _always_ did those things that were pleasing to god.[ ] [footnote : matt. . .] [footnote : john . .] and this is the more striking when we reflect that good men are, as a rule, most conscious of their faults. yet here was one who carried moral goodness to its utmost limit, whose precepts are admittedly perfect, but who never for a moment thought that he was not fulfilling them himself. such a character is absolutely unique in the world's history. it can only be explained by saying that christ was not merely a good man, but a _perfect_ man, since goodness without perfection would only have made him more conscious of the faults he had. yet if we admit this, we must admit more; for perfection is not a human attribute, and a _sinless life_ needs a good deal to account for it. (_b._) the claims of christ. we pass on now to the _claims_ of christ; and his high moral character would plainly lead us to place the utmost confidence in what he said about himself. and as we shall see he claimed to be both _superhuman_ and _divine_; and this is how all his contemporaries, both friends and foes, understood him. and though it is impossible to add to the marvel of such claims, yet the fact that nothing in any way resembling them is to be found among the jewish prophets helps us, at least, to realise their uniqueness. many of them are spoken concerning the _son of man_; but there can be no doubt whatever that by this title christ means himself.[ ] [footnote : _e.g._, matt. . , .] ( .) _his claim to be superhuman._ this is shown by three main arguments, for christ declared that he was the ruler, redeemer, and final judge of the world. in the first place, he claimed to be the _ruler_ of the world, saying in so many words that all things had been delivered unto him, and that he possessed all authority, both in heaven and on earth.[ ] moreover, his dominion was to be not only universal, but it was to last for ever; since after this world had come to an end, the future kingdom of heaven was still to be _his_ kingdom, its angels were to be _his_ angels, and its citizens _his_ elect.[ ] [footnote : matt. . ; . ; luke . .] [footnote : matt. . ; . .] secondly, christ claimed to be the _redeemer_ of the world. he distinctly asserted that he came to give his life a ransom for many, and that his blood was shed for the remission of sins. and the importance he attached to this is shown by the fact that he instituted a special rite (the holy communion) on purpose to commemorate it.[ ] [footnote : matt. . ; . ; mark . ; . ; luke . .] thirdly, christ claimed to be the final _judge_ of the world. this tremendous claim alone shows that he considered himself quite above and distinct from the rest of mankind. while they were all to be judged according to their works, he was to be the judge himself, coming in the clouds of heaven with thousands of angels. and his decision was to be final and without appeal. moreover, this astonishing claim does not depend on single texts or passages, but occurs all through the first three gospels.[ ] during the whole of his ministry--from his sermon on the mount to his trial before caiaphas--he persistently asserted that he was to be the final judge of the world. it is hardly credible that a mere man, however presumptuous, should ever have made such a claim as this. can we imagine anyone doing so at the present day? and what should we think of him if he did? [footnote : matt. . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; . - ; . ; and similar passages in the other gospels.] ( .) _his claim to be divine._ like the preceding, this is shown by three main arguments; for christ declared his equality, unity, and pre-existence with god. in the first place, christ claimed _equality_ with god. he said that the same honour should be given to himself as to god the father; that men should believe in him as well as in god; that he and the father would together dwell in the souls of men; and that he, like the father, had the power of sending the holy spirit of god.[ ] he also commanded men to be baptized into his name as well as into that of the father; and promised that whenever and wherever his disciples were gathered together, he would be in the midst of them, even unto the end of the world, which, cannot be true of anyone but god.[ ] [footnote : john . ; . , ; . .] [footnote : matt. . ; . , .] secondly, christ claimed _unity_ with god. he did not say that he was another god, but that he and the father were _one_; that he was in the father, and the father in him; that whoever beheld him beheld the father; that whoever had seen him had seen the father.[ ] these latter texts cannot, of course, be pressed literally, as few would maintain that christ was really god _the father_. but just as if a human father and son were _extremely_ alike, we might say that if you had seen the son, you had seen the father; so if christ was truly god--god the son--the _very image_ of his father,[ ] the same language might be used. it would at least be intelligible. but it would be quite unintelligible, if christ had been merely a _good man_. can we imagine the best man that ever lived saying, if you have seen me, you have seen god? [footnote : john . ; . ; . ; . .] [footnote : heb. . .] thirdly, christ claimed _pre-existence_ with god. he said that he had descended out of heaven; that he had come down from heaven; that he came out from the father and was come into the world; and that even before its creation he had shared god's glory.[ ] while in another passage, '_before abraham was, i am_,'[ ] he not only said that he existed before abraham, but by using the words _i am_ instead of _i was_, he seemed to identify himself with jehovah, the great _i am_, of the old testament.[ ] [footnote : john . ; . ; . ; . .] [footnote : john . .] [footnote : exod. . .] turning now to the other side, there are four passages in which christ seems to _disclaim_ being divine. the most important is where he says that the son (_i.e._ himself) does not know the time of the future judgment;[ ] and the present writer has never seen a really satisfactory explanation of this. but it may be pointed out that if we admit that christ was both divine and human, it is only fair to refer any particular statement to that nature, to which it is applicable; even though the wording seems to suggest the opposite. in the same way, the passage, that the _lord of glory_ was crucified[ ] can only refer to christ in his _human_ nature, and not in his divine nature, as the lord of glory. and in his human nature christ may have been ignorant of the time of the future judgment, just as in his human nature he increased in wisdom and stature.[ ] [footnote : mark . .] [footnote : cor. . .] [footnote : luke . .] then we have the passage where a ruler addresses christ as '_good_ master,' and christ demurs to this, saying that the word was only applicable to god.[ ] and how, it is asked, could he have done so, if he had been both good and god? the best explanation seems to be that among the jews, it was the custom never to address a teacher (or rabbi) as _good_. they said god was 'the _good one_ of the world'; it was one of _his_ titles.[ ] therefore as the ruler had no means of knowing that christ was god, he was not justified in thus addressing him as _good_. [footnote : mark . .] [footnote : edersheim's life and times of the messiah, vol. ii., p. .] the remaining two passages, 'i go unto the father; for the father is greater than i'; and 'i ascend unto my father and your father, and my god and your god,'[ ] are easier to explain, since here it is obvious that they refer to christ's _human_ nature alone, as it was in his human nature alone that he was ever absent from the father. and even here he carefully distinguishes his own relationship to god from that of his disciples. for though he teaches them to say _our father_, yet when including himself with them, he does not here or anywhere else say _our_ father, or _our_ god; but always emphasises his own peculiar position. while we may ask in regard to the first passage, would anyone but god have thought it necessary to explain that god the father was greater than himself? anyhow, these passages do not alter the fact that christ did repeatedly claim to be both superhuman and divine. [footnote : john . ; . .] ( .) _how these claims were understood at the time._ we have now to consider how these claims were understood at the time. and first, as to _christ's friends_. we have overwhelming evidence that after his resurrection all the disciples and early christians believed their master to be both superhuman and divine. and to realise the full significance of this, we must remember that they were not polytheists, who did not mind how many gods they believed in, and were willing to worship roman emperors or anyone else; but they were strict monotheists. they firmly believed that there was only one god, yet they firmly believed that christ was divine. this is shown throughout the new testament. thus the writers of the _first three gospels_, though they usually record the events of christ's life without comment, yet in one passage identify him with the god of the old testament, referring the prophecy about the messenger of the _lord our god_ to the messenger of _christ_.[ ] and as to the _fourth gospel_, it begins with asserting christ's divinity in the plainest terms, saying that _the word_, who afterwards became flesh, _was god_. and it appropriately ended, before the last chapter was added, with st. thomas declaring this same belief, when he addressed christ as _my lord and my god_, which titles he fully accepted.[ ] yet immediately afterwards, the author says he wrote his gospel to convince men that jesus was the christ, the son of god. evidently then this expression, _the son of god_, meant to him, and therefore presumably to other new testament writers, who use it frequently, that christ was truly god--god the son--_my lord and my god_--in the fullest and most complete sense. [footnote : isa. . ; matt. . ; mark . ; luke . .] [footnote : john . ; . .] with regard to the _acts_ an argument on the other side is sometimes drawn from st. peter's speaking of christ as 'a _man_ approved of god unto you by mighty works,' thus implying, it is urged, that st. peter did not know him to be more than man.[ ] but since he says he was only appealing to what his _hearers_ knew to be true (_even as ye yourselves know_), how else could he have put it? his hearers did not know that christ was god; they did know that he was _a man approved of god_ by many wonderful miracles, because they had seen them. moreover, in other places the acts bear strong witness to the divinity of christ, as for instance when st. paul speaks _of the church of god which he purchased with his own blood_, or st. stephen says _lord jesus receive my spirit_; or when the apostles are represented as working their miracles, not in the name of god the father, but in that of christ.[ ] [footnote : acts . .] [footnote : acts . ; . ; . ; . .] next, as to the book of _revelation_. the evidence this affords is important, because nearly all critics admit that it was written by st. john. and if so, it shows conclusively that one at least of christ's intimate followers firmly believed in his divinity. for he not only speaks of him as being universally worshipped both in heaven and on earth, but describes him as _the first and the last_, which is a title used by god in the old testament, and is plainly inapplicable to anyone else.[ ] and we may ask, is it conceivable that an intimate friend of christ should have believed him to be the everlasting god, unless he had claimed to be so himself, and had supported his claim by working miracles, and rising from the dead? is it not, rather, certain that nothing but the most _overwhelming_ proof would ever have convinced a jew (of all persons) that a fellow man, with whom he had lived for years, and whom he had then seen put to death as a malefactor, was himself the lord jehovah, _the first and the last_? [footnote : rev. . - ; . , ; . ; . ; isa. . .] but it is urged on the other side, that the writer also calls him _the beginning of the creation of god_, as if he had been merely the first being created.[ ] but the previous passages clearly show that this was not his meaning. it was rather that christ was the _beginning_ of creation, because he was its source and agent; he by whom, as the same writer declares, _all things were made_. and elsewhere a similar title is given him for this identical reason, as he is called _the first-born of all creation_, because _all things have been created through him_.[ ] [footnote : rev. . ;] [footnote : john . ; col. . , .] equally important evidence is afforded by _st. paul's epistles_. for though he is not likely to have known christ intimately, he must have been acquainted with numbers who did, including, as he says, _james the lord's brother_.[ ] and his early conversion, before a.d. , together with the fact that he had previously persecuted the church at jerusalem, and afterwards visited some of the apostles there, must have made him well acquainted with the christian doctrines from the very first. moreover he tells us himself that the faith which he taught was the same as that which he had previously persecuted; and that when he visited the apostles he _laid before them_ the gospel he preached, evidently to make sure that it agreed with what they preached.[ ] [footnote : gal. . .] [footnote : gal. . ; . .] there can thus be no doubt that the christianity of st. paul was the same as that of the twelve. and all through his epistles he bears witness to the _superhuman_ character of christ; declaring, among other things, his sinlessness, and that he is the ruler, redeemer, and final judge of the world.[ ] [footnote : cor. . ; rom. . ; cor. . ; cor. . .] he also bears witness to his _divine_ character, saying in so many words that he is over all, god blessed for ever; that we shall all stand before the judgment-seat of god, which elsewhere he calls the judgment-seat of christ; that he was originally in the form of god (_i.e._, in a state of deity), and on an equality with god, before he became incarnate, and took the form of man; that in him dwells all the fullness of the godhead bodily; that he is our great god and saviour jesus christ, who gave himself for us; and that the psalmist prophesied of him when he said, 'thy throne, o god, is for ever and ever.'[ ] this last passage, from the _hebrews_, was perhaps not written by st. paul, but this makes it all the more valuable, as the epistle is generally dated, from internal evidence, before the destruction of jerusalem, a.d. ; and we have thus _another_ early witness to the divinity of christ. [footnote : rom. . ; . ; cor. . ; phil. . ; col. . ; titus . ; heb. . .] the most important text on the other side is where st. paul says there is _one god the father_, and _one lord jesus christ_,[ ] which is quoted in the nicene creed. but though the statement is a difficult one, it cannot be pressed as implying that christ is not _god_; for if so it would equally imply that the father was not _lord_, which few would contend was st. paul's meaning. [footnote : cor. . ; _comp._ eph. . - .] with regard to the above passages, it is important to notice that the allusions are all incidental. st. paul does not attempt to prove the superhuman and divine character of christ, but refers to it as if it were undisputed. he evidently believed it himself, and took for granted that his readers did so too. and his readers included not only his own converts at corinth and elsewhere, but the converts of other apostles at rome, which was a place he had not then visited, and a strong party of opponents in galatia, with whom he was arguing. it is clear, then, that these doctrines were not peculiar to st. paul, but were the common property of all christians from the earliest times. and when combined with the previous evidence, this leaves no doubt as to how christ's _friends_ understood his claims. whatever they may have thought of them before the resurrection, that event convinced them that they were true, and they never hesitated in this belief. next as to _christ's foes_. the evidence here is equally convincing. in st. john's gospel we read that on several occasions during his life, when christ asserted his superhuman and divine character, the jews wanted to kill him in consequence; often avowing their reason for doing so with the utmost frankness. 'for a good work we stone thee not, but for blasphemy and because that thou, being a man, makest thyself god.'[ ] and in thus doing they were only acting in accordance with their law, which commanded a blasphemer to be stoned.[ ] [footnote : john . ; . ; . ; . .] [footnote : lev. . .] in none of these instances did christ repudiate the claims attributed to him, or say he had been misunderstood. in fact, only once did he offer any explanation at all. he then appealed to the passage in the old testament, 'i said, ye are gods,'[ ] and asserted that he was much better entitled to the term, since he was sent into the world by the father, and did the works of the father. after which he again asserted his unity with the father, which was the very point objected to by the jews. [footnote : ps. . .] moreover, not only during his life did christ make these claims to be divine, but he persevered with them even when it brought about his death. it is undisputed that the jews condemned him for _blasphemy_, and for nothing else. this is the teaching not of one gospel alone, but of each of the four.[ ] every biography of christ that we possess represents this as the real charge against him; though, of course, when tried before the roman governor that of disloyalty to cæsar was brought forward as well. [footnote : matt. . ; mark . ; luke . ; john . .] there is only one conclusion to be drawn from all this. it is that christ did really claim to be both superhuman and divine; that he deliberately and repeatedly asserted these claims during his life; that this provoked the hostility of the jews, who frequently wanted to kill him; that he never repudiated these claims, but persevered with them to the end; and was finally put to death in consequence. (_c._) the great alternative. we pass on now to the _great alternative_, which is forced upon us by combining the teaching and the claims of christ. before pointing out its importance we must notice a favourite method of trying to get out of the difficulty, which is by saying that the teaching of christ occurs in the _first three gospels_, and the claims in the _fourth_; so if we deny the accuracy of this single gospel the difficulty is removed. but unfortunately for this objection, though the divine claims occur chiefly in the fourth gospel, the superhuman ones are most prominent in the other three; and we have purposely chosen all the passages illustrating them from these gospels _alone_. and what is more, they occur in all the supposed _sources_ of these gospels--the so-called triple tradition, the source common to matthew and luke, etc. everywhere from the earliest record to the latest, christ is represented as claiming to be superhuman. and such claims are equally fatal to his moral character if he were only a man. for no good man, and indeed very few bad ones, could be so fearfully presumptuous as to claim to be the absolute ruler of the world, still less to be its redeemer, and, least of all, to be its one and only judge hereafter. this objection, then, cannot be maintained, and we are forced to conclude that the perfect moral teaching of christ was accompanied by continual assertions of his own superhuman and divine character. and as this was a point about which he must have known, it is clear that the statements must have been either true or intentionally false. he must, therefore, have been divine, or else a deliberate impostor. in other words, the christ of the gospels--and history knows of no other--could not have been merely a good man. he was either _god_ as he claimed to be, or else a _bad man_ for making such claims. this is the _great alternative_. moreover, it is absolutely unique in the world's history. nowhere else shall we find a parallel to it. in christ--and in christ alone--we have a man whose moral character and teaching have fascinated the world for centuries; and yet who, unless his own claims were true, must have been guilty of the greatest falsehood, and blasphemy. this is the only logical conclusion to be drawn from the facts we have been considering, and all attempts to avoid it fail hopelessly. now what effect has this on our present inquiry as to the truth of christianity? plainly it forms another strong argument in its favour. for the moral teaching of its founder is shown to be not only the most perfect the world has ever seen, but it is combined with a sense of entire sinlessness which is absolutely unique among men. both of these, however, are also combined with claims to a superhuman and divine character, which, if they are not correct, can only be described as impious, and profane. therefore, unless christianity is true, its founder must have been not only the very _best_ of men; but also one of the very _worst_; and this is a dilemma from which there is no escape. chapter xxii. that the history of christianity confirms its truth. (_a._) its early triumphs. ( .) its immense difficulties. ( .) its marvellous success. ( .) the so-called _natural_ causes of success: they all imply the truth of the religion. ( .) contrast with mohammedanism. (_b._) its later history. ( .) its vitality in the past; very remarkable. ( .) its effect at the present; very beneficial. ( .) its prospects in the future; very hopeful. ( .) the spread of _rationalism_; but this is no new difficulty, while it shows the strength of christianity, and being only destructive, can never take its place. (_c._) conclusion. the history of christianity, which seems to have been foreknown to its founder, forms another strong argument in its favour. the argument we have next to consider is that derived from the _history of christianity_. this religion, it must be remembered, originated, spread over, and finally conquered the civilised world in an historical age. and since the fact of this conquest can neither be disputed nor ignored, it must be accounted for. how is it that an obscure jewish peasant, who was crucified as a malefactor, some nineteen centuries ago, should now be worshipped, by over five hundred million persons, including all the most civilised nations of the world? as a mere historical problem, this requires some solution, for an effect in history, as elsewhere, must have an adequate cause. and it is scarcely too much to say that this is the most remarkable effect in the history of mankind. here, then, is the subject we have to discuss; and we will first consider the _early triumphs_ of christianity, and then its _later history_. (_a._) its early triumphs. now it seems hard to exaggerate either the immense difficulties the religion had to overcome, or its marvellous success in overcoming them. ( .) _its immense difficulties._ in the first place, we must consider the immense difficulties of founding such a religion as christianity. our familiarity with the subject prevents us from fully realising this, so perhaps an analogy will help to make it clear. suppose, then, that missionaries _now_ appeared in the cities of europe, in london and edinburgh, for example, and preached that an obscure peasant, who had been put to death somewhere in persia as a malefactor, had risen from the dead, and was the god of heaven and earth. what chance would they have of making a single convert? yet the first preaching of christianity at rome or athens must have been very similar to this, only far more dangerous. indeed, it is hard to over-estimate the difficulties of founding a religion, the principal doctrine of which,--and one that the christians so boldly proclaimed,--was that of a crucified saviour.[ ] [footnote : cor. . .] and all this took place among civilised nations, and in a literary, one might almost say a rationalistic, age; when the old pagan religions were being abandoned, because men could no longer believe in them. what, then, must have been the difficulty of introducing a new religion, which was (apparently) more absurd than any of them, and which worshipped one who had been crucified? christianity had, of course, many other difficulties to contend with especially in regard to its absolute claims; for it was a religion which could stand no rival, and its success meant the destruction of every heathen altar. but these sink into insignificance, compared with the great difficulty of the cross. ( .) _its marvellous success._ yet, in spite of every difficulty, christianity prevailed. the new religion spread with great rapidity. this we learn not only from christian writers, who might be thought to exaggerate; but from impartial men such as _suetonius_ and _tacitus_. the former says that in the reign of claudius (a.d. - ) the jews in rome, _stirred up by one chrestus_ (_i.e._, christian jews), were so numerous that the emperor thought it expedient to banish them; and the latter that at the time of the great fire (a.d. ) _large numbers_ of christians were discovered at rome. while some years later _pliny_, one of the roman governors in asia minor, complained to the emperor trajan that the christians were so numerous that the temples had long been deserted, though at the time he wrote (a.d. ) they were being frequented again. he also bears witness to the exemplary lives of the christians, their steadfastness in their religion, and the divine worship they paid to christ. and as the religion did not originate in either rome or asia minor, christians were presumably as numerous elsewhere. nor can it be said that they were only to be found among the poor and ignorant. for pliny himself admits that they included men of _every rank_ in life; and the undisputed epistles of st. paul, such as that to the romans (about a.d. ), show that he thought his readers well educated, and quite able to follow a difficult argument. moreover, according to the acts, the people were by no means willing to accept christianity without inquiry; and st. paul was obliged in consequence to have long discussions on the subject. this was especially the case at ephesus, where he _reasoned daily_ in one of the schools, for about _two years_,[ ] which does not look as if his followers were only among the poor and ignorant. while elsewhere we have the names of some eminent converts. [footnote : acts . - ; . .] among these may be mentioned _erastus_ the treasurer of the city at corinth; and _crispus_, the ruler of the synagogue there; _dionysius_, the areopagite at athens; _manaen_, the foster-brother of herod the tetrarch; _apollos_, a learned jew of alexandria, who had made a special study of the scriptures; and _theophilus_, a man of high rank (as is shown by the title _most excellent_), none of whom are likely to have accepted the religion of the crucified, without very strong evidence.[ ] and recent discoveries in the catacombs have made it probable that a distinguished roman lady, pomponia græcina (wife of the general aulus plautius) who tacitus says was accused in a.d. of having adopted a _foreign superstition_, was also a christian.[ ] [footnote : rom. . ; acts . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; _comp._ . ; . .] [footnote : j. orr, hist. and lit. of early church, , p. . tacitus, annals, bk. xiii., ch. .] now what was the cause of this wonderful progress? it is easy to say what was _not_ its cause. physical force and the authority of the government had nothing to do with it. its missionaries did not preach with sword in hand, nor were they backed up by the civil power. all they did, all they could do, was to appeal to man's reason and conscience, and this appeal was successful. and we learn from the christians' themselves, _e.g._, in the acts, that there were two main reasons for this. the first was the confident appeal to the facts of christianity, such as the resurrection of christ, as undisputed and indisputable; and the second was the occasional aid of miracles. and the more we reflect on the subject, the more difficult it is to account for it, without at least one of these causes. for the spread of christianity was not like that of a mere philosophy, or system of morals. it depended entirely on certain alleged _matters of fact_, which facts were quite recent at the time of its origin, occurred at the very place where it was first preached, and were open to the hostile criticism of an entire nation. this, it is needless to say, is without a parallel in history. but it may be said, notwithstanding this rapid progress at first, christianity took nearly three centuries to conquer the civilised world. undoubtedly it did, but the significance of the conquest is not diminished by this. it is rather increased when we remember that at intervals all through this period the religion suffered the fiercest persecution. that it should have survived such a fearfully prolonged struggle, and have finally conquered, does but show its inherent strength. we may look in vain for anything like this in the rest of history. no other religion has ever withstood such persistent attacks; no other religion has ever obtained such a complete and almost incredible triumph, the emperor of the civilised world being brought to worship one who had been put to death as a malefactor. in short, the progress of christianity was as unique as its origin, and can only be satisfactorily accounted for by its truth. ( .) _the so-called natural causes of success._ we must next glance at some natural causes which have been alleged as accounting for the wonderful spread of christianity. those brought forward by gibbon in his _decline and fall of the roman empire_ (chapter xv.) are five in number. the first is the _intense zeal_ of the early christians. and doubtless this was a most important element in spreading their religion. but what gave them this intense zeal? what was it that made them so fearfully in earnest about their new religion, that they faced a life of suffering, and a death of martyrdom in preaching it? there can be but one answer. it was because they were so absolutely convinced of its truth. it was vouched for by what they considered overwhelming evidence, so they willingly risked everything for it. their zeal, then, is but evidence for their conviction, and their conviction is but evidence for the truth of what they were convinced of; and valuable evidence too, for they plainly had much better means of knowing about it, than any that we can have. secondly, there is the doctrine of a _future life_; and doubtless this also had much to do with the success of christianity. a longing for immortality seems inherent in man, and the vague guesses of philosophers were quite unable to satisfy this. it _might_ be true that men should live again, but that was all they could say. christianity alone, resting on the actual fact of christ's resurrection, said it _was_ true; so here men found the assurance they wanted. but is it likely that christianity should have so thoroughly satisfied them in this respect, had there been any real doubt as to christ's resurrection? thirdly, we have the _miracles_ ascribed to the early christians. gibbon's argument here is more difficult to follow. of course if these miracles were true, they would have greatly assisted the new religion; but then they would have been, not a natural but a supernatural cause of success. if on the other hand, the miracles were false, it is hard to see how the early christians could have helped their religion by claiming miraculous powers which they did not possess, and which their contemporaries must have known that they did not possess. fourthly, we have the _pure morality_ taught and practised by the early christians. and no doubt this had something to do with helping their religion. but again we must ask, what was it that enabled the christians alone in that age of vice and wickedness to lead pure lives? they ascribed it themselves to the example and power of their founder, and nothing else can account for it. christian morality cannot be a stream without a source, and no other source can be assigned to it. but could a mere human teacher have had this more than human influence over thousands of converts, most of whom had never seen him? lastly, comes the _union_ and _discipline_ of the early church. this may have helped christianity in the later stages of the struggle, but could obviously have been of little use at the commencement. moreover, why should christians of various nations and classes have been so thoroughly united on this one subject, unless they were convinced of its overwhelming importance? on the whole, then, these so-called natural causes of success are at most only _secondary_ causes; the truth of the religion is what they all imply, and this is the real cause which alone can account for its success. a better way of explaining the spread of christianity, which is now often adopted, is by saying that it arose _at a favourable crisis_. the dispersion of the jews throughout the known world would, it is urged, have facilitated the spread of a religion founded by jews. the speculations of the greeks as to a divine word, or _logos_, would have prevented the doctrines of the trinity, and the incarnation, from forming any great difficulty to the learned classes. while the mass of the people were disgusted with the old mythologies of greece and rome. these were dying out, because they failed to satisfy human nature, and men were longing for something better. they wanted, as men always will want, a religion; but they wanted it free from the absurdities and immoralities of pagan worship. christianity then appeared, and as it was found by many to meet the demand, it naturally succeeded. in answer to this it must be remembered that christianity was not a religion founded at rome or athens, in which case it might perhaps be said that the demand caused the supply; but it arose as a small jewish sect in palestine. while the fierce persecutions it had to endure show that it did not obviously meet the requirements of the day, even apart from the tremendous difficulties involved in the worship of the crucified. but now suppose, for the sake of argument, that this had been otherwise, and that the world was so suited to receive christianity as to account for its rapid spread; would the inference be against its divine origin? certainly not; for the agreement in this case would be far too close to be accidental. it must have been _designed_. and it would thus show that the god who rules in history, is also the god who introduced christianity. so here again the proposed explanation, even if admitted, does but imply the truth of the religion. ( .) _contrast with mohammedanism._ and this conclusion is rendered still stronger when we contrast the progress of christianity with that of mohammedanism. for here we have the one example that history affords of the spread of a religion which can be compared with that of christianity. yet the contrast between the two is very marked, whether we consider the means by which they were spread, or their alleged evidence of truthfulness. for mohammed did not appeal to reason, but to _force_, and all we have to account for is that he should be able to collect an army, that this army should conquer, and that the conquered should adopt the religion of their conquerors, about which they were often given no option. in the spread of christianity, on the other hand, no force whatever was employed, and it had immense difficulties to contend with. in fact it carried a cross instead of a sword. thus the contrast between the two is just what we should expect between the natural and the supernatural spread of a religion, the one advancing by worldly power, the other in spite of it. but an even greater contrast has still to be noticed, which is that mohammed did not appeal to any _miracles_ in support of his claims--that is, to outward matters of fact which could be judged of by other people. and this is the more remarkable since he refers to the miracles of previous prophets, including those of christ, as authentic,[ ] but never claims to have worked any himself. the obvious conclusion is that he felt, as all men must feel, the overwhelming difficulty of asserting public miracles if none occurred, and he therefore appealed to force, because he had nothing better to appeal to. yet, as we have seen, the early christians asserted such miracles from the first. they were not advocates of a creed, but witnesses for certain facts, such as the resurrection and other miracles which they believed they actually saw; and there is nothing corresponding to this in regard to mohammedanism, or any other religion. it may of course be said that mohammedanism shows that a religion can make rapid progress without miracles. no doubt it does; and so does buddhism, which also spread rapidly. but it does not show that a religion which, like christianity, claims to rest on miracles, can make its way if those miracles are false. [footnote : koran, sura v.] (_b._) its later history. we pass on now from the early triumphs of christianity to its later history, and will consider in turn its past vitality, its present effect, and its future prospects. ( .) _its vitality in the past._ to begin with, a strong argument in favour of christianity is its vitality. it has survived in spite of external assaults and internal divisions; and its spread and continuity can only be satisfactorily accounted for by its truth. this is an argument the force of which increases as times goes on, and fresh difficulties are encountered and overcome. moreover, the social state of the world has changed immensely, yet christianity has always kept in touch with it. it has shown itself suitable for different ages, countries, and social conditions; and, unlike other religions, is still in sympathy with the highest forms of civilisation. in short, christianity has kept possession of the civilised world for sixteen centuries, and is as vigorous in its age as in its youth. its long reign is indeed so familiar to us that there is a danger of not noticing its importance. can we imagine a man _now_ who should found a religion, which nearly two thousand years hence should be still flourishing, still spreading, and still recognising him not only as its founder but its god? yet this would be but a similar case to that of christianity. amid all the changes in history it alone has remained unchanged. its doctrines, at least the essential ones, contained in the creeds, have been the same, century after century, and its founder is still worshipped by millions. ( .) _its effect at the present._ in close connection with the history of christianity comes its effect on the world. a religion which has reigned so long, and over the most civilised nations, must of necessity have had some influence for good or evil. and with regard to christianity there can be little doubt as to the answer. the present state of the civilised world is a standing witness to its benefits, since nearly all our moral superiority to the nations of old is due to this religion. for example, it has entirely altered the position of _women_, who are no longer looked down upon as they used to be. it has also altered the position of _children_, who were formerly considered as property, and at the disposal of their parents, infanticide being of course common. again, it has changed our ideas as to the _sick_, a hospital being almost entirely a christian institution. it has also changed our ideas about _work_. in all the nations of antiquity, and in heathen countries at the present day, a workman is looked down upon. but to christians, who believe that god himself worked in a carpenter's shop, all work is ennobled. once more, it has created a respect for _human life_ as such, and apart from the position of the individual person, which was unknown in ancient times. in short, our acknowledgement of what are called the _rights of man_ is almost entirely due to christianity. nor is there anything surprising in this; for the common fatherhood of god and the common love of christ naturally afford the strongest argument for the common rights of man. in christ, as st. paul expresses it, there can be _neither bond, nor free_; _male nor female_; for all are equal.[ ] the good which christianity has done is thus indisputable. [footnote : gal. . .] but it may be said, has it not also done some _harm_? what about the religious wars and persecutions in the middle ages? with regard to the wars, however, religion was, as a rule, the excuse rather than the cause; for had christianity never been heard of, there would doubtless have been wars in the middle ages, as in all other ages. with regard to the persecutions, they must be both admitted and deplored; but we may ask, what religion except christianity could have been mixed up with such persecutions, and yet have escaped the odium of mankind? christianity has done so, because men have seen that it was not the religion itself, but its false friends who were responsible for the persecutions. the important point is that the new testament, unlike the koran,[ ] does not authorise, still less command, the employment of force in gaining converts. [footnote : koran, sura viii. ; ix. ; xlvii. .] we now turn to another aspect of the subject. not only has christianity done much good in the past, but it is doing much good at the present. this also is beyond dispute; anyone can verify the fact for himself. thousands of men and women spend their lives in self-sacrifice among the poor and sick solely for the sake of christ. of course, it may be said that all this is folly and that we ought to try and benefit our fellow-men for their own sake or for the sake of the state. but, whether folly or not, the fact remains. the vast majority of those who visit the poor and sick (sisters of mercy for instance) do not do so for the sake of the state, or even mainly for the sake of the poor themselves, but from avowedly christian motives. they believe that christ loves these poor, and therefore they love them too, and willingly spend their lives in trying to help them. it is also a fact that this strange _attraction_ which christ exercises, over the hearts of men is unique in history. can we imagine anyone spending his life in visiting the sick in some large town, and saying that he is doing it for the love of david, or of plato, or of mohammed? yet all through the civilised world thousands are doing it for the love of christ. and this influence, be it observed, is not like that of other great men, local and temporary, but world-wide and permanent. christ is thus not only, as we saw in the last chapter, the _holiest_ of men, but the _mightiest_ of men also; the man in short who has most influenced mankind. and, with trifling exceptions, few will dispute that this influence has been wholly for good. so judged by its fruits, christianity is a religion which might very reasonably have had a divine origin. on the other hand, it must be admitted that though christianity has done so much good, it has not entirely reformed the world,--it has not even stopped wars among christian nations--and its failure to do this, after trying for so many centuries, is thought by some to be adverse to its claims. but others think that its partial success and partial failure are just what we should expect if it were true. and what is more to the point, this seems to have been expected by its founder, for he always implied that the good and the evil--the wheat and the tares--were to be mixed together until the end of the world. moreover, its failure has been due almost entirely to the _inconsistency_ of its adherents. if all men were christians, and all christians lived up to the religion they professed, there would be little to complain of, even in this imperfect world. on the whole, then, the _effect_ of christianity is distinctly in its favour. it has done much good, and will probably do more as time goes on; though it has not entirely reformed the world, and probably never will. but the good it has done is an actual fact which cannot be disputed, while the argument that it ought to have done more good is at least open to doubt. ( .) _its prospects in the future._ lastly, the spread of christianity seems likely to continue, and some day we may expect to see it universally professed in the world, as it is in western europe at the present time, though, of course, there will always be individuals who dissent from it. the reasons for this confident hope are, that, speaking broadly, christian nations alone are extending their influence. japan may, of course, be quoted as an exception, but strange to say japan seems to be becoming christian. and to this must be added the fact that christian _missions_ are now being revived to a large extent; and, though they are not always successful, yet, taken together, they secure a good many converts. moreover, there is no other side to this argument. it is not that christianity is being adopted in some countries but renounced in others. the gains, whether great or small, are all _net profits_. with one exception, there is not a single instance for many centuries of a nation or tribe which once adopted christianity changing its religion to anything else. and the exception, that of france at the time of the revolution, strikingly proves the rule; for the change could not be maintained, and in a few years christianity again asserted itself throughout the country. ( .) _the spread of rationalism._ but an important objection has now to be examined. it is said that even in christian countries an increasingly large number of men either openly reject christianity, or give it at most a mere nominal approval. this may be called the objection from the spread of _rationalism_, and it is an important one, because it is an attempt to meet christianity with its own weapons, by appealing to reason. of course it must be remembered that a great deal of the infidelity of the present day is not due to reasoning at all, but to the want of it; and it is hopeless to argue against this. for how can men be convinced of christianity, or anything else, if they will not take the trouble to examine its claims? but putting aside this class, there are still many men who may fairly be called rationalists--men, that is, who have studied _both_ sides of the subject, and whose reasoning leads them to reject christianity. they admit that there is evidence in its favour, but they say that it is far from convincing. and it is believed by many that rationalism is spreading at the present day, and will eventually become common among thoughtful men. now, of course, the whole of this _essay_ is really an attempt to meet this objection, and to show that, when carefully considered, the arguments in favour of christianity far outweigh those against it. but three additional remarks may be made here. the first is, that this is no _new_ difficulty. rationalism has existed ever since the middle ages, and was most aggressive and most confident in the eighteenth century, as a single quotation will show. bishop butler in the preface to his _analogy of religion_, , says, 'it has come, i know not how, to be taken for granted, by many persons, that christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry, but that it is now at length discovered to be fictitious. and accordingly they treat it as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point among all people of discernment; and nothing remained but to set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were by way of reprisals for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of the world.' it is now nearly two centuries since these words were written, and christianity is still flourishing! therefore, as all previous attacks have proved futile, there is no reason to believe that the present one will be more successful. secondly, these continued assaults on christianity afford in one respect additional evidence in its favour; since they show, as nothing but repeated attacks could show, its _indestructibility_. had christianity never been assailed, its strength would never have been apparent; but now we know that, try as men will for centuries, they cannot get rid of this religion. thirdly, it must be remembered that rationalism is all destructive and not constructive. it can show many reasons for _not_ believing in christianity, but it can give the world nothing which can in any way take its place. it has no satisfactory solution for the great problems of life. why does man exist at all? why has he got free will? what is the meaning of sin? is there any forgiveness for sin? what is the meaning of death? is there any life beyond death? is there a judgment? can we dare to face it? shall we recognise those whom we have loved on earth? in short, what is man's destiny here and hereafter? these are the questions which always have interested, and always will interest, mankind. rationalists may say that the christian answer to them is incorrect; but they can offer no other which is worth a moment's consideration. (_c._) conclusion. before concluding this chapter one other point of some importance has to be noticed. it is that the early history of christianity with its continual triumph amidst continual persecution, seems to have been foreknown to its founder; as well as his own marvellous influence in the world. these _prophecies_ of christ concerning his own religion are certainly very striking. we find, on the one hand, a most absolute conviction as to the triumph of his church. it was to spread far and wide; its missionaries were to go into _all the world_ and make disciples _of all the nations_, and its enemies would never _prevail against it_.[ ] and on the other, there is an equally certain conviction as to the constant sufferings of its members, who were to expect life-long persecution and the universal hatred of mankind.[ ] [footnote : mark . ; matt. . ; . .] [footnote : _e.g._, matt. . , .] yet these strange prophecies of continual success amidst continual suffering were for three centuries as strangely fulfilled, including even the little detail that christ's followers were to be hated for his _name's_ sake.[ ] since as a matter of fact they were often persecuted for the mere _name_, and it was this that made them so indignant. thus justin says, 'you receive the _name_ as proof against us.... if any deny the _name_ you acquit him as having no evidence against him.'[ ] as christ foretold, it was literally for his _name's_ sake. [footnote : mark . .] [footnote : justin, apol. . ; peter . .] moreover, christ's assertions regarding his own influence in the world are equally remarkable. we will give but two examples.[ ] he said, _and i, if i be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto myself_. he was lifted up on the cross, and, however strange we may think it, millions of men have in consequence been drawn to him with passionate devotion. again, he said, _i am the light of the world_. and now, after nearly nineteen centuries, both friends and foes admit that his is the teaching which has enlightened and purified mankind. had he been a mere jewish peasant, his making such prophecies as these seems almost as incredible as their fulfilment. but what shall we say when they were both made _and_ fulfilled? have we not here a powerful argument in favour of christianity? nor can we get out of the difficulty by denying the genuineness of the passages; for they would be quite as remarkable if invented by an evangelist, as if spoken by christ himself. [footnote : john . ; . .] we may now sum up this chapter on the _history of christianity_. we have considered in turn, both its early triumphs, and its later history; and each of these is, strictly speaking, unique, and each is inexplicable on purely natural grounds. but undoubtedly the more important is the marvellous success of christianity at first, in spite of the immense difficulties it had to encounter; and, as we have seen, all natural explanations of _this_ fail hopelessly. the historical argument, then, leads us back to _miracles_; for every other explanation of the first triumph of christianity is found to be inadequate. while, on the other hand, the establishment of the christian religion is just what we should expect if the miracles were true. and of course true miracles, not false ones, are required to account for it. the most holy and the most powerful religion the world has ever seen cannot have been founded on falsehood or fable. in other words, if we deny that the christian miracles occurred, and take from christ all that is superhuman, we cannot imagine him as the founder of christianity. there would be an obvious want of proportion between cause and effect. and, as a matter of fact, it was not a natural christ, but a supernatural christ--_the christ of the gospels_--who won the heart of mankind, and conquered the world. we seem thus forced to the conclusion that the only thing which can account for the history of christianity is its _truth_. anyhow, it is plain that its _history_ forms another strong argument in its favour. chapter xxiii. that on the whole the other evidence supports this conclusion. additional arguments for and against christianity. (_a._) christianity and prayer. its universality. there are, however, three difficulties: ( .) scientific difficulty; said to be incredible, as interfering with the course of nature. ( .) moral difficulty; said to be wrong, as inconsistent with the power, wisdom, and goodness of god. ( .) practical difficulty; said to be useless, as shown by observation; but none of these can be maintained. (_b._) christianity and human nature. it is adapted to human nature; for it meets to a great extent the inherent cravings of mankind, especially in regard to sorrow and sin, death and eternity. the objection as to selfishness. (_c._) christianity and other religions. their comparative study; the krishna myth; the horus myth. conclusion. we propose in this chapter to consider some of the remaining arguments for and against christianity. fortunately, there are only three of anything like sufficient importance to affect the general conclusion. these arise from the relation of christianity to prayer, to human nature, and to other religions; and we will examine each in turn. we need not discuss mere _bible difficulties_, as they are called; for though some of these are fatal to the theory of verbal inspiration, or that every word of the bible is true; this is now held by scarcely anyone. and if the book is as trustworthy a record of the facts it relates, as an ordinary history of england, that is amply sufficient to prove christianity. nor, on the other hand, need we discuss further evidence in favour of the bible. but as we considered what it says about the creation of the world, we may just notice in passing what it says about its end. there will be a _great noise_, the elements will be _dissolved with fervent heat_, and the earth, and all it contains will be _burned up_.[ ] everyone now admits that this is true, for our planet will, sooner or later, fall into the sun, when all these results will follow. but (apart from revelation) how could the writer have known it? there is nothing in the present aspect of the earth to suggest that it will one day be _burned up_, and considering the amount of water it contains, the idea might well seem incredible. we pass on now to the subject of prayer. [footnote : peter . .] (_a._) christianity and prayer. now the christian, in common with most other religions, asserts the value of prayer not only for obtaining what are called spiritual blessings, but also as a means of influencing natural events. yet prayer with such an object is said by many to be scientifically _incredible_, morally _wrong_, and practically _useless_. so we will first glance at the universality of the custom, and then consider these difficulties. now, prayer of some kind is, and always has been, the universal rule in almost every religion. it is found wherever mankind is found. no one can point to its inventor, no one can point to a time when men did not pray. missionaries have not to teach their converts to pray, but merely to _whom_ to pray. in short, prayer of some kind seems universal, just as man's sense of right and wrong is universal, though each is capable of being trained and perfected. nor is it in any way like an animal's cry of pain when hurt, which, though universal, means nothing; for this of course resembles a man's cry of pain, and has no connection with prayer whatever. if, then, prayer is a delusion, it is to say the least a very remarkable one, especially as in most ancient religions prayer was made to false gods who could not answer it; yet in spite of every failure, the belief in prayer has always remained. men have always preferred to think that the failure was due to their own unworthiness, rather than give up the belief in a god who answers prayer. and this _universality_ of the custom is a strong argument in its favour; for it seems most unlikely that god should have implanted in mankind a universal habit of asking if he never intended to answer. we pass on now to the difficulties. ( .) _scientific difficulty._ in the first place, it is said that answers to prayer are scientifically _incredible_, since they would involve god's interfering with the course of nature, or, in popular language, working miracles. the most probable explanation is, that they are only a particular class of _superhuman coincidences_ (chapter vii.). according to this theory, god, knowing beforehand that the prayer would be offered, arranged beforehand to answer it. thus the prayer was not a direct cause of the event which fulfilled it, but it may still have been an indirect cause. for had the man not prayed, god, foreknowing this, might not have arranged for the event to have happened. and the same is true even when the prayer is made _after_ the event. suppose, for instance, a man heard of the loss of a ship in which his son was travelling, and prayed for his safety. that safety, as far as the shipwreck was concerned, must have been decided before the father prayed. yet, as everything was foreknown to god, his subsequent prayer might not have been useless; since, if god had not known that the father would have prayed, he might not have brought about the son's safety. of course, it may be said that this is making the cause come after the effect, and is therefore absurd. no doubt it would be so if merely physical forces were involved; but when we are dealing with personal beings, able to foresee and act accordingly, there is nothing impossible in a cause happening after what was in a certain sense its effect. for instance, my going for a holiday next week may be the cause of my working hard this; though, strictly speaking, it is my _foreknowledge_ of the intended holiday, that leads to my working hard. so in the case before us. it is god's _foreknowledge_ that the prayer will be offered, that leads him to answer it; but for all practical purposes this is the same as if the prayer itself did so. therefore this theory does not detract from the value and importance of prayer any more than god's foreknowledge in other respects makes human conduct of no importance. in every case god foreknows the result, not in spite of, but because he also foreknows, the man's conduct on which it depends. while if we admit what is called god's _immanence_ in nature, and that everything that occurs is due to the present and immediate action of his will (chapter vii.), it greatly lessens any remaining difficulty there may be in regard to prayer. from this it is plain that answers to prayer may, without losing their value, be regarded as superhuman coincidences; and, if so, they do not involve any interference with the ordinary course of nature, and all scientific difficulties are at an end. ( .) _moral difficulty_. in the next place, prayer is said to be morally _wrong_, since it is inconsistent with each of the three great attributes of god. it is inconsistent with his _power_, by implying that he is partly under the control of men; with his _wisdom_, by implying that he has to be informed of what we want; and with his _goodness_, by implying that he cannot be trusted to act for the best, without our interference. but with regard to god's _power_, no one who prays supposes that god is under the control of his prayers, but merely that he may freely choose to be influenced by them. insignificant as man is in comparison with his maker, we have already shown that god takes an interest in his welfare. and admitting this, there is nothing improbable in his being influenced by a man's prayer. nor is this in any way trying to persuade him to change his will, since as everything was foreknown to god, the prayer with all it involved, may have been part of his will from all eternity. nor does it reflect on his _wisdom_, for no one who prays supposes that prayer is for the information of god, but merely that it is the way in which he wishes us to show our trust in him. and then, as to god's _goodness_. as a matter of fact, god does not wait for us to pray before sending most of his blessings; but a few of them are said to be conditional on our praying. and this is quite consistent with perfect goodness. human analogy seems decisive on the point. a father may know what his child wants, may be quite willing to supply that want, and may yet choose to wait till the child asks him. and why? simply because supplying his wants is not the whole object the father has in view. he also wishes to train the child's character; to teach him to rely upon and trust his father, and to develop his confidence and gratitude. and all this would be unattainable if the father supplied his wants as a machine would do; in which case the child might perhaps forget that his father was not a machine. now, for all we know, precisely the same may be the case with regard to prayer. god may wish not only to supply man's wants, but also to train and develop his character. indeed, as shown in chapter v., the existence of evil seems to force us to this very conclusion. and if so, it is out of the question to say that his not giving some blessings till they are asked for is inconsistent with perfect goodness. it may be a very proof of that goodness. for, as already said, god's goodness does not consist of simple beneficence, but also of righteousness. and, as a general rule, it certainly seems right that those who believe in god, and take the trouble to ask for his blessings, should be the ones to receive them. and here we may notice another moral difficulty, which is sometimes felt in regard to prayers _for others_. they are said to be _unjust_, since one man's success would often mean another's failure. suppose, for instance, a man is going in for a competitive examination, say a scholarship or a clerkship; and a friend of his prays that he may get it. of course in most cases this will not affect the issue; but all who believe in the power of prayer must admit that in _some_ cases it will. yet is not this hard on the next competitor, who loses the scholarship in consequence? it certainly seems so. but it is only part of a more general difficulty. for suppose the man's friend instead of praying for him, sent him some money to enable him to have a tutor. is not this equally hard on the other man? yet no one will say that his having the tutor could not affect the result; or that his friend acted unfairly in sending him the money. so in regard to prayer. indeed of all ways of helping a friend, praying for him seems the fairest; since it is appealing to a being, who we know will always act fairly; and will not grant the petition, unless it is just and right to do so. the objection, then, that prayer is morally wrong cannot be maintained from any point of view. it is, however, only fair to add that a certain class of prayers would be wrong. we have no right to pray for _miracles_, _e.g._, for water to run uphill, or for a dead man to come to life again; though we have a right to pray for any ordinary event, such as rain or recovery from sickness. the reason for this distinction is obvious. a miracle is, in popular language, something contrary to the order of nature; and as the order of nature is merely the will of him who ordered nature, it would be contrary to god's will. and we must not ask god to act contrary to what we believe to be his will. of course it may be said that to pray for rain, when otherwise it would not have rained, really involves a miracle. but here everything depends on the words _when otherwise it would not have rained_. if we knew this for certain, it would be wrong to pray for rain (just as it would be wrong for the father to pray for his son's safety after hearing that he had been drowned) not knowing it for certain, it is not wrong. therefore as we do know for certain that water will not run uphill without a miracle, it is always wrong to pray for that. in the same way we may pray for fruitful crops, because it is plainly god's will that mankind should be nourished; but we may not pray to be able to live without food, since this is plainly not god's will. no doubt, in the bible, miracles were sometimes prayed for, but only by persons who acted under special divine guidance; and this affords no argument for our doing so. ( .) _practical difficulty._ lastly, it is said, even admitting that prayers might be answered, yet we have abundant evidence that they never are; so that prayer at the present day is _useless_. but several points have to be noticed here; for no one asserts that _all_ prayers are answered. various conditions have to be fulfilled. a person, for instance, must not only believe in god, and in his power and willingness to answer prayers; but the answer must be of such a kind that it would be right to pray for it. moreover, he must be trying to lead such a life as god wishes him to lead; and also be honestly exerting himself to gain the required end, for prayer cannot be looked upon as a substitute for work. and this prevents our deciding the question by _experiment_, as is sometimes urged. why not, it is said, settle the question once for all by a test case? but this is impossible, since in the vast majority of cases we cannot say whether the above conditions are fulfilled or not; and even if we could, it would still be impracticable. for prayer is the earnest entreaty that god would grant something we earnestly desire; and if used as an experiment, it ceases to be genuine prayer altogether. but it is further urged that though we cannot decide by experiment we can by _observation_. the facts, however, can be explained on either theory. suppose, for instance, an epidemic breaks out, and prayer is at once made that it may cease; but instead of ceasing, it continues for a week, and kills a hundred persons. how do we know that but for the prayers it might not have continued for a month and killed a thousand? and the same argument applies in other cases. against these various objections we must remember that an immense number of men of many ages and countries, and of undoubted honesty and intelligence have asserted that their prayers have been answered; and the cumulative value of this evidence is very great. while, to those who possess it, the conviction that certain events happened, not accidentally, as we might say, but in answer to some prayer, is absolutely convincing. none of these difficulties, then, can be maintained. there is nothing _incredible_ in prayers being answered, they are not _wrong_, and many of those who ought to know best (_i.e._, those who pray) assert that they are not _useless_. (_b._) christianity and human nature. the next subject we have to consider is a very important one, the _adaptation_ of christianity to human nature. to begin with, it is undeniable that christianity appeals very strongly to some, at least, among every class of men. the poor value it as much as the rich, the ignorant as much as the learned; children can partly understand it, and philosophers can do no more. and this is not only the case at the present time, but it has been so among all the changing conditions of society for eighteen centuries. now, when we inquire into the reason of this powerful hold which christianity has on so many men, we find it is because it meets certain inherent cravings of human nature. some of these, such as man's belief in prayer, and his sense of responsibility, are of course satisfied by any form of theism. so also is his idea of justice, which requires virtue and vice to be suitably rewarded hereafter, since they are not here. but man's nature has many other cravings besides these; yet christianity seems to satisfy it everywhere. we will consider four points in detail and select _sorrow_ and _sin_, _death_ and _eternity_. the first three, and possibly the fourth, all have to be faced; they are the common heritage of all mankind. and while rationalism does not help us to face any of them, and natural religion leaves much in uncertainty, christianity meets the needs of mankind throughout, or at all events far better than any other religion. and first, as to _sorrow_. it is indisputable that in this life man has to bear a great deal of sorrow and suffering; and it is also indisputable that when in sorrow he longs for someone who can both sympathise with him, and help him. an impersonal god can, of course, do neither; indeed, we might as well go for comfort to the force of gravity. and though a personal god can help us, we do not feel sure that he can sympathise with us. on the other hand, fellow-men can sympathise, but they cannot always help. in christ alone we have a being who entirely satisfies human nature; for being man, he can sympathise with human sorrow, and being god, he can alleviate it. so here christianity supplies a universal want of course, the doctrine of the _incarnation_ also satisfies mankind in other respects, especially in presenting him with a worthy being for his affections, and with a perfect example; but these points have been already noticed in chapter xiii. next, as to _sin_. here again the facts are practically undisputed. man's sense of sin is universal, so also is his belief in the justice of god; and therefore in all ages man has longed for some means of appeasing the deity. the widespread custom of sacrifice is a conclusive proof of this. yet, wherever christianity has been accepted, such sacrifices have been abandoned. it is scarcely necessary to point out the reason for this. the christian doctrine of the _atonement_ entirely satisfies these cravings of mankind. it admits the fact of sin; it provides a sufficient sacrifice for sin, which man could never provide for himself, and it thus assures him of complete forgiveness. yet, as shown in chapter xiii., it does all this without in any way lessening the guilt of sin, or allowing man to sin on with impunity; for it makes _repentance_ an essential condition of forgiveness. moreover, christianity proves that sin is not a necessity in human nature; for it alone of all religions can point to one who, though tempted as we are, was yet without sin. and christ's temptations were probably greater than any that we can have. for it is only when a man _resists_ a temptation that he feels its full force, just as only those trees that were _not_ blown down, felt the full force of the gale. therefore christ alone, because he was sinless, can have felt the full force of every temptation. and christians assert, and they surely ought to know best, that this example of christ is a strong help in enabling them to resist temptation. next, as to _death_. here again the facts are undisputed. few persons like to contemplate their own death, yet it is the one event to which we may look forward with certainty. but is there a life after death? most men long for it, and most religions have tried to satisfy this longing in one way or another, but only with partial success. the higher nature of man revolts against any mere material or sensual heaven, while a purely spiritual heaven does not satisfy him either; for a man longs to know that he will be able to recognise again those whom he has loved on earth. this is indeed one of our deepest, strongest, and most universal longings (who is there that has not felt it?), yet there must always be some doubt as to recognising a spirit. and here again the christian doctrine of the _resurrection of the body_ alone satisfies the cravings of mankind; for all doubt is now at an end. the risen body will define and localise man's spirit then, just as the natural body does now; and though there will be a great change, it will not prevent recognition. even the apostles, though unprepared for it, and though themselves unaware of what a risen body was like, were soon able to recognise christ after his resurrection. there is, of course, the well-known difficulty as to the _period of life_ of the risen body. a man, it is said, would only be recognised by his grandfather, if he remained a child; and by his grandson, if he were an old man. but the difficulty is not so great as it seems; for in this life a man who has not seen his son, since he was a child, may not be able to recognise him in later years, in the sense of knowing him by sight. but he may be immensely pleased to meet him again, and live near him, especially if in the meanwhile the son had done well, and been a credit to his father. moreover, the risen body will show us, for the first time, what a man really is, when his accidental surroundings, such as wealth or poverty, have been removed; and his character is at length perfected. and perhaps we shall then see that all that is best in the various states in which he has lived here--the affection of childhood, the activity of boyhood, and the mature judgment of manhood--will be combined in the risen body. and though it is somewhat tantalising not to know more about this future life, very possibly we are not told more, because we should not be able to understand it if we were. even in this world it is doubtful if a savage or a young child could understand the intellectual life of a civilised man, however carefully it might be explained to him; and practically certain that an ape could not. and for all we know our own future life may be as far beyond our present understanding. it is the _great surprise_ in store for us all. but however much we may be changed, our personal identity will still remain, _i shall be i, and you will be you_, with much the same characters as we have at present. this is the important point, and of this we may be quite sure. lastly, as to _eternity_. christianity, it is true, can say little here, but that little is full of hope. it opens up boundless possibilities, far more than any other religion. for by the incarnation human nature has been united to the divine, and thus raised to a position second only to that of god himself. no destiny, then, that can be imagined is too great for man. created in the image of the triune god, with a supernatural freedom of choice; his nature united to god's by the incarnation; his sins forgiven through the atonement; his body purified and spiritualised at its resurrection--surely the end of all this cannot be any mere monotonous existence, but rather one of ceaseless joy and activity. heaven has been called the _last act_ in god's drama of the universe. and considering the magnitude of the previous acts--the formation of the solar system, the development of organic life, etc.--we should expect this last act to be on a scale equally vast and magnificent, and as far above anything we can imagine as the life of a butterfly is above the imagination of a chrysalis. now the conclusion to be drawn from all this is quite plain. christianity is so adapted to man's nature that it probably came from the author of man's nature; just as if a complicated key fits a complicated lock, it was probably made by the same locksmith. and since christianity is meant for all mankind, and the vast majority of men have neither time nor ability to examine its proofs, the fact of its thus appealing direct to human nature is certainly a strong argument in its favour. but we must now consider an objection. it is, that christianity is really a _selfish_ religion, looking only for future rewards, and teaching men to follow virtue, not for virtue's sake, but solely with a view to their own advantage. but this is an entire mistake, though a very common one. the christian's motive, in trying to lead such a life as god wishes him to lead, is simply _love_. he has, as already said, an overwhelming sense of god's love to him. and though, doubtless, leading a good life will bring with it some future reward, yet this is not the true motive for leading it. compare the case of a young child trying to please his parents simply because he loves them. it would be unjust to call this selfishness, though it may be quite true that the parents will do much for the child later on in life, which they would not have done had the child never shown them any affection. nor, to take another example, is it selfishness for a young man to put aside a certain amount of his earnings for his old age, when he will be unable to work, though it will certainly be to his own advantage. selfishness is having regard to one's self, _at the expense of other people_. but this does not apply to a christian striving after his own salvation. the _great ambition_, as it is called, is one which all may entertain, all may work for, and all may realise. still, it may be asked, is not the hope of future reward meant to influence men at all? no doubt it is to some extent. but what then? hope is undoubtedly a powerful motive in human nature, and therefore christianity, by partly appealing to this motive, does but show how fully adapted it is to human nature. it provides the highest motive of _love_ for those able to appreciate it; the lower motive of _hope_ of future reward for the many who would not be reached by the former; and we may add, the still lower motive of _fear_ of future punishment for those who could not be otherwise influenced. this objection, then, as to selfishness is quite untenable. (_c._) christianity and other religions. we have lastly to consider the relation in which christianity stands to other religions; since an argument against christianity is often drawn from their _comparative study_. in far more ancient religions, it is alleged, we find similar doctrines to those of the trinity, the incarnation, the atonement, and the resurrection; and this is fatal to the claim of christianity to be the one and only true religion. but as to the doctrine of the _trinity_, it is really unique. some other religions, it is true, had a group of three gods; but this was merely a form of polytheism. and though these gods were often addressed by the same titles, there does not appear to have been anything resembling the christian idea of the triune god. next, as to the _incarnation_. this is said to resemble similar doctrines of other ancient religions, more especially the incarnation of _krishna_. for though he was not (as is sometimes asserted) born of a virgin, being the eighth son of his parents;[ ] he is yet believed to have been in some sense an incarnation of the supreme god vishnu. and he is recorded to have worked various miracles similar to those of christ, and to have claimed an equally absolute devotion from his followers. most scholars, however, now place these legends some centuries later than the christian era; and considering the early spread of christianity in india, and the similarity in name between krishna and christ, they may be only distorted versions of the gospel story. [footnote : tisdall, christianity and other faiths, , p. .] but even were they earlier than christianity, it seems impossible for them to have influenced it. for not only is india many hundreds of miles from palestine, but there is also a great moral difficulty. since the miracles and occasional lofty teaching of krishna are associated all along with a most immoral character. in the gospels, on the other hand, they occur among suitable surroundings, and form perfect parts of a perfect whole. a single example will illustrate this difference. on one occasion, krishna is related to have healed a deformed woman, very similar to the story in luke . but it is added he made her beautiful as well as whole, and subsequently spent the night with her in immorality. few will contend that this was the origin of the gospel story; and it is but one instance out of many.[ ] [footnote : transactions of victoria institute, vol. xxi., p. .] any resemblance, then, there may be between the incarnation of krishna and that of christ cannot be due to christianity having borrowed from the other religion. a far better explanation is to be found in the fact that man has almost always believed that god takes an interest in his welfare. and this inherent belief has naturally led him to imagine an incarnation, since this was the most fitting method by which god could make himself known to man. and then this supposed incarnation was of course attended by various miracles of healing, somewhat similar to those of christ, though often mixed up with immoral ideas, from which the christian doctrine is entirely free. next, as to the _atonement_, especially the position of christ, as the _mediator_ between god and man. this also is said to resemble far older legends, such as the _horus_ myth of ancient egypt. the leading idea here seems to have been that horus was the only son of the supreme god osiris, and came on earth long ago, before the time of man. he was always looked upon as the champion of right against wrong, and nothing but lofty and noble actions are ascribed to him. with regard to mankind, he became their deliverer and justifier. the soul after death was supposed to pass through a sort of purgatory; where various dangers were overcome by the help of horus; and finally, when judged before osiris, he interceded for the faithful soul and ensured its salvation. and what makes the resemblance to christianity all the more striking are the titles ascribed to horus; such as _the only begotten son of the father_, _the word of the father_, _the justifier of the righteous_, and _the eternal_ _king_. but the titles of horus are very numerous, and very contradictory; therefore, while some of them bear such a striking resemblance to those of christ, others do not; and many of them are also applied to the other gods.[ ] [footnote : transactions of victoria institute, vol. xii., p. .] but still the position of horus, as a mediator between god and man, undoubtedly resembles that of christ. but what is the cause of this similarity? not surely that the christian doctrine was founded on that of horus. as in the previous case, there is another and far better solution. for what was the origin of the egyptian doctrine itself? it was simply this. the ancient egyptians firmly believed in the _justice_ of god; the _immortality_ of man; his _responsibility_, involving a future judgment; and his _sinfulness,_ which naturally made him long for some mediator with the just judge he would have to face hereafter. given these four ideas--and they all belong to natural religion--and horus was merely an imaginary being, who was thought to satisfy them. hence, if these ideas are true, and if christianity is the true religion, which really does satisfy them, that horus should to some extent resemble christ seems inevitable. thus the horus myth only proves how deeply rooted in the human mind is the idea of a _mediator_ between god and man. lastly, as to the doctrine of the _resurrection_, more especially that of christ. numerous analogies have been suggested for this, but none of them are at all satisfactory. thus the egyptian god osiris is recorded as doing a great deal after his death; but he is only supposed to have done this by living on in the _spirit_, and there is no hint that his _body_ was restored to life, in the sense in which christ's was; and the same may be said in other cases.[ ] while the way in which the educated athenians (who must have known a good deal about heathen religions) treated st. paul, when he proclaimed the resurrection of christ, shows how absolutely novel they considered the doctrine.[ ] [footnote : tisdall, christianity and other faiths, , p. .] [footnote : acts . , ; . .] we must also remember that the christian doctrines of the incarnation, the atonement, and the resurrection, were not slowly evolved, but were essential features in christianity from the very first. they are all strongly insisted on by st. paul. and this alone seems fatal to the idea of their having been derived from the myths of india, egypt, and elsewhere. on the whole, then, it is evident that the _comparative study_ of religions, instead of being against christianity, is distinctly in its favour; for it shows, as nothing but a comparative study could show, its striking superiority. human nature is always the same, and in so far as other religions have satisfied human nature, they have resembled christianity. on the other hand, christianity differs from them in being free from their various absurdities and contradictions, as well as from their tendency to degenerate; and having instead a moral character of admitted excellence, and powerful evidence by which to establish its actual truth. in short, other religions are _human_; and therefore, as man is a mixture of good and evil, they contain some good (what we now call natural religion) and some evil. but christianity is _superhuman_; and therefore contains all the good they do, with much more besides, and with none of their evil. this completes a brief examination of the more important additional arguments for and against christianity. chapter xxiv. that the three creeds are deducible from the new testament. only three doctrines can be disputed. (_a._) the doctrine of the trinity. in addition to belief in god the father, the new testament teaches-- ( .) the divinity of christ. ( .) the divinity of the holy spirit; so there are ( .) three divine persons and yet but one god. (_b._) the final state of the wicked. the only alternatives are: ( .) their endless misery: very strong texts in favour of this; its difficulties considered. ( .) their endless happiness: most improbable. ( .) their destruction: more likely than the last, but still improbable. on the whole the statement of the creed seems fully justified. (_c._) the importance of a true belief. this is strongly insisted on in the warning clauses of the athanasian creed. ( .) their meaning. ( .) their truthfulness: they merely repeat similar warnings in the new testament. ( .) the objection as to dogmatism. we have now reached the last stage in our inquiry. we have shown in the previous chapters that there is very strong evidence in favour of what may be called in a general sense, christianity or the christian religion--_i.e.,_ the religion founded by christ and taught in the new testament. we have, lastly, to inquire, is this religion correctly summarised in the doctrines and statements of the _three creeds_? and the only doctrines that can be disputed, are found in the athanasian creed, and refer to the _trinity_; the _final state of the wicked;_ and the importance of a _true belief_: each of which we will examine in turn. (_a._) the doctrine of the trinity. now, although there are no statements in the new testament identical with those in the creed, yet the latter are merely logical deductions from the former. for the new testament asserts that, besides god the father, there are two other divine persons, christ and the holy spirit, and yet but one god. ( .) _the divinity of christ_. this has already been discussed in chapter xxi., where we showed that christ claimed to be not only superhuman, but divine; and that this is how his contemporaries, both friends and foes, understood him. the doctrine is also asserted by st. paul, as well as by st. john, who in the opening verse of his gospel, states it very concisely, saying that the word (_i.e._, christ) _was with god_, implying a distinction of persons, and _was_ god, implying a unity of nature; which is the exact doctrine of the creed. ( .) _the divinity of the holy spirit._ this also follows at once from the new testament. for the holy spirit is called by divine names, such as god and lord; he is given divine attributes, such as eternity and omniscience; and he is identified with jehovah, the lord of hosts, of the old testament.[ ] [footnote : acts . , ; cor. . ; heb. . ; cor. . ; acts . ; isa. . - .] and yet, he is a distinct _person_: for, to quote a decisive text,[ ] christ prays the father to send his disciples _another_ comforter when he goes away; thus showing that the holy spirit is a different person, both from the father and the son. and elsewhere we are told that the spirit _makes intercession for us_, which again shows that he must be a different person from the father, with whom he intercedes.[ ] while in another passage blasphemy against the holy ghost is said to be the worst of all sins;[ ] which shows both that he is a _person_, or he could not be blasphemed; and that he is _god_, or blasphemy against god would be a greater sin. [footnote : john . , ; . .] [footnote : rom. . .] [footnote : matt. . , ; mark . , .] no doubt the actual word _person_ is not applied to the holy spirit in the new testament, just as it is not applied to either the father or the son, but it cannot be thought inappropriate, provided it is not taken in a literal, or human sense. for the relations between them closely _resemble_ those between human persons, as they love one another, speak to one another, and use the personal pronouns i, thou, he, and we. ( .) _three divine persons and yet but one god._ it is clear, then, from the new testament, that the father, the son, and the holy spirit are all persons, and all divine; and yet the fact of there being but one god is at times plainly asserted.[ ] now the only means of reconciling all this is by the doctrine of the trinity in unity. and this is plainly hinted at in the new testament itself, for the three persons are often closely associated together, as for instance in the text just alluded to, where _christ_ prays _the father_ to give his disciples _another comforter_. [footnote : mark . ; cor. . .] quite naturally, then, just before his ascension, christ completed this earlier teaching by finally, and for ever, joining the three persons together, when he commanded christians to be baptized _into the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost_.[ ] and this alone is sufficient to prove the doctrine, for it shows that there are _three_ distinct persons, and that each is _divine_, for who but god could be thus associated with god? while the expression into the _name_ and not _names_, implies a unity in this trinity. [footnote : matt. . .] and we happen to have indirect evidence from the _acts_, that baptism was administered in this way. for when st. paul found some disciples, who said they knew nothing about the holy ghost; he at once asked, 'into what then were ye _baptized_?'[ ] obviously, then, the baptism to which st. paul was accustomed must have been into the name of the holy ghost, as well as into that of christ; and the father's name could scarcely have been omitted. yet immediately afterwards we are told that they were baptized _into the name of the lord jesus_. in the same way the 'teaching of the twelve' once speaks of baptism as _into the name of the lord_; and twice as _into the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost_.[ ] the former seems to have been only a short way of describing christian baptism, (in distinction from that of the jews, or of st. john the baptist), while the latter represented the actual words used.[ ] [footnote : acts . .] [footnote : teaching, chaps. vii. and ix.] [footnote : _comp._ acts . ; . ; . ; i cor. . .] similarly st. paul sometimes closes his epistles with the shorter form of blessing. _the grace of the lord jesus christ be with you_; once with an intermediate form, naming the father and christ; and once with the longer form, _the grace of the lord jesus christ, and the love of god, and the communion of the holy ghost be with you all_.[ ] this latter passage, the genuineness of which is undisputed, is of course extremely important, in fact like the preceding one it is practically conclusive; for again we must ask, who but god could be thus associated with god? if christ were a mere human prophet, like isaiah for instance; and the holy spirit a mere influence for good; what strange language it would be. can we imagine anyone blessing his converts with, the grace of isaiah, the love of god, and the fellowship of a holy influence--god, it will be noticed, being placed _between_ the other two, so there can be no ascending or descending scale, they must all be equal? [footnote : cor. . ; gal. . ; eph. . ; cor. . .] and as st. paul takes for granted that his readers would understand his meaning, it implies that they had had some previous teaching on the subject, which must clearly have been given them by st. paul himself on his first visit. and at that early date (about a.d. ) such teaching could scarcely have originated except from what christ himself had taught. this passage, then, implies more than it says, and needs explanation; and as far as we know the former one alone can explain it. and of course the same is true, though to a lesser degree, of numerous other trinitarian passages which occur all through the epistles, including the earliest ( thess., about a.d. ).[ ] nowhere do the writers seem to be explaining anything new to their converts; but merely to be touching on a truth, with which all christians were of course familiar. indeed, the very fact of their never attempting to explain or defend the doctrine, shows conclusively that it did not originate with _them_. persons do not preach a new doctrine without a word of explanation or comment, as if every one already believed it. [footnote : _e.g._, rom. . ; eph. . - ; thess. . - ; peter . ; jude - .] thus, to put it shortly, according to the new testament, there are _three_ distinct persons; each is god, each is lord, each is eternal, each is omniscient, into the name of each converts are baptized, each is referred to in blessing; and yet there is but _one_ god. this is what the bible says, and the creed says the same, though it says it in more logical language. (_b._) the final state of the wicked. we pass on now to what is perhaps the most difficult of all subjects, the final state of the wicked. the creed asserts that all men are to rise again with their bodies, and be judged according to their _works_; and that then, _they that have done good shall go into life everlasting; and they that have done evil into everlasting fire_. this latter expression can scarcely be taken literally, since it is associated in the bible with another--_the worm that dieth not_--which cannot be literal, as worms do not live for ever, and cannot live at all in fire. while it is said to have been prepared for evil spirits who have no material bodies. moreover, the joys of heaven are also represented by terms which are clearly not literal; such as attending a wedding, feasting with abraham, and wearing crowns. probably we are not at present able to understand the realities in either case, so figures of some kind have to be used; and those associated with gladness and happiness are of course chosen for the one, and those with pain and woe for the other. but the language certainly implies some form of _endless misery_; and as there are obvious difficulties in accepting such a view, we must discuss the subject carefully. it may be pointed out at starting that we have only three theories to choose from; for unless the wicked are to be in a continual state of change, which seems almost incredible (for a state of change cannot go on for ever, unless it is recurring) they must finally either exist for ever in _misery_, or exist for ever in _happiness_, or be _destroyed_, and not exist for ever. ( .) _their endless misery._ it would be difficult to exaggerate the strength of the texts in favour of this. we are told that the wicked, or at all events some of them, are to awake to shame and everlasting contempt; that they are to be cast into the eternal fire; that they are to depart into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; that they are to go away into _eternal punishment_; that they are guilty of an eternal sin; that their worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched; and that they are to be cast into the lake of fire, there to be tormented day and night for ever and ever.[ ] the fourth of these texts is perhaps the most important, since christ uses the same word for _eternal_ punishment as for _eternal_ life; therefore, though the greek word does not necessarily mean _endless_, it certainly seems to do so here. similarly in daniel the same hebrew word is used for the _everlasting_ life of the righteous, as for the _everlasting_ contempt of the wicked. moreover the doctrine is _implied_ in numerous other passages;[ ] so altogether the new testament teaching on the subject seems about as plain as it can be. [footnote : dan. . ; matt. . ; . , ; mark . ; . ; rev. . ; . .] [footnote : _e.g._, matt. . , ; . ; . ; . ; . , , etc.] yet everyone must admit that there are great difficulties in accepting it. for the _endless misery_ of the wicked appears to be inconsistent with the great attributes of god, especially his power, his justice, and his mercy; as well as with the endless happiness of the righteous. we will consider these points in turn. and first as to god's _power_. the eternal existence of sinners against god means, it is said, a never-ending conflict between good and evil; and this is most improbable. no doubt it seems so, but then the existence of evil at all is a difficulty; yet as shown in chapter v. it is essential for free will. and the final state of the wicked is but one out of many difficulties connected with human freedom. that god could create a free man at all; that he could foresee how he would use his freedom; that he should allow him to use it wrongly, thus involving himself and others in misery; and that this misery should last for ever; are all to a great extent beyond our comprehension. but as the first three must be admitted, the last is certainly not incredible. the second and commonest objection refers to god's _justice_. the suffering, it is said, would be out of all proportion to the offence. man's life is brief at the most, and every sin in this world cannot deserve countless years of misery in the next. in short, a man's sin here must anyhow be finite, while endless misery, however slight, would be infinite. but very possibly, being sinners ourselves, we do not realise the magnitude of sin, more especially its far-reaching and _permanent_ effect on the character of others, who in their turn may influence others also, and so on indefinitely. in this way the consequences of even a single sin may be _endless_, and therefore infinite, and if so its guilt may be infinite too. and this also agrees with the analogy of nature. for in nature nothing is forgotten, and even a small act, like planting a flower has (almost) endless consequences, since the ground will _never_ be exactly the same as if it had not been planted. moreover, we need not assume that endless misery is for a man's sins here only. why may not the wicked go on sinning for ever? they must certainly have the power of doing so, for the option of acting, or at all events of thinking right or wrong, is essential to free will; and if we deny them their free will, they are no longer men but mere machines. and it even seems probable that they would do so; for all our experience of human character is that it tends to a final permanence, of good or bad, which nothing can alter. by doing good, men become good--evil gradually loses its influence over them. and then, when their character is fixed, they will cease to be _attracted_ by evil; and they will in consequence remain (and this without any effort or struggle on their part) for ever good, and therefore for ever happy. similarly with regard to the wicked. by committing sin men become sinful, and then, when their character is fixed, they may remain for ever sinful, and therefore for ever miserable. in each case the man's conduct will be always _free_; but his character, and therefore the use which he makes of his freedom, will have become fixed. and perhaps one of the strongest motives for leading a good life here, and thus forming a good character, is the knowledge that, whether good or bad, it will be _our_ character for all eternity. no doubt it is an overwhelming thought that a man's endless happiness, or misery should depend on his short probation in this world; yet as he is given free will with the option of choosing one or the other, there is nothing _unjust_ in the results being so permanent. and it entirely agrees with god's methods in nature, where, for instance, the shape of a tree for centuries is fixed during the short time it is growing. nor does the fact of god's _foreknowledge_ as to how each man will act alter the case or cause any injustice, since, as said in chapter ii., it does not interfere with man's freedom. god merely foreknows the use man will make of his freedom. therefore his knowing beforehand that a man will commit a murder does not make it unjust to punish him for doing so. and the same rule applies universally; so that although god foreknows that the wicked will be lost, they will not be lost _because_ god foreknows it. they will be lost because of their own wilful abuse of their own free will; and god foreknows both this, and its consequences. the third objection refers to god's _mercy_. surely, it is said, god would never punish men unless there were a chance of improving them; so it is incredible that he should go on punishing them for ever. but perhaps the future misery of the wicked may not be a punishment at all, in the sense of being inflicted by god; it may be the necessary result of their own acts,--the _consequence_ rather than the punishment of sin. or if we still use the word punishment, we may say that they will be punished, not so much for doing what they have done, as by being what they have become. it will be _according to_ their works rather than _because_ of them.[ ] [footnote : matt. . ; rom. . .] and there is much to be said in favour of this view, since it is the way in which god punishes men in this world. suppose, for instance, a man repeatedly gives way to drink, he will have the natural punishment (which is really god's punishment, who is the author of nature) of being what he has become, an habitual drunkard, and very possibly miserable for the rest of his life. it is the necessary consequence of his sin; and the extent of his misery will, as a rule, be in exact proportion to the extent of his sin. therefore, if a man is to suffer hereafter for other sins, we should expect this suffering to come in the same way; and to be the natural, and perhaps unavoidable, consequence of the sin itself. nor is it difficult to suggest how this may be. for the endless misery of the wicked may be to a great extent mental, rather than bodily--_shame and everlasting contempt_, as daniel calls it. they may be tormented by remorse and regret at having made themselves unfit to share in the joys of heaven. and until we know the greatness of those joys, we cannot know the greatness of this suffering. but if the joys of heaven are endless, and if the existence of the wicked outside heaven is also endless, it must plainly be an _endless_ source of misery. while, in conclusion, the fact that it is the same christ who has taught us (more than anyone else) the mercy and love of god, who has also taught us the endless misery of the wicked, is an additional reason for thinking that the two cannot really be inconsistent. the fourth and last objection refers to _man_ rather than god. it is that the endless misery of the wicked would destroy the happiness of the righteous; for how could a man enjoy heaven if he knew that his own father and mother were in endless and hopeless misery elsewhere? of course, if we deny him his memory, and say he does not remember them, it destroys his identity, and for all practical purposes, he is a different man. i have not met with any satisfactory answer to this difficulty. but it may be pointed out that if he knows his parents' fate, he will certainly know their character too, and that their fate was deserved. and this may alter his feelings in regard to them, as it often does now, if we find that one of our friends has behaved in a mean, and disgraceful manner. reviewing all these objections, it must be admitted that the endless misery of the wicked seems improbable, but it is certainly not _incredible_. for, to put it shortly, our knowledge of human nature convinces us that, out of a large number of wicked men, some at all events will continue to be wicked, _i.e._ to commit sin as long as they live. hence, if they live for ever, they will sin for ever. and if they sin for ever, it is not only just, but perhaps inevitable, that they should be miserable for ever. and if so, the endless misery of the wicked does not reflect on either the power, justice, or mercy of god, and, as said above, is certainly not incredible. ( .) _their endless happiness._ we pass on now to the next theory, that of their _endless happiness_. according to this, all the wicked (after some suitable punishment) will at last be reconciled to god, and in popular language, go to heaven. and there are several texts which are more or less in favour of this view.[ ] but how are we to reconcile these with the far stronger ones before alluded to? the most probable explanation is that they are merely general statements, indicating the final destiny of the vast majority of mankind, but that there are exceptions to this as to most other rules. and the creed nowhere implies that most men will be lost; it may be only a few obstinate sinners. [footnote : _e.g._, col. . ; tim. . ; john . ; rev. . .] moreover, we cannot think that the wicked will be allowed to go on sinning in heaven, so if they go there, they must finally cease to commit sin. many may do this voluntarily, but what about the remainder? if they _must_ finally forsake sin, whether they like it or not, it destroys their free will, and leads to _compulsory goodness_, which is very like a contradiction in terms. for goodness cannot be ascribed to mere machines without free will, which only act under compulsion; yet on this theory the men would be nothing more. in fact, the wicked _men_ would in reality have been destroyed, and a good piece of mechanism created instead; which scarcely seems a probable theory. then there is this further difficulty: what is to become of the evil angels? if we have to admit endless misery for these, why not for man? yet the bible gives no hint that the devil will in the end be reconciled to god, and go to heaven. ( .) _their destruction._ lastly, as to the other and only possible alternative, the _destruction_ of the wicked. this may be better described as their failure to obtain everlasting life; which is here regarded not as the attribute of all men, but as being _conditional_ on a man's fulfilling certain duties and developing a certain character in this life. and the wicked, not having done this, will eventually be destroyed and cease to exist. numerous texts can be quoted in favour of this theory.[ ] and it is also supported by the analogy of nature: for if an organism or a species is a failure, it eventually _ceases to exist_; it is not kept alive for ever as a disfigurement to the world. [footnote : _e.g._, john . ; rom. . ; matt. . .] this theory, no doubt, presents less moral difficulties than either of the others, but it is not free from them. for are the wicked to be _punished_ after death previous to their destruction? if they are not, justice is not satisfied; and while excessive punishment seems a reflection on god's character, no punishment at all for sinners who have been successful in this world, seems equally so. yet, on the other hand, any punishment which precedes destruction seems merely vindictive, and of no possible use. each of these theories, then, appears improbable, but the _endless misery_ of the wicked is scarcely more so than the others, and therefore, as it is the one most strongly supported by the bible, we seem bound to accept it. one remark may however be made in conclusion, and it brings a little comfort into this saddest of all truths. it is that whatever doubt may exist as to the future state of the wicked, of one thing we may be quite sure--that their punishment will not be in excess of what they deserve. they will be treated fairly; and every merciful allowance will be made for circumstances, including the inherent weakness of human nature. christianity indeed seems to emphasise this more than any other religion, since men are to be judged not by the father, but by the son; apparently for this very reason that, being man, he can sympathise with human weakness.[ ] and after the judgment, persons will enjoy heaven just in proportion as their lives on earth have rendered them capable of doing so, while the misery of the lost will also be in exact proportion to what they deserve. [footnote : john . .] (_c._) the importance of a true belief. the last doctrine to be considered is the importance of a true belief, that is of believing the _truth_ in regard to matters of religion. this is strongly insisted on in the _warning clauses_ of the athanasian creed; so we will first consider their meaning, then their truthfulness, and lastly, the objection as to dogmatism. ( .) _their meaning._ before discussing this, it may be pointed out that they are often called the _damnatory_ or _uncharitable_ clauses; but both these terms are somewhat misleading. for the creed does not condemn anyone by these clauses, it merely declares that certain persons will be condemned by god, which is a very different thing. no one desires their condemnation, but the contrary; therefore, believing the danger to be a fact, it is stated in the hope that persons will in consequence avoid it. an analogy may help to illustrate this distinction. suppose a despotic ruler in some island were to put up a notice that anyone walking along a certain part of the coast would be arrested and shot; this might well be called uncharitable. but now, suppose the notice was that, owing to their being quicksands along that part of the coast, anyone walking there would be drowned; this might be untrue, but it could scarcely be called uncharitable. so in regard to the creed. its warnings (whether true or false) are in no sense uncharitable; and it no more _consigns men to perdition_ (as it is sometimes called) for denying the faith, than a doctor consigns men to die of fever for drinking bad water. in each case they merely state what they believe will (unfortunately) be the result. its warnings are also quite different from the _let him be anathema_ of st. paul, as well as from some of the psalms, where the writer does not merely state that the wicked will be miserable, but prays that they may be so.[ ] this no doubt seems uncharitable, but there is nothing like it in the creed. [footnote : _e.g._, gal. . - ; ps. .] what the creed says is that holding, or _holding fast_,[ ] the catholic faith, especially the doctrines of the trinity and the incarnation, is necessary to salvation (vv. , , , ); and that those who do _not_ keep (or hold fast) this faith will _perish_ everlastingly (v. ). the word _keep_, it should be noticed, implies previous possession, since a man cannot keep what he never had; so these verses are inapplicable to heathens, infidels, or even nominal christians who have never really held the faith. they refer only to apostates--to those who, having once held the faith, do not _keep_ it. [footnote : it is so translated in the revised version, issued in november, , by a committee, under the archbishop of canterbury.] moreover, there can be little doubt that the apostasy here referred to was not that due to intellectual doubt, but to giving way, _under persecution_. for the gothic conquerors of southern europe, where the creed was composed about the fifth century, were _arians_, and they much persecuted the catholics. so a statement of what the catholic faith really was (in opposition to arianism) might well contain warnings as to the great danger of abandoning it under trial and persecution. in the same way christ warned his followers that if they denied him before men, he would also deny them before his father. and a time of persecution is distinctly implied in the creed itself. for in ver. we are told that it is not enough to believe the faith, it must be publicly _confessed_; and even in ver. , the _holding_ or _holding fast_, suggests a temptation to surrender. compare the passage: _thou holdest fast my name, and didst not deny my faith_:[ ] where in the latin translation (the vulgate) the same word is used for _hold fast_, as occurs in the creed. [footnote : rev. . , ; . ; tim. . .] next as to the meaning of to _perish_. this is no doubt much disputed, both here, and in the similar passage in the gospel, where christ says that all who believe on him shall _not perish, but have eternal (or everlasting) life_; which certainly implies that those who disbelieve, or cease to believe, _shall_ perish, and shall _not_ have everlasting life, _i.e._, shall perish everlastingly.[ ] but whatever christ meant by these words, the creed means too, neither more nor less. taken by themselves, they seem to point to the destruction of the wicked; or perhaps only to their failure to obtain the joys of heaven, without actually ceasing to exist. [footnote : john . .] but however this may be, one thing is plain; that, according to the creed, those who have been taught the truth about god, (_i.e._, the catholic faith), must both _lead a good life_, (fighting against sin, etc.), and also _hold fast_, or _keep this faith_, if they wish to be saved. and st. paul evidently regarded these as the two essentials; for at the close of his life, he rejoiced because he had _fought the good fight_, and _kept the faith_.[ ] [footnote : tim. . .] ( .) _their truthfulness._ having thus shown what the warning clauses actually mean, we have next to consider whether they are true. now, it is plain from the nature of the case that we can know nothing on such a subject, except what is revealed by god. is then, this doctrine stated or implied in the new testament? certainly it is, since belief in christ is everywhere laid down as _necessary_ to salvation. he is not one saviour among many, nor is christianity one means among many of getting to heaven. but christianity is always represented as the _only_ means, and christ as the _only_ saviour. we have already alluded to one text on this subject, that about the _perishing_; and we will now quote five others, each from a different writer, thus showing that the doctrine was not peculiar to any one apostle or evangelist. we are told then, that while he that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, he that disbelieveth shall be condemned; that unless men believe in christ they shall die in their sins; that his is the only name under heaven wherein men can be saved; that public confession of him as lord, together with belief in his resurrection, leads to salvation; and that his blood alone can redeem us from our sins.[ ] [footnote : mark . ; john . ; acts . ; rom. . ; pet. . .] and the early christians acted in entire accordance with this. when, for instance, the gaoler at philippi asked st. paul, _what must i do to be saved?_ the answer was, _believe on the lord jesus, and thou shalt be saved_.[ ] repentance, baptism, and amendment of life, would of course follow in due time; but first of all, before all other things, it was necessary that he should _believe in christ_. this was the great essential. [footnote : acts . .] now it is obvious that the belief in christ, which is thus everywhere insisted on, must mean believing the truth about christ, and not a false belief. if, then, the statements in the creed represent the truth about christ, as we have shown they do, then belief in these is necessary to salvation. and the bible, like the creed, expressly says that the great and fundamental truth about christ, which we must both believe and _confess_, is his incarnation, that he _is come in the flesh_.[ ] and this involves his relationship to god the father, and the doctrine of the trinity. thus the warning clauses as to the importance of a true belief, especially in regard to these two great doctrines, seem fully justified. [footnote : john . - .] three further remarks may be made before leaving this subject. the first is that the creed is addressed to _christians_ only. this is clear from its opening sentence, _quicunque vult salvus esse_, which means literally, 'whoever _wishes_ to be saved'; and this takes for granted that the persons addressed have heard of salvation. and, as we have shown, the following words, that they must _hold fast_ or _keep_ the faith, also imply that they have been already taught it. the creed cannot therefore be held to refer to any but christians, no matter how general the language may be. secondly, among christians the creed is meant chiefly for _theologians_. this is plain from its technical language, which is so worded as to prevent a recurrence of several old errors. and it seems only fair to assume that children and unlearned persons belonging to a church holding these doctrines would be considered as believing them. but though a child's belief,[ ] which is merely trust and love, may be sufficient _for a child_, something more may reasonably be expected from well-instructed christians. and this is that they should believe these doctrines _rightly_ (v. ), though this is a most unfortunate translation of the latin word _fideliter_, as it seems to connect it with the _right_ faith (_fides recta_) of the following verse. it would be better rendered by _faithfully_, as it is in v. , or _heartily_. thus a _heartfelt belief_ in the doctrines of the trinity and the incarnation--a belief which leads at once to _worship_, for 'the catholic faith is that we _worship_ one god':--is what the creed says is so essential. [footnote : matt. . .] lastly, all these statements, like so many passages in the bible,[ ] are only _general rules_; to which there are often some exceptions. and in the present case, we may feel sure (from other passages)[ ] that god will make exceptions, wherever unbelief or misbelief has not been due to a person's own fault. our conclusion, then, as to the _warning clauses_ is this; that if the other statements of the creed are _true_ (as we have shown they are), these clauses do not present any great difficulty. [footnote : _e.g._, cor. . .] [footnote : _e.g._, tim. . .] ( .) _the objection as to dogmatism._ an important objection has still to be considered. it is that the athanasian creed _dogmatises_ too much. granting, it is said, that all its doctrines are contained in the new testament, yet why not be content with the _simpler_ statements in the apostles' and nicene creeds? these were _sufficient_ for the church for several centuries, so why not leave other matters open for discussion, instead of treating them as _closed questions_? we will consider these points in turn. and first as to _dogmatism_; by which is meant the exact statement of any truth. now on all other subjects which influence our conduct, such as diseases or science, it is admitted to be of great importance that we should know the truth, and act accordingly. why, then, should it be thought that in religion alone this is immaterial, and that a false creed is as good as the true one, if a man honestly believes it? moreover, a certain amount of dogmatism in matters of religion seems essential. no one can intelligently serve or pray to a god of whose nature he has formed no idea, and the moment he begins to form such an idea he is involved in difficulties. take for example what some will consider a very simple prayer, _may god forgive my sins for christ's sake_. who, we may ask, is god; who is christ; what is the relation between them; why should one be asked to forgive for the sake of the other; and what would happen if the sins were not forgiven? such difficulties cannot be avoided; and if the statements in the athanasian creed are their true explanation, the more clearly this is stated the better. in the next place, it is very doubtful whether the earlier creeds are _simpler_ and more easy to believe than the athanasian. to a thoughtful reader it may well seem otherwise. for example, referring to the trinity, the apostles' creed teaches us to believe in god the father, in his son jesus christ, and in the holy ghost, but it does not attempt to answer the simplest questions concerning them. are they, for instance, all three persons? if so, are they all three divine? and if so, are they three gods? and the nicene creed is even more puzzling, for it first says that there is one god the father, and soon afterwards that the son is also god. so in regard to the holy spirit, he is called the lord, yet it has been already stated that there is only one lord jesus christ. how can all this be reconciled? and much the same applies to the future state of the wicked. the two earlier creeds speak of the life everlasting (for the good), but what is to become of the bad? these and many other questions are suggested by the earlier creeds, and answered by the athanasian. and to many it seems easier to believe the creed which answers difficulties, than those which merely suggest them. and it was for this very purpose of answering difficulties, not making them, that the athanasian creed was composed. its object was not to assert any new doctrines, or to suggest that those previously received were not _sufficient_, but merely to explain them, and to prevent them from being misunderstood. all the doctrines, as we have seen, are contained in the new testament, and they were in consequence always believed by christians. but it was not till after much controversy that men learnt to express this belief with clearness and precision. lastly, as to these doctrines being _closed questions_. they are closed questions in much the same way as the fact that the earth goes round the sun, and not the sun round the earth, is a closed question in astronomy. that is to say, they have been thoroughly discussed, and (to those who believe the new testament) the evidence in their favour is overwhelming. of course anyone may go over the proofs again for himself, and if he wants to have an intelligent belief he should do so; but as a rule of conduct the subject cannot be re-opened. and it should be noticed that the church, in thus treating certain questions as closed for its members, is only acting as other societies would do. would a society of engineers, for instance, allow one of its members to construct an iron bridge on the supposition that the expansion of iron by heat was an open question; which he might, or might not, think worth allowing for? or would a society of doctors allow one of its members to attend patients if he asserted that whether scarlet fever was infectious or not was an open question; which each patient might decide for himself? in short, well-ascertained truth, or what is believed to be such, in every department of knowledge is looked upon as a closed question; and it must remain so, unless some important fresh evidence is produced. but with regard to the creeds, no fresh evidence can be produced, unless god were to give a fresh revelation; so, from the nature of the case, they are closed questions in an even stricter sense than ascertained truths on other subjects. this concludes a brief examination of the doctrines of the three creeds, and, as we have seen, they are all either contained in, or logically deducible from, the new testament. chapter xxv. that the truth of the christian religion is extremely probable. (_a._) the evidences of christianity. one remaining objection, why are there so many difficulties, and no more obvious proof? considered in detail. (_b._) summary and conclusion. we have now examined all the more important arguments for and against the truth of christianity. many of them, as we have seen, involve a good deal of study, and we have often been obliged to consider a few examples only of various classes of facts; but it is hoped that no important argument on either side has been entirely overlooked. one remaining objection has still to be considered. (_a._) the evidences of christianity. does not, it is urged, this very fact of itself form a difficulty? can an ordinary man be expected to ponder over arguments, objections, and counter-arguments by the dozen, even supposing the balance of probability to be in favour of the religion? surely, if christianity were true, and god wished men to believe it, there would not be so many difficulties. he would have provided an easier way of proving it than this; or, at all events, if this elaborate argument were examined, the inference in its favour would be simply overwhelming. this is a difficulty felt perhaps by some who have read the present _essay_; fortunately it can be answered satisfactorily. and first, as to there being so many difficulties. several of these are simply due to the evidence in favour of christianity being so strong. if, for instance, we had only one gospel instead of four, the difficulties caused by the discrepancies between them would disappear, but the argument in favour of christianity would not be strengthened in consequence. still putting aside these, it must be admitted that there are many difficulties connected with the religion. but what is the cause of this? it is the very magnitude of the christian religion which opens the way for so many attacks. a religion which claims to be the only true one in the world; to have been founded by god himself; to have been prepared for by prophecies and introduced by miracles; to be the centre of the world's history, all previous history leading up to it, and all subsequent history being influenced by it; to be suitable for all ages and countries; to hold the key to all mental and moral problems; to be man's guide and comfort in this life, and his only hope for the next;--such a religion _must_ be assailable at a great many points. but provided all these assaults can be repelled, provided this long _frontier-line_, so to speak, can be properly defended, it does not show the weakness of the religion; on the contrary, it shows its enormous strength. a religion which made less claims would, no doubt, have less difficulties; but it would be less likely to be the true one. if god became incarnate, no claims can be too vast for the religion he founded. and to many, this unspeakable grandeur of christianity, so far from being a difficulty, constitutes one of its greatest charms. next, as to there being no _easier_ means of proof. it is a simple matter of fact that the vast majority of men, both educated and uneducated, who believe in christianity, have not arrived at this belief by a long line of reasoning, such as we have examined. they assert that there is an easier way. they say that god has given them a faculty of _faith_, which, though it may be hard to explain, just as man's free will is hard to explain, yet gives them the most certain conviction of the truth of christianity. and starting with this inward conviction, they say it is confirmed by their daily experience, just as a man's belief in his free will is confirmed by his daily experience. of course, this appeal to faith is no argument to those who do not possess it. on the other hand, to those who do possess it, no arguments can really weaken or strengthen it. it is a thing by itself, and absolutely convincing. it may be pointed out, however, that if man is a partly spiritual as well as a partly material being, which we have already admitted; then the existence of some spiritual sense, or faculty, by which to perceive spiritual truths, just as the body has material senses by which to perceive material objects, cannot be thought incredible. and this is what faith claims to be; it is a means to spiritual discernment, and may be compared to eyesight. it does not enable us to believe what we might otherwise think to be untrue; but it enables us to know for certain, what we might otherwise think to be only probable (_e.g._, the existence of god). in the same way a blind man might, by feeling, think it probable that there were a certain number of pictures in a room, but if he could _see_, he would know for certain. and, just as a man, who had always been blind, ought not to reject the testimony of those who see, so a man who has no faith ought not to reject the testimony of those who have. and the existence of such a faculty will account for the very different views taken of christianity by men of apparently equal intelligence and candour. still, it may be asked, why should some persons be given this faculty of faith, while others are not? the subject is no doubt a difficult one. but very possibly the faculty is _latent_ in every one, only it needs (like other faculties) to be exercised and developed. and the man himself may be responsible for whether he takes suitable means (prayer, etc.) for doing this. however, we need not pursue this subject, since, as said above, no arguments can prove, or disprove christianity to those who believe by faith. but now comes the most important part of the objection. granting, it is said, that the subject is a difficult one, and demands a long investigation, yet when we do go through the arguments on both sides the conclusion is not irresistible. in short, why are not the evidences in favour of christianity _stronger_? of course they might be so, but we have no reason for thinking that they would be. in our ordinary daily life we have never absolute certainty to guide us, but only various degrees of probability. and even, in natural religion, the reasons for believing in a personal god and the freedom and responsibility of man, though to most people quite convincing, are certainly not irresistible; since, as a matter of fact, some men resist them. and if god intends us to act on such evidence in common life, and also with regard to the great truths of natural religion, why should he not do the same with regard to christianity? he seems, if we may use the word, to _respect_ man's momentous attribute of free will even in matters of religion; therefore in his sight a right belief, like right conduct, may be of no value unless it is more or less voluntary. it is to be a virtue, rather than a necessity. and this fully accounts for the evidences of christianity not being overwhelming. they are amply sufficient to justify anyone in believing it; but they are not, and were probably never meant to be, sufficient to compel him to do so. if, however,--and this is a matter of practical importance--they are strong enough to show that the religion is _probably_ true, a man who admits this is obviously bound to accept it. he cannot adopt a neutral attitude, because the evidence is not conclusive; since, as just said, in every other subject we have only probability, not certainty, to guide us; and why should religion alone be different? then, if he accepts it, he is obviously bound to try and live accordingly, no matter what the sacrifice may be; for christianity, if it is worth anything, is worth everything. such tremendous truths cannot be half acted on if believed, any more than they can be half believed; it must be a case of all for all. and then, if he tries to live accordingly, he may find (as christians in all ages have found) that for himself the probability becomes a certainty. lastly, it may be pointed out that though perhaps the evidences of christianity are not so strong as we should expect, they are precisely of such a _kind_ as we should expect; for they exhibit each of the three great attributes of god. his omnipotence is shown in the miracles, his omniscience in the prophecies, and his perfect goodness in the character of christ; so that, judged by its evidences, christianity is a religion which might very reasonably have come from the god who is all-powerful, all-wise, and all-good. (_b._) summary and conclusion. it now only remains to give a summary of the previous chapters, and then point out the final choice of difficulties. in chapter xiii. we considered the _credibility_ of the christian religion, and decided that some of its leading doctrines, especially those of the incarnation and the atonement, seemed very improbable. all that can be said on the other side is practically this, that we have no adequate means of judging; and that when we apply similar reasoning to subjects about which we do know, such as the freedom of man or the existence of evil, it generally leads us wrong. but still the fact remains that the religion appears, at first sight, very improbable. in chapter xiv. we considered the _external testimony_ to the _four gospels_, and decided that this was very strongly in their favour. at the close of the second century they held the same position among christians as they do at present; during the middle of that century justin shows that they were publicly read, together with the old testament prophets; while the few earlier writers whose works have come down to us also seem to have known them. in chapter xv. we considered their _internal evidence_, and found that it strongly supported the above conclusion; so combining the two, we have an almost overwhelming argument in favour of their genuineness. in chapter xvi. we considered an additional argument of great importance, derived from the _acts of the apostles_. there are strong reasons for dating this book about a.d. ; and if so it proves a still earlier date for the first three gospels. in chapter xvii. we considered the _resurrection of christ_, and the accounts we have of it in the four gospels. and we decided that these narratives, in spite of some obvious discrepancies and omissions had every appearance of being thoroughly trustworthy. indeed their complete agreement in important points, their mutual explanations, and their signs of early date are all strongly in their favour. in chapter xviii. we considered the testimony of the first witnesses, and examined in detail their veracity, knowledge, investigation, and reasoning; and each seemed to be supported by irresistible evidence. therefore the opposite theories, which are based on denying these points, and are called respectively the _falsehood_, the _legend_, the _vision_, and the _swoon_ theory, are quite untenable. so we must either accept the resurrection of christ; or deny it, in spite of all the evidence, and solely because of the miraculous nature of the event. in chapter xix. we considered the other new testament _miracles_, and came to the conclusion that they also occurred. indeed their marks of truthfulness, and their publicity together with the fact that they were never disputed at the time, make the evidence in their favour extremely strong. in chapter xx. we considered the argument from _prophecy_; and discussed in detail isaiah's prophecy of the lord's servant, and the psalm of the crucifixion, and then glanced at several others. and we pointed out how completely these prophecies were fulfilled in christ, and how utterly hopeless it was to find any other fulfilment of them. so here again the choice lies between either accepting these prophecies, or disputing them simply because they are prophecies, and imply superhuman knowledge. in other words, we must either admit the marvel of a divine revelation, or else we must face the _mental_ difficulty of believing that all these coincidences were due to chance, the improbability of which can scarcely be calculated. in chapter xxi. we considered the _character of christ_; and the admitted excellence of his moral teaching seems quite inconsistent with deliberate falsehood on his part. yet he kept asserting his superhuman and divine nature, and was finally put to death in consequence. so here once more we have a similar choice before us. we must either accept the divinity of christ, with all the wonders it involves; or else we must face the _moral_ difficulty of believing that the best moral teaching the world has ever had, was given by one, whose own life was full of falsehood and presumption. in chapter xxii. we considered the _history of christianity_, and found that its marvellous progress at first, in spite of its immense difficulties, and without the use of any force, could only be accounted for by its truth. so here for the last time we have the same alternatives to choose from. we must either admit the supernatural origin and spread of christianity; or else we must face the _historical_ difficulty of believing that its first preachers were able to convince men without evidence, conquer them without force, and found the greatest religion the world has ever seen on claims which at the time everyone must have known to be untrue. in chapter xxiii. we considered the _other evidence_ on the subject, and briefly examined various arguments for and against christianity, such as its connection with prayer; its adaptation to human nature, and its relation to other religions; but all of comparative unimportance. lastly, in chapter xxiv. we decided that the _three creeds_ were deducible from the new testament; so the religion which has all this evidence in its favour is the _christian religion_, as we have used the term. from the above summary it will be seen that the arguments against christianity are all what may be called _antecedent_ (or _a priori_) ones. the religion itself, its doctrines, its claims, its miraculous origin, all seem most improbable. thus the objections to christianity all lie on the surface. they are obvious and palpable to everyone. on the other hand, the arguments in its favour have often to be sought for; but when found they are seen to be stronger and stronger the more they are examined. there are four main arguments. these are of a widely different character, and each appeals most strongly to a certain class of minds, so each is often said to be the chief argument for christianity, but they are probably of equal value. they may be conveniently called the argument from _miracles_, including of course the resurrection of christ; from _prophecy_; from _christ's character_; and from _history_. and it should be noticed in passing, that they mutually support one another. miracles, for instance, are less difficult to believe when it is seen that they were to establish a religion which has for centuries exercised a greater influence on mankind than anything else; and prophecies become stronger when it is seen that the life foretold was one that had such supreme and far-reaching effects. now, it is important to remember that the actual facts on which these arguments rest are in each case absolutely _unique_. once, and only once in the history of the world, have men appeared who asserted that they were actual witnesses of miracles, and who faced all forms of suffering and death solely in consequence of this. again, once, and only once in the history of the world, has a long series of prophecies, uttered many centuries apart, united in a single person, in whom they one and all find a complete fulfilment. yet again, once, and only once in the history of the world, has a man appeared of faultless moral character, who asserted that he was also god, and who boldly claimed all that this tremendous assertion involved, and submitted to the consequences. while, lastly, once, and only once in the history of the world, has a religion, most improbable in itself, and without using any force, succeeded in conquering nation after nation. these, then, are the four chief arguments on the subject, and in every case we have the same choice before us. we must either face the antecedent (or _a priori_) difficulties in accepting christianity, or the mental, moral and historical difficulties in rejecting it. there is no neutral ground, no possibility of avoiding both sets of difficulties. but the difficulties on the one side concern what we do _not_ know--god's purpose in creating man--and may be due to our ignorance only. the difficulties on the other side concern what we _do_ know. they are practical, they are derived from experience. we do know that men will not lay down their lives for what they believe to be false, and that the first preachers of christianity must have known whether it was false or not. we do know that prophecies uttered at random through centuries would not all unite in a single person. we do know that even moderately good men do not make extravagant claims. and we do know that no natural causes can account for such a religion as christianity obtaining such a triumph as it did. the choice, then, seems to lie between what we may call _unknown_ difficulties and _known_ ones. the unknown difficulty of believing that the eternal god could so love man as to humble himself even to death to win man's love; and the known difficulty of believing that evidence so vast and so various, so cumulative and so apparently irresistible, could all unite in making a monstrous falsehood appear to be a momentous truth. between these two sets of difficulties we have to make our choice. but to those who agree with the previous chapters, the choice cannot be doubtful; for however hard it is to believe christianity, it is, as we have shown, harder still to disbelieve it. this, then, is our final conclusion, that the truth of the christian religion is _extremely probable_, because, to put it shortly, though the difficulties of accepting christianity are great, the difficulties of rejecting it are far greater. index of texts. page genesis. . " " , . " . , . - , . - . - . " - . . - . . " " . . . . . " " . , . . . - . . . - . " . , " . " . - " . . . . exodus. . " . . . . " . " , " - " . , , " , . . " , . " " . " . " , " . . . . . , . , . - . . , . - " - . . " leviticus. . . " . " . . . " . " " . , - . . " - . , , " " . . " . . " " " , , " . . . , " numbers. . " " " - , . , . " . . " . . , " . , . . . , . . . " . . " " " . " - " . " deuteronomy. . " . - " - . , , " " - . , , " - " " " " . . " . , " " . " " " . " - . . - " " - " " " . , , " " " . - . . . - " " . . . , , . . " " . . " , " , , " . " - . , , - " , , . . joshua. . , . - . - . . , . , . - . . . judges. . . . " . . , . i. samuel. . - . . . " . . . ii. samuel. . - . . . . . i. kings. . . . - . . , . . , . . . . . - " " . . ii. kings. . . . - . . " . . . . - " - " . , " - " , . - , " . , . . , . i. chronicles. . . . ii. chronicles. . , . . , . ezra. . . nehemiah. . . job. . , . . . . . . . . - psalms. . , . . . . . . . . - . " . " - . proverbs. . . . ecclesiastes. . isaiah. . . - " . . - " . . . " - . , . . . . " . " . - . " " . " . . - " . - " - . . - , jeremiah. . . . . . . . - . " . . - . . , , lamentations. . ezekiel. . . . . - " . , . daniel. . - . . . . . . . hosea. . - . . , , . " . joel. . amos. . , . . " , . " - . . micah. . nahum. . " zephaniah. . . - zechariah. . . . - . . . malachi. . " ii. esdras. . matthew. . . . " . , " " . . , . , . " " - . " " . " , " " " . - " " " - " . " , " " . , " , " . . . - " " " " , " . " " . " " . . . " " . . , " " " " . - " , . " " " " " " . " . " - . , " , , " " , " , " " " , " , , , mark. . " " " - " " " . . - " " " " , " . - " " " " . - " " . " " . " " . . " . . . , " " " " , . " " " " " . " " " - " " " " " luke. . " - " - " , " . " . " " . - " . - . " , . - " . " . - " , " " . " . " - " . - . . - . " " . " - " . " " . " . , " , " " , " " " " , " , , " " john. . , " " " - , " , " " . " " , " " - . " " . . " " " - " . " " . , " " " , " " . . " " " " . - " - " - " . , " " . " " . " . . , " " , " . . " " . " . , . " - " " . , " - " , " " " " , " . . " " acts. . " - " , , , " " " " " , , " - . , " " " " " - . " " , " . - " , " " " . , " " . . . , , " . " . " " " " , . . " . " " " , , " - . - . , . " - " , " . " " , " " " . , " " . " - " " - " . " - , " , " . " . " . , . " . , , " . " " , " , " " . - , . , , " " romans. . . . " , " . . . . " . , " " , " . i. corinthians. . . " . - . . . . , . . - , . - " " " - " " " , " - " " " . ii. corinthians. . . " " . . - . . galatians. . - " " " - " , " . . " . . ephesians. . - , . " philippians. . . colossians. . - " " " . . " i thessalonians. . - i timothy. . . ii timothy. . . " " titus. . philemon. hebrews. . " . i peter. . " . ii peter. . i john. . , . . - jude. - revelation. . " , " . " , . " . - " . . . " . . . . index of subjects. page abila, inscription at, abraham, trust in god, , ---- promises to, account of creation, acts of apostles, ---- accuracy, ---- authorship, ---- medical language, ---- date, ---- and christ's divinity, ---- of pilate, adam and eve, additions to pentateuch, agreements, undesigned, ---- in gospels, agrippa, called king, amalek, threat against, ambition, the great, amos, analogies and illustrations: ---- watch showing design, ---- mass of machinery, ---- house and tenant, ---- ship in distress, ---- king and child, ---- bird in egg, ---- telegraph clerk, ---- mont cenis tunnel, ---- telephone, ---- clock and magnet, ---- artist and pictures, ---- diseases of normandy, ---- similar letters, ---- man's nature, ---- parents and children, ---- paying a debt, ---- regiments crossing, ---- whirlpool, ---- indian mutiny, ---- ingenious robbery, ---- founding a religion, ---- going for a holiday, ---- prayer to a father, ---- trees and storm, ---- key fitting lock, ---- planting a flower, ---- quicksands, ---- doctor and fever, ---- scarlet fever, ---- long frontier line, angels, their existence, ---- their influence, ---- at tomb, , ---- seen by the women, ---- and by soldiers, ---- not fellow-creators, ---- seeing and hearing, ---- are christ's angels, ---- casting out evil, animals, their creation, ---- difference from man, ---- cannot know man, ---- not immortal, ---- their sufferings, antioch, inscription at, antiquity of man, apocryphal gospels, apollos of alexandria, apostasy, under trial, apostolic fathers, aramaic words of christ, archæology and o. test, arianism, aristides, , aristion, , ark, arm of the lord, artist and pictures, ascension, the, ---- and early converts, ashdod, taken by sargon, assyria, prophecies as to, ---- army destroyed, athanasian creed, warnings, athanasian creed, implies persecution, ---- dogmatism, atonement, doctrine of, ---- prophecies as to, ---- and human nature, ---- and other religions, baal and jehovah, baalbec, inscription at, babylonia, prophecies, ---- messengers from, baker, the chief, baptismal formula, ---- witness of st. paul, ---- of teaching, , baptist (see john), barnabas, epistle of, bashan, bulls of, battering-rams, beauterne as to napoleon, bees, cells of, ---- not due to heredity, belief, importance of true, ---- virtue not necessity, belshazzar, beneficence in nature, ---- and righteousness, ---- in jewish religion, ---- and in christian, bernice, berosus, as to nabonidus, ---- as to sennacherib, bethany, bethel, altar at, bethesda, pool at, bethlehem, birth at, 'beyond jordan', bible, mistakes in o. test., ---- in n. test., ---- inspiration, bible and nat. religion, blasphemy against spirit, ---- christ charged with, blood and water, , book of the law, books buried in temples, bread, miracle as to, bricks with straw, brotherhood of man, butler, by-product, pain is a, cæsar, no early mss., cæsarea, philip at, calmness of evangelists, canaan, its peculiarities, canaanites destroyed, ---- but done gradually, cannibalism at jerusalem, capernaum, centurion at, cats and mice, cause, must be free, cells of bees, ---- built by workers, celsus, christ's miracles, cenis, tunnel in mont, census of israelites, ---- at christ's birth, centurion at capernaum, certainty not necessity, chabas, chance, really impossible, change of place in acts i, changelessness, moral, character of god, ---- of man, ---- its permanence, chiefman of malta, , child of god, man is a, child's belief, ---- temptations, chorazin, its significance, christ, his character, ---- teaching, ---- sinlessness, ---- in old test, , ---- always pleasing god, ---- claims, ---- sufferings unmerited, ---- his temptations, ---- foretold resurrection, ---- beginning of creation, ---- seeing him seeing god, ---- influence in world, ---- prophecies as to, ---- the perfect example, ---- the jewish messiah, ---- the paschal lamb, ---- the one mediator, ---- the only saviour, ---- (see divinity), , christiana, sand storm, christianity, meaning of, , ---- its leading doctrines, ---- its improbability, , christianity, preparation for, ---- based on miracles, ---- and the resurrection, ---- its early triumphs, ---- its later history, ---- effect on world, ---- future prospects, ---- its indestructibility, ---- and prayer, ---- and human nature, ---- and other religions, ---- its evidences, ---- unspeakable grandeur, ---- no half measures, classical writers, miracles, ---- no early mss., clement of rome, gospels, cleopas, clock and magnet, closed questions, coincidences, superhuman, communion, holy, , conscience, man has a, ---- the voice of god, conservation of energy, constantine's vision, conversion, st. paul's, ---- effect on companions, ---- christ unrecognised, converts, early, crabs, and sense of pain, creation, ---- account of, in genesis, ---- days of, ---- on three occasions, , ---- and evolution, creator, meaning of term, credentials, of messenger, credible, meaning of, creeping things, crispus of corinth, crucifixion, psalm of the, ---- no jewish punishment, cyprus, proconsul at, cyrenius (see quirinius), damnatory clauses, dana on genesis i, daniel, book of, darkness over land, darwin, david, his character, ---- not subject of ps. , days of creation, dead body of christ, ---- offerings for, death, decalogue, its excellence, ---- preserved in temple, definitions, credible, ---- design, ---- dogmatism, ---- evolution, ---- free force, ---- instinct, ---- law of nature, ---- material universe, ---- miracles, ---- natural force, ---- omnipotence, ---- omniscience, ---- origin, ---- personal being, ---- revelation, ---- supernatural force, degradation of energy, delphi, inscription at, demoniacal possession, desert, of shur, ---- laws suitable for, ---- journeys in, ---- wind, design, meaning of, ---- evidence in a watch, ---- in an eye, ---- throughout nature, ---- beneficent, ---- need not be desire, ---- man can, ---- animals cannot, ---- and instinct, destruction of canaanites, ---- done gradually, ---- of wicked, determinism, deuteronomy, finding of, dial, shadow on, diana of ephesus, diatessaron of tatian, diet in egypt, difficulties not explained ---- as to adam and eve, ---- number of israelites, ---- swine at gadara, ---- vows in ps. , ---- virginity, difficulties, endless misery, ---- known and unknown, dionysius the areopagite, discoveries, modern, discrepancies in gospels, ---- in fourth gospel, ---- as to resurrection, ---- essential agreement, diseases of egypt, , dishonesty in e, j, p, and d, dispersion of jews, , divinity of christ, , ---- witness of synoptists, ---- of st. john, ---- of acts, ---- of revelation, ---- of st. paul's epistles, ---- of hebrews, ---- of aristides, ---- of christ's foes, ---- of pliny, ---- of jewish prophecies, ---- of holy spirit, dogmatism, objection to, dogs, term for gentiles, doors of the sea, doubts of resurrection, dreams, ---- of pharaoh, driver, , dry land, appearance of, dualism in old religions, ---- unknown to jews, ---- and endless misery, eagle, roman ensign, earth likened to machine, earthquakes, edersheim and isaiah, , ---- and psalm , edomite kings, list of, effect, the world is an, egypt, prophecies as to, ---- magicians of, ---- diseases of, , ---- gods of, ---- religion of, ---- and the pentateuch, ---- return of jews to, ---- periodical census, elephantine, temple at, eleven, the, ancient term, elijah's sacrifice, , elisha, trivial miracles of, elohim, plural word, embalming christ's body, emperor called lord, encyclopædia britannica, , end of the world, endless happiness, ---- misery, enemies, doing good to, energy, degradation of, ---- conservation of, ephesus, riot at, ---- st. paul's discussions, ---- farewell to friends, epistles of st. paul, four admittedly genuine, ---- accuracy of acts, ---- the resurrection, ---- st. paul's sufferings, ---- christian miracles, ---- divinity of christ, ---- doctrine of trinity, ---- spread of christianity, erastus of corinth, erech, inscription at, erect position, man's, eternal punishment, eternity, ether, , euclid, eusebius, as to papias, ---- quadratus, ---- jews going to pella, evangelists educated, ---- had known christ, everlasting father and son, ---- in isaiah, everyone's work no one's, evidences, christian, evil, existence of, ---- physical, , ---- moral, ---- jewish idea of, ---- men, ---- spirits, evolution, meaning of, ---- requires a cause, ---- requires a designer, ---- requires a motive, ---- implies involution, evolution and mind, ---- and immortality, ---- a form of creation, ---- leads up to man, ---- and the incarnation, ---- in revelation, , ---- in prophecies, ---- in account of creation, experience and miracles, eye, its marks of design, ---- shows beneficence, ezekiel, prophecy of egypt, faith, faculty of, ---- and miracles, falsehood theory, the, ---- not now adopted, famines in egypt, ---- at jerusalem, farewell, christ's double, feeding the , credible, ---- in triple tradition, ---- undesigned coincidence, ---- public miracle, ---- rationalistic view, feet pierced, felix and festus, 'fellow,' meaning of, fellowship and personality, fig-tree, the barren, final state of wicked, firmament, or expanse, firstborn from dead, ---- of creation, ---- death of the, first cause single, ---- supernatural, ---- needed no cause, first witnesses, the, fishes and birds, five hundred, appearance, ---- explains gospels, flesh and blood, flood, parallel passages, forces and causes, foreknowledge, free will, ---- and omniscience, ---- and prophecies, ---- and prayer, ---- and endless misery, ---- differs from foresight, ---- from foreordaining, ---- in man, foreguessing, forgiveness of sins, fourth gospel, authorship, ---- and other three, ---- and revelation, free force, meaning of a, free will, foreknowledge, ---- of man, ---- of animals, ---- of angels, ---- source of all force, ---- its introduction, ---- makes evil possible, ---- difficulties as to, ---- in religious belief, fruit-trees making fruit, fulfilled among us, future life (_see_ immortality and resurrection). gabriel, man and angel, gadara, miracle at, , galilee, appearance in, gallio, proconsul, generations, meaning, genesis, the creation in, ---- refers to egypt, ---- partly written there, gentiles, conversion, , , ---- called dogs, geography of palestine, gibbon and christianity, gifts brought to the altar, god, meaning of term, ---- argument from causation, ---- from design, ---- moral argument, ---- three combined, , ---- no physical proof, ---- a personal being, ---- who loves man, ---- power, , , , , ---- wisdom , , , ---- goodness, , , , , ---- bearing on miracles, ---- and on the trinity, ---- emphasized by christianity, ---- three attributes combined, , , , , ---- justice, , god, and mercy, ---- bearing on atonement, ---- love, ---- bearing on trinity, ---- greatness, ---- omnipresence, , ---- unknowable, , , ---- bearing on revelation, ---- unchangeable, , ---- bearing on miracles, ---- and the incarnation, ---- omnipotent, ---- eternal, ---- creator of universe, ---- and its preserver, ---- jewish idea of, ---- faith in, ---- (_see_ immanence) ---- (_see_ trinity) goodness, god's, , , ---- not below man's, , ---- man's, ---- depends on free will, ---- its infinite value, gospels, the four, ---- external testimony, ---- internal evidence, ---- evidence of acts, ---- probable date, ---- (_see_ synoptics, fourth) governor, title of, grape-juice in egypt, grave-clothes at tomb, ---- by themselves, gravity, force, universal, ---- known by effects, ---- an assumption, great ambition, ---- alternative, ---- surprise, greek philosophy, green grass, mentioned, guard at the tomb, harnack, unity of acts, ---- date of gospels, ---- as to town clerk, healing, gifts of, hebrews, christ's divinity, ---- land of the, hengstenberg, herod, agrippa, death of, herod, called king, hezekiah, his sickness, ---- not subject of ps. , hittites, holy communion, , holy spirit, the, ---- divinity of, horses, time of joseph, horus myth, and christ, human sacrifices in o.t., ---- and atonement, hume on experience, hurtful organs in nature, huxley on the creeds, iconium, ignatius, ---- knowing, believing, illusions, not simultaneous, illyricum, image and likeness, immanence, god's, ---- and evolution, ---- and secondary forces, ---- and miracles, ---- and the incarnation, ---- and prayer, immortality, man's, ---- from unique position, ---- unjust treatment, ---- vast capabilities, ---- inherent belief, ---- counter-arguments, ---- and human nature, ---- in egyptian religion, incarnation, doctrine of, ---- its difficulties, ---- its motive, ---- historical position, ---- and evolution, ---- and human nature, ---- and other religions, indian mutiny, infinitely little, inhabitants, other planets, inherent convictions, man's, ---- as to mind, ---- free will, ---- responsibility, ---- sin, ---- immortality, ---- prayer, inscriptions at erech, inscriptions, at mugheir, ----khorsabad, ---- tivoli, ---- antioch, ---- baalbec, ---- abila, ---- soli, cyprus, ---- delphi, ---- malta, ---- thessalonica, ---- lystra, ---- ephesus, insignificance of man, ---- counter-arguments, ---- real importance, instincts of animals, invertebrates, in genesis, involution and evolution, irenæus and gospels, ---- polycarp, ---- papias, ---- date of revelation, ---- value of prophecy, isaac, sacrifice of, isaiah, mentions sargon, ---- test of a prophet, ---- prophecy of babylon, ---- of jerusalem, ---- of the messiah, ---- of his divinity, ---- implies the trinity, israel, god's selection of, ---- going through cities of, israelites, great number, jacob's character, jairus' daughter, , , james, st., christ's brother, ---- unbeliever, japan, becoming christian, jehovah adored by millions, ---- identified with christ, ---- and with holy spirit, jehu not son of omri, jephthah's daughter, jericho, discoveries at, jeroboam's rebellion, jerusalem, first destruction foretold, ---- accuracy of date, ---- and second, , ---- later than gospels, jerusalem, later than acts, ---- hint to leave, jewish prophecies, egypt, ---- assyria, ---- babylonia, ---- dispersion of jews, ---- the messiah, jewish religion, its origin, ---- its partiality, ---- its miracles, ---- its prophecies, ---- influence in world, ---- and natural religion, jews, dispersion of, ---- a peculiar people, ---- all from one man, ---- use of term, john, st., his call, ---- author of gospel, ---- the baptist, ---- and christ's miracles, jordan, beyond, joseph in egypt, josephus, witness to acts, ---- as to sennacherib, ---- as to crucifixion, ---- siege of jerusalem, ---- date of the taxing, josiah and deuteronomy, journeys in desert, jubilee, year of, judges and pentateuch, justice, god's, , justin, witness to gospels, ---- book of revelation, ---- guard at tomb, ---- christ's miracles, ---- prefers prophecy, ---- the name, persecuted, ---- acts of pilate, king of the jews, kings did not use plural, korah, rebellion of, koran, christ's miracles, ---- authorises force, krishna myth, and christ, lamb of god, ---- paschal, land animals, laws, of nature, ---- in pentateuch, laymen offering sacrifice, lazarus, raising of, ---- only in one gospel, ---- well-known man, ---- case of resuscitation, lecky, on christ's teaching, legend theory, the, ---- disproved by gospels, ---- and st. paul's epistles, legislation, jewish, levi ben gershon, levites, , life, origin of, in genesis, ---- science and, ---- forms three groups, light before the sun, logos in revelation, ---- among greeks, lord, and god, ---- title or emperor, lord's day, ---- servant, the, lost gospel, love, of god, ---- must be free, ---- motive of religion, luke, st., a doctor, ---- wrote gospel, ---- wrote acts, ---- perhaps at emmaus, ---- witnessed miracles, lycaonia, the cities of, lysanias, lystra, inscriptions at, magicians of egypt, magnet and clock, mohammedanism, ---- unlike christianity, ---- and christ's miracles, ---- authorises force, malchus, malta, title 'chiefman', man, mental attributes, ---- moral attributes, ---- memory, ---- free will, ---- responsibility, ---- moral sense, ---- conscience, ---- personal being, man, moral being, ---- bearing on christianity, ---- his unique position, , ---- due to mind, and spirit, ---- greater than stars, ---- bearing on revelation, ---- each man unique, , ---- and irreplaceable, ---- character, permanent, ---- tripartite nature, ---- end of creation, , ---- also its first thought, ---- his probation, ---- scandal of universe, ---- seems insignificant, ---- real importance, ---- bearing on incarnation, ---- immortality of spirit, ---- resurrection of body, ---- creation in genesis, ---- not created good, , ---- antiquity, ---- differs from animals, ---- his erect position, ---- resembles god, , , ---- child of god, ---- bearing on incarnation, ---- his ignorance, , , ---- bearing on miracles, ---- and on christianity, manaen, marcion, luke's gospel, mardukshazzar, mark, st., wrote gospel, ---- interpreter of peter, ---- earliest of four, ---- at gethsemane, ---- witness to miracles, ---- their sitting at meat, martha, mary magd. first witness, ---- not expecting it, material universe, meaning, materialism, materials, same everywhere, matter, perhaps eternal, ---- certainly a mystery, ---- indestructible, ---- not solid, matthew, st., wrote gospel, mediator, christ the, medical language in acts, memory, and materialism, ---- in heaven, menephthah, mercy, god's, mesmerism, messiah, jewish, meteorite, , micah, prophecy of, michael, microscope, mill, on christ's teaching, mind of man, ---- shows his importance, miracles, ---- as marvels, ---- and experience, ---- as special works, ---- as signs, ---- not mere wonders, , ---- natural means supernaturally applied, ---- in jewish religion, ---- to benefit mankind, ---- their publicity, ---- some seem trivial, ---- in christian religion, ---- their credibility, ---- not worked to order, ---- their truthfulness, ---- their naturalness, ---- their number, ---- their variety, ---- their suddenness, ---- their permanence, ---- order to keep secret, ---- on the sabbath, ---- their publicity, ---- names often given, ---- caused astonishment, ---- peculiarity of christ's, ---- conditional on faith, ---- publicly admitted, ---- st. peter's appeal to, ---- and acts of pilate, ---- how explained away, ---- apostolic, st. paul's, ---- witnessed by st. luke, ---- in christ's name, ---- helped christianity, ---- mohammed did none, miracles, not to be prayed for, ---- later christian, missionaries and prayer, ---- of the resurrection, missions, mistakes in o. test., ---- in n. test., monkey and evolution, monotheism, of jews, ---- in account of creation, moral sense, ---- perfection, ---- difficulties in o. test., ---- in n. testament, morality, christian, moses wrote pentateuch, ---- an egyptian name, mugheir, inscription at, mutiny, indian, mutual explanations, myrrh, nabonidus, name of christ persecuted, names, egyptian, ---- of god in o. test., ---- in n. test. miracles, ---- of eminent converts, ---- and titles in acts, napoleon, on christianity, nathaniel, natural means, supernaturally applied, natural forces, ---- selection, ---- rejection, ---- religion, depends on, probability, , , ---- only partly known, ---- in jewish religion, ---- in egyptian religion, ---- in other religions, ---- in prehistoric times, ---- moral difficulties, ---- and the bible, ---- and unity of god, ---- leads to revelation, nature, its unity, , ---- its laws, ---- its forces, ---- acting rationally, ---- its uniformity, nature, its mysteries, ---- its perfection, ---- care of individuals, ---- a means to an end, ---- bearing on miracles, ---- immanence in god, ---- forgets nothing, ---- analogy, as to angels, ---- man's future life, ---- man's resurrection, ---- short probation, ---- his destruction, naville, ---- unity of genesis, nazareth, dry ground, nebuchadnezzar, , nebula theory, necessity, doctrine of, ---- and certainty, nero addressed as lord, ---- his persecution, nineveh, men of, numbers in o. test., obedience and sacrifice, old testament, genuine, ---- alleged mistakes, ---- miracles, ---- prophecies, ---- moral defects, omnipotence, , omnipresence, , omniscience, , origen and celsus, origin of universe, ---- in genesis, ---- of life, ---- of jewish religion, ---- of christian religion, osiris, pain, , ---- not always an evil, paley, watch argument, pantheism, papias as to gospels, papyri, egyptian, , papyrus used for writing, parables, teaching by, ---- some objected to, ---- unrighteous steward, ---- wedding garment, partiality in revelation, partiality to jews, paul, st., conversion, , ---- teaching not new, ---- the two essentials, ---- (_see_ epistles) peace be unto you, twice, peculiar people, jews a, pella, christians go to, pentateuch, importance, ---- claims to be mosaic, ---- language, ---- egyptian references, ---- laws, ---- date and author, ---- excellent morality, ---- theory of late date, perish, its meaning, persecution for name, persecutions, religious, ---- of jews, ---- of christians, ---- implied in creed, person, not in n. test, personal being, meaning, ---- god is a, ---- man is a, ---- animals are not, ---- implies fellowship, persons and things, peter, st., called simon, ---- connection with mark, ---- appeal to miracles, , petrie, as to exodus, peyreyrius, pharaoh's dreams, ---- heart hardened, philip, one of the seven, philippi, gaoler at, philo, days of genesis, pilate, acts of, pinches, book of daniel, pithom, discoveries at, plagues, the ten, ---- superhuman coincidences, ---- and magicians, planets, inhabited (?), ---- not by sinners (?), pliny, numerous letters, ---- spread of christianity, ---- christ's divinity, plural of majesty, ---- in p and j, politarchs, polycarp of smyrna, ---- witness to gospels, polytheism, , pomponia græcina, prayer, subject of, ---- and experiment, ---- and observation, ---- a simple, ---- after the event, ---- for others, pre-existence of christ, ---- in o. test., prehistoric men, future life, , priests and levites, probability, guide of life, proconsul and other terms, prophecy, credible, ---- in old testament, ---- word of jehovah, ---- as to christ, ---- his resurrection, ---- why not plainer, ---- his own influence, prospective organs, psalm of the crucifixion, publius, chief man, , pul of assyria, 'q' (quelle) and gospels, , , quadratus, as to miracles, quirinius, his census, quotations, barnabas, ---- butler, ---- clement, ---- dana, ---- darwin, ---- eusebius, , ---- huxley, ---- ignatius, ---- irenæus, ---- justin, ---- lecky, ---- mill, ---- napoleon, ---- naville, ---- papias, ---- pinches, ---- polycarp, ---- quadratus, ---- ramsay, ---- renan, ---- romanes, , ---- teaching of twelve, ---- wallace, radium, ramsey, as to the census, ---- lysanias, ---- early gospels, ---- lycaonia, rationalism, spread of, ---- and miracles, rawlinson, reason cannot judge of christian doctrines, recognition, hereafter, recorders in o. test., recurring series of events, red sea, passage of, relics, resurrection of, remorse, renan, raising of lazarus, ---- christ's character, repentance, responsibility of man, resurrection, doctrine of, ---- applies to a body, ---- not resuscitation, , ---- christ's, ---- falsehood theory, ---- legend theory, ---- vision theory, ---- swoon theory, ---- wanted missionaries, ---- a physical fact, ---- not really unique, ---- table of appearances, ---- three groups, ---- the narratives, ---- their discrepancies, ---- their agreements, ---- omissions, ---- signs of early date, ---- the real difficulty, ---- in other religions, ---- man's, ---- need not be of relics, ---- the period of life, ---- the great surprise, ---- and human nature, ---- terms not literal, resuscitation, , revelation, meaning of, ---- possible, ---- probable, ---- progressive, ---- after writing, ---- must be partial, , ---- evidence inconclusive, ---- miraculous, ---- book of, and gospel, ---- divinity of christ, risen body difficulties, ---- record of eyewitnesses, roman provinces, ---- siege of jerusalem, ---- state and christians, romanes, man's probation, ---- accuracy of genesis, sabbath, miracles on, sacrifices, heathen, ---- human, in o. test., salvation, not selfishness, samaria, date of fall, samuel and pentateuch, sanctuary, the one, sand-storms and darkness, sargon, named in isaiah, satan, saurians, secondary forces, secrecy in christ's miracles, seed, may be disciples, , selfishness, objection as to, sennacherib, sentry, pain a kind of, sergius paulus, , servant, the lord's, seventh day, the, shadow on dial, shaving in egypt, shepherd, the lord's, ---- kings, foreign, shur, desert of, siege of jerusalem foretold by moses, ---- and by christ, signet ring, in egypt, signs, superhuman, ---- supernatural, silence, argument from, ---- of sun and moon, simon, shows early date, simultaneous visions, sin, its meaning, ---- reason for it, ---- necessary for some virtues, ---- its universality, ---- its remedy, ---- eternal, sinai, sinlessness of christ, ---- foretold by isaiah, ---- implied in ps. , slaughter of animals, slavery in early times, soli, inscription at, son of god, means god the son, ---- of man in gospels, sorrow, human, sources of gospels, , south, queen of the, spectroscopes, spirit, man's, , ---- master of body, spiritual beings, , standing still of sun, steward, the unrighteous, stone at tomb, straw in brick making, struggle for life, substance, meaning of, suetonius, sufferings of animals, ---- of men, ---- and future happiness, ---- of jews, ---- of christians, sun and moon formation, ---- silence of, sunday, superhuman signs, ---- coincidences, ---- passage of red sea, ---- destruction of korah, ---- of assyrian army, ---- silence of sun, ---- elijah's sacrifice, ---- shadow on dial, ---- and prayer, supernatural, force, ---- man partly, ---- signs, surprise, the great, survival of fittest, swine at gadara, , swoon theory, the, sword, any violent death, synoptic gospels, accuracy, ---- discrepancies, ---- sources, ---- ministry in judæa, ---- probable date, , ---- authors, ---- and fourth, table of appearances, tacitus, and christianity, ---- his contempt for it, tatian, the diatessaron, teaching of twelve, ---- and the trinity, tel-el-muskhuta, ruins, telepathy, telephone, telescope and eye, ---- discoveries of, ten, commandments, ---- plagues, ---- superhuman coincidences, ---- and the magicians, tertullian, testimony and experience, ---- its value, theophilus and gospel, ---- and acts, ---- things taught to, ---- prominent convert, thessalonica, politarchs, theudas, date of, third day, importance, thomas, st., resurrection, ---- christ's divinity, thousands or families, three, creeds, ---- men in furnace, tisdall, , titles of various rulers, tomb, the empty, ---- visit of disciples, ---- guard at, ---- angels at, , town clerk of ephesus, trajan, decree of, transfiguration, trials here, future reward, trinity, doctrine of the, ---- its probability, ---- peculiarly christian, ---- hinted at in old test., ---- contained in n. test., ---- implied by teaching, triple tradition in gospels, troelstra, true belief, importance, ---- a virtue, undesigned agreements, ---- examples, korah, ---- call of st. john, ---- destroying temple, ---- feeding the , , ---- acts and epistles, ---- mocking the crucified, ---- baptismal formula, uniformity of nature, ---- and prayer, uniqueness of man, ---- of each man, ---- of the incarnation, unitarianism, unity of nature, universalism, universe, its origin, , ---- its magnitude, ---- bearing on man, ---- an effect, unknowable, everything is, unrighteous steward, vellum used for writing, veracity of the witnesses, verbal inspiration, vessels of wood, vesuvius, eruption of, 'victoria institute,' pain, ---- pithom, ---- belshazzar, ---- red sea, ---- earliest gospel, ---- horus myth, ---- krishna myth, virgin birth, unique, ---- and aristides, ---- not said of krishna, virtue, the highest, , vision theory, the, ---- arguments in favour, ---- arguments against, ---- does not explain facts, ---- real visions, voice from heaven, voyage, st. paul's, walking on sea, christ's, wallace, warnings of the creed, wars of the lord, quoted, waste and void, in gen., waste in nature, watch showing design, water-wheels, egyptian, 'we' sections of acts, wedding garment, the, west, use of term, wheat, several ears, whirlpool, wicked men, their use, ---- not machines, ---- final state, will, man's, its action, , ---- its freedom, windows of heaven, wisdom, god's, , , word or logos in revelation, ---- among greeks, world, creation of the, , ---- end of the, wounded means pierced, writing, early use of, , ---- wanted for revelation, x-rays, zeal of early christians, zebulon, prophecy as to, zechariah, prophecies of, zeus and hermes, printed in great britain. wells gardner, darton and co., ltd., london. transcriber's notes some punctuation has been inserted to maintain consistency. the reference in the index to page was corrected to . spelling and hyphenation match the original text and may vary within the book. the caret symbol (^) has been used to represent superscripts. oe ligatures have been changed to simple oe in this text version. religious perplexities by principal l. p. jacks d.d., ll.d., d.litt. author of "the legends of smokeover," etc. "perplexed, yet not unto despair" hodder and stoughton limited london printed in great britain by richard clay & sons, limited bungay, suffolk. _a foreword_ the substance of this little book was delivered in the form of two lectures given at the invitation of the hibbert trustees in manchester, liverpool, leeds and birmingham during march and april, . on revising the spoken word for the press i have made certain rearrangements which seemed to be required in committing the lectures to the printed form. the first section is wholly new and may be considered as a short introduction to the main theme. such an introduction is, i think, needed, but the time at my disposal did not allow of its inclusion in the oral delivery of the lectures. l. p. j. _contents_ i. the source of perplexity ii. religious perplexity in general iii. perplexity in the christian religion _i_ _the source of perplexity_ the first and greatest of religious perplexities, the source of all the rest, arises in the mysterious fact of our existence as individual souls. our perplexities spring from the very root of life. why are we here at all? did we but know the purpose for which we are present in the world, should we not have in our hands the key to all the questions we raise about god, freedom, duty and immortality? but if we know not why we are here how can we hope to answer these other questions? or again, if we were forced to acknowledge that our existence has no purpose at all, would it not be futile to embark on inquiries concerning god, freedom, duty and immortality? what meaning could these terms have for beings who had learnt that their own existence was purposeless? the westminster confession affirms that the true end of man is "to glorify god and to enjoy him for ever." a splendid saying! but might not god be better glorified, and more fully enjoyed, if the particular soul inhabiting my own body, with all its errors and defects, had not been suffered to appear upon the scene? might not another soul, sent into the universe instead of mine, have played that part infinitely better than i can ever hope to do? why, then, among the host of possibilities, did the lot fall upon _me_? why _me_? why _you_? why should god need to be glorified, or enjoyed, by you, by me, by anyone? why should he need anything? if, as some affirm, the universe is the dwelling-place of the all perfect, what reason can be given for the existence, side by side with that all perfect one, or within him, of a multitude of imperfect images of his perfection--like you and me? in the presence of one who has all purposes already fulfilled in himself what purpose can be served by our introduction into the scheme of things? if you and i, and all such, were to be blotted out forthwith and the all perfect left in sole possession of the universe, where would be the loss? you and i are apparently superfluous. philosophers, both ancient and modern, have addressed themselves to this problem, not altogether, i think, without success, and yet not quite successfully. their arguments have not removed but greatly deepened the mystery of our existence, bringing it to a critical point where we must either accept it or run away from life and its perils--to the point, in fact, where we must choose between life and death. if we choose life we accept the risk that its burden may prove too heavy for us. if death, we escape the perils of life but forfeit our share in its victories. the former is the heroic choice; the latter the cowardly. as carlyle was never tired of repeating, the ultimate question which every man has to face and answer for himself is this: "wilt thou be a hero or a coward?" no philosophy can relieve us from the responsibility of having to make that choice. all that philosophy can do, and it is a great thing to accomplish even this, is to bring us to the point where we see that the choice has to be made. this it does by forcing us to raise the question: "why am i here? for what end have i been sent into the world?" but let us inquire more closely what philosophers have done by way of bringing us to this point--the point where a final decision between heroism and cowardice becomes inevitable. to the argument that _we_ are superfluous, that with a perfect god in possession of the universe no reason can be given why imperfect beings should be here at all, the philosophers make reply that the one must needs "differentiate itself into a many," the eternal consciousness "reproduce itself" in a multitude of time-bound mortals like you and me, troublers of the divine perfection, which is all the more clearly perfect because it suffers and at last overcomes the trouble that our presence creates. but while reasons have been offered why the one should thus "reproduce" or "differentiate" itself as a many, no reason, so far as i am aware, has ever been found, nor ever can be, why there should be just so many of these troublers as there are--no more and no less. nor why _you_ and _i_ should be among them. to explain why human units exist, does not explain the existence of any single individual we choose to name--of julius cæsar, of napoleon, of mr lloyd george, whose significance in the universe, it will be admitted, consists not in their being mere human units required to make up a certain number, but in their being just the kind of men they happen to be. so too the proof that a human unit must needs be there to fill the niche in time and space you now occupy is no proof that you, and no other, must needs be the unit in question. another, substituted in your place, could play the part of one in a multitude as well as you, and the theory of the one and the many would not even notice the change. but it would make a notable difference to the facts. and as with the units, so with the totality. if the number of souls now drawing the breath of life were halved or doubled, nay, if they were all suddenly blotted out and their places filled by an entirely new multitude, men, angels or devils as the case might be, philosophy might still maintain its theory of the one and the many as though nothing had happened. why these rather than those? why _you_? why _me_? philosophy precipitates this question and leaves it, at the end of all theorizing, unanswered, poignant and tremendous. "who can say positively," writes sir leslie stephen, "that it would not be better for the world at large if his neck were wrung five minutes hence?"[ ] unable, as every man is, to give a convincing reason why he should be here at all, or why, being here, he should remain here any longer,--unable to prove that it would not be better for the world at large, if all necks, his own included, were wrung five minutes hence--is there not something fundamentally irrational in our determination to continue in existence as long as we possibly can--that universal will-to-live, which forms the basis of all particular volitions, and supplies the motive power to our plans, purposes, preparations and policies for our own or others' good? challenged to show cause why we should linger here a moment longer, what answer could any of us give that would have the slightest claim to "the universal validity of reason"? reason cannot be bullied into acquiescence by the importance of individuals in their own eyes. was there ever a great man whose sudden extinction would not have been hailed with joy by a considerable section of his contemporaries, or a little one who would not have made things pleasanter for somebody by taking himself off? if we limit the word "rational" to the processes of thought which issue in demonstrations after the manner of mathematical arguments, and if all behaviour is to be termed irrational which involves the taking of a risk, i see no escape from the conclusion that human life is infected with irrationality at its very core. so far as any of us act upon the assumption that it is better for us to exist than not to exist we are assuming what can never be "proved." but, for my own part, i am not prepared to put these limitations on the word "rational." the traditional logic of the schools, on which this notion of rationality is founded, turns out on examination to cover no more than a departmental activity of the human mind. the type of conclusion to which it leads us is determined in advance by the rules it lays down for its own procedure, in the one department where such procedure is possible. free activity, which is the essence of self-consciousness, and the life of all creative work, lies entirely outside its province, and the attempt to deal with it by departmental rules yields nothing but the rank absurdity that freedom itself is absurd.[ ] the logic in question may be compared to a locomotive engine which can move only on the rails that have been laid down for it; and the philosopher who would apprehend the things of the spirit by the means which it affords him is like a man who rides an engine rather than a horse when he goes to hunt a fox. logical machinery cannot follow the movement of the live spirit, nor arrest it even for a moment's inspection. within its own province the rule of the traditional logic is, indeed, absolute. but to make that province co-extensive with the realm of truth, to extend the laws which govern it into the universal laws of spirit is a fatal pedantry. so extended, our logic leads not to truth but to falsehood and, ultimately, to the paralysis of the very thought it seeks to regulate, nay, to the extinction of thought itself. this procedure has no claim whatever to usurp the name of "reason," but rather stands condemned as the very type of what is unreasonable. let those who deny this prove, if they can, in terms acceptable to universal reason, that it would "not be better for the world at large if their necks were wrung five minutes hence." there is a coward and a hero in the breast of every man. each of the pair has a "logic" of his own adapted to his particular purpose and aim--which is safety for the coward and victory for the hero. the two are perpetually at variance, the reason of the one being the unreason of the other, the truth of the one being the falsehood of the other. the inner strife, the division in our nature, the law in our members warring against the law of our mind, on which so many great doctrines of religion have hinged, has its origin at this point. anyone who watches himself narrowly may observe the strife going on, and going on in just this form,--as an argument between the coward within him, who is out for safety, and the hero within him, who is out for victory. they have little common ground and can barely understand each other's speech. everything the hero proposes is unreasonable to the coward. everything the coward proposes is detestable to the hero. the hero would pour spikenard on the head of his beloved--that would be victorious. the coward would sell it and give the money to the poor--that would be "safer." the coward sees a danger in having children and limits his family. the hero would have many sons. on all such points the coward, judged by the standard of what passes muster as logic, is a better reasoner than the hero. but the hero, though he has less to say for himself, when brought before the seat of judgment, is nearer to the fountain head of reason. would not the offence of the cross, submitted at the time to a sanhedrim of "logical" experts, have been condemned as unadulterated folly? such a sanhedrim is always in session within a man, and the hero has much ado to stand up to its decrees. religion is a power which develops the hero in the man at the expense of the coward in the man. as the change proceeds there comes a moment when the cowardly method of reasoning, with its eye on safety, ceases to dominate the soul. at the same moment the heroic element awakes and looks with longing towards the dangerous mountain-tops. thenceforward the man's reason becomes the organ of the new spirit that is in him, no longer fettered to the self-centre, but mounting up with wings as an eagle. his powers as a reasoner are enriched, his survey of the facts more comprehensive, his insight into their significance more penetrating. religion has sometimes been represented as introducing a new faculty called "faith" into the man's life, as adding this faith to the reason he had before, or perhaps as driving reason out and putting faith in its place. this is a misconception. faith is neither a substitute for reason nor an addition to it. faith is nothing else than reason grown courageous--reason raised to its highest power, expanded to its widest vision. its advent marks the point where the hero within the man is getting the better of the coward, where safety, as the prime object of life, is losing its charm and another object, hazardous but beautiful, dimly seen but deeply loved, has begun to tempt the awakened soul. another way of saying the same thing is to name religion the "new birth" of the soul. but a new birth which, while changing all the rest of the man, left his reason unchanged, which turned all the rest of him into a hero, but kept him still reasoning with a coward's logic, would not amount to very much. unless i am mistaken the new birth must begin in the seat of reason if it is to begin at all. is not the man's reason the very essence of the man? how then, can he be converted at all unless he is converted there? most of the "defences of religion" that i am acquainted with ignore all this. they claim to address themselves to reason. and so indeed they do, but to reason in a low stage of its development, to the half-born reason of the timid and unemancipated soul, to the unheroic side of human nature, treating us as beings whose ultimate interest is to save our own skins, and making use of the logic, admirable on its own field, which self-interest has worked out for that very purpose and which is incapable of reaching any other conclusion. instead of raising reason to the full-grown stature of religion, they bring religion down to the level of reason while still at the stage of learning the alphabet of its business. to this class of argument belong locke's "proof" of the existence of god, and paley's of a beneficent designer. these argue as though the search for god were like the search for a lost key or for an invisible carpenter. to the same class may be assigned a more modern type of apologia, which accommodates religion to the supposed demands of physical science, or equates the kingdom of heaven with social reform, or domesticates the eternal values to the service of temporal utility, or harmonizes god with democracy, or with whatever else may be the popular obsession of the moment--all of them based on the principle of making concessions to the unconverted reason of carnal men, thereby sacrificing the higher logic of the spirit to the lower logic of the senses. these constructions have no continuance. a slight shifting in the point of view, a new "demand" from science, a step forward (or backward) in the higher criticism, a change in the prevalent political obsession, a fit of sickness in democratic aspiration, and down they all go under a breath of the logic that created them, the modernism of to-day becoming the obscurantism of to-morrow. then the work of accommodation must begin afresh; new concessions are offered to "reason," with the result that rebellious criticism breaks out at another point. or the cry is raised, by desperate men, that religion is not an affair of the "head" but of the "heart"--as though a religion in which the "head" and the "heart" were at variance could be anything else than a fatal disease of the soul. and may not these apostles of the "heart" be reminded that their proposal to exclude the "head" from the pale of religion has neither force nor meaning until the "head" itself has ratified the bargain and consented to its own exclusion? which the "head" is not likely to do. if, then, we are to limit the word "reason" to that side of us to which the aforesaid logic makes its approach, we should realize from the outset that none of us can adduce the faintest shadow of reason why he should exist at all, or why, in sir leslie stephen's words, it were not better for the world at large if his neck were wrung five minutes hence. indeed, if the half-born logic of the unconverted reason is to rule our actions, i am inclined to think that the advice to commit universal suicide would be at least as "logical" as any other that philosophy could tender to the human race at the present moment. but the advice would not be accepted. rightly or wrongly each one of us insists on regarding his own existence as a fact of some significance--insists on believing that, on the whole, it is better for him to be here than not to be here. however firmly we may be convinced that the one has done its duty when it has differentiated itself into a many, there is none of us who would take lightly to the proposal that he, john smith, as one of the many, should forthwith be blotted out, and another, wong fu, placed in the gap left vacant by his disappearance. to most of us, i believe, nay to all, it does make an enormous difference whether the particular niche in question is filled by wong fu or by _me_, but a difference for which we should find it extremely difficult to give a "logical" account. in my youth i was much in contact with a group of excellent christians who held that the number of the "saved" had been definitely fixed by divine pre-ordination, the extremists placing it as low as , . but looking back on those times i now see that the ardour with which we believed these things was strictly relevant to the hope each of us entertained that he himself might be included in the number aforesaid. i am very sure that our faith would have collapsed immediately had the revelation been made that the elect were composed exclusively of converted chinamen. our conception of the one and the many was not so disinterested or abstract as to exclude ourselves from a fair chance of having a share in whatever good things happened to be going. and so it always is, even where more enlightened philosophies prevail. the significance of the universe, whatever it may be, is, ultimately, its significance for _me_; which is another way of saying that i attach importance to the fact that just i, and nobody else, am here to perceive the significance. there are certain forms of mysticism, mostly indian, which would wean us from all this. they would delete the value which the soul perceives in being just this soul and no other. but i am very sure they do not succeed. whatever fascination the thought of being absorbed into the infinite may have for me depends on my keeping it in mind that it is i, and not somebody else, who is being absorbed. "to be interested in one's finite self to the point of wanting to get rid of it is to have a high sense of one's own importance." a divine egoism is here indicated which the subject of religion shares with the object. "_i_ am the lord thy god. thou shalt have no other god but _me_." in describing the value a man finds in his own existence as illogical, as a thing for which no reason can be given, i am referring to logic and reason as they are understood in the schools and made use of in the superficial war of minds, the lower logic and the lower reason of the unconverted or unheroic mind. but, illogical though it be in that construction, i nevertheless regard it--this value which each man finds in his being the man he is--as the growing point of the higher logic which, when fully born, reveals the kingdoms of the real. this is the root of the intuition of value, the first point of contact between the human mind and the things that are eternal, beauty, goodness and truth. morally it takes the form of courage, which is the foundation of virtue. in a world where no reason can be given why _this_ soul should exist at all, _this_ soul nevertheless resolves to _create_ a reason by its own valour, in the sure and certain faith that the universe, indifferent to the coward, will be friendly to the hero, will respond to his effort, will lend him its own creative energy, and bring him at last, in fellowship with the divine spirit which first prompted his attempt, to the haven where he would be. the life of this heroic spirit is religion in being. but can we go further and name it christianity? i think we can. it is to the heroic spirit, waiting in all of us for the divine summons which shall call it from death to life, that the figure of christ, dominating the ages, makes its great appeal. but of this more hereafter. [ ] _a bad five minutes in the alps_. [ ] see an article in the _hibbert journal_ for april by howard v. knox, "is determinism rational?" _ii_ _religious perplexity in general_ there is such a thing as the will-to-disbelieve. it is impervious to all appeals. no reason so cogent can be given for believing in the reality of anything but that human ingenuity, egged on by the will-to-disbelieve, can find some means of casting doubt upon it. in this respect, religious belief is no worse off than any other kind of belief whatsoever. we can find grounds for doubting our own identity, for doubting the multiplication table, for doubting the fundamental axioms of thought--_if we are determined to find them_. on all these beliefs doubt has, in fact, been cast by resolute doubters. nothing is proof against the will-to-disbelieve, not even disbelief itself. every scepticism makes assumptions which a deeper scepticism can question. no reason can be given for doubting which a sufficiently obstinate doubter cannot doubt. no reason for believing, but a more ardent believer will find it inadequate. here doubt and belief resemble one another. the will-to-disbelieve is as necessary a part of our equipment as the will to believe: the two wills being indeed the same in principle, but the opposite in application. the former is a weapon of defence, a protection against deceivers, never more useful than when engaged in exposing shams, fraud and cant practised under the name of religion. the latter is a weapon of attack, the principle of all that is creative in human life. it is akin to love, the most valiant of all qualities, whether it appears in a tigress defending her cubs or in a martyr dying for mankind. if we fall under the power of the will-to-disbelieve, we shall indeed be well protected from fraud, but ill equipped for the creation of new values, either in our own life or in that of others, which is the prime business of man. for this we need the will to believe that the new values are possible, which the will-to-disbelieve can always doubt. i cannot agree with those philosophers who maintain that religion is based on the will-to-believe. the two are clearly connected; but it would be truer to say that the will-to-believe is based on religion. religion encourages a man to act on the assumption that the best things are possible, and checks the will-to-disbelieve precisely at the point where it questions this. it is the god within the man which so acts, and the moment the man perceives its divine origin the will-to-believe acquires a new energy. god is not a product, but the author and living principle of the will-to-believe. the will-to-disbelieve, if given a free rein, would at last involve us in a depth of scepticism indistinguishable from complete cowardice. but in actual life it never goes to this length, except in the world of pure dialectics and in asylums for the insane. however sceptically inclined a man may be, there comes a point where he suspends his will-to-disbelieve in favour of the proposition that truth (and perhaps beauty and goodness also) is better than the opposite, though it is quite easy for anyone so minded, and with a little skill in dialectics, to find a point of view from which even this can be doubted. unless the sceptic believed that truth is better than its opposite why should he take the trouble to convict his opponent of error or to satisfy himself of the soundness of his own opinions? clearly he has made his choice at that point--a truly heroic choice if we consider it--committing himself to a position which needs courage to maintain, and thereby proving that he is no coward. in his own way he has faced and bravely answered the question which, in one form or another, has to be faced and answered by everyone. he has chosen to be a hero. over every _aspect_ of human life there hangs the _prospect_ of a possible better, inviting us to achieve it, but without proof that we shall succeed, or even that it is worth our while to make the attempt. the coward within us asks for the proof; cries out that the venture is not _safe_, and summoning the will-to-disbelieve has no difficulty in finding reasons for rejecting the invitation. the hero, on the contrary, finds in the terms offered the exact conditions to which his nature is fitted to respond. he would rather _create_ the proof by his own valour than have it for nothing from the outset. he is not dismayed at finding himself in a universe which puts him under no _compulsion_ to believe in god, freedom, duty and immortality. as a free soul he prefers not to be _compelled_ to believe in anything--for how then could he be free? the offer of a logic that cannot be gainsaid does not attract him, for he knows very well that his will-to-disbelieve can gainsay any logic that may be produced--he can meet it all, if so minded, with the everlasting no. he finds his own nature as hero exquisitely adapted to the nature of the universe as dangerous--on that side the ringing challenge, on this the joyous response; man and the universe engaged together as loyal confederates in the task of creating a better-than-what-is. such are the respective arguments of the coward and the hero. let it be remembered that these are not the names of two different men. they are names for the same man, as one or other element of his nature comes uppermost. both are clamant at this moment in you and me, clamant in you as you read these words, clamant in me as i write them. the will-to-disbelieve is always most active where the controversial interest reigns supreme; least active where men, in a spirit of mutual loyalty, are engaged together in the positive attempt to achieve a better-than-what-is. into the relations of true lovers the will-to-disbelieve never enters, though a mephistopheles, standing by, can always find reasons enough for prompting it, and sneer at them for a brace of fools. the will of the true lovers is to believe in each other and to reject all suggestions to the contrary. they will trust each other to the uttermost, in spite of the fact that no conclusive reason can be given why they should do so--heroic lovers that they are! but whenever a human interest, great or small, is detached from its roots in reality and turned into a subject for the war of minds, every assertion made by the one side is a challenge to the other to assert the contrary. the will-to-disbelieve is then in its glory, and finds there are no lengths to which it cannot go. the more it is hammered, the greater its vigour, the greater its ingenuity, in hitting back. meanwhile both sides are drifting further away from realities and the primary interest in dispute succumbing to the secondary interests of mere controversy. the dominant motive of the controversy has now ceased to be the search for truth and become the resolution of the disputants to overthrow their opponents and not be overthrown. there is no issue. from the nature of the forces engaged the controversy becomes endless. as the mere plaything of professional controversialists the fate of religion can never be decided. the professional controversialists themselves do not desire that it should be; their interest is to keep the game up for ever; for if a final issue were reached their occupation would be gone. happily for religion, its fate does not depend on the fortunes of this ever-swaying battle. it depends on the answer given by individual men and women to the question which faces them all over the gateway of life--"wilt thou be a hero or a coward?" religion is one of those high things, and there are many such in life, which lose their meaning when they are over-defended, or over-explained. in explaining them we are apt to explain them away, and without being aware that we are doing so. whenever the truths of religion are too much defended they are cheapened; and when cheapened they become incredible. like the love of a man and a woman, or the belief we have in the loyalty of our dearest friends, or the joy we feel in the presence of beauty, or the grief of a broken heart, they resent being made into mere topics for discussion. for this reason religion has suffered as much from its would-be friends as from its avowed enemies. to official defenders of the faith, crowned, mitred or wigged, the faith owes less than the defenders in question have been wont to claim. i have even heard it suggested, by extremists, that there would be more believers in god if all the theologians would take themselves off. if religion is founded on reality, as we are so fond of asserting, we have no need to be over-anxious about its defence, since reality can always be trusted in the long run to look after itself and its children. we compromise religion whenever our defence of it seems to imply that its fortunes depend on us or on our arguments, an impression too often created by apologetic literature--the impression of something naturally weak which needs an immense amount of argumentative coddling to keep it alive. i observe none of this in the presentation of religion by the founder of christianity. his freedom from anxiety for the morrow covered the fundamentals of faith. the weakest religions, and the weakest phases in the history of every religion, are those which spend most energy in defending themselves; the strongest are those which _attack_ the oppositions, difficulties, disproportions, iniquities, perils and mysteries that beset the soul. seen on the self-defensive, religion is apt to appear at its worst. it rises to its best in the moment of attack. it represents the expeditionary force of the soul, in its native element where mysteries are encountered, where the seemingly impossible has to be attempted, where creative work has to be done and where the call to play the man is never silent. most of the quarrels and divisions among believers, which exhaust the energies meant for a diviner object, and deface the history of religion, turn on the question of its defence. on the side of defence religion falls asunder into sects which spend themselves in achieving mutual paralysis. on the side of attack its forces converge. religion is rather that which defends us than that which we have to defend. it stands for the attack upon the powers of darkness and of spiritual wickedness, in high places and in low. the defence of religion has been overdone. we have cooped up the faith in theological fortresses, surrounding it with an immense array of outworks--creeds, dogmas, apologetics, institutions--and we have used up our resources in holding our "positions" against one another when we ought to have been attacking the common enemy in the open field. these outworks and defences, intended to save us from perplexity, have become a greater source of perplexity than all the rest. it takes a lifetime to understand them, and when understood most of them turn out futile. it is the fashion nowadays to express alarm about the future of religion. hardly a day passes but we hear some utterance, read some document, which sounds that note. but look closely and you will often discover that what these people are really alarmed about is not religion itself, but one or other of the entrenched camps in which religion has been cooped up. where is the church, where is the sect, where is the creed-bolstered institution, unhampered by the cares of these great fortresses? and indeed they are not safe. there is no place on earth where a man's soul is less safe than when it immures itself in one of these masterpieces of military architecture, mostly mediæval. we live in an age of long-range artillery and of high explosives. are you then in search of a religion which will relieve you of perplexity, remove peril out of your path, and surround your soul with an unassailable rampart against doubt? i have to confess that i know of none such. but i know of at least one religion which does far greater things than these. in the first place, the religion i am thinking of brings all our perplexities to a focus; lifts them up on high; concentrates them on two or three burning points, and shows us with a clearness that admits of no mistaking what a tremendous mystery we are up against in life. that is the first thing that a true religion does. but if it did that only, it would do us no good but harm, for it would overwhelm us. so it does the second. while on the one hand it reveals to us, as i have said, the deep and amazing mystery of our existence, on the other it reveals something yet deeper and more amazing in ourselves, something divine in everyone of us, which is more than a match for what it has to face. a true religion does both things, does them together, in the same moment, in the same act. it throws a searchlight on our perplexities and raises them to a high level. but in the very act of so doing it raises the greatness of man to a higher level still. it sharpens our consciousness of evil; thereby deepening our consciousness of that in ourselves which opposes evil. hear the baron von hügel. "christianity has not explained suffering and evil; no one has done so; no one can do so. yet it has done two things greater, more profound and more profitable for us. from the first it has immensely widened and deepened the fact, the reality, the awful potency and baffling mystery of sorrow, pain, sin, things which abide with man across the ages. but christianity has also, from the first, increased the capacity, the wondrous secret and force, which issues in a practical, living, loving transcendence, utilization, transformation of sorrow and pain and even of sin. christianity gave to our souls the strength and the faith to grasp life's nettle." observe that christianity has done this _from the first_. and to the last it will do the same. so far as i can see the religious perplexities of to-day are not essentially different from those of other times. they have indeed become more vocal, and there are more people who can talk about them intelligently. but their nature is unchanged. the first point to be noted about the religious perplexities of to-day is their essential identity with those of yesterday. they spring from the same root and they gather round the same centres. too much is being made of the special difficulties besetting religion at the passing moment, those, for example, connected with the progress of science and with the higher criticism--as though this were the age of religious difficulty _par excellence_. surely that is a mistake. the difficulties of faith have _always_ been up to the limit of human endurance. religious belief has _always_ required the full courage of the soul to sustain its high propositions. it has _always_ been a "near thing," and those who speak of past ages when it was easy are grossly misreading the history of the human mind. what science and the higher criticism have done is to turn attention upon new points, to divert perplexities into new channels, but not to alter their essential character, not to change the stuff of which they are made. the fact of evil is no discovery of the present age; it has been challenging the faith of men for thousands of years; there is nothing more poignant to be said about it to-day than was said ages ago by the patriarch job. the great troubles have not changed. suffering and death, the agony of bereavement, the tragedies of blighted hopes and shipwrecked lives--these are not things peculiar to the twentieth century. in stressing the difficulties that come from science and criticism, are we not in danger of losing sight of those greater and permanent difficulties that enter into the very structure of human life, and "abide with men across the ages"? a broken heart is the same in one age, in one place, as in another: and wherever it exists the soul of man has all that it can bear. those who have faced these major perplexities and conquered them, those who have passed through the valley of humiliation and emerged victorious at the other end, will not be greatly troubled by science and the higher criticism. but those who begin their approach to religion by reconciling science with faith, or adjusting the creeds to the higher criticism, or solving conundrums about the omnipotence of god, or making one set of abstractions fit in with another, will find that all this argumentation avails them very little when the lightning falls on the roof tree, or the angel of death spreads his black wings over the house. we are sometimes told that the great war has enormously increased the religious perplexities of mankind. i cannot see that it has. all the problems it suggests, all the questions it raises, were equally contained in the lesser wars that went before it, and even if the great one had never occurred, there would still be enough suffering in the world to challenge the strongest faith. an age which has needed the great war to rouse it to a sense of tragedy must have been living in a fool's paradise up to date. every problem suggested by the great war has been there, plain for all ages to see, since suffering and death, since folly and wickedness, first came into the world. i do not doubt that the war has administered a salutary shock to multitudes of lethargic souls who would otherwise have continued to sleep on in the sleep of spiritual death. but with the christian churches it is different. it ill becomes them to treat the horrors of the war as a novelty in human experience. all that the war can mean for them was summarized long ago by the man who saw the "whole creation groaning and travailing in pain together until now." we can change the nature of our religious perplexities, change them from things that depress into things that exalt us. but we cannot banish them altogether. at the end of our labours, as at the beginning, we shall find ourselves perplexed, _but not unto despair_. these last words make the difference, and it is immense. they were uttered by one who was deeply versed in the spiritual life. "the present crisis in religion" is another phrase which recent discussion has made familiar. that such a crisis exists no one in his senses can doubt. but the phrase is often used in a way which suggests that the "crisis" has no right to exist, that it constitutes a misfortune peculiar to our own time, that it is an unnatural thing, and that religion will never come to its own until the "crisis" has passed away. we find, however, that a "crisis" in religion is no new experience, peculiar to the present day. the only ages of the past when a "crisis" in religion did not exist were the spiritually dead ages. whenever the spirit of god has breathed upon the souls of men the effect has been to awaken the sense of a great crisis. the epistles of st paul are full of it. in the confessions of st augustine, written in the fifth century, we see how critical he felt the then passing moment to be. there was a crisis at the reformation, and at the renaissance. there was a crisis when printing was invented, and when the bible was translated. there was a crisis when whitefield and wesley were urging the masses to flee from the wrath to come. a more recent example can be found in the writings of carlyle. everything that has been said since the great war about the spiritual bankruptcy of europe, about the need of religious reconstruction, about a change of heart in nations, and governments and individuals, as the only alternative to a complete disaster, was said by carlyle three-quarters of a century ago, and said by him with a force and trenchancy not since surpassed. here, for example, is what he wrote in the year . "in the days that are passing over us, even fools are arrested to ask the meaning of them; few of the generations of men have seen more impressive days. days of endless calamity, disruption, dislocation, confusion worse confounded.... it is not a small hope that will suffice us, the ruin being clearly ... universal. there must be a new world if there is to be a world at all. that human beings in europe can ever return to the old sorry routine, and proceed with any steadiness or continuance therein--this small hope is not now a tenable one. these days of universal death must be days of universal rebirth, if the ruin is not to be total and final. it is a time to make the dullest man consider whence he came and whither he is bound. a veritable new era to the foolish as well as to the wise" (_latter-day pamphlets_). that was written seventy-two years ago, and when was it truer than to-day? the "religious crisis" is perennial, now taking one form, now another, but always demanding from those who have to face it the utmost of their courage, loyalty and love. the religious crises which take place in the great world, in the conditions of the age and so forth, are only the enlarged reflections of personal crises constantly occurring to ourselves, which, even if they were absent from the general conditions of the age, would still present themselves, in our private experience, so long as suffering and death were elements in life. the existence of a crisis is not unnatural to religion, but perfectly natural, the atmosphere in which it breathes most freely, the soil in which it strikes its deepest root. we are wholly mistaking what religion is when we think of it as some secret or power which is going to banish the great crises of our experience and leave us with none to face. the truth is the very opposite. the penalty--no, not the penalty but the high reward--of having any religion that is worth the name, is that it will conduct us into critical situations, that it will reveal perplexities where without it none would exist. from some perplexities religion does indeed give release. it gives release from those that are not worthy of us, that belittle us when we indulge them, that make us selfish, timid and unloving--the care for self, the fear that something dreadful may happen to us, either in this world or in the next, unless we take immense precautions against its happening. but in releasing from these perplexities, which are not worthy of us, it confronts us with others on a higher level, where our finer essence finds the employment for which it was made. instead of hiding the great crises, instead of banishing them, or giving us anæsthetics to make us unconscious of their presence, religion reveals them, makes us aware of them, sharpens our consciousness of their presence; but at the same time reveals us to ourselves as beings who are capable of overcoming them. if on the one hand it uncovers the pain of life and makes us feel it with a new intensity, on the other it liberates the love that conquers pain, a power mightier than death and sharper than agony. one might almost define religion in these terms. that in each of us, and in all of us which faces the crisis, which rises to meet it, which feels, when confronted by it, that its hour is come and for this cause it came into the world. do you say it is _hard_? it would be if we were made of poorer stuff. but made as we are anything less would be too small for us, would leave us dissatisfied, hungry and half employed. yes, half employed, and not the best half either. we are so made that until we "grasp the nettle of life" the best part of us has nothing to do, loitering, so to speak, at the street corners of life, like a starving labourer out of work. on that upper level, where the best that is in us confronts the highest that is demanded of us, we discover how finely the nature of man is adapted to the world in which he lives, how well the two accord, the noblest element in the one corresponding to the most challenging element in the other, so that deep answers unto deep and the two make music together. on the lower levels there is no adaptation; our selfish desires are at odds with nature; we are out for a good time and get no response; and there all is disenchantment, disappointment and misery. but the keynote of the higher level is joy--the joy of the labourer who has found his work, of the lover who has seen his object, of the hero who has received his commission and his sword. towards the end of the war, or perhaps shortly afterwards, somebody coined a more attractive phrase which was much on the lips of exuberant reformers. they were going to make, so they said, "a world fit for heroes to live in." what kind of a world is that? is comfort the keynote of it? does it provide the hero with an assured income and an easy life? does it guarantee him a pension for any heroism he displays? does it ask of its heroes only a limited term of service, and then superannuate them at an early age, exposing them to peril for a short time and after that withdrawing dangers from their path and surrounding them with the safeguards of a protected respectability? no; what these arrangements provide for is not the life of heroism, but its death. give the hero a world like that and what will he say? "this world," he will say, "is _not_ fit for me to live in. it spells extinction to all that makes life worth living to me. it is the flat opposite to what i desire. it lacks everything that makes the world divine. no god can dwell within it. no christ will ever visit its melancholy shores." and yet, is it not something like this that many of us have had in mind of late when we have been talking of "a world fit for heroes to live in"? have we not conceived it as a world where heroism is a mere incident, almost an accident, which comes in brief patches and spells, and when the rest of life is given over to the middling virtues and to prearranged satisfactions? there are people who cry out for this; there is something within us all that cries out for it; but the noblest part of us scorns it; the heroic spirit would not have it at any price. when the hero asks for a world fit for him to live in he is thinking of something wholly different. he desires no satisfaction save that which is the direct fruit of his own loyalty and self-devotion. he wants continuous employment on the level of his highest self, where love never sleeps at her task, and where the voices of faith and hope, whispering of new worlds to conquer, are never silent. a divine universe is, for him, just that; it breeds ideals for great souls to pursue; gives them incentives to the pursuit; shares with them in the perils of it; suffers with them in their failures and triumphs with them in their victories. is the soul of the world at one with us in these great endeavours? does it meet us on that high level with the companionship of a spirit akin to ours, not only asking for our loyalty, but giving it in return? if so, god exists; the universe is divine; and the world is fit for heroes to live in. hallelujah, for the lord reigneth! this is the side of our nature which christianity brought to light, in all its splendour and power, when it revealed us to ourselves in the person of christ--that, in all of us, which stands above the perplexities of life and is more than a match for them; which sees evil with the clearest eye, and at the same time overcomes it with the deepest love. at home in the bright hours of life, which grow brighter under the radiance it pours into them, the christ within is always ready when the dark ones arrive. "i am equal to that," it cries. "through the power that is given me, through the fellowship i have with the heart of a divine universe, i can turn that evil into good, and transfigure that sorrow into joy, and draw the stream of a deeper life from the very thing that threatens to slay me. now is the time, here is the place, to show my divine creator that he has not made me for nothing! for this cause was i born and for this hour came i into the world." on the surface of things there is discord, confusion and want of adaptation; but dig down, first to the centre of the world, and then to the centre of your own nature, and you will find a most wonderful correspondence, a most beautiful harmony, between the two--the world made for the hero and the hero made for the world. whoever embarks on the task of religious inquiry, which is tantamount to inquiry into the meaning of his life--a question he would have no interest in asking unless he were fundamentally a religious being,--whoever embarks on this task will find the ground encumbered with a multitude of preconceptions which warp the mind at every point and render independent judgment extremely difficult. unless the inquirer keeps a watch upon himself his mind will run in a groove from the outset. and when he has followed his groove as far as it goes and found _nothing_ at the end of it, he will conclude that religion has broken down. but in nine cases out of ten he will perceive, if he reflects on what has happened, that the groove which has led to this result was cut by minds not primarily interested in religion but bent on protecting some quite alien interest, possibly a vested interest, institutional or political, to which religion had proved itself serviceable. the most obstinate of these misconceptions, and the deepest of the grooves in which they run, are those connected with the term "god." there is no worldly interest which has not been anxious to secure god for an ally. in all ages the attempt has been made to domesticate the idea of god to the secular purposes of individuals and of groups. if we examine the current forms of the idea we may observe the marks of this domesticating process at many points. for example, the idea of god as the sovereign potentate, governing the universe under a system of iron law, the legislator of nature and the taskmaster of the soul, the rewarder of them that obey and the punisher of them that disobey, is plainly an idea borrowed from politics, the form of the idea most convenient to those who need god as an ally in the maintenance of law and order as they conceive them. this does not prove the idea untrue to reality; it may conceivably be used as a strong argument to the contrary. at the same time it puts us on our guard, warning us to look out for other forms of "domestication" which may be less in accord with essential truth than the one i have just mentioned. certainly it is extremely difficult to find any form of the idea of god which has retained a purely spiritual or religious character throughout the entire course of its history. between the conception of deity implied in the teachings of jesus and the conception as it appears in "god save the king" the distance is immense; and few theologians i imagine would be so hardy or so patriotic as to affirm that the latter conception is nearer to the divine reality. the theologian who takes up the proof of the existence of god should make it clear, both to himself and to his audience, at which end of this long line, which has not been one of "development," he lays the emphasis. any proof of the existence of "the god and father of our lord jesus christ" would certainly prove the non-existence of the being adumbrated in "god save the king"; and vice versa. which may be expanded into a more general proposition. reasons given in favour of a spiritual or religious conception of god become less and less valid exactly in proportion as we approach its secular modifications; while reasons given in favour of these latter are worthless as proofs of the spiritual reality. most of our difficulties in believing in god arise from the fact that god, in our meaning of the term, is no longer "spirit" (as jesus said), but spirit shorn of its freedom and reduced to the dimensions of some human utility or purpose--that is, not "spirit" at all. for these reasons i will venture to suggest to anyone who is perplexed by doubts about the reality of god, not to trust the fortunes of his faith too unreservedly to the field of mere argumentation. if he does so he runs a serious risk of falling, without being aware of it, into one of the many grooves of thought, which alien interests have cut deep into the ground of theological controversy, leading the mind in a direction contrary to that in which spiritual reality is to be found. neither let him deem himself an atheist because he cannot believe in the deity adumbrated by "god save the king." rather let him conceive it possible that god is speaking to him in his refusal to believe in _that_ god. let him seek god in the very heart of his doubts about god, saying to himself words such as these: "god, if there be such an one, will reveal himself as a companion spirit in my endeavour to achieve a better-than-what-is; incidentally therefore in my rejection of all debased, or even man-made, images of himself. he will not consent to be the servant of men's designs, or the ally of their policies, not even when these things clothe themselves in great words spelt with capital letters--like democracy. he will not even submit to the shackles of their forms of thought." i suggest further that the only final mode of ascertaining whether or no such a god exists is _by experiment_, standing or falling by the issue, and resorting to the methods of argumentation only to confirm or elucidate the results so obtained. the experiment first, the argumentation second. but of what nature is the experiment in question? i conceive it being made in the following manner: "of the many gods, or conceptions of god, that are offered me, the only one i am concerned to believe in, and should find it a calamity not to believe in, is the god who is sympathetic, and _actively_ sympathetic, on the lines of my determination to achieve a better-than-what-is. omnipotence and omniscience i could dispense with if need be; the disappearance of the cosmic potentate would not leave me orphaned; the absolute does not enthral me and i should suffer no nightmare were i to learn that it did not exist. but were i forced to admit that the universe, as a whole, is quite indifferent to this desire of mine to achieve a better-than-what-is, that there is nothing in its nature which shares my interest in that matter, nothing there that backs me up, nothing to which the failure or success of my attempt makes the slightest difference, then indeed a dark and cruel blight would fall upon my soul. "to that blight i may have to submit. but i will not submit until i have tested the universe in the only way that is open to me. i will trust it as a friend. there are those about me who say that my trust will not be betrayed, having made the same experiment themselves. they remind me that the world i am living in is not _any_ kind of world, but just the one particular kind needed by a soul whose business it is to create new values, in the way of truth, beauty and goodness; that its laws, forces and material readily lend themselves to the purpose of anyone who will use them for that high creative end, turning out, in fact, to be the very kind of laws, forces and material which such an one needs. well then, i will see. i will base my life on the assumption that somewhere, in the height above or in the depth below, power is waiting to back me up. that power, if i find it, shall be my god. is it not reasonable to suppose that, if it exists, it will find some means of making me aware of its presence? that then shall be my experiment, and i will abide by the result." a person who reasons with himself in this manner is taking the most practical, and the wisest means i know of to determine the question whether god exists. for my own part i should view his experiment with hope proportioned to his sincerity. frankly, i should expect him to make discovery of the living god, as a reality, as a companion, as a friend. whether to the reality, companion, friend, so discovered he gave the name "god," or some other name, i should not regard as a matter of supreme importance. if he chose to call it christ, or more simply "the spirit," i should not quarrel with him. the discovery is far too momentous to be imperilled for a name. its value lies not in its name but in its _reality_. "few things are easier," says john henry newman, "than to use the name of god and mean nothing by it." call it then by a name which means something, and not by a name which means nothing. all religious testimony, so far as i can interpret its meaning, converges towards a single point, namely this. there is that in the world, call it what you will, which responds to the confidence of those who trust it, declaring itself, to them, as a fellow-worker in the pursuit of the eternal values, meeting their loyalty to it with reciprocal loyalty to them, and coming in at critical moments when the need of its sympathy is greatest; the conclusion being, that wherever there is a soul in darkness, obstruction or misery, there also is a power which can help, deliver, illuminate and gladden that soul. this is the helper of men, sharing their business as creators of value, nearest at hand when the worst has to be encountered; the companion of the brave, the upholder of the loyal, the friend of the lover, the healer of the broken, the joy of the victorious--the god who is spirit, the god who is love. had more been heard about this, the god of religion, and less about that other--the lawyer's god, whose main concern is the policing of his universe--our religious perplexities would not be what they are. i do not say they would be easier. they might be harder. but they would lose their character as irritants and become, instead, incentives to humane relationships, to noble living and to creative work. for there are two kinds of religious perplexity. in the one, perplexity overcomes religion; in the other, religion overcomes perplexity. "we are perplexed, yet not unto despair." _iii_ _perplexity in the christian religion_ those who are wondering in what form christianity is destined to survive, or whether it will survive at all,[ ] would be well advised to keep in mind two significant facts, discernible enough even when the view is limited to our own country, but obvious on a wider survey of what is going forward in foreign lands: first, that the lay mind has definitely passed beyond clerical control; second, that the most active religious minds, both among the clergy and the laity, but among the laity most of all, are learning to use their own eyes in the search for god, instead of looking for him through the ill-matched lenses of jew-greek binoculars, and are gradually ceasing to think about christ and his religion in terms of the recognized "isms"--catholicism, protestantism, anglicanism, modernism, trinitarianism, unitarianism, or any other. they have passed beyond all that and are probing deeper ground. they are judging spiritual things by spiritual. if these things are so, and somewhat exceptional opportunities of observing have convinced me that they are,[ ] it would seem to follow that the form in which christianity is destined to survive (if it survives at all) will not be the form of any of the "isms" aforesaid. in other words, even if the battle of the "isms," as this is now carried on by professional controversalists and mainly on clerical ground, were to issue in the final victory of one of them over the others--of which at present there is little prospect--this would decide nothing as to the fortunes of christianity in the world at large. thus, though we have no indication of what the surviving form of christianity will be, we have a pretty clear indication of what it will not be. beyond this it seems impossible to cast the horoscope of christianity at the present time. its fortunes have always been unpredictable; each new development a surprise to those who witnessed it. "as the lightning ... so shall be the coming of the son of man." the application of this to what follows will be obvious as we proceed. to bishop gore's denial that christianity has failed, on the ground that "it has never been tried," mr graham wallas makes the effective reply that a religion that has been adopted by the great states of the world for fifteen centuries and never been "tried" is a religion that has failed. in this mr wallas follows the proper method of judging christianity by its own high standards, which certainly require that it should have been tried ere this. "what thou doest do _quickly_" was spoken to judas iscariot. does it follow that "what thou doest do slowly, putting it off, if it so pleases, for fifteen centuries" was intended to be the motto of the christian church? the command to "sell all that thou hast and give to the poor" was doubtless spoken "to a particular young man on a particular occasion." but the parable of the good samaritan, with its pungent ending "go and do thou likewise," was also spoken to a particular lawyer on a particular occasion. and so with the teachings of christ in general. all his universals were seen in particulars. if, then, we are to discharge everything that was spoken "to particular individuals on particular occasions" as inapplicable to modern conditions, or to the world at large, we shall find that there is not much left that we can apply to anything. what, indeed, remains? the "spirit" of it all? yes: but a very different spirit from that which makes these convenient excisions. many of the alleged excuses for the failure of christianity have been pitched in this key. they are unconvincing. others fall back on the magic words "slow and gradual," words that have induced many persons to believe that the slower and more gradual a process is the more surely it is divine--as against an earlier thought which armed the gods with thunderbolts. the convenience of this excuse is that no depth of failure can be so extreme as not to be covered by it--just as, in the case cited above, no betrayal of christ's principles can be so complete as not to be covered by the plea that the principles in question "were spoken to particular individuals on particular occasions." but though the one argument is as convenient as the other, it is no more satisfactory to an honest man. how has it come to pass that respectable christian apologists have fallen into such flagrant dishonesties? the cause, i believe, lies in the habit mentioned in the first section of this book--the habit, namely, of applying carnal logic (admirable for carnal purposes) to divine things, not judging spiritual things by spiritual. anyone who studies this class of apologetics will be struck by their resemblance to a well-known type of political speech, when the spokesman of some discredited government which has broken all the promises given at the election, attempts to befool his constituents into believing that the promises have been kept. it is all a matter of artfully adjusting the emphasis--the art, as somebody has said "of keeping the public quiet about one thing by making them noisy about another." there is, i say, a significant resemblance between this method and that of the christian apologist when, for example, he exalts the benevolence promoted by christianity and ignores the parallel fact that no other religion has developed such ferocious internal differences nor been so cruel in its persecution of unbelievers. there have been moments in the history of christianity--or of what was called so--when the slaughter of a million men, or the wiping out of an entire civilization, meant no more to the leaders of the church than it did, by his own confession, to napoleon. witness the treatment meted out by cortes, in the name of christ and of his holy mother, to the aztecs of mexico. but the searchlight is seldom switched on to these things, and even when it is "slow and gradual" will cover them. this application of carnal logic to things divine, this judging the success of christianity by the standard of success which passes muster in the crime-stained record of human society--as though it were the business of religion to keep pace with the dawdling, creeping, cowardly movement of mankind to better things, and not to hasten it with urgent calls to repent of its hesitancy--this is only one form, though perhaps the crowning form, in which the kingdom that is not of this world has been surrendered by its deluded guardians to the kingdoms which are. in that surrender, so long an established fact that we have lost sight of its malign implications, so deeply engrained into our mental habits that we have almost forgotten that it exists, lies the true cause of the failure of christianity, and incidentally of its once atrocious tendency to persecute. for failure most unquestionably there has been: tragic but not irretrievable, if men have the courage to face the facts. let it be acknowledged! let an end come swiftly to the invention of sophistries to prove the contrary. that way lies failure deeper still. the christian religion, in the course of its long history, has become entangled with a multitude of things which do not properly belong to it, with philosophies, with dogmatic systems, with political ideas, with the vested interests of great institutions; and especially with the habits of mind which have grown up with these things, this last, the entanglement with deeply entrenched habits of mind, being the most formidable of them all. these entanglements are another name for our perplexities. they are so many and so deep that it becomes a matter of difficulty to extract the original genius of christianity, to recover its original impulse and power. it has become the fashion to rejoice in these entanglements. men say that christianity, by becoming entangled with these foreign elements, has permeated them with its spirit, acting upon them like leaven and so transfiguring them with its own value. that view i cannot share: at least not without great reservations. were it not truer to say that these foreign elements, these outside things, these worldly philosophies and institutions, have rather permeated christianity with their spirit than suffered christianity to permeate them with its own? no one in his senses will deny that christianity has done something to make these worldly things better. they would all be much worse than they are if christianity had never touched them. but, on the other hand, christianity would be much better than it is if they had never touched it. they have distorted it; have maimed it; have devitalized it at essential points. dean inge is speaking the truth when he says that christianity has become secularized. it has become secularized not only in its outward form, but in something far deeper, namely, in its habits of thought, in its standard of values, and especially in its strivings for power, this last being the characteristic vice of the kingdoms that are of this world. is it not a fact that for a long time past the churches of christendom have been engaged in strife as to who shall be greatest? there can be no surer sign of secularization than that. christianity, in the official, or authorized presentation of it, is a _smothered_ religion; smothered almost to the point of total asphyxiation and collapse, but not quite; smothered by the vested interests of great institutions, and by the ambitions, fears and self-seekings that such interests breed; smothered by the elaborate theological defences that christians have built, not against antichrist, but against each other; smothered by anxieties, not unnatural in these embroilments, for its own future. if you take christianity along with its entanglements, encumbrances and unnatural alliances: if you present it with all the secular baggage which the ages have fastened upon it, you will then find it a hopelessly perplexing thing, a thing which neither reason nor faith, whether acting singly or in combination, can accept. but alongside the authorized version, and sometimes hidden within it as an inextinguishable spark of life, christianity has an unauthorized version, which the former has often repressed, persecuted and condemned to the hangman or to the eternal flames. of this unauthorized version a fair copy exists in the hearts of men, a fairer copy in the hearts of women, and the fairest copy of all in the hearts of children--for christianity is preeminently a religion of the young. it is the unauthorized version which has kept christianity alive through the ages and defied the smotherers even to this day. turning to the sources of christianity in the first three gospels we are struck by an immense contrast. there is no money in the purse, no victuals in the wallet, no munitions in the magazine, no baggage-train, no commissariat, no provision for trench warfare, and no thought of it. we are in the presence of elemental realities, more beautiful than solomon in all his glory, more majestic than the successor of st peter in all his pomp. we are in another atmosphere. all this apparatus of defence and apology, of preaching and propaganda, of church policies and chapel oppositions,--things which have given a form so strangely artificial to our conceptions of christianity--are here either secondary or absent altogether. religion, instead of being concentrated into strong sunday doses, is here a pervasive, unobtrusive presence, that cometh not with observation, the luminous background of human conduct, the hiding-place of the light which irradiates the whole picture of man's life. even the name of god, which comes to our lips so easily--too easily--was used by jesus with a reverential rarity. you may read whole pages of the gospels without finding it once. jesus, we say, preached the fatherhood of god and the brotherhood of man. but he was not _always_ preaching them, and as a matter of fact he never mentioned either of them in exactly those terms. he enforced them, illustrated them, revealed them, exemplified them, by living as though they were true, which is a very different thing from "preaching" them. his days were spent going about doing good, his preaching being little more than a comment that arose naturally from the good that he did. the gospel is neither a sermon nor a treatise on religion; but a _story_, which tells how christianity began in something that happened, in a deed that was done, in a life that was lived. it abounds in parables and is a parable itself, revealing things hidden from the foundation of the world. the order in which _we_ take these elements of religion--first, moral and religious propaganda, then performance to follow--is here reversed. the performance comes first; the propaganda, which reduces itself to the very simple form "go and do thou likewise," comes afterwards. the proportions, too, are different. instead of an immense campaign of preaching which leaves little energy for doing the things preached about, the work done, the life lived here overshadow everything else. the accusation of carlyle against modern civilization, that it has run to seed in mere talk, parliamentary eloquence, stump oratory, and such like, has no application to the birth of the christian religion. something to talk about, something worth talking about, was furnished before the talking began. there we touch the dynamic principle of christianity, cut free from its entanglements with a mass of things that do not belong to it; the power which still keeps it alive under a mountain of verbal accretions that would smother anything less divine. in the beginning was the deed: go thou and do likewise. so presented, christianity is not perplexing; but quite the most convincing religion ever offered either to the intellect or the heart. the perplexities have arisen from the reversal of the true order; from the attempt to subordinate the thing done to the thing said; to lay the foundations in argument and propaganda which can only be laid in actual performance; and from the loss of reality and the descent into hollowness and windiness which inevitably follows when the talkers get the upper hand of the doers, or when theology gets the upper hand of religion, which is the same thing. the deeds that i do, these bear witness of me. what other conceivable witness could there be? not only has christianity evolved an institutional selfishness which shows plain signs of having been copied from the kingdoms that are of this world--the strife among churches as to which shall be greatest proves that--but the very form of its thought has become infected with ideas from the same source. even philosophers have a difficulty of getting away from the notion that the universe is an immense political state, which most assuredly it is not; while careless thinkers will constantly refer to the laws of nature as though they were legal enactments, to which they bear no resemblance. at no point has christianity become more deeply secularized. instead of the kingdom which is _not_ of this world transfiguring the kingdoms that are, lifting them up to its own level, where every term of law is translated into a term of love, and the very notion of a kingdom passes into that of a father's house of many mansions, the reverse process has taken place. love has forsaken its mission of converting law to its own essence, and become a timid and apologetic fugitive, harried by the police. no wonder that men declare themselves perplexed by christianity. no wonder they find this mixture unacceptable. no wonder that official christianity, tied up as it is with a political system which manages its own business none too well, is continually breaking down under the assaults of a critical age, which has grown almost as tired of the one thing as of the other. i am far from saying that christianity excludes the idea of god as the moral governor of the universe or forbids us so to think of him. but it does not _begin_ with that idea, as we are apt to do. it allows us to arrive at it, perhaps, at the end of a long pilgrimage in experience; but if we never get there at all it makes no lamentation, pulls no long face, and does not treat us as lost souls. it does not say "begin with the idea of a cosmic potentate and make everything else fit in with that." it does not require us to dismiss from our minds as blasphemous every thought of god which makes him other than the omnipotent legislator of the universe. in the religion of jesus i am struck by the absence, by the total absence, of all these pompous conceptions of the divine nature, which show such speaking signs of having originated under lawyers' wigs. the idea that i do find seems to have originated in a very intimate and loving comradeship with man and with nature. indeed, the religion of jesus is precisely this spirit of comradeship raised to its highest power, the spirit which perceives itself to be "not alone," but lovingly befriended and supported, extending its intuitions to the heart of the world, to the core of reality, and finding there the fellowship, the loyalty, the powerful response, the _love_, of which the finest fellowships and loyalties of earth are the shadows and the foretaste. in its essence the gospel is a call to make the same experiment, the experiment of comradeship, the experiment of fellowship, the experiment of trusting the heart of things, throwing self-care to the winds, in the sure and certain faith that you will not be deserted, forsaken nor betrayed, and that your ultimate interests are perfectly secure in the hands of the great companion. this insight, this sure and firm apprehension of a spirit at hand, swiftly responsive to any trust we have in its answering fidelity, coming our way the moment we beckon it, motionless and irresponsive till we hoist the flag of our faith and claim its fellowship, but then mighty to save--this is the centre, the kernel, the growing point of the christian religion, which, when we have it all else is secure, and when we have it not all else is precarious. god, said jesus, is spirit: man is spirit no less; and when the two meet in fellowship there is religion. i am approaching my conclusion and must gather up my threads. all along my theme has been that we make a mistake when we look to religion to relieve us of the perplexities and difficulties of life, whether intellectual or moral. in a sense we should look for the opposite. religion will bring our perplexities to a focus; will concentrate them on a point; will show us in one clear and burning vision the depth of the mystery that confronts us in life. but in raising our difficulties to that high level it will raise our nature to a higher level still, by liberating faith, courage and love, qualities that spring from a single root. in revealing the world as a world fit for heroes to live in, that is, a difficult world, it will arouse also the heroic spirit in ourselves, which is fit to live under those conditions. it will give us a part to play in life which puts our souls on their mettle at many points, but it will also give the spiritual power which stands the strain and even rejoices in it. it will show the cross we have to bear; but it will also show the christ who bears it, and will awaken the christ, as a victorious principle, within us all. pain and suffering it will not remove; but it will quicken a divine substance within us, which is more than conqueror over these things. and, lastly, when courage, faith and love have won the victory at the supreme point of their trial, and so established themselves as the ruling powers, it will turn these qualities back upon life as a whole, will interpenetrate everything with their energy, and transfigure everything with their radiance, and raise everything to their level, and so fill the world with music and beauty and joy. so, then, in expecting religion to reconcile the world with our notions of a "good time"; to smooth and simplify our path; to accommodate itself to what we, in our weaker moments, desire--in looking for this we look for what is not forthcoming. religion will meet us, not on the level of our weakest moments, but on the level of our strongest. it will give us power rather than satisfaction; courage to face danger rather than safeguards against it; inspiration rather than explanation. whatever satisfaction it brings will come through the power; whatever safeguards, through the courage; whatever explanation, through the inspiration. it will not teach us to see no evil in the world; but immensely increase our resources for dealing with evil when seen. a power in the world which is for ever on the side of those who are brave enough to trust it, causing all things to work together for their ultimate good, and making them conquerors, and more than conquerors, over whatever confronts them, whether in life or in death,--this, and nothing less than this, is what we have to expect and to ask for. our mistake has been not that we have asked for too much, but that we have asked for too little. a true religion will be optimistic. it will end in a radiant and joyous vision of the meaning of life. but it will not begin with that, will not give us that for nothing. the radiant and joyous vision will not come to us through listening to arguments, through proving that there is more happiness than misery in the world, through shutting our eyes to the dark side of things and looking only at the bright, through crying "peace, peace" when there is no peace, nor by any of the cheap and shallow devices on which mere verbal optimism is made to rest. we must win our optimism at the sword's point. we must pay the price. we must go through "the dark valley" and not listen to the man who thinks he knows of a way round. at certain stages of the journey we shall see the whole creation, as st paul did, groaning and travailing together in pain until now; and only at the last stage, when loyalty has stood the test, shall we see this world of suffering and death delivered, by redeeming love, into the glorious liberty of the children of god. such a religion as i have been trying to describe will be found in christianity--yes, and in other religions also. far be it from me to set up an exclusive claim for christianity at this point. anyone who does that goes a long way towards forfeiting his title to be called a christian. let each of us look for truth where it is most accessible and where it speaks the language he best understands. for most of us here christianity has this advantage. it gives the sharpest point to the challenge of life as we know life. christianity is the simplest and most difficult religion in the world, best adapted therefore for strong races, endowed with deep but silent affections, and with the plain-dealing mind whose conversation is "yea, yea and nay, nay." but here let me utter a word of warning. there is an outcry in these days for a christianity shorn of its complications, and reduced to its simplest and most intelligible form. it is a thing greatly to be desired. i have been pleading for it in what has gone before. but let nobody suppose that, when christianity has been reduced to its simplest and most intelligible form, it will be found an easy religion to put into practice. it will be found immensely more difficult than before. only there will be this further difference. whereas the old difficulties, those that came from presenting christianity in complicated forms, merely irritated and confused us and caused us to waste ourselves upon irrelevance, the new ones, the difficulties of simple christianity, meet us on a far higher level, introduce us to essentials, and give us a battle to fight that is really worth fighting. that is an enormous difference, but not in the direction of making simple christianity easier than the other kind. it has been said that christianity reduced to its simplest and most intelligible form needs only two words to express it--"follow me." it has been said, also, that if all christian men for the next twenty years would give up the attempt to _explain_ christ and devote their attention to _following_ him, at the end of that time they would know more about the person of christ than they had ever known before, and they would have put christianity in a posture to conquer the world. i accept all that. but before we claim that our problem is solved, let us think for a moment what "following christ" really means, and to what it commits us, when we make it the keyword of simple christianity. whoever sets out to follow christ will have to follow him a long way and to follow him into some dark places. the path we have to follow is a narrow one. it runs all the time on the edge of a precipitous mystery, sometimes taking you up to the sunlit heights and the mount of transfiguration, and sometimes taking you down into the fires of suffering and into the shadows of death. following christ means that when you find these dizzy things before you, these dark things in your path, you go through them and not round them. have you a good head? have you a stout heart? are you loyal to the leader in front? easy enough while the road runs by the shining shores of the lake of galilee, but not so easy when it turns into the garden of gethsemane and becomes the via dolorosa. there are those who think they have followed christ when they have obeyed the precepts of the sermon on the mount, loved their neighbour as themselves and done unto others as they would that others should do to them. to follow as far as that is to go a long way, much longer indeed than most of us can claim to have gone. but to stop _there_ is to stop in the middle, to miss the end of the journey, to come short of the point of arrival, where the key lies to the meaning and value of all that has gone before. we are too apt to rest in the thought that to follow christ is merely to follow a teacher or a reformer, so that enough has been done when we have repeated his doctrine of fatherhood and brotherhood, voted for his precepts, and practised as much of them as we can, or perhaps only as much as we find convenient. let there be no mistake as to the inadequacy of all that, whether presented in a simple form or any other. to follow christ is to follow a victor in life's battle, a conqueror over suffering and death, through the completeness of his loyalty to the great companion. hence the power which makes his teaching live; hence the driving force which makes his gospel effective for the regeneration of society. you see, then, what is involved. unless we can follow him through the point where his victory was won, all the rest will not amount to very much. we must follow him to the _end_ if we are to be his disciples. it is said of his first followers that when they came to this last lap of the journey, when the road before them took that critical turn which led through the garden of gethsemane, and became a via dolorosa, they all forsook him and fled. do not some of our modernized versions of christianity show a similar weakness, a similar reluctance to grasp the nettle, a similar tendency to stop short in their following of christ precisely at the critical point? they forsake him and flee--flee for their lives!--this it is that makes simple christianity so difficult; so difficult but so splendid, so infinitely worth achievement. there was a phase in the ministry of jesus, a comparatively untroubled one, when he went about among men in a temper of radiant optimism, declaring his confidence in the divine companion, a confidence so complete that all anxiety for the morrow was banished and the soul freed for a life of the utmost generosity and beneficence. "be ye therefore perfect, even as your father in heaven is perfect." nothing too bad to be incurable; nothing too good to be hoped for; nothing too high to be attempted; nothing so precious that we cannot afford to give it away. yes, even that! for there is that within the hero which is so rich that he can afford to give his very life away, and be none the poorer, but the richer; a strange discovery, made by many a brave lad during the recent war, as he prepared himself to "go over the top," and thought of his mother or of his beloved. then came another phase, such as we too must meet sooner or later, when his mission had to be fulfilled not by saying these things, not by saying anything, but by doing and bearing up to the limit of courage and endurance. the silence of jesus in the presence of pilate is the silence of one for whom the day of speech is over and the day of battle begun, the ultimatum delivered, and the trumpet sounding the attack. where are his followers now? they have all run away, as verbal christianity always runs away when it comes to the critical point. fugitives from the crisis, every man of them! and what of that radiant optimism that broke out by the shores of the galilean lake? well, it came near to breaking-point, as near as it could without actually giving way. but it held! it carried him through! the infinite friendliness did not forsake him in his extremity, as his followers had done. at one point he thought it had forsaken him, but it had not. for its nature is to be as true to the loyal soul as any loyal soul can be to it; waiting to attest its presence wherever the courage exists to make the experiment of trusting it. all prayers to it sum themselves up into one, which when it comes from the heart makes other prayers almost unnecessary--"into thy hands, o lord, i commend my spirit." _in tuas manus, domine, meam animam commisi_. so far, then, as i am able to understand these high matters, there is no such thing for any of us as getting rid of religious perplexity. but there is such a thing as exchanging the perplexities which depress and weaken our nature for those which exalt and strengthen it. this world is ill adapted to the fearful and the unbelieving; but most exquisitely adapted to the loyal, the loving and the brave. to poltroonery of one kind or another the spirit makes no concessions; it wears the face of a hard master to all pusillanimous demands. to its own children it is not only gracious but faithful. it gives them commissions bearing the sign manual of god; shares their perplexities; goes with them into their battles; stands by them in their time of need; interprets their bright hours to a tenfold brightness; and changes the mystery of their pain from an unfathomable darkness to an unfathomable light. behind the battle of the creeds lies the battle of life--a much more serious affair. wherever the seriousness of the greater battle is deeply felt the acrimony of the lesser is mitigated. the two battles are not unconnected, but let us take them in their right order. churches and sects which begin by fighting for their creeds are apt to end by fighting for their own importance--which is contrary to the spirit of the christian religion and to the express command of christ. are there not some among us who think that the way to establish their own creed is to destroy the creeds of their neighbours? but is that so? does the flourishing of my form of christianity depend on the languishing of yours? i say it does not! the more your form prospers the better for mine. christianity is big enough to find room for both of us. the more devout you are in holding and practising what you believe the more you help me in being faithful to what i profess. there is only one way in which the truth or falsity of any creed can be demonstrated--that is, by trying whether we can live up to it and observing what happens. what is needed, therefore, first of all, is not that we should destroy our neighbour's creed, but that we should help him to live up to it by living up to our own. i know of no other way in which the union of christendom can be brought about. [ ] for doubts on this point see the last chapter of _our social heritage_, by professor graham wallas. [ ] i refer to the fact that for the last twenty years i have been editor of the _hibbert journal_. the end books by principal l. p. jacks the legends of smokeover "a brilliant book.... 'the legends of smokeover' contains the most daring of all dr. jacks' inventions.... the book is a masterpiece of essentially english good humour, magnanimity, and keen thinking."--horace thorogood in the _star_. "an unusually striking book.... those who enjoy clever and allusive writing will find every page of the volume an intellectual delight."--_scotsman_. "this remarkable and original book."--_pall mall gazette_. hodder & stoughton ltd., london the lost radiance of the christian religion /- net the lindsey press probabilities; an aid to faith. by martin farquhar tupper, a.m., f.r.s. the author of "proverbial philosophy." "almost thou persuadest me to be a christian." hartford: published by silas andrus & son. . probabilities. an aid to faith. the certainty of those things which most surely are believed among us, is a matter quite distinct from their antecedent probability or improbability. we know, and take for facts, that cromwell and napoleon existed, and are persuaded that their characters and lives were such as history reports them: but it is another thing, and one eminently calculated to disturb any disbeliever of such history, if a man were enabled to show, that, from the condition of social anarchy, there was an antecedent likelihood for the use of military despots; that, from the condition of a popular puritanism, or a popular infidelity, it was previously to have been expected that such leaders should have the several characteristics of a bigoted zeal for religion, or a craving appetite for worldly glory; that, from the condition liable to revolutions, it was probable to find such despots arising out of the middle class; and that, from the condition of reaction incidental to all human violences, there was a clear expectability that the power of such military monarchs should not be continued to their natural heirs. such a line of argument, although in no measure required for the corroboration of facts, might have considerable power to persuade _à priori_ the man, who had not hitherto seen reason to credit such facts from posterior evidence. it would have rolled away a great stone, which to such a mind might otherwise have stood as a stumbling-block on the very threshold of truth. it would have cleared off a heavy mist, which might prevent him from discerning the real nature of the scene in which he stood. it would have shown him that, what others know to be fact, is, even to him who does not know it, become antecedently probable; and that reason is not only no enemy to faith, but is ready and willing to acknowledge its alliance. take a second illustration, by way of preliminary. a woodman, cleaving an oak, finds an iron ball in its centre; he sees the fact, and of course believes; some others believing on his testimony. but a certain village-pundit, habitually sceptical of all marvels, is persuaded that the wonder has been fabricated by our honest woodman; until the parson, a good historian, coming round that way, proclaims it a most interesting circumstance, because it was one naturally to have been expected; for that, here was the spot where, two hundred years ago, a great battle had been fought: and it was no improbability at all that a carbine-bullet should have penetrated a sapling, nor that the tree should thereafter have grown old with the iron at its heart. how unreasonable then would appear the pundit's incredulity, if persisted in: how suddenly enlightened the rational faith of the rustic: how seasonable would be felt the useful learning of him, whose knowledge well applied can thus unfetter truth from the bandages of ignorance. illustrations, if apt, are so well adapted to persuade towards a particular line of argument, that, at the risk of diffuseness, and because minds being various are variously touched, one by one thought and one by another, i think fit to add yet more of a similar tendency: in the hope that, by a natural induction, such instances may smoothe our way. when an eminent living geologist was prosecuting his researches at kirkdale cave, yorkshire, he had calculated so nicely on the antecedent probabilities, that his commands to the labourers were substantially these: "take your mattocks, and pick up that stone flooring; then take your basket, and fill it--with the bones of hyænas and other creatures which you will find there." we may fancy the ridicule wherewith ignorance might have greeted science: but lo, the triumph of philosophy, when its mandate soon assumed a bodily shape in--bushels of bones gnawed as by wild beasts, and here and there a grinning skull that looked like a hyæna's! do we not see how this bears on our coming argument? such a deposit was very unlikely to be found there in the eyes of the unenlightened: but very likely to the wise man's ken. the real probabilities were in favour of a strange fact, though the seeming probabilities were against it. take another. we are all now convinced of the existence of america; and so, some three or four hundred years back, was christopher columbus--but nobody else. alone, he proved that mighty continent so probable, from geometrical measurements, and the balance of the world, and tides, and trade-winds, and casual floatsams driven from some land beneath the setting sun, that he was antecedently convinced of the fact: and it would have been a shock to his reason, as well as to his faith, had he found himself able to sail due west from lisbon to china, without having struck against his huge probability. i purposely abstain from applying every illustration, or showing its specific difference regarding our theme. it is better to lead a mind to think for itself than to endeavour to forestall every notion. another. a kissoor merchant in timbuctoo is told of the existence of water hard and cold as marble. all the experience of his nation is against it. he disbelieves. however, after no long time, the testimony of two native princes who have been _fêted_ in england, and have seen ice, shakes his once not unreasonable incredulity: and the additional idea brought soon to his remembrance, that, as lead cools down from hot fluidity to a solid lump, so, in the absence of solar heat, in all probability would water--corroborates and makes acceptable by analogous likelihood the doctrine simultaneously evidenced by credible witnesses. yet one more illustration for the last. few things in nature appear more unlikely to the illiterate, than that a living toad should be found prisoned in a block of limestone; nevertheless, evidence goes to prove that such cases are not uncommon. now, if, instead of limestone, which is a water-product, the creature had been found embedded in granite, which is a fire-product; although the fact might have been from eye-sight equally unimpeachable, how much more unlikely such a circumstance would have appeared in the judgment of science. to the rustic, the limestone case is as stout a puzzle as the granite one; but _à priori_, the philosopher--taking into account the aqueous fluidity of such a matrix at a period when reptiles were abundant, the torpid qualities of the toad itself, and the fact that time is scarcely an element in the absence of air--arrives at an antecedent probability, which comforts his acceptance of the fact. the granite would have staggered his reason, even though his own experience or the testimony of others were sufficient, nay, imperative, to assure his faith: but in the case of limestone, reason even helps faith; nay, anticipates and leads it in, by suggesting the wonder to be previously probable. how truly, and how strongly this bears upon our theme, let any such philosophizing mind consider. but enough of illustrations: although these, multipliable to any amount, might bring, each in its own case, some specific tendency to throw light upon the path we mean to tread: it is wiser perhaps, as implying more confidence in the reader's intellectual powers, to leave other analogous cases to the suggestion of his own mind; also, not to vex him in every instance with the intrusive finger of an obvious application. meanwhile, it is a just opportunity to clear the way at once of some obstructions, by disposing of a few matters personal to the writer; and by touching upon sundry other preliminary considerations. . the line of thought proposed is intended to show it probable that any thing which has been or is, might, viewed antecedently to its existence, by an exercise of pure reason, have by possibility been guessed: and on the hypothesis of sufficient keenness and experience, that this idea may be carried even to the future. any thing, meaning every thing, is a word not used unadvisedly; for this is merely a suggestive treatise, starting a rule capable of infinite application: and, notwithstanding that we have here and now confined its elucidation to some matters of religious moment only, as occupying a priority of importance, and at all times deserving the lead; still, if knowledge availed, and time and space permitted, i scarcely doubt that a vigorous and illuminated intellect might so far enlarge on the idea, as to show the antecedent probability of every event which has happened in the kingdoms of nature, providence, and grace: nay, of directing his guess at coming matters with no uncertain aim into the realms of the immediate future. the perception of cause in operation enables him to calculate the consequence, even perhaps better than the prophecy of cause could in the prior case enable him to suspect the consequence. but, in this brief life, and under its disturbing circumstances, there is little likelihood of accomplishing in practice all that the swift mind sees it easy to dream in theory: and if other and wiser pens are at all helped in the good aim to justify the ways of god with man, and to clear the course of truth, by some of the notions broadcast in this treatise, its errand will be well fulfilled. . whether or not the leading idea, so propounded, is new, or is new in its application as an auxiliary to christian evidences, the writer is unaware: to his own mind it has occurred quite spontaneously and on a sudden; neither has he scrupled to place it before others with whatever ill advantage of celerity, because it seemed to his own musings to shed a flood of light upon deep truths, which may not prove unwelcome nor unuseful to the doubting minds of many. it is true that in this, as in most other human efforts, the realization of idea in concrete falls far short of its abstract conception in the mind: there, all was clear, quick, and easy; here, the necessity of words, and the constraints of an unwilling perseverance, clog alike the wings of fancy and the feet of sober argument: insomuch that the difference is felt to be quite humiliating between the thoughts as they were thought, and the thoughts as they are written. minerva, springing from the head of jove, is not more unlike the heavily-treading vulcan. . necessarily, that the argument be (so to speak) complete, and on the wise principle that no fortresses be left untaken in the rear, it must be the writer's fate to attempt a demonstration of the anterior probability of truths, which a child of reason can not only now never doubt as fact, but never could have thought improbable. instance the first effort, showing it to have been expectable that there should, in any conceived beginning, have existed a something, a great spirit, whom we call god. to have to argue of the mighty maker, that he was an antecedent probability, would appear a most needless attempt; if it did not occur as the first link in a chain of arguments less open to objection by the thoughtless. with our little light to try to prove _à priori_ the dazzling mystery of a divine tri-unity, might (unreasonably viewed) be assailed as a presumptuous and harmful thing; but it is our wise prerogative, if and when we can, to "prove all things." moreover, we live in a world wherein truth's greatest enemy is the man who shrinks from endeavouring at least to clear away the mists and clouds that veil her precious aspect; and at a time when it behooves the reverent christian to put on his panoply of faith and prayer, and meet in argument, according to the grace and power given to him--not indeed the blaspheming infidel, for such a foe is unreasonable and unworthy of an answer, but--the often candid, anxious, and involuntary doubter; the mind, which, righteously vexed with the thousand corruptions of truth, and sorely disappointed at the conduct of its herd of false disciples, from a generous misconception is embracing error: the mind, never enough tenderly treated, but commonly taunted as a sceptic which yet with a natural manliness asserts the just prerogative of thinking for itself: fairly enough requiring, though rarely finding, evidence either to prop the weakness of a merely educational faith, or to argue away the objections to christianity so rife in the clashing doctrines and unholy lives of its pseudo-sectaries. one of our poets hath said, "he has no hope who never had a fear:" it is quite as true (and take this saying for thy comfort, any harassed misbelieving mind), he has no faith, who never had a doubt. there is hope of a mind which doubts, because it thinks; because it troubles itself to think about what the mass of nominal christians live threescore years and die of very mammonism, without having had one earnest thought about one difficulty, or one misgiving: there is hope of a man, who, not licentious nor scornful, from simple misconception, misbelieves; there is just and reasonable hope that (the misconception once removed) his faith will shine forth all the warmer for a temporary state of winter. to such do i address myself: not presumptuously imagining that i can satisfy by my poor thoughts all the doubts, cavils and objections of minds so keen and curious; not affecting to sail well among the shoals of metaphysics, nor to plumb unerringly the deeper gulphs of reason; but asking them for awhile to bear with me and hear me to the end patiently; with me, convinced of what ([greek: kat' exochên]) is truth, by far surer and stronger arguments than any of the less considerations here expounded as auxiliary thereto; to bear with me, and prove for themselves at this penning of my thoughts (if haply i am helped in such high enterprise), whether indeed those doctrines and histories which the christian world admit, were antecedently improbable, that is, unreasonable: whether, on the contrary, there did not exist, prior to any manifestation of such facts and doctrines, an exceeding likelihood that they would be so and so developed: and whether on the whole, led by reason to the threshold of faith, it may be worth while to encounter other arguments, which have rendered probabilities now certain. . it is very material to keep in memory the only scope and object of this essay. we do not pretend to add one jot of evidence, but only to prepare the mind to receive evidence: we do not attempt to prove facts, but only to accelerate their admission by the removal of prejudice. if a bed-ridden meteorologist is told that it rains, he may or he may not receive the fact from the force of testimony; but he will certainly be more prëdisposed to receive it, if he finds that his weatherglass is falling rather than rising. the fact remains the same, it rains; but the mind--precluded by circumstances from positive personal assurance of such fact, and able only to arrive at truth from exterior evidence--is in a fitter state for belief of the fact from being already made aware that it was probable. let it not then be inferred, somewhat perversely, that because antecedent probabilities are the staple of our present argument, the theme itself, religion, rests upon hypotheses so slender: it rests not at all upon such straws as probabilities, but on posterior evidence far more firm. what we now attempt is not to prop the ark, but favourably to prëdispose the mind of any reckless uzzah, who might otherwise assail it; not to strengthen the weak places of religion, but to annul such disinclination to receive truth, as consists in prejudice and misconception of its likelihood. the goodly ship is built upon the stocks, the platforms are reared, and the cradle is ready; but mistaken prëconceptions may scatter the incline with gravel-stones rather than with grease, and thus put a needless hindrance to the launching: whereas a clear idea that the probabilities are in favour, rather than the reverse, will make all smooth, lubricate, and easy. if, then, we fail in this attempt, no disservice whatever is done to truth itself; no breach is made in the walls, no mine sprung, no battlement dismantled; all the evidences remain as they were; we have taken nothing away. even granting matters seemed anteriorily improbable, still, if evidence proved them true, such anterior unlikelihood would entirely be merged in the stoutly proven facts. moreover, if we be adjudged to have succeeded, we have added nothing to truth itself; no, nor to its outworks. that sacred temple stands complete, firm and glorious from corner-stone to top-stone. we do but sweep away the rubbish at its base; the drifting desert sands that choke its portals. we only serve that cause (a most high privilege), by enlisting a prëjudgment in its favour. we propose herein an auxiliary to evidence, not evidence itself; a finger-post to point the way to faith; a little light of reason on its path. the risk is really nothing; but the advantage, under favour, may be much. . it is impossible to elude the discussion of topics, which in their direct tendencies, or remoter inferences, may, to the author at least, prove dangerous or disputable ground. if a "great door and effectual" is opened to him, doubtless he will raise or meet with many adversaries. besides mere haters of his creed, despisers of his arguments, and protestors, loud and fierce against his errors; he may possibly fall foul of divers unintended heresies; he may stumble unwittingly on the relics of exploded schisms; he may exhume controversies in metaphysical or scholastical polemics, long and worthily extinct. if this be so, he can only plead, _mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa_. but it is open to him also to protest against the common critical folly of making an offender for a word: of driving analogies on all four feet, and straining thoughts beyond their due proportions. above all, never let a reader stir one inch beyond, far less against, his own judgment: if there seem to be sufficient reasons, well: if otherwise, let me walk uncompanied. the first step especially is felt to be a very difficult one; perhaps very debatable: for aught i know, it may be merely a vain insect caught in the cobweb of metaphysics, soon to be destroyed, and easily to be discussed at leisure by some aranean logician. however, it seemed to my midnight musings a probable mode of arriving at truth, though somewhat unsatisfactorily told from poverty of thought and language. moreover, it would have been, in such _à priori_ argument, ridiculous to have commenced by announcing a posterior conclusion: for this cause did i do my humble best to work it out anew: and however supererogatory it may seem at first sight to the majority of readers, those keener minds whom i mainly address, and whose interests i wish to serve, will recognise the attempt as at least consistent: and will be ready to admit that if the arduous effort prove anteriorly a first great cause, and his attributes, be futile (which, however, i do not admit), it was an attempt unneeded on the score of its own merits; albeit, with an obvious somewhat of justice, pure reason may desire to begin at the beginning. no one, who thinks at all upon religion, however misbelieving, can entertain any mental prejudice against the existence of a deity, or against the received character of his attributes. such a man would be merely in a savage state, irrational: whilst his own mind, so speculating, would stand itself proof positive of an intellectual father; either immediately, as in the first man's case, or mediately, as in our own, it must have sprung out of that being, who is emphatically the good one--god. but if, as is possible, a mind, capable of thinking, and keen to think on other themes, from any cause, educational or moral, has neglected this great track of mediation, has "forgotten god," and "had him _not_ in all his thoughts," such an one i invite to walk with me; and, in spite of all incompleteness and insufficiency, uncaptious of much that may haply be fanciful or false, briefly and in outline to test with me sundry probabilities of the christian scheme, considered antecedently to its elucidation. a god: and his attributes. i will commence with a noble, and, as i believe, an inspired sentence: than which no truth uttered by philosophers ever was more clearly or more sublimely expressed. "in the beginning was the word: and the word was with god; and the word was god." in its due course, we will consider especially the difference between the word and god; likewise the seeming contradiction, but true concord, of being simultaneously god, and with god. at present, and previously to the true commencement of our _à priori_ thoughts, let us, by a word or two, paraphrase that brief but comprehensive sentence, "in the beginning was the word." eternity has no beginning, as it has no end: the clock of time is futile there: it might as well attempt to go in vacuo. nevertheless, in respect to finite intelligences like ourselves, seeing that eternity is an idea totally inconceivable, it is wise, nay it is only possible, to be presented to the mind piecemeal. even our deepest mathematicians do not scruple to speak of points "infinitely remote;" as if in that phrase there existed no contradiction of terms. so, also, we pretend in our emptiness to talk of eternity past, time present, and eternity to come; the fact being that, muse as a man may, he can entertain no idea of an existence which is not measurable by time: any more than he can conceive of a colour unconnected with the rainbow, or of a musical note beyond the seven sounds. the plain intention of the words is this: place the starting-post of human thought as far back into eternity as you will, be it what man counts a thousand ages, or ten thousand times ten thousand, or be these myriads multiplied again by millions, still, in any such beginning, and in the beginning of all beginnings (for so must creatures talk)--then was god. he was: the scholar knows full well the force of the original term, the philological distinctions between [greek: eimi] and [greek: gignomai]: well pleased, he reads as of the divinity [greek: ên], he self-existed; and equally well pleased he reads of the humanity [greek: egennêthê], he was born. the thought and phrase [greek: ên] sympathizes, if it has not an identity, with the hebrew's unutterable name. he then, whose title, amongst all others likewise denoting excellence supreme and glory underivative, is essentially "i am;" he who, relatively to us as to all creation else, has a new name wisely chosen in "the word,"--the great expression of the idea of god; this mighty intelligence is found in any such beginning self-existent. that teaching is a mere fact, known posteriorly from the proof of all things created, as well as by many wonderful signs, and the clear voice of revelation. we do not attempt to prove it; that were easy and obvious: but our more difficult endeavour at present is to show how antecedently probable it was that god should be: and that so being, he should be invested with the reasonable attributes, wherewithal we know his glorious nature to be clothed. take then our beginning where we will, there must have existed in that "originally" either something, or nothing. it is a clear matter to prove, _à posteriori_, that something did exist; because something exists now: every matter and every derived spirit must have had a father; _ex nihilo nihil fit_, is not more a truth, than that creation must have had a creator. however, leaving this plain path (which i only point at by the way for obvious mental uses), let us now try to get at the great antecedent probability that in the beginning something should have been, rather than nothing. the term, nothing, is a fallacious one: it does not denote an existence, as something does, but the end of an existence. it is in fact a negation, which must prësuppose a matter once in being and possible to be denied; it is an abstraction, which cannot happen unless there be somewhat to be taken away; the idea of vacuity must be posterior to that of fullness; the idea of no tree is incompetent to be conceived without the previous idea of _a_ tree; the idea of nonentity suggests, _ex vi termini_, a pre-existent entity; the idea of nothing, of necessity, prësupposes something. and a something once having been, it would still and for ever continue to be, unless sufficient cause be found for its removal; that cause itself, you will observe, being a something. the chances are forcibly in favour of continuance, that is of perpetuity; and the likelihoods proclaim loudly that there should be an existence. it was thus, then, antecedently more probable, than in any imaginable beginning from which reason can start, something should be found existent, rather than nothing. this is the first probability. next; of what nature and extent is this something, this being, likely to be?--there will be either one such being, or many: if many, the many either sprang from the one, or the mass are all self-existent; in the former case, there would be a creation and a god: in the latter, there would be many gods. is the latter antecedently more probable?--let us see. first, it is evident that if many are probable, few are more probable, and one most probable of all. the more possible gods you take away, the more do impediments diminish; until, that is to say, you arrive at that one being, whom we have already proved probable. moreover, many must be absolutely united as one; in which case the many is a gratuitous difficulty, because they may as well be regarded for all purposes of worship or argument as one god: or the many must have been in essence more or less disunited; in which case, as a state of any thing short of pure concord carries in itself the seeds of dissolution, needs must that one or other of the many (long before any possible beginnings, as we count beginnings, looking down the past vista of eternity), would have taken opportunity by such disturbing causes to become absolute monarch: whether by peaceful persuasion, or hostile compulsion, or other mode of absorbing disunions, would be indifferent; if they were not all improbable, as unworthy of the god. perpetuity of discord is a thing impossible; every thing short of unity tends to decomposition. any how then, given the element of eternity to work in, a one great supreme being was, in the created beginning, an _à priori_ probability. that all other assumptions than that of his true and eternal oneness are as false in themselves as they are derogatory to the rational views of deity, we all now see and believe; but the direct proofs of this are more strictly matters of revelation than of reason: albeit reason too can discern their probabilities. wise heathens, such as socrates and cicero, who had not our light, arrived nevertheless at some of this perception; and thus, through conscience and intelligence, became a law unto themselves: because that, to them, as now to any one of us who may not yet have seen the light, the anterior likelihood existed for only one god, rather than more; a likelihood which prepares the mind to take as a fundamental truth, "the lord our god is one jehovah." next; self-existence combined with unity must include the probable attribute, or character, ubiquity; as i now proceed to show. on the same principle as that by which we have seen something to be likelier than nothing, we conclude that the same something is more probable to be every where, than the same nothing (if the phrase were not absurd), to be any where: we may, so to speak, divide infinity into spaces, and prove the position in each instance: moreover, as that something is essentially--not a unit as of many, but--unity involving all, it follows as most probable that this whole being should be ubiquitous; in other parlance, that the one god should be every where at once: also, there being no limit to what we call space, nor any imaginable hostile power to place a constraint upon the one great being, this whole being must be ubiquitous to a degree strictly infinite: "he is in every place, beholding the evil and the good." such a consideration (and it is a perfectly true one) renders necessary the next point, to wit, that god is a spirit. no possible substance can be every where at once: essence may, but not substance. corporeity in any shape must be local; local is finite; and we have just proved the anterior probability of a one great existence being (notwithstanding unity of essence) infinite. illocal and infinite are convertible terms: spirit is illocal; and, as god is infinite--that is, illocal--it is clear that "god is a spirit." we have thus (not attempting to build up faith by such slight tools, but only using them to cut away prejudice) arrived at the high probability of a god invested with his natural qualities or attributes; self-existence, unity, the faculty of being every where at once and that every where infinitude; and essentially of a spiritual nature, not material. his moral, or accidental attributes (so to speak), were, antecedently to their expression, equally easy of being proved probable. first, with respect to power: given no disturbing cause--(we shall soon consider the question of permitted evil, and its origin; but this, however disturbing to creatures, will be found not only none to god, but, as it were, only a ray of his glory suffered to be broken for prismatic beauty's sake, a flash of the direction of his energies suffered to be diverted for the superior triumph of good in that day when it shall be shown that "god hath made all things for himself, yea, even the wicked for the time of visitation")--with the _datum_ then of no disturbing cause obstructing or opposing, an infinite being must be able to do all things within the sphere of such infinity: in other phrase, he must be all-powerful. just so, an impetus in vacuity suffers no check, but ever sails along among the fleet of worlds; and the innate impulse of the deity must expand and energize throughout that infinitude, himself. for a like reason of ubiquity, god must know all things: it is impossible to escape from the strong likelihood that any intelligent being must be conversant of what is going on under his very eye. again; in the case both of power and knowledge, alike with the coming attributes of goodness and wisdom--(wisdom considered as morally distinct from mere knowledge or awaredness; it being quite possible to conceive a cold eye seeing all things heedlessly, and a clear mind knowing all things heartlessly)--in the case, i say, of all these accidental attributes, there recurs for argument, one analogous to that by which we showed the anterior probability of a self-existence. things positive must precede things negative. sight must have been, before blindness is possible; and before we can arrive at a just idea of no sight. power must be precursor to an abstraction from power, or weakness. the minor-existence of ignorance is an impossibility, unless you prëallow the major-existence of wisdom; for it amounts to a debasing or a diminution of wisdom. sin is well defined to be, the transgression of law; for without law, there can be no sin. so, also, without wisdom, there can be no ignorance; without power, there can be no weakness; without goodness, there can be no evil. furthermore. an affirmative--such as wisdom, power, goodness--can exist absolutely; it is in the nature of a something: but a negative--such as ignorance, weakness, evil--can only exist relatively; and it would, indeed, be a nothing, were it not for the previous and now simultaneous existence of its wiser, stronger, and better origin. abstract evil is as demonstrably an impossibility as abstract ignorance, or abstract weakness. if evil could have self-existed, it would in the moment of its eternal birth have demolished itself. virtue's intrinsic concord tends to perpetual being: vice's innate discord struggles always with a force towards dissolution. goodness, wisdom, power have existences, and have had existences from all eternity, though gulphed within the godhead; and that, whether evidenced in act or not: but their corruptions have had no such original existence, but are only the same entities perverted. love would be love still, though there were no existent object for its exercise: beauty would be beauty still, though there were no created thing to illustrate its fairness: power would be power still, though there be no foe to combat, no difficulty to be overcome. hatred, ill-favour, weakness, are only perversions or diminutions of these. power exists independently of muscles or swords or screws or levers; love, independently of kind thoughts, words, and actions; beauty, independently of colours, shapes, and adaptations. just so is wisdom philosophically spoken of by a truly royal and noble author: "i, wisdom, dwell with prudence, and find out the knowledge of clever inventions. counsel is mine, and sound wisdom; i am understanding; i have strength. the lord possessed me in the beginning of his way, before his works of old. i was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was. when there were no depths, i was brought forth; before the mountains were fixed, or the hills were made. when he prepared the heavens, i was there; when he set a compass upon the face of the depth; when he established the clouds above; when he strengthened the foundations of the deep: then was i by him, as one brought up with him: and i was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him; rejoicing in the habitable parts of his earth; and my delights were with the sons of men." king solomon well knew of whom he wrote thus nobly. eternal wisdom, power, and goodness, all prospectively thus yearning upon man, and incorporate in one, whose name, among his many names, is wisdom. wisdom, as a quality, existed with god; and, constituting full pervasion of his essence, was god. but to return, and bind to a conclusion our ravelled thoughts. as, originally, the self-existent being, unbounded, all-knowing, might take up, so to speak, if he willed, these eternal affirmative excellences of wisdom, power, and goodness; and as these, to every rational apprehension, are highly worthy of his choice, whereas their derivative and inferior corruptions would have been most derogatory to any reasonable estimate of his character; how much more likely was it that he should prefer the higher rather than the lower, should take the affirmative before the negative, should "choose the good, and refuse the evil,"--than endure to be endowed with such garbled, demoralizing, finite attributes as those wherewith the heathen painted the pantheon. what high antecedent probability was there, that if a god should be (and this we have proved highly probable too)--he should be one, ubiquitous, self-existent, spiritual: that he should be all-mighty, all-wise, and all-good? the triunity. another deep and inscrutable topic is now to engage our thoughts--the mystery of a probable triunity. while we touch on such high themes, the christian's presumption ever is, that he himself approaches them with reverence and prayer; and that, in the case of an unbeliever, any such mind will be courteous enough to his friendly opponent, and wise enough respecting his own interest and safety lest these things be true, to enter upon all such subjects with the seriousness befitting their importance, and with the restraining thought that in fact they may be sacred. let us then consider, antecedently to all experience, with what sort of deity pure reason would have been satisfied. it has already arrived at unity, and the foregoing attributes. but what kind of unity is probable? unity of person, or unity of essence? a sterile solitariness, easily understandable, and presumably incommunicative? or an absolute oneness, which yet relatively involves several mysterious phases of its own expansive love? will you think it a foregone conclusion, if i assert the superior likelihoods of the latter, and not of the former? let us come then to a few of many reasons. first: it was by no means probable to be supposed anteriorly, that the god should be clearly comprehensible: yet he must be one: and oneness is the idea most easily apprehended of all possible ideas. the meanest of intellectual creatures could comprehend his maker, and in so far top his heights, if god, being truly one in one view, were yet only one in every view: if, that is to say, there existed no mystery incidental to his nature: nay, if that mystery did not amount to the difficulty of a seeming contradiction. i judge it likely, and with confidence, that reason would prërequire for his god, a being, at once infinitely easy to be apprehended by the lowest of his spiritual children, and infinitely difficult to be comprehended by the highest of his seraphim. now, there can be guessed only two ways of compassing such a prërequirement: one, a moral way; such as inventing a deity who could be at once just and unjust, every where and no where, good and evil, powerful and weak; this is the heathen phase of numen's character, and is obviously most objectionable in every point of view: the other would be a physical way; such as requiring a god who should be at once material and immaterial, abstraction and concretion; or, for a still more confounding paradox to reason (considered as antagonist to faith, in lieu of being strictly its ally), an arithmetical contradiction, an algebraic mystery, such as would be included in the idea of composite unity; one involving many, and many collapsed into one. some such enigma was probable in reason's guess at the nature of his god. it is the christian way; and one entirely unobjectionable: because it is the only insuperable difficulty as to his nature which does not debase the notion of divinity. but there are also other considerations. for, secondly. the self-existent one is endowed, as we found probable, with abundant loving-kindness, goodness overflowing and perpetual. is it reasonable to conceive that such a character could for a moment be satisfied with absolute solitariness? that infinite benevolence should, in any possible beginning, be discovered existent in a sort of selfish only-oneness? such a supposition is, to the eye of even unenlightened reason, so clearly a _reductio ad absurdum_, that men in all countries and ages have been driven to invent a plurality of gods, for very society sake: and i know not but that they are anteriorly wiser and more rational than the man who believes in a benevolent existence eternally one, and no otherwise than one. let me not be mistaken to imply that there was any likelihood of many cöexistent gods: that was a reasonable improbability, as we have already seen, perhaps a spiritual impossibility: but the anterior likelihood of which i speak goes to show, that in one god there should be more than one cöexistence: each, by arithmetical mystery, but not absurdity, pervading all, cöequals, each being god, and yet not three gods, but one god. that there should be a rational difficulty here--or, rather, an irrational one--i have shown to be reason's prërequirement: and if such a one as i, or any other creature, could now and here (ay, or any when or any where, in the heights of highest heaven, and the far-stretching distance of eternity) solve such intrinsic difficulty, it would demonstrably be one not worthy of its source, the wise design of god: it would prove that riddle read, which uncreate omniscience propounded for the baffling of the creature mind. no. it is far more reasonable, as well as far more reverent, to acquiesce in mystery, as another attribute inseparable from the nature of the godhead; than to quibble about numerical puzzles, and indulge unwisely in objections which it is the happy state of nobler intelligences than man on earth is, to look into with desire, and to exercise withal their keen and lofty minds. but we have not yet done. some further thoughts remain to be thrown out in the third place, as to the prëconceivable fitness or propriety of that holy union, which we call the trinity of persons who constitute the self-existent one. if god, being one in one sense, is yet likely to appear, humanly speaking, more than one in another sense; we have to inquire anteriorly of the probable nature of such other intimate being or beings: as also, whether such addition to essential oneness is likely itself to be more than one or only one. as to the former of these questions: if, according to the presumption of reason (and according also to what we have since learned from revelation; but there may be good policy in not dotting this book with chapter and verse)--if the deity thus loved to multiply himself; then he, to whom there can exist no beginning, must have so loved, so determined, and so done from all eternity. now, any conceivable creation, however originated, must have had a beginning, place it as far back as you will. in any succession of numbers, however infinitely they may stretch, the commencement at least is a fixed point, one. but, this multiplication of deity, this complex simplicity, this intricate easiness, this obvious paradox, this sub-division and con-addition of a one, must have taken place, so soon as ever eternal benevolence found itself alone; that is, in eternity, and not in any imaginable time. so then, the being or beings would probably not have been creative, but of the essence of deity. take also for an additional argument, that it is an idea which detracts from every just estimate of the infinite and all-wise god to suppose he should take creatures into his eternal counsels, or consort, so to speak, familiarly with other than the united sub-divisions, persons, and cöequals of himself. it was reasonable to prëjudge that the everlasting companions of benevolent god, should also be god. and thus, it appears antecedently probable that (what from the poverty of language we must call) the multiplication of the one god should not have been created beings; that is, should have been divine; a term, which includes, as of right, the attribution to each such holy person, of all the wondrous characteristics of the godhead. again: as to the latter question; was it probable that such so-called sub-divisions should be two, or three, or how many? i do not think it will be wise to insist upon any such arithmetical curiosity as a perfect number; nor on such a toy as an equilateral triangle and its properties; nor on the peculiar aptitude for sub-division in every thing, to be discerned in a beginning, a middle, and an end; nor in the consideration that every fact had a cause, is a constancy, and produces a consequence: neither, to draw any inferences from the social maxim that for counsel, companionship, and conversation, the number three has some special fitness. some other similar fancies, not altogether valueless, might be alluded to. it seems preferable, however, on so grand a theme, to attempt a deeper dive, and a higher flight. we would then, reverently as always, albeit equally as always with the free-born boldness of god's intellectual children, attempt to prëjudge how many, and with what distinctive marks, the holy beings into whom (greek: ôst epos eipein) god, for very benevolence sake, pours out essential unity, were likely to be. let us consider what principles, as in the case of a forthcoming creation, would probably be found in action, to influence such creation's author. first of all, there would be will, a will energized by love, disposing to create: a phase of deity aptly and comprehensively typified to all minds by the name of a universal father: this would be the primary impersonation of god. and is it not so? secondly: there would be (with especial reference to that idea of creation which doubtless at most remote beginnings occupied the good one's contemplation), there would be next, i repeat, in remarkable adaptation to all such benevolent views, the great idea of principle, obedience; conforming to a father's righteous laws, acquiescing in his just will, and returning love for love: such a phase could not be better shadowed out to creatures than by an eternal son; the dutiful yet supreme, the subordinate yet cöequal, the amiable yet exalted avatar of our god. this was probable to have been the second impersonation of deity. and is it not so? thirdly: springing from the conjoint ideas of the father and the son, and with similar prospection to such instantly creative universe, there would occur the grand idea of generation; the mighty cöequal, pure, and quickening impulse: aptly announced to men and angels as the holy spirit. this was to have been the third impersonation of divinity. and is it not so? of all these--under illumination of the fore-known fact, i speak, in their aspect of anterior probability. with respect to more possible persons, i at least cannot invent one. there is, to my reflection, neither need nor fitness for a fourth, or any further principle. if another can, let him look well that he be not irrationally demolishing an attribute and setting it up as a principle. obedience is not an attribute; nor generation; nor will: whilst the attribute of love, pervading all, sets these only possible three principles going together as one in a mysterious harmony. i would not be misunderstood; persons are not principles; but principles may be illustrated and incorporative in persons. essential love, working distinctively throughout the three, unites them instinctively as one: even as the attribute wisdom designs, and the attribute power arranges all the scheme of godhead. and now i ask reason, whether, prësupposing keenness, he might not have arrived by calculation of probabilities at the likelihood of these great doctrines: that the nature of god would be an apparent contradiction: that such contradiction should not be moral, but physical; or rather verging towards the metaphysical, as immaterial and more profound: that god, being one, should yet, in his great love, marvellously have been companioned from eternity by himself: and that such holy and united confraternity should be so wisely contrived as to serve for the bright unapproachable exemplar of love, obedience, and generation to all the future universe, such triunity itself existing uncreated. the godhead visible. we have hitherto mused on the divinity, as on spirit invested with attributes: and this idea of his nature was enough for all requirements antecedently to a creation. at whatever beginning we may suppose such creation to have commenced, whether countless ages before our present [greek: kosmos], or only a sufficient time to have prepared the crust of earth; and to whatever extent we may imagine creation to have spread, whether in those remote periods originally to our system alone and at after eras to its accompanying stars and galaxies and firmaments; or at one and the same moment to have poured material existence over space to which our heavens are as nothing: whatever, and whenever, and wherever creation took place, it would appear to be probable that some one person of the deity should, in a sort, become more or less concretely manifested; that is, in a greater or a minor degree to such created minds and senses visible. moreover, for purposes at least of a concentrated worship of such creatures, that he should occasionally, or perhaps habitually, appear local. i mean, that the king of all spiritual potentates and the subordinate excellencies of brighter worlds than ours, the sovereign of those whom we call angels, should will to be better known to and more aptly conceived by such his admiring creatures, in some usual glorious form, and some wonted sacred place. not that any should see god, as purely god; but, as god relatively to them, in the capacity of king, creator, and the object of all reasonable worship. it seems anteriorly probable that one at least of the persons in the godhead should for this purpose assume a visibility; and should hold his court of adoration in some central world, such as now we call indefinitely heaven. that such probability did exist in the human forecast, as concerns a heaven and the form of god, let the testimony of all nations now be admitted to corroborate. every shape from a cloud to a crocodile, and every place from Æther to tartarus, have been peopled by man's not quite irrational device with their so-called gods. but we must not lapse into the after-argument: previous likelihood is our harder theme. neither, in this section, will we attempt the probabilities of the place of heaven: that will be found at a more distant page. we have here to speak of the antecedent credibility that there should be some visible phase of god; and of the shape wherein he would be most likely, as soon as a creation was, to appear to such his creatures. with respect, then, to the former. creatures, being finite, can only comprehend the infinite in his attribute of unity: the other attributes being apprehended (or comprehended partially) in finite phases. but, unity being a purely intellectual thought, one high and dry beyond the moral feelings, involves none of the requisites of a spiritual, that is an affectionate, worship; such worship as it was likely that a beneficent being would, for his creatures' own elevation in happiness, command and inspire towards himself. in order, therefore, to such worship and such inspiration acting through reason, it would appear fitting that the deity should manifest himself especially with reference to that heavenly exemplar, the three divine persons of the one supreme essence already shown to have been probable. and it seems likeliest and discreetest to my thinking, that, with this view, the secondary phase, loving obedience, under the dictate of the primary phase, a loving will, and energized by the tertiary or conjoining phase a loving quickening entity, should assume the visible type of godhead, and thus concentrate unto himself the worship of all worlds. i can conceive no scheme more simply profound, more admirably suited to its complex purposes, than that he, in whom dwelt the fullness of the godhead, bodily, should take the form of god, in order that unto him every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things in regions under the earth. was not all this reasonably to have been looked for? and tested afterwards by scripture, in its frequent allusions to some visible phase of deity, when the lord god walked with adam, and enoch, and abraham, and peter, and james, and john--i ask, is it not the case? the latter point remaining to be thus briefly touched upon, respects the probable shape to be assumed and worn, familiarly enough to be recognised as his, by deity thus vouchsafing himself visible. and here we must look down the forward stream of time, and search among the creatures whom thereafter god should make, to arrive at some good reason for, some antecedent probability of, the form which he should thus frequently inhabit. fire, for example, a pure and spirit-like nature, would not have been a guess unworthy of reason: but this, besides its humbler economic uses, would endanger an idolatry of the natural emblem. so also would light be no irrational thought. and it is true that god might, and probably would, invest himself in one or both of these pure essences, so seemingly congenial to a nature higher than ours: but then there would be some nucleus to the brilliancy and the burning; these would be as a veil to the divinity; we should have need, before he were truly visible, that the veil were laid aside: we should have to shred away to the nucleus, which (and not the fire or light) would be the form of god. similar objections, in themselves or in their idolatrizing tendencies, would lie against any such shape as a cloud, or a rainbow, or an angel (whatever such a being may resemble), or in fact any other conceivable creature, whether good as the angelic case or indifferent as that of the cloud, which the deity, though assuming often, would nevertheless in every instance assume in conjunction with such his ordinary creature, and could not entirely monopolize. i mean; if god had the shape of a cloud, or of a rainbow, common clouds and rainbows would come to be thought gods too. reason would anticipate this objection to such created and too-favoured shapes: more; in every case, but one, he would be quite at a loss to look for some type, clearly apt and probable. that one case he might discern to be this. known unto god are all things from the beginning to the end: and, in his fore-knowledge, reason might have been enlightened to prophesy (as we shall hereafter see) that for certain wise and good ends one great family out of the myriads who rejoice in being called god's children, would in a most marked manner fall away from him through disobedience; and should thereby earn, if not the annihilation of their being, at least its endless separation from the blessed. manifestly, the wisdom and benevolence of god would be eager and swift to devise a plan for the redemption of so lost a race. why he should permit their fall at all will be reverentially descanted on in its proper section; meanwhile, how is it probable that god, first, by any theory consistently with truth and justice, could, and next by power and contrivance actually would, lift up again this sinful family from the pit of condemnation? reason is to search the question well: and after much thought, you will arrive at the truth that there was but one way probable. rebellion against the great and self-existent author of all things, must needfully involve infinite punishment; if only because he is infinite, and his laws of an eternal sanction. the problem then was, how to inflict the unbounded punishment thus claimed by justice for a transgressional condition, and yet at love's demand to set the prisoner free: how to be just, and simultaneously justifier of the guilty. that was a question magnificently solved by god alone: magnificently about to be solved, as according to our argument seemed probable, by god triune, in wondrous self-involving council. the solution would be rationally this. himself, in his character of filial obedience, should pay the utter penalty to himself in his character of paternal authority, whilst himself in the character of quickening spirit, should restore the ransomed family from death to life, from the power of evil unto good. was not this a most probable, a most reasonably probable scheme? was it not altogether wise and philosophical, as well as entirely generous and kind to wretched men? and (returning to our present topic), was it not antecedently to have been expected that god the son (so to put it) should, in the shape he was thereafter to assume upon earth, appear upon the eternal throne of heaven? in a shape, however glorified and etherealized, with glistening countenance and raiment bright as the light, nevertheless resembling that more humble form, the son of man, who was afterwards thus by a circle of probabilities to be made in the form of god; in a shape, not liable, from its very sinfulness, to the deification either of other worlds or of this [hero-worship is another and a lower thing altogether; we speak here of true idolatries:]--was it unlikely, i say, that in such a shape deity should have deigned to become visible, and have blazed manifested god, the central sun of heaven?--this probability, prior to our forth-flowing thoughts on the incarnation, though in some measure anticipating them, will receive further light from the views soon to be set forth. i know not but that something is additionally due to the suggestion following; namely: that, raise our swift imagination to what height we may, and stretch our searching reason to the uttermost, we cannot, despite of all inventive energies and powers of mind, conceive any shape more beautiful, more noble, more worthy for a rational intelligence to dwell in, more in one homeric word [greek: theoeides], than the glorified and etherealized human form divine. let this serve as reason's short reply to any charge of anthropomorphism in the doctrines of his creed: it was probable that god should be revealed to his creation; and as to the form of any such revealed essence in any such infinite beginnings of his work, the most likely of all would appear to be that one, wherein he, in the ages then to come, was well resolved to earn the most glorious of all triumphs, the merciful reconciliation of everlasting justice with everlasting love, the wise and wondrous scheme of god forgiving sinners. the origin of evil. it will now be opportune to attempt elucidation of one of the darkest and deepest riddles ever propounded to the finite understanding; the _à priori_ likelihood of evil: not, mind, its eternal existence, which is a false doctrine; but its probable procession from the earliest created beings, which is a true one. at first sight, nothing could appear more improbable: nothing more inconsistent with the recognised attributes of god, than that error, pain, and sorrow should be mingled in his works. these, the spontaneous offspring of his love, one might (not all wisely) argue, must always be good and happy--because perfect as himself. because perfect?--therein lies the fallacy, which reason will at once lay bare. perfection is attributable to no possible creature: perfection argues infinity, and infinity is one of the prerogatives of god. however good, "very good," a creation may be found, still it must, from essential finitude, fall short of that best, which is in effect the only state purely unexceptionable. for instance, no creature can be imagined of a wisdom undiminished from the single true standard, god's wisdom: in other phrase, every creature must be more or less departed from wisdom, that is, verging towards folly. again; no creature can be presumed of a purity so spotless as to rank in an equality with that of the almighty: in other words, neither man, nor angel, nor any other creature, can exist who is not more or less--i will not say impure, positively, but--unpure negatively. thus, the birth-mark of creation must have been an inclination towards folly, and from purity. the mere idea of creatures would involve, as its great need-be, the qualifying clause that these emanations from perfection be imperfect; and that these children of purity be liable to grow unpure. they must either be thus natured, or exist of the essence of god, that is, be other persons and phases of the deity: such a case was possible certainly; but, as we have already shown, not probable. and it were possible, that, in consequence of some redemption such as we have spoken of, creatures might by ingraftation into god become so entirely part of him--bone of bone, and flesh of flesh, and spirit of spirit--that an exhortation to such blest beings should reasonably run, "be ye perfect." but this infinite munificence of the godhead in redemption was not to be found among his bounties as creator. it might indeed arise afterwards, as setting up again the fallen creature in some safe niche of deity: and we now know it has arisen: "we are complete in him." but this, though relevant, is a digression. returning, and to produce some further argument against all creature perfectness; let us consider how rational it seems to prësuppose that the mighty maker in his boundless love should have willed to form a long chain of classes of existence more and more subordinated each to the other, each good of its kind and happy in its way, but yet all needfully more or less removed from the high standard of uncreate perfection. these descending links, these graduations downwards, must involve a nearer or remoter approach to evil. now, we must bear in mind that evil is not a principle, but a perversion: it amounts merely to a denial, a limitation, a corruption of good, not to the dignity of its abstract antagonism. familiarly, but fallaciously, we talk of the evil principle, the contradictory to good: we might as well talk of the nosologic principle, the contradictory to health; or the darkness principle, the contradictory to light. they are contraries, but not contradictories: they have no positive, but only a relative existence. good and evil are verily foes, but originally there was one cemented friendship: slender beginnings consequent on a creation, began to cause the breach: the civil war arose out of a state of primitive peace: images betray us into errors, or i might add with a protest against the risk of being misinterpreted, that like brothers turned to a deadly hate, they nevertheless sprang not originally out of two hostile and opposite hemispheres, but from one paternal hearth. not, however, in any sense that god is the author of evil; but that god's workmanship, the finite creature, needfully perverted good. the origin of evil--that is, its birth--is a term true and clear: original evil--that is, giving it no birth but an antedate to all created things, suffering it to run parallel with god and good from all eternity--this is a term false and misty. the probability that good would be warped, and grow deteriorate; that wisdom would be dwindled down into less and less wisdom, or foolishness; and power degenerated more and more towards imbecility; must arise, directly a creature should spring out of the creator; and that, let astronomy or geology name any date they will: adam is a definite date; perhaps also the first day's--or period's--work: but the beginning of creation is undated. it would then, under this impression of the necessary defalcation of the creature from the strict straight line, be rational to look for deviations: it would be rational to prësuppose that god--just, and good, and pure, and wise--should righteously be able to "charge his angels with folly," should verily declare that "the heavens are not pure in his sight." further; it would be a possible chance (which considerations soon succeeding would render even probable) that for a wise humiliation of the reasoning creature, and a just exaltation of the only source of life and light and all things, one or more of such first created beings, or angels, should be suffered to fall, possibly from the vastest height, and at first by the slenderest beginnings, lower and lower into folly, impurity, and all other derelictions from the excellence of god. the lines, once unparalleled, would, without a check, go further apart for all eternity; albeit, the primal deviation arose in time. the aerolite, dropping slowly at first, increases in swiftness as it multiplies the fathoms of descent: and if the abyss be really bottomless, how impossible a check or a return. some such terrible example would amount to a reasonable likelihood, if only for a lesson and a warning: to all intelligent hierarchs, be not high-minded, but fear; to all responsible beings, keep righteousness and reverence, and tempt not god; to all the virtues, dominations, obediences, and due subordinations of unknown glorious worlds, a loud and living exhortation to exercise, and not to let grow dim their spiritual energies, in efforts after goodness, wisdom, and purity. a creature state, to be happy, must be a progressive state: the capability of progression argues lack, or a tendency from good: and progression itself needs a spur, lest indolence relapse towards evil. additionally: we must remember that a creature's excellence before god is the reasonable service which he freely renders: freedom, dangerous prerogative, involves choice: and choice necessitates the possibility of error. the command to a rational intelligence would be, do this, and live; do it not, and die: if thou doest, it is well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast mounted by thine own heaven-blest exertions to a higher approach towards infinite perfection; enter thou into the joy, not merely of a creature, but of thy lord. but, if thou doest not, it is wo to thee, unworthy hireling; thou hast broken the tie that bound thee to thy maker--obedience, the root of happiness; thou livest on indeed, because the former of all things cancelleth not nor endeth his beginning; but henceforth thine existence is, as a river which earthquakes have divorced from its bed, and instead of flowing on for ever through the fair pastures of peace and among the mountain roots of everlasting righteousness, thy downward course is shattery, headlong, turbulent, and destructive; black-throated whirlpools here, miasmatic marshes there, a cataract, a shoal, a rapid; until the remorseless stream, lashing among rocks which its own riot rendered sterile, pours its unresting waters into the thirsty sands of the sahara. it was indeed probable (as since we know it to be true) that the generous giver of all things would in the vast majority of cases minister such secret help to his weaker spiritual children, that, far from failing of continuous obedience, they should find it so unceasingly easier and happier that their very natures would soon come to be imbued with that pervading habit: and that thus, the longer any creature stood upright, the stronger should he rest in righteousness; until, at no very distant period, it should become morally impossible for him to fall. such would soon be the condition of myriads, perhaps almost the whole, of heaven's innumerable host: and with respect to any darker unit in that multitude, for the good of all permitted to make early shipwreck of himself, simply by leaving his intelligence to plume its wings into presumptuous flight, and by allowing his pristine goodness or wisdom to grow rusty from non-usage until that sacred panoply were eaten into holes; with respect to any such unhappy one, and all others (if others be) who should listen to his glozing, and make a common cause in his rebellion, where, i ask, is any injustice, or even unkindness done to him by deity? where is any moral improbability that such a traitor should be; or any just inconsistency chargeable on the attributes of god in consequence of such his being? whom can he in reason accuse but himself for what he is? and what misery can such a one complain of, which is not the work of his own hands? and lest the great offender should urge against his god, why didst thou make me thus?--is not the answer obvious, i made thee, but not thus. and on the rejoinder, why didst thou not keep me as thou madest me? is not the reply just, i made thee reasonable, i led thee to the starting place, i taught thee and set thee going well in the beginning; thou art intelligent and free, and hast capacities of mine own giving: wherefore didst thou throw aside my grace, and fly in the face of thy creator? on the whole; consider that i speak only of probabilities. there is a depth in this abyss of thought, which no human plummet is long enough to sound; there is a maze in this labyrinth to be tracked by no mortal clue. it involves the truth, how unsearchable are his judgments: thou hidest thy ways in the sea, and thy paths in the deep waters, and thy footsteps are not known. the weak point of man's argument lies in the suggested recollection, that doubtless the deity could, if he would, have upheld all the universe from falling by his gracious power; and that the attribute of love concludes that so he would. however, these three brief considerations further will go some way to solve the difficulty, and to strengthen the weak point; first, there are other attributes besides love to run concurrently with it, as truth, justice, and unchangeableness:--secondly, that grace is not grace, if manifested indiscriminately to all: and thirdly, that to our understanding at least there was no possible method of illustrating the amiabilities of goodness, and the contrivances of wisdom, but by the infused permission of some physical and moral evils: mercy, benevolence, design, would in a universe of best have nothing to do; that universe itself would grow stagnant, as incapable of progress; and the principal record of god's excellences, the book of redemption, would have been unwritten. is not then the existence of evil justified in reason's calculation? and was not such existence an antecedent probability? of these matters, thus curtly: it is time, in a short recapitulation, to reflect, that, from foregoing causes, mysteries were probable around the throne of heaven: and, as i have attempted to show, the mystery of imperfection, a concrete not an abstract, was likely to have sprung out of any creature universe. reason perceives that a gordion knot was likely to have become entangled; in the intricate complexities of abounding good to be mingled needfully with its own deficiencies, corruptions, and perversions: and this having been shown by reason as anteriorly probable, its difficult involvements are now since cut by the sword of conquering faith. cosmogony. these deep themes having been descanted on, however from their nature unsatisfactorily and with whatever human weakness, let us now endeavour mentally to transport ourselves to a period immediately antecedent to our own world's birth. we should then have been made aware that a great event was about to take place; whereat, from its foreseen consequences, the hierarchies of heaven would be prompt to shout for joy, and the holy ones of god to sing for gratitude. it was no common case of a creation; no merely onemore orb, of third-rate unimportance, amongst the million others of higher and more glorious praise: but it was a globe and a race about to be unique in character and fate, and in the far-spread results of their existence. on it and of its family was to be contrived the scene, wherein, to the admiration of the universe, god himself in person was going visibly to make head against corruption in creation, and for ever thus to quench that possibility again: wherein he was marvellously to invent and demonstrate how mercy and truth should meet together, how righteousness and peace should kiss each other. there, was going to be set forth the wonderfully complicated battle-plan, by which, force countervailing force, and design converging all things upon one fixed point, good, concrete in the creature, should overwhelm not without strife and wounds evil concrete in the creature, and all things, "even the wicked," should be seen harmoniously blending in the glory of the attributes of god. the mythologic pan, [greek: to pan] the great universal all, was deeply interested in the struggle: for the seed of the woman was to bruise the serpent's head; not merely as respected the small orb about to be, but concerning heaven itself, the unbounded "haysh hamaim," wherefrom dread lucifer was thus to be ejected. on the earth, a mere planet of humble lustre, which the prouder suns around might well despise, was to be exhibited this noble and analogous result; the triumph of a lower intelligence, such as man, over a higher intelligence, such as angel: because, the former race, however frail, however weak, were to find their nature taken into god, and should have for their grand exemplar, leader and brother, the very lord of all arrayed in human guise; while the latter, the angelic fallen mass, in spite of all their pristine wisdom and excellency, were to set up as their captain him, who may well and philosophically be termed their adversary. this dark being, probably the mightiest of all mere creatures as the embodiment of corrupted good and perversion of an archangelic wisdom, was about to be suffered to fall victim to his own overtopping ambitions, and to drag with him a third part of the heavenly host--some tributary monarchs of the stars: thus he, and those his colleagues, should become a spectacle and a warning to all creatures else; to stand for spirits' reading in letters of fire a deeply burnt-in record how vast a gulf there is between the maker and the made; how impassable a barrier between the derived intelligence and its infinite creator. such an unholy leader in rebellion against good--let us call him _a_ or _b_, or why not for very euphony's sake lucifer and satanas?--such a corrupted excellence of heaven was to meet his final and inevitable disgrace to all eternity on the forthcoming battle-field of earth. would it not be probable then that our world, soon to be fashioned and stocked with its teeming reasonable millions, should concentrate to itself the gaze of the universe, and, from the deeds to be done in it, should arrogate towards man a deep and fixed attention: that "the morning stars should sing together, and all the sons of god should shout for joy." let us too, according to the power given to us, partake of such attention antecedently in some detail: albeit, as always, very little can be tracked of the length and breadth of our theme. what would probably be the nature of such world and of such creatures, in a physical point of view? and what, in a moral point of view? it is not necessary to divide these questions: for the one so bears upon the other, or rather the latter so directs and pervades the former, that we may briefly treat of both as one. the first probability would be, that, as the creature man so to be abased and so to be exalted must be a responsible and reasonable being, every thing--with miraculous exceptions just enough to prove the rule--every thing around him should also be responsible and reasonable. in other words, that, with such exceptions as before alluded to, the whole texture of this world should bear to an inquisitive intellect the stamp of cause and effect: whilst for the mass, such cause and effect should be so little intrusive, that their easier religion might recognise god in all things immediately, rather than mediately. for instance: take the cases of stone, and of coal; the one so needful for man's architecture, the other for his culinary warmth. now, however simple piety might well thank the maker for having so stored earth with these for necessary uses; they ought, to a more learned, though not less pious ken, to seem not to have been created by an effort of the great father _quâ stone_, or _quâ coal_. such a view might satisfy the ordinary mind: but thinkers would see no occasion for a miracle; when christ raises lazarus from the dead, it would have been a philosophical fault to have found the grave-clothes and swathing bandages ready loosened also. unassisted man can do that: and unhelped common causes can generate stone and coal. the deposits of undated floods, the periodical currents of lava, the still and stagnant lake, and the furious up-bursting earthquake; all these would be called into play, and not the unrequired, i had almost said unreasonable, energies, which we call miracle. an agglutination of shells, once peopled with life; a crystallized lump of segregate minerals, once in a molten state; a mass of carbonated foliage and trunks of tropical trees, buried by long changes under the soil, whereover they had once waved greenly luxuriant; these, and no other, should have been man's stone and coal. this instance affects the reasonableness of such material creation. take another, bearing upon its analogous responsibilities. as there was to be warred in this world the contest between good and evil, it would be expectable that the crust of man's earth, anteriorly to man's existence on it, should be marked with some traces that the evil, though newly born so far as might regard man's own disobedience, nevertheless had existed antecedently. in other words: it was probable that there should exist geological evidences of suffering and death: that the gigantic ichthyosaurus should be found fixed in rock with his cruel jaws closed upon his prey: that the fearful iguanodon should leave the tracks of having desolated a whole region of its reptile tribes: that volcanoes should have ravaged fair continents prolific of animal and vegetable life: that, in fine, though man's death came by man's sin, yet that death and sin were none of man's creating: he was only to draw down upon his head a prëexistent wo, an ante-toppling rock. observe then, that these geological phenomena are only illustrations of my meaning: and whether such parables be true or false, the argument remains the same: we never build upon the sand of simile, but only use it here and there for strewing on the floor. still, i will acknowledge that the introduction of such fossil instances appears to me wisely thrown in as affects their antecedent probability, because ignorant comments upon scriptural cosmogony have raised the absurdest objections against the truth of scriptural science. there is not a tittle of known geological fact, which is not absolutely reconcilable with genesis and job. but this is a word by the way: although aimed not without design against one of the poor and paltry weak-holds of the infidel. adam. remembering, then, that these are probabilities, and that the whole treatise purports to be nothing but a sketch, and not a finished picture, we have suggestively thus thrown out that the material world, man's home as man, was likely to have been prepared, as we posteriorly know it to be. now, what of man's own person, circumstances, and individuality? was it likely that the world should be stocked at once with many several races, or with one prolific seed? with a specimen of every variety of the genus man, or with the one generic type capable of forming those varieties?--answer. one is by far the likelier in itself, because one thing must needs be more probable than many things: additionally; wisdom and power are always economical, and where one will suit the purpose, superfluities are rejected. that this one seed, covering with its product a various globe under all imaginable differences of circumstance and climate, should, in the lapse of ages, generate many species of the genus man, was antecedently probable. for example, morality, peace and obedience would exercise transforming powers: their opposites the like in an opposite way. we can well fancy a mild and gentle race, as the hindoo, to spring from the former educationals: and a family with flashing eyes and strongly-visaged natures, as the malay, from a state of hatred, war, and license. we can well conceive that a tropical sun should carbonize some of that tender fabric the skin, adding also swift blood and fierce passions: while an arctic climate would induce a sluggish, stunted race. and, when to these considerations we add that of promiscuous unions, we arrive at the just likelihood that the whole family of man, though springing from one root, should, in the course of generations, be what now we see it. further. how should this prolific original, the first man, be created? and for a name let us call him adam; a justly-chosen name enough, as alluding to his medium colour, ruddiness. should he have been cast upon the ground an infant, utterly helpless, requiring miraculous aid and guidance at every turn? should he be originated in boyhood, that hot and tumultuous time, when the creature is most rash, and least qualified for self-government? or should he be first discerned as an adult, in his prime, equal alike to obedience and rule, to moral control and moral energy? add also here; is it probable there would be any needless interval placed to pröcreations? or rather, should not such original seed be able immediately to fulfil the blank world call upon him, and as the greatly-teeming human father be found fitted from his birth to propagate his kind? the questions answer themselves. again. should this first man have been discovered originally surrounded with all the appliances of an after-civilization, clad, and housed, and rendered artificial? nor rather, in a noble and naturally royal aspect appear on the stage of life as king of the natural creation, sole warder of a garden of fruits, with all his food thus readily concocted, and an eastern climate tempered to his nakedness? now, as to the solitariness of this one seed. from what we have already mused respecting god's benevolence, it would seem probable that the maker might not see it good that man should be alone. the seed, originally one, proved (as was likely) to resemble its great parent, god, and to be partitionable, or reducible into persons; though with reasonable differences as between creature and creator. woman--eve, the living or life-giving--was likely to have sprung out of the composite seed, man, in order to companionship and fit society. moreover, it were expectable that in the pattern creature, composite man, there should be involved some apt, mysterious typification of the same creature, after a fore-known fall restored, as in its perfect state of rëunion with its maker. _a posteriori_, the figurative notion is, that the redeemed family, or mystical spouse, is incorporated in her husband, the redeemer: not so much in the idea of marriage, as (taking election into view) of a cöcreation; as it were rib of rib, and life woven into life, not copulated or conjoined, but immingled in the being. this is a mystery most worthy of deep searching; a mystery deserving philosophic care, not less than the more unilluminate enjoyment of humble and believing christians. i speak concerning christ and his church. the fall. there is a special fitness in the fact, long since known and now to be perceived probable, that if mankind should fail in disobedience, it should rather be through the woman than through the man. because, the man, _quâ man_, and the deputed head of all inferior creatures, was nearer to his creator, than the woman; who, _quâ woman_, proceeded out of man. she was, so to speak, one step further from god, _ab origine_, than man was; therefore, more liable to err and fall away. to my own mind, i confess, it appears that nothing is more anteriorly probable than the plain, scriptural story of adam and eve: so simple that the child delights in it; so deep that the philosopher lingers there with an equal, but more reasonable joy. for, let us now come to the probabilities of a temptation; and a fall; and what temptation; and how ordered. the heavenly intelligences beheld the model-man and model-woman, rational beings, and in all points "very good." the adversary panted for the fray, demanding some test of the obedience of this new, favourite race. and the lord god was willing that the great controversy, which he fore-knew, and for wise purposes allowed, should immediately commence. where was the use of a delay? if you will reply, to give time to strengthen adam's moral powers: i rejoin, he was made with more than enough of strength infused against any temptation not entering by the portal of his will: and against the open door of will neither time nor habits can avail. moreover, the trial was to be exceedingly simple; no difficult abstinence, for man might freely eat of every thing but one; no natural passion tempted; no exertion of intelligence requisite. adam lived in a garden; and his maker, for proof of reasonable obedience, provides the most easy and obvious test of it--do not eat that apple. was it, in reality, an improbable test; an unsuitable one? was it not, rather, the likeliest in itself, and the fittest as addressed to the new-born, rational animal, which imagination could invent, or an amiable fore-knowledge of all things could desire? had it been to climb some arduous height without looking back, or on no account to gaze upon the sun, how much less apt and easy of obedience! thus much for the test. now, as to the temptation and its ordering. a creature, to be tempted fairly, must be tempted by another equal or lower creature; and through the senses. if mere spirit strives with spirit, plus matter, the strife is unequal: the latter is clogged; he has to fight in the net of retiarius. but if both are netted, if both are spirit plus matter, (that is, material creatures,) there is no unfairness. therefore, it would seem reasonable that the adversary in person should descend from his mere spirituality into some tangible and humbled form. this could not well be man's, nor the semblance of man's: for the first pair would well know that they were all mankind: and, if the lord god himself was accustomed to be seen of them as in a glorified humanity, it would be manifestly a moral incongruity to invest the devil in a similar form. it must, then, be the shape of some other creature; as a lion, or a lamb, or--why not a serpent? is there any improbability here? and not rather as apt an avatar of the sinuous and wily rebel, the dangerous, fascinating foe, as poetry at least, nay, as any sterner contrivance could invent? the plain fact is, that reason--given keenness--might have guessed this also antecedently a likelihood. a few words more on other details probable to the temptation. wonderful as it may seem to us with our present experience, in the case of the first woman it would scarcely excite her astonishment to be accosted in human phrase by one of the lower creatures; and in no other way could the tempter reach her mind. much as milton puts it, eve sees a beautiful snake, eating, not improbably, of the forbidden apple. attracted by a natural curiosity, she would draw near, and in a soft sweet voice the serpent, _i.e._ lucifer in his guise, would whisper temptation. it was likely to have been keenly managed. is it possible, o fair and favoured mistress of this beautiful garden, that your maker has debarred you from its very choicest fruit? only see its potencies for good: i, a poor reptile, am instantly thereby endued with knowledge and the privilege of speech. am i dead for the eating?--ye shall not surely die; but shall become as gods yourselves; and this your maker knoweth. the marvellous fruit, invested thus with mystery, and tinctured with the secret charm of a thing unreasonably, nay, harmfully, forbidden, would then be allowed silently to plead its own merits. it was good for food: a young creature's first thought. it was pleasant to the eyes: addressing a higher sense than mere bodily appetite, than mental predilection for form and colour which marks fine breeding among men. it was also to be desired to make one wise; here was the climax, the great moral inducement which an innocent being might well be taken with; irrespectively of the one qualification that this wisdom was to be plucked in spite of god. doubtless, it were probable, that had man not fallen, the knowledge of good would never have been long withheld: but he chose to reap the crop too soon, and reaped it mixed with tares, good, and evil. i need not enlarge, in sermon form, upon the theme. it was probable that the weaker creature, woman, once entrapped, she would have charms enough to snare her husband likewise: and the results thus perceived to have been likely, we have long since known for fact. that a depraved knowledge should immediately occasion some sort of clothing to be instituted by the great moral governor, was likely: and there would be nothing near at hand, in fact nothing else suitable, but the skins of beasts. there is also a high probability that some sort of slaying should take place instantly on the fall, by way of reference to the coming sacrifice for sin; and for a type of some imputed righteousness. god covered man's evil nakedness with the skins of innocent slain animals: even so, blessed is he whose unrighteousness is forgiven, and whose sin is covered. with respect to restoration from any such fall. there seems a remarkable prior probability for it, if we take into account the empty places in heaven, the vacant starry thrones which sin had caused to be untenanted. just as, in after years, israel entered into the cities and the gardens of the canaanite and other seven nations, so it was anteriorly likely, would the ransomed race of men come to be inheritors of the mansions among heavenly places, which had been left unoccupied by the fallen host of lucifer. there was a gap to be filled: and probably there would be some better race to fill it. the flood. themes like those past and others still to come, are so immense, that each might fairly ask a volume for its separate elucidation. a few seeds, pregnant with thought, are all that we have here space, or time, or power to drop beside the world's highway. the grand outlines of our race command our first attention: we cannot stop to think and speak of every less detail. therefore, now would i carry my companion across the patriarchal times at once to the era of the deluge. let us speculate, as hitherto, antecedently, throwing our minds as it were into some angelic prior state. if, as we have seen probable, evil (a concretion always, not an abstraction) made some perceptible ravages even in the unbounded sphere of a heavenly creation, how much more rapid and overwhelming would its avalanche (once ill-commenced) be seen, when the site of its infliction was a poor band of men and women prisoned on a speck of earth. how likely was it that, in the lapse of no long time, the whole world should have been "corrupt before god, and filled with wickedness." how probable, that taking into account the great duration of pristine human life, the wicked family of man should speedily have festered up into an intolerable guiltiness. and was this dread result of the primal curse and disobedience to be regarded as the adversary's triumph? had this accuser--the saxon word is devil--had this slanderer of god's attribute then really beaten good? or was not rather all this swarming sin an awful vindication to the universe of the great need-be that god unceasingly must hold his creature up lest he fall, and that out of him is neither strength nor wisdom? was deity, either in adam's case or this, baffled--nor rather justified? was it an experiment which had really failed; nor rather one which, by its very seeming failure, proved the point in question, the misery of creatures when separate from god? yea, the evil one was being beaten down beneath his very trophies in sad tarpeian triumph: through conquest and his children's sins heightening his own misery. let us now advert to a few of the anterior probabilities affecting this evil earth's catastrophe. it is not competent to us to trench upon such ulterior views as are contained in the idea of types relatively to anti-types. neither will we take the fanciful or poetical aspect of coming calamity, that earth, befouled with guilt, was likely to be washed clean by water. it is better to ask, as more relevant, in what other way more benevolent than drowning could, short of miracle, the race be made extinct? they were all to die in their sins, and swell in another sphere the miserable hosts of satan. there was no hope for them, for there was no repentance. it was infinitely probable that god's long-suffering had worn out every reasonable effort for their restoration. they were then to die; but how?--in the least painful manner possible. intestine wars, fevers, famines, a general burning-up of earth and all its millions, were any of these preferable sorts of death to that caused by the gradual rise of water, with hope of life accorded still even to the last gurgle? assuredly, if "the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel," the judgments of the good one are tempered well with mercy. moreover, in the midst of this universal slaughter there was one good seed to be preserved: and, as heaven never works a miracle where common cause will suit the present purpose, it would have been inconsistent to have extirpated the wicked by any such means as must demonstrate the good to have been saved only by super-human agency. the considerations of humanity, and of the divine less-intervention, add that of the natural and easy agency of a long-commissioned comet. no "_deus e machinâ_" was needed for this effort: one of his ministers of flaming fire was charged to call forth the services of water. this was an easy and majestic interference. ever since man fell--yea, ages before it--the omniscient eye of god had foreseen all things that should happen: and his ubiquity had, possibly from the beginning, sped a comet on its errant way, which at a calculated period was to serve to wash the globe clean of its corruptions: was to strike the orbit of earth just in the moment of its passage, and disturbing by attraction the fountains of the great deep, was temporarily to raise their level. was not this a just, a sublime, and a likely plan? was it not a merciful, a perfect, and a worthy way? who should else have buried the carcases on those fierce battle-fields, or the mouldering heaps of pestilence and famine?--but, when at jehovah's summons, heaving to the comet's mass, the pure and mighty sea rises indignant from its bed, by drowning to cleanse the foul and mighty land--how easy an engulfing of the corpses; how awful that universal burial; how apt their monumental epitaph written in water, "the wicked are like the troubled sea that cannot rest;" how dread the everlasting requiem chanted for the whelmed race by the waves roaring above them: yea, roaring above them still! for in that chaotic hour it seems probable to reason that the land changed place with ocean; thus giving the new family of man a fresh young world to live upon. noah. when the world, about to grow so wicked, was likely thus to have been cleansed, and so renewed, the great experiment of man's possible righteousness was probable to be repeated in another form. we may fancy some high angelic mind to have gone through some such line of thought as this, respecting the battle and combatants. were those champions, lucifer and adam, really fit to be matched together? was the tourney just; were the weapons equal; was it, after all, a fair fight?--on one side, the fallen spirit, mighty still, though fallen, subtlest, most unscrupulous, most malicious, exerting every energy to rear a rebel kingdom against god; on the other, a new-born, inexperienced, innocent, and trustful creature, a poor man vexed with appetites, and as naked for absolute knowledge in his mind as for garments on his body. was it, in this view of the case, an equal contest? were the weapons of that warfare matched and measured fairly? some such objection, we may suppose, might seem to have been admissible, as having a show at least of reason: and, after the world was to have been cleansed of all its creatures in the manner i have mentioned, a new champion is armed for the conflict, totally different in every respect; and to reason's view vastly superior. this time, the adam of renewed earth is to be the best and wisest, nay, the only good and wise one of the whole lost family: a man, with the experience of full six hundred years upon his hoary brow, with the unspeakable advantage of having walked with god all those long-drawn centuries, a patriarch of twenty generations, recognised as the one great and faithful witness, the only worshipper and friend of his creator. could a finer sample be conceived? was not noah the only spark of spiritual "consolation" in the midst of earth's dark death? and was not he the best imaginable champion to stand against the wiles of the devil? verily, reason might have guessed, that if deity saw fit to renew the fight at all, the representative of man should have been noah. before we touch upon the immediate fall of this new adam also, at a time when god and reason had deserted him, it will be more orderly to allude to the circumstances of his preservation in the flood. how, in such a hurlyburly of the elements, should the chosen seed survive? no house, nor hill-top, no ordinary ship would serve the purpose: still less the unreasonable plan of any cavern hermetically sealed, or any aerial chariot miraculously lifted up above the lower firmament. to use plain and simple words, i can fancy no wiser method than a something between a house and a diving-bell; a vessel, entirely storm-tight and water-tight, which nevertheless for necessary air should have an open window at the top: say, one a cubit square. this, properly hooded against deluging rain, and supplied with such helps to ventilation as leathern pipes, air tunnels and similar appliances, would not be an impracticable method. however, instead of being under water as a diving-bell, the vessel would be better made to float upon the rising flood, and thus continually keeping its level, would be ready to strike land as the waters assuaged. now, as to the size of this ark, this floating caravan, it must needs be very large; and also take a great time in building. for, suffering cause and effect to go on without a new creation, it was reasonable to suppose that the man, so launching as for another world on the ocean of existence, would take with him (especially if god's benevolence so ordered it) all the known appliances of civilized life; as well as a pair or two of every creature he could collect, to stock withal the renewed earth according to their various excellences in their kinds. the lengthy, arduous, and expensive preparation of this mighty ark--a vessel which must include forests of timber and consume generations in building; besides the world-be-known collection of all manner of strange animals for the stranger fancy of a fanatical old man; not to mention also the hoary preacher's own century of exortations: with how great moral force all this living warning would be calculated to act upon the world of wickedness and doom! here was the great ante-diluvian potentate, noah, a patriarch of ages, wealthy beyond our calculations--(for how else without a needless succession of miracles could he have built and stocked the ark?)--a man of enormous substance, good report, and exalted station, here was he for a hundred and twenty years engaged among crowds of unbelieving workmen, in constructing a most extravagant ship, which, forsooth, filled with samples of all this world's stores, was to sail with our only good family in search of a better. moreover, noah here declares that our dear old mother-earth is to be destroyed for her iniquities by rain and sea: and he exhorts us by a solid evidence of his own faith at least, if by nothing else, to repent, and turn to him, whom abel, seth, and enoch, as well as this good noah, represent as our maker. would not such sneers and taunts be probable: would they not amply vindicate the coming judgment? was not the "long-suffering of god" likely to have thus been tried "while the ark was preparing?" and when the catastrophe should come, had not that evil generation been duly warned against it? on the whole, it would have been reason's guess that noah should be saved as he was; that the ark should have been as we read of it in genesis; and that the very immensity of its construction should have served for a preaching to mankind. as to any idea that the ark is an unreasonable (some have even said ridiculous) incident to the deluge, it seems to me to have furnished a clear case of antecedent probability. lastly: noah's fall was very likely to have happened: not merely in the theological view of the matter, as an illustration of the truth that no human being can stand fast in righteousness: but from the just consideration that he imported with him the seeds of an impure state of society, the remembered luxuries of that old world. for instance, among the plants of earth which noah would have preserved for future insertion in the soil, he could not have well forgotten the generous, treacherous vine. that to a righteous man, little used to all unhallowed sources of exhilaration, this should have been a stepping-stone to a defalcation from god, was likely. it was probable in itself, and shows the honesty as well as the verisimilitude of scripture to read, that "noah began to be a husbandman, and planted a vineyard; and he drank of the wine, and was drunken." there was nothing here but what, taking all things into consideration, reason might have previously guessed. why then withhold the easier matter of an afterward belief? babel. this book ought to be read, as mentally it is written, with at the end of every sentence one of those _et ceteras_, which the genius of a coke interpreted so keenly of the genius of a littleton: for, far more remains on each subject to be said, than in any one has been attempted. let us pass on to the story of babel: i can conceive nothing more _à priori_ probable than the account we read in scripture. briefly consider the matter. a multitude of men, possibly the then whole human family, once more a fallen race, emigrate towards the east, and come to a vast plain in the region of shinar, afterwards chaldæa. fertile, well-watered, apt for every mundane purpose, it yet wanted one great requisite. the degenerate race "put not their trust in god:" they did not believe but that the world might some day be again destroyed by water: and they required a point of refuge in the possible event of a second deluge from the broken bounds of ocean and the windows of the skies. they had come from the west; more strictly the north-west, a land of mountains, as they deemed them, ready-made refuges: and their scheme, a probable one enough, was to construct some such mountain artificially, so that its top might reach the clouds, as did the summit of ararat. this would serve the twofold purpose of outwitting any further attempt to drown them, and of making for themselves a proud name upon the earth. so, the lord god, in his etherealized human form (having taken counsel with his own divine compeers), coming in the guise wherein he was wont to walk with adam and with enoch and his other saints of men, "came down and saw the tower:" truly, he needed not have come, for ubiquity was his, and omniscience; but in the days when god and man were (so to speak) less chronologically divided than as now, and while yet the trial-family was young, it does not seem unlikely that he should. god then, in his aspect of the head of all mankind, took notice of that dangerous and unholy combination: and he made within his triune mind the wise resolve to break their bond of union. omniscience had herein a view to ulterior consequences benevolent to man, and he knew that it would be a wise thing for the future world, as well as a discriminative check upon the race then living, to confuse the universal language into many discordant dialects. was this in any sense an improbable or improper method of making "the devices of the wicked to be of none effect, and of laughing to scorn the counsels of the mighty?" was it not to have been expected that a fallen race should be disallowed the combinative force necessary to a common language, but that such force should be dissipated and diverted for moral usages into many tongues?--there they were, all the chiefs of men congregated to accomplish a vast, ungodly scheme: and interposing heaven to crush such insane presumption--and withal thereafter designing to bless by arranging through such means the future interchange of commerce and the enterprise of nationalities--he, in his trinity, was not unlikely to have said, "let us go down, and confound their language." what better mode could have been devised to scatter mankind, and so to people the extremities of earth? in order that the various dialects should crystallize apart, each in its discriminative lump, the nucleus of a nation; that thereafter the world might be able no longer to unite as one man against its lord, but by conflicting interests, the product of conflicting languages, might give to good a better chance of not being altogether overwhelmed; that, though many "a multitude might go to do evil," it should not thenceforward be the whole consenting family of man; but that, here by one and there by one, the remembrance of god should be kept extant, and evil no longer acquire an accumulated force, by having all the world one nation. job. every scriptural incident and every scriptural worthy deserves its own particular discussion: and might easily obtain it. for example; the anterior probability that human life in patriarchal times should have been very much prolonged, was obvious; from consideration of-- , the benevolence of god; , the inexperience of man; and , the claim so young a world would hold upon each of its inhabitants: whilst holy writ itself has prepared an answer to the probable objection, that the years were lunar years, or months; by recording that arphaxad and salah and eber and peleg and reu and serug and nahor, descendants of shem, each had children at the average age of two-and-thirty, and yet the lives of all varied in duration from a hundred and fifty years to five hundred. and many similar credibilities might be alluded to: what shall i say of abraham's sacrifice, of moses and the burning bush, of jonah also, and elisha, and of the prophets? for the time would fail me to tell how probable and simple in each instance is its deep and marvellous history. there is food for philosophic thought in every page of ancient jewish scripture scarcely less than in those of primitive christianity: here, after our fashion, we have only touched upon a sample. the opening scene to the book of job has vexed the faith of many very needlessly: to my mind, nothing was more likely to have literally and really happened. it is one of those few places where we get an insight into what is going on elsewhere: it is a lifting off the curtain of eternity for once, revealing the magnificent simplicities constantly presented in the halls of heaven. and i am moved to speak about it here, because i think a plain statement of its sublime probabilities will be acceptable to many: especially if they have been harassed by the doubts of learned men respecting the authorship of that rare history. it signifies nothing who recorded the circumstances and conversations, so long as they were true, and really happened: given power, opportunity, and honesty, a life of dr. johnson would be just as fair in fact, if written by smollett, as by boswell, or himself. whether then job, the wealthy prince of uz, or abraham, or moses, or elisha, or eliphaz, or whoever else, have placed the words on record, there they stand, true; and the whole book in all its points was anteriorly likely to have been decreed a component part of revelation. without it, there would have been wanting some evidence of a godly worship among men through the long and dreary interval of several hundred years: there would never have been given for man's help the example of a fortitude, and patience, and trust in god most brilliant; of a faith in the resurrection and redeemer, signal and definite beyond all other texts in jewish scripture: as well as of a human knowledge of god in his works beyond all modern instance. however, the excellences of that narrative are scarcely our theme: we return to the starting-post of its probability, especially with reference to its supernatural commencement. what we have shown credible, many pages back, respecting good and evil and the denizens of heaven, finds a remarkable after-proof in the two first chapters of job; and for some such reason, by reference, these two chapters were themselves anteriorly to have been expected. let us see what happened: "there was a day when the sons of god came to present themselves before the lord, and satan came also among them. and the lord said unto satan, whence comest thou? then satan answered the lord, and said, from going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it. and the lord said unto satan, hast thou considered my servant job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth god and escheweth evil? then satan answered the lord, and said, doth job fear god for naught? hast thou not made a hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side? thou hast blessed the work of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land. but put forth thine hand now, and touch all he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face. and the lord said unto satan, behold, all that he hath is in thy power; only upon himself put not forth thine hand. so satan went forth from the presence of the lord."--[job . - .] it is a most stately drama: any paraphrase would spoil its dignity, its quiet truth, its unpretending, yet gigantic lineaments. note: in allusion to our views of evil, that satan also comes among the sons of god: note, the generous dependence placed by a generous master on his servant well-upheld by that master's own free grace: note, satan's constant imputation against piety when blessed of god with worldly wealth, doth he serve for naught? i can discern no cause wherefore all this scene should not have truly happened; not as in vision of some holy man, but as in fact. let us read on, before further comment: "again, there was a day when the sons of god came to present themselves before the lord, and satan came also among them to present himself before the lord. and the lord said unto satan, whence comest thou? and satan answered the lord, and said, from going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it. and the lord said unto satan, hast thou considered my servant job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth god and escheweth evil? and still he holdeth fast his integrity, although thou movedst me against him, to destroy him without cause. and satan answered the lord, and said, skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life. but put forth thine hand now, and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse thee to thy face. and the lord said unto satan, behold, he is in thine hand; but save his life. so satan went forth from the presence of the lord, and smote job with sore boils, from the sole of his foot unto his crown." some such scene, displaying the devil's malice, slandering sneers, and permitted power, recommends itself to my mind as antecedently to have been looked for: in order that we might know from what quarter many of life's evils come; with what aims and ends they are directed; what limits are opposed to our foe; and who is on our side. we needed some such insight into the heavenly places; some such hint of what is continually going on before the lord's tribunal; we wanted this plain and simple setting forth of good and evil in personal encounter, of innocence awhile given up to malice for its chastening and its triumph. lo, all this so probable scene is here laid open to us, and many, against reason, disbelieve it! note, in allusion to our after-theme, the _locus_ of heaven, that there is some such usual place of periodical gathering. note, the open unchiding loveliness dwelling in the good one's words, as contrasted with the subtle, slanderous hatred of the evil. and then the vulgar proverb, skin for skin: this pious job is so intensely selfish, that let him lose what he may, he heeds it not; he cares for nothing out of his own skin. and there are many more such notabilities. why did i produce these passages at length? for their doric simplicity; for their plain and masculine features; for their obvious truthfulness; for their manifest probability as to fact, and expectability previously to it. why on earth should they be doubted in their literal sense? and were they not more likely to have happened than to have been invented? we have no such geniuses now as this writer must have been, who by the pure force of imagination could have created that tableau. milton had job to go to. simplicity is proof presumptive in favour of the plain inspiration of such passages: for the plastic mind which could conceive so just a sketch, would never have rested satisfied, without having painted and adorned it picturesquely. such rare flights of fancy are always made the most of. one or two thoughts respecting job's trial. that he should at last give way, was only probable: he was, in short, another adam, and had another fall; albeit he wrestled nobly. worthy was he to be named among god's chosen three, "noah, daniel, and job:" and worthy that the lord should bless his latter end. this word brings me to the point i wish to touch on; the great compensation which god gave to job. children can never be regarded as other than individualities: and notwithstanding eastern feelings about increase in quantity, its quality is, after all, the question for the heart. i mean that many children to be born, is but an inadequate return for many children dying. if a father loses a well-beloved son, it is small recompense of that aching void that he gets another. for this reason of the affections, and because i suppose that thinkers have sympathized with me in the difficulty, i wish to say a word about job's children, lost and found. it will clear away what is to some minds a moral and affectionate objection. now, this is the state of the case. the patriarch is introduced to us as possessing so many camels, and oxen, and so forth; and ten children. all these are represented to him by witnesses, to all appearance credible, as dead; and he mourns for his great loss accordingly. would not a merchant feel to all intents and purposes a ruined man, if he received a clear intelligence from different parts of the world at once that all his ships and warehouses had been destroyed by hurricanes and fire? faith given, patience follows: and the trial is morally the same, whether the news be true or false. remarkably enough, after the calamitous time is past, when the good man of uz is discerned as rewarded by heaven for his patience by the double of every thing once lost--his children remain the same in number, ten. it seems to me quite possible that neither camels, &c., nor children, really had been killed. satan might have meant it so, and schemed it; and the singly-coming messengers believed it all, as also did the well-enduring job. but the scriptural word does not go to say that these things happened; but that certain emissaries said they happened. i think the devil missed his mark: that the messengers were scared by some abortive diabolic efforts; and that, (with a natural increase of camels, &c., meanwhile,) the patriarch's paternal heart was more than compensated at the last, by the restoration of his own dear children. they were dead, and are alive again; they were lost, and are found. like abraham returning from mount calvary with isaac, it was the resurrection in a figure. if to this view objection is made, that, because the boils of job were real, therefore, similarly real must be all his other evils; i reply, that in the one temptation, the suffering was to be mental; in the other, bodily. in the latter case, positive, personal pain, was the gist of the matter: in the former, the heart might be pierced, and the mind be overwhelmed, without the necessity of any such incurable affliction as children's deaths amount to. god's mercy may well have allowed the evil one to overreach himself; and when the restoration came, how double was the joy of job over those ten dear children. again, if any one will urge that, in the common view of the case, job at the last really has twice as many children as before, for that he has ten old ones in heaven, and ten new ones on earth: i must, in answer, think that explanation as unsatisfactory to us, as the verity of it would have been to job. affection, human affection, is not so numerically nor vicariously consoled: and it is, perhaps, worth while here to have thrown out (what i suppose to be) a new view of the case, if only to rescue such wealth as children from the infidel's sneer of being confounded with such wealth as camels. moreover, such a paternal reward was anteriorly more probable. joshua. how many of our superficial thinkers have been staggered at the great miracle recorded of joshua; and how few, even of the deeper sort, comparatively, may have discerned its aptness, its science, and its anterior likelihood: "sun! stand thou still upon gibeon; and thou, moon, in the valley of ajalon." now, consider, for we hope to vindicate even this stupendous event from the charge of improbability. baal and ashtaroth, chief idols of the canaanites, were names for sun and moon. it would manifestly be the object of god and his ambassador to cast utter scorn on such idolatry. and what could be more apt than that joshua, commissioned to extirpate the corrupted race, should miraculously be enabled, as it were, to bind their own gods to aid in the destruction of such votaries? again: what should joshua want with the moon for daylight, to help him to rout the foes of god more fiercely? why not, according to the astronomical ignorance of those days, let her sail away, unconsorted by the sun, far beyond the valley of ajalon? there was a reason, here, of secret, unobtruded science: if the sun stopped, the moon must stop too; that is to say, both apparently: the fact being that the earth must, for the while, rest on its axis. this, i say, is a latent, scientific hint; and so, likewise, is the accompanying mention as a fact, that the lord immediately "rained great stones out of heaven" upon the flying host. for would it not be the case that, if the diurnal rotation of earth were suddenly to stop, the impetus of motion would avail to raise high into the air by centrifugal force, and fling down again by gravity, such unanchored things as fragments of rock? once more: our objector will here perhaps inquire, why not then command the earth to stop--and not the sun and moon? if thus probably joshua or his inspirer knew better? answer. only let a reasonable man consider what would have been the moral lesson both to israelite and to canaanite, if the great successor of moses had called out, incomprehensibly to all, "earth, stand thou still on thine axis;"--and lo! as if in utter defiance of such presumption, and to vindicate openly the heathen gods against the jewish, the very sun and moon in heaven stopped, and glared on the offender. i question whether such a noon-day miracle might not have perverted to idolatry the whole believing host: and almost reasonably too. the strictly philosophical terms would have entirely nullified the whole moral influence. god in his word never suffers science to hinder the progress of truth: a worldly philosophy does this almost in every instance, darkening knowledge with a cloud of words: but the science of the bible is usually concealed in some neighbouring hint quite handy to the record of the phenomena expressed in ordinary language. in fact, for all common purposes, no astronomer finds fault with such phrases as the moon rising, or the sun setting: he speaks according to the appearance, though he knows perfectly well that the earth is the cause of it, and not the sun or moon. carry this out in joshua's case. on the whole, the miracle was very plain, very comprehensible, and very probable. it had good cause: for canaan felt more confidence in the protection of his great and glorious baal, than stiff-necked judah in his barely-seen divinity: and surely it was wise to vindicate the true but invisible god by the humiliation of the false and far-seen idol. this would constitute to all nations the quickly-rumoured proof that jehovah of the israelites was god in heaven above as well as on the earth beneath. and, considering the peculiar idolatries of canaan, it seems to me that no miracle could have been better placed and better timed--in other words, anteriorly more probable--than the command of obedience to the sun and to the moon. i suppose that few persons who read this book will be unaware, that the circumstance is alluded to as well in that honest heathen, old herodotus, as in the learned jew josephus. the volumes are not near me for reference to quotations: but such is fact: it will be found in herodotus, about the middle of euterpe, connected with an allusion to the analogous case of hezekiah. no miracles, on the whole (to take one after-view of the matter), could have been better tested: for two armies (not to mention all surrounding countries) must have seen it plainly and clearly: if then it had never occurred, what a very needless exposure of the falsity of the jewish scriptures! these were open, published writings, accessible to all: cyrus and darius and alexander read them, and ethiopian eunuchs; parthians, medes, and elamites, with all other nations of the earth, had free access to those records. only imagine if some recent history of england, adolphus's, or stebbing's, contained an account of a certain day in george the fourth's reign having had twenty-four hour's daylight instead of the usual admixture; could the intolerable falsehood last a minute? such a placard would be torn away from the records of the land the moment a rash hand had fixed it there. but, if the matter were fact, how could any historian neglect it?--in one sense, the very improbability of such a marvel being recorded, argues the probability of it having actually occurred. much more might here be added: but our errand is accomplished, if any stumbling-block had been thus easily removed from some erring thinker's path. surely, we have given him some reason for faith's due acceptance of joshua's miracle. the incarnation. in touching some of the probabilities of our blessed lord's career, it would be difficult to introduce and illustrate the subject better, than by the following anecdote. whence it is derived, has escaped my memory; but i have a floating notion that it is told of socrates in xenophon or plato. at any rate, by way of giving fixity thereto and picturesqueness, let us here report the story as of the athenian solomon: surrounded by his pupils, the great heathen reasoner was being questioned and answering questions: in particular respecting the probability that the universal god would be revealed to his creatures. "what a glorious king would he appear!" said one, possibly the brilliant alcibiades: "what a form of surpassing beauty!" said another, not unlikely the softer crito. "not so, my children," answered socrates. "kings and the beautiful are few, and the god, if he came on earth as an exemplar, would in shape and station be like the greater number." "indeed, master? then how should he fail of being made a king of men, for his goodness, and his majesty, and wisdom?" "alas! my children," was pure reason's just rejoinder, "[greek: oi pleiones kakoi], most men are so wicked that they would hate his purity, despise his wisdom, and as for his majesty, they could not truly see it. they might indeed admire for a time, but thereafter (if the god allowed it), they would even hunt and persecute and kill him." "kill him!" exclaimed the eager group of listeners; "kill him? how should they, how could they, how dare they kill god?" "i did not say, kill god," would have been wise socrates's reply, "for god existeth ever: but men in enmity and envy might even be allowed to kill that human form wherein god walked for an ensample. that they could, were god's humility: that they should, were their own malice: that they dared, were their own grievous sin and peril of destruction. yea," went on the keen-eyed sage, "men would slay him by some disgraceful death, some lingering, open, and cruel death, even such as the death of slaves!"--now slaves, when convicted of capital crime, were always crucified. whatever be thought of the genuineness of the anecdote, its uses are the same to us. reason might have arrived at the salient points of christ's career, and at his crucifixion! i will add another topic: how should the god on earth arrive there? we have shown that his form would probably be such as man's; but was he to descend bodily from the atmosphere at the age of full-grown perfection, or to rise up out of the ground with earthquakes and fire, or to appear on a sudden in the midst of the market-place, or to come with legions of his heavenly host to visit his temple? there was a wiser way than these, more reasonable, probable, and useful. man required an exemplar for every stage of his existence up to the perfection of his frame. the infant, and the child, and the youth, would all desire the human-god to understand their eras; they would all, if generous and such as he would love, long to feel that he has sympathy with them in every early trial, as in every later grief. moreover, the god coming down with supernatural glories or terrors would be a needless expense of ostentatious power. he, whose advent is intended for the encouragement of men to exercise their reason and their conscience; whose exhortation is "he that hath ears to hear, let him hear;" that pure being, who is the chief preacher of humility, and the great teacher of man's responsible condition--surely, he would hardly come in any way astoundingly miraculous, addressing his advent not to faith, but to sight, and challenging the impossibility of unbelief by a galaxy of spiritual wonders. yet, if he is to come at all--and a word or two of this hereafter--it must be either in some such strange way; or in the usual human way; or in a just admixture of both. as the first is needlessly overwhelming to the responsible state of man, so the second is needlessly derogatory to the pure essence of god; and the third idea would seem to be most probable. let us guess it out. why should not this highest object of faith and this lowest subject of obedience be born, seemingly by human means, but really by divine? why should there not be found some unspotted holy virgin, betrothed to a just man and soon to be his wife, who, by the creative power of divinity, should miraculously conceive the shape divine, which god himself resolved to dwell in? why should she not come of a lineage and family which for centuries before had held such expectation? why should not the just man, her affianced, who had never known her yet, being warned of god in a dream of this strange, immaculate conception, "fear not to take unto him mary his wife," lest the unbelieving world should breathe slander on her purity, albeit he should really know her not until after the holy birth. there is nothing unreasonable here; every step is previously credible: and invention's self would be puzzled to devise a better scheme. the virgin-born would thus be a link between god and man, the great mediator: his natures would fulfil every condition required of their double and their intimate conjunction. he would have arrived at humanity without its gross beginnings, and have veiled his godhead for a while in a pure though mortal tenement. he would have participated in all the tenderness of woman's nature, and thus have reached the keenest sensibilities of men. themes such as these are inexhaustible: and i am perpetually conscious of so much left unsaid, that at every section i seem to have said next to nothing. nevertheless, let it go; the good seed yet shall germinate. "cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shall find it after many days." it may to some minds be a desideratum, to allude to the anterior probability that god should come in the flesh. much of this has been anticipated under the head of visible deity and elsewhere; as this treatise is so short, one may reasonably expect every reader to take it in regular course. for additional considerations: the benevolent maker would hardly leave his creatures to perish, without one word of warning or one gleam of knowledge. the question of the bible is considered further on: but exclusively of written rules and dogmas, it was likely that our father should commission chosen servants of his own, orally to teach and admonish; because it would be in accordance with man's reasonable nature, that he should best and easiest learn from the teaching his brethren. so then, after all lesser ambassadors had failed, it was to be expected that he should send the highest one of all, saying, "they will reverence my son." we know that this really did occur by innumerable proofs, and wonderful signs posterior: and now, after the event, we discern it to have been anteriorly probable. it was also probable in another light. this world is a world of incarnations; nothing has a real and potential existence, which is not embodied in some form. a theory is nothing; if no personal philosopher, no sect, or school of learners, takes it up. an opinion is mere air; without the multitude to give it all the force of a mighty wind. an idea is mere spiritual light; if unclad in deeds, or in words written or spoken. so, also, of the godhead: he would be like all these. he would pervade words spoken, as by prophets or preachers: he would include words written, as in the bible: he would influence crowds with spirit-stirring sentiments: he would embody the theory of all things in one simple, philosophic form. as this material world is constituted, god could not reveal himself at all, excepting by the aid of matter. i mean; even granting that he spiritually inspired a prophet, still the man was necessary: he becomes an inspired man; not mere inspiration. so, also, of a book; which is the written labour of inspired men. there is no doing without the humanity of god, so far as this world is concerned, any more than his deity can be dispensed with, regarding the worlds beyond worlds, and the ages of ages, and the dread for ever and ever. mahometanism. it seems expedient that, in one or two instances, i should attempt the illustration of this rule of probability in matters beyond the bible. as very fair ones, take mahometanism and romanism. and first of the former. at the commencement of the seventh century, or a little previously to that era, we know that a fierce religion sprang up, promulgated by a false prophet. i wish briefly to show that this was antecedently to have been expected. in a moral point of view, the christian world, torn by all manner of schisms, and polluted by all sorts of heresies, had earned for the human race, whether accepting the gospel or refusing it, some signal and extensive punishment at the hands of him, who is the great retributor as well as the munificent rewarder. in a physical point of view, the civilized kingdoms of the earth had become stagnant, arguing that corrupt and poisonous calm which is the herald of a coming tempest. the heat of a true religion had cooled down into lukewarm disputations about nothings, scholastical and casuistic figments; whilst at the same time the prevalence of peaceful doctrines had amalgamated all classes into a luxurious indolence. passionate man is not to be so satisfied; and the time was fully come for the rise of some fierce spirit, who should change the tinsel theology of the crucifix for the iron religion of the sword: who should blow in the ears of the slumbering west the shrill war-blast of eastern fervencies; who should exchange the dull rewards of canonization due to penance, or an after-life voluntary humiliation under pseudo-saints and angels, for the human and comprehensible joys of animal appetite and military glory: who should enlist under his banner all the frantic zeal, all the pent-up licentiousness, all the heart-burning hatreds of mankind, stifled either by a positive barbarism, or the incense-laden cloud of a scarcely-masked idolatry. thus, and then, was likely to arise a bold and self-confiding hero, leaning on his own sword: a man of dark sentences, who, by judiciously pilfering from this quarter and from that shreds of truth to jewel his black vestments of error, and by openly proclaiming that oneness of the object of all worship which besotted christendom had then, from undue reverence to saints and martyrs, virgins and archangels, well nigh forgotten; a man who, by pandering to human passions and setting wide as virtue's avenue the flower-tricked gates of vice; should thus, like lucifer before him, in a comet-like career of victory, sweep the startled firmament of earth, and drag to his erratic orbit the stars of heaven from their courses. mahomet; his humble beginnings; his iron perseverance under early probable checks; his blind, yet not all unsublime, dependence on fatality; his ruthless, yet not all undeserved, infliction of fire and sword upon the cowering coward race that filled the western world;--these, and all whatever else besides attended his train of triumphs, and all whatever besides has lasted among moors, and arabs, and turks, and asiatics, even to this our day--constitute to a thinking mind (and it seems not without cause) another antecedent probability. let the scoffer about mahomet's success, and the admirer of his hotchpot koran; let him to whom it is a stumbling-block that error (if indeed, quoth he, it be more erroneous than what christendom counts truth) should have had such free course and been glorified, while so-called truth, _pede claudo_, has limped on even as now cautiously and ingloriously through the well-suspicious world; let him who thinks he sees in mahomet's success an answer to the foolish argument of some, who test the truth of christianity by its gentile triumphs; let him ponder these things. reason, the god of his idolatry, might, with an archangel's ken, have prophesied some mahomet's career: and, so far from such being in the nature of any objection to faith, the idea thus thrown out, well-mused upon, will be seen to lend faith an aid in the way of previous likelihood. "there is one god, and mahomet is his prophet!" how admirably calculated such a war-cry would be for the circumstances of the seventh century. the simple sublimity of oneness, as opposed to school-theology and catholic demons: the glitter of barbaric pomp, instead of tame observances: the flashing scimetar of ambition to supersede the cross: a turban aigretted with jewels for the twisted wreath of thorns. as human nature is, and especially in that time was, nothing was more expectable (even if prophetic records had not taught it), than the rise and progress of that great false prophet, whose waving crescent even now blights the third part of earth. romanism. we all know how easy it is to prophesy after the event: but it would be uncandid and untrue to confound this remark with another, cousin-germane to it; to wit: how easy it is to discern of any event, after it has happened, whether or not it were antecedently likely. when the race is over, and the best horse has won (or by clever jockey-management, the worst), how obviously could any gentleman on the turf, now in possession of particulars, have seen the event to have been so probable, that he would have staked all upon its issue. carry out this familiar idea; which, as human nature goes, is none the weaker as to illustration, because it is built upon the rule "_parvis componere magna_." let us sketch a line or two of that great fore-shadowing cartoon, the probabilities of romanism. that our blessed master, even in his state as man, beheld its evil characteristics looming on the future, seems likely not alone from both his human keenness and his divine omniscience, but from here and there a hint dropped in his biography. why should he, on several occasions, have seemed, i will say with some apparent sharpness, to have rebuked his virgin mother.--"woman, what have i to do with thee?"--"who are my mother and my brethren?"--"yea--more blessed than the womb which bare me, and the paps that i have sucked, is the humblest of my true disciples." let no one misunderstand me: full well i know the just explanations which palliate such passages; and the love stronger than death which beat in that filial heart. but, take the phrases as they stand; and do they not in reason constitute some warning and some prophecy that men should idolize the mother? nothing, in fact, was more likely than that a just human reverence to the most favoured among women should have increased into her admiring worship: until the humble and holy mary, with the sword of human anguish at her heart, should become exaggerated and idealized into mother of god--instead of jesus's human matrix, queen of heaven, instead of a ransomed soul herself, the joy of angels--in lieu of their lowly fellow-worshipper, and the rapture of the blessed--thus dethroning the almighty. take a second instance: why should peter, the most loving, most generous, most devoted of them all, have been singled out from among the twelve--with a "get thee behind me, satan?"--it really had a harsh appearance; if it were not that, prophetically speaking, and not personally, he was set in the same category with judas, the "one who was a devil." i know the glosses, and the contexts, and the whole amount of it. folios have been written, and may be written again, to disprove the text; but the more words, the less sense: it stands, a record graven in the rock; that same petra, whereon, as firm and faithful found, our lord jesus built his early church: it stands, a mark indelibly burnt into that hand, to whom were intrusted, not more specially than to any other of the saintly sent, the keys of the kingdom of heaven: it stands, along with the same peter's deep and terrible apostacy, a living witness against some future church, who should set up this same peter as the jupiter of their pantheon: who should positively be idolizing now an image christened peter, which did duty two thousand years ago as a statue of libyan jove! but even this glaring compromise was a matter probable, with the data of human ambitions, and a rotten christianity. examples such as these might well be multiplied: bear with a word or two more, remembering always that the half is not said which might be said in proof; nor in answering the heap of frivolous objections. why, unless relics and pseudo-sacred clothes were to be prophetically humbled into their own mere dust and nothing-worthiness, why should the rude roman soldiery have been suffered to cast lots for that vestment, which, if ever spiritual holiness could have been infused into mere matter, must indeed have remained a relic worthy of undoubted worship? it was warm with the animal heat of the man inhabited by god: it was half worn out in the service of his humble travels, and had even, on many occasions, been the road by which virtue had gone out; not of it, but of him. what! was this wonderful robe to work no miracles? was it not to be regarded as a sort of outpost of the being who was human-god? had it no essential sacredness, no _noli-me-tangere_ quality of shining away the gambler's covetous glance, of withering his rude and venturous hand, or of poisoning, like some nessus' shirt, the lewd ruffian who might soon thereafter wear it? not in the least. this woven web, to which a corrupted state of feeling on religion would have raised cathedrals as its palaces, with singing men and singing women, and singing eunuchs too, to celebrate its virtues; this coarse cloth of some poor weaver's, working down by the sea of galilee or in some lane of zion, was still to remain, and be a mere unglorified, economical, useful garment. far from testifying to its own internal mightiness, it probably was soon sold by the fortunate roman die-thrower to a second-hand shop of the jewish metropolis; and so descended from beggar to beggar till it was clean worn out. we never hear that, however easy of access so inestimable relic might then have been considered, any one of the numerous disciples, in the fervour of their earliest zeal, threw away one thought for its redemption. is it not strange that no st. helena was at hand to conserve such a desirable invention? why is there no st. vestment to keep in countenance a st. sepulchre and a st. cross? the poor cloth, in primitive times, really was despised. we know well enough what happened afterwards about handkerchiefs imbued with miraculous properties from holy paul's body for the nonce: but this is an inferior question, and the matter was temporary; the superior case is proved, and besides the rule _omne majus continet in se minus_ there are differences quite intelligible between the cases, whereabout our time would be less profitably employed than in passing on and leaving them unquestioned. suffice it to say, that "god worked those special miracles," and not the unconscious "handkerchiefs or aprons." "te deum laudamus!" is protestantism's cry; "sudaria laudemus!" would swell the papal choirs. let such considerations as these then are in sample serve to show how evidently one might prove from anterior circumstances, (and the canon of scripture is an anterior circumstance,) the probability of the rise and progress of the roman heresies. and if any one should ask, how was such a system more likely to arise under a gentile rather than a jewish theocracy? why was a st. paul, or a st. peter, or a st. dunstan, or a st. gengulphus, more previously expectable than a st. abraham, a st. david, a st. elisha, or a st. gehazi? i answer, from the idea of idolatry, so adapted to the gentile mind, and so abhorrent from the jewish. martyred abel, however well respected, has never reached the honours of a niche beside the altar. jephtha's daughter, for all her mourned virginity, was never paraded, (that i wot of,) for any other than a much-to-be-lamented damsel. who ever asked, in those old times, the mediation of st. enoch? where were the offerings, in jewels or in gold, to propitiate that undoubted man of god and denizen of heaven, st. moses? what prows, in wax, of vessels saved from shipwreck, hung about the dripping fane of jonah? and where was, in the olden time, that wretched and insensate being, calling himself rational and godly, who had ventured to solicit the good services of isaiah as his intercessor, or to plead the merits of st. ezekiel as the make-weight for his sins? it was just this, and reasonably to have been expected; for when the jew brought in his religion, he demolished every false god, broke their images, slew their priests, and burnt their groves with fire. but, when a worldly christianity came to be in vogue, when emperors adorned their banners with the cross, and the poor fishermen of galilee, (in their portly representatives,) came to be encrusted with gems, and rustling with seric silk; then was made that fatal compromise; then it was likely to have been made, which has lasted even until now: a compromise which, newly baptizing the damned idols of the heathen, keeps yet st. bacchus and st. venus, st. mars and st. apollo, perched in sobered robes upon the so-called christian altar; which yet pays divine honours to an ancyle or a rusty nail; to the black stones at delphi, or the gold-shrined bones at aix; which yet sanctifies the chickens of the capitol, or the cock that startled peter; which yet lets a wealthy sinner, by his gold, bribe the winking pythoness, or buy dispensing clauses from "the lord our god, the pope." there is yet a swarm of other notions pressing on the mind, which tend to prove that popery might have been anticipated. take this view. the religion of christ is holy, self-denying; not of this world's praise, and ending with the terrible sanction of eternity for good or evil: it sets up god alone supreme, and cuts down creature-merit to a point perpetually diminishing; for the longer he does well, the more he owes to the grace which enabled him to do it. now, man's nature is, as we know, diametrically opposite to all this: and unable to escape from the conviction of christian truth in some sense, he would bend his shrewd invention to the attempt of warping that stern truth to shapes more consistent with his idiosyncrasies. a religious plan might be expected, which, in lieu of a difficult, holy spirituality, should exact easy, mere observances; to say a thousand paters with the tongue, instead of one "our father," from the heart; to exact genuflections by the score, but not a single prostration of the spirit; to write the cross in water on the forehead often-times, but never once to bear its mystic weight upon the shoulder. in spite of self-denial, cleverly kept in sight by means of eggs, and pulse, and hair-cloth, to pamper the deluded flesh with many a carnal holiday; in contravention of a kingdom not of this world, boldly to usurp the temporal dominion of it all: instead of the overwhelming incomprehensibility of an eternal doom, to comfort the worst with false assurance of a purgatory longer or shorter; that after all, vice may be burnt out; and who knows but that gold, buying up the prayers and superfluous righteousness of others, may not make the fiery ordeal an easy one? in lieu of a god brought near to his creatures, infinite purity in contact with the grossest sin, as the good physician loveth; how sage it seemed to stock the immeasurable distance with intermediate numia, cycle on epicycle, arc on arc, priest and bishop and pope, and martyr, and virgin, and saint, and angel, all in their stations, at due interval soliciting god to be (as if his blessed majesty were not so of himself!) the sinner's friend. how comfortable this to man's sweet estimation of his own petty penances; how glorifying to those "filthy rags," his so-called righteousness: how apt to build up the hierarchist power; how seemingly analogous with man's experience here, where clerks lay the case before commissioners, and commissioners before the government, and the government before the sovereign. all this was entirely expectable: and i can conceive that a deep reasoner among the first apostles, even without such supernal light as "the spirit speaking expressly," might have so calculated on the probabilities to come, as to have written, long ago, words akin to these: "in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seductive doctrines, and fanciful notions about intermediate deities, ([greek: daimoniôn],) perverting truth by hypocritical departures from it, searing conscience against its own cravings after spiritual holiness, forbidding marriage, (to invent another virtue,) and commanding abstinence from god's good gifts, as a means of building up a creature-merit by voluntary humiliation." at the likelihood that such "profane and old wives' fables" should thereafter have arisen, might paul without a miracle have possibly arrived. yet again: take another view. the religion of christ, though intended to be universal in some better era of this groaning earth, was, until that era cometh, meant and contrived for any thing rather than a catholicity. true, the church is so far catholic that it numbers of its blessed company men of every clime and every age, from righteous abel down to the last dear babe christened yester-morning; true, the commission is "to all nations, teaching them:" but, what mean the simultaneous and easily reconciled expressions--come out from among them, little flock, gathered out of the gentiles, a peculiar people, a church militant, and not triumphant, here on earth? thus shortly of a word much misinterpreted: let us now see what the romanist does, what, (on human principles,) he would be probable to do, with this discriminating religion. he, chiefly for temporal gains, would make it as expansive as possible: there should be room at that table for every guest, whether wedding-garmented or not; there would be sauces in that poisonous feast, fitted to every palate. for the cold, ascetical mind, a cell and a scourge, and a record kept of starving fancies as calling them ecstatic visions vouchsafed by some old stylite to bless his favoured worshipper; for the painted demirep of fashionable life, there would be a pretty pocket-idol, and the snug confessional well tenanted by a not unsympathizing father; for the pure girl, blighted in her heart's first love, the papist would afford that seemingly merciful refuge, that calm and musical and gentle place, the irrevocable nunnery; a place, for all its calmness, and its music, and its gentle reputations, soon to be abhorred of that poor child as a living tomb, the extinguisher of all life's aims, all its duties, uses and delights: for the bandit, a tythe of the traveller's gold would avail to pay away the murder, and earn for him a heap of merits kept within the cash-box: the educated, high-born and finely-moulded mind might be well amused with architecture, painting, carving, sweet odours, and the most wondrous music that has ever cheated man, even while he offers up his easy adorations, and departs, equally complacent at the choral remedies as at the priestly absolution; while, for those good few, the truly pious and enlightened children of rome, who mourn the corruptions of their church, and explain away, with trembling tongue, her obvious errors and idolatries, for these the wily scheme, so probable, devised an undoubted mass of truth to be left among the rubbish. true doctrines, justly held by true martyrs and true saints, holy men of god who have died in that communion; ordinances and an existence which creep up, (heedless of corruption though,) step by step, through past antiquity, to the very feet of the founder; keen casuists, competent to prove any point of conscience or objection, and that indisputably, for they climax all by the high authority of popes and councils that cannot be deceived: pious treatises and manuals, verily of flaming heat, for they mingle the yearnings of a constrained celibacy with the fervencies of worship and the cravings after god. yes, there is meat here for every human mouth; only that, alas for men! the meat is that which perisheth, and not endureth unto everlasting life. rome, thou wert sagely schemed; and if lucifer devised thee not for the various appetencies of poor, deceivable, catholic man, verily it were pity, for thou art worthy of his handiwork. all things to all men, in any sense but the right, signifies nothing to anybody: in the sense of falsehoods, take the former for thy motto; in that of single truth, in its intensity, the latter. let not then the accident--the probable accident--of the italian superstition place any hindrance in the way of one whose mind is all at sea because of its existence. what, o man with a soul, is all the world else to thee? christianity, whatever be its broad way of pretences, is but in reality a narrow path: be satisfied with the day of small things, stagger not at the inconsistencies, conflicting words, and hateful strifes of those who say they are christians, but "are not, but are of the synagogue of satan." judge truth, neither by her foes nor by her friends but by herself. there was one who said (and i never heard that any writer, from julian to hobbes, ever disputed his human truth or wisdom) "needs must that offences come; but wo be to that man by whom the offence cometh. if they come, be not shaken in faith: lo, i have told you before. and if others fall away, or do ought else than my bidding, what is that to thee? follow thou me." the bible. whilst i attempt to show, as now i desire to do, that the bible should be just the book it is, from considerations of anterior probability, i must expand the subject a little; dividing it, first, into the likelihood of a revelation at all; and secondly, into that of its expectable form and character. the first likelihood has its birth in the just benevolence of our heavenly father, who without dispute never leaves his rational creatures unaided by some sort of guiding light, some manifestation of himself so needful to their happiness, some sure word of consolation in sorrow, or of brighter hope in persecution. that it must have been thus an _à priori_ probability, has been all along proved by the innumerable pretences of the kind so constant up and down the world: no nation ever existed in any age or country, whose seers and wise men of whatever name have not been believed to hold commerce with the godhead. we may judge from this, how probable it must ever have been held. the sages of old greece were sure of it from reason: and not less sure from accepted superstition those who reverenced the brahmin, or the priest of heliopolis, or the medicine-man among the rocky mountains, or the llama of old mexico. i know that our ignorance of some among the most brutalized species of mankind, as the bushmen in caffraria, and the tribes of new south wales, has failed to find among their rites any thing akin to religion: but what may we not yet have to learn of good even about such poor outcasts? how shall we prove this negative? for aught we know, their superstitions at the heart may be as deep and as deceitful as in others; and, even on the contrary side, the exception proves the rule: the rule that every people concluded a revelation so likely, that they have one and all contrived it for themselves. thus shortly of the first: and now, secondly, how should god reveal himself to men? in such times as those when the world was yet young, and the church concentrated in a family or an individual, it would probably be by an immediate oral teaching; the lord would speak with adam; he would walk with enoch; he would, in some pure ethereal garb, talk with abraham, as friend to friend. and thereafter, as men grew, and worshippers were multiplied, he would give some favoured servant a commission to be his ambassador: he would say to an ezekiel, "go unto the house of israel, and speak my words to them:" he would bid a jeremiah "take thee a roll of a book, and write therein all the words that i have spoken to thee:" he would give daniel a deep vision, not to be interpreted for ages, "shut up the words, and seal the book even to the time of the end:" he would make moses grave his precepts in the rock, and job record his trials with a pen of iron. for a family, the beatic vision was enough: for a congregated nation, as once at sinai, oral proclamations: for one generation or two around the world, the zeal and eloquence of some great "multitude of preachers:" but, indubitably, if god willed to bless the universal race, and drop the honey of his words distilling down the hour-glass of time from generation to generation even to the latter days, there was no plan more probable, none more feasible, than the pen of a ready writer. further: and which concerns our argument: what were likely to be the characteristic marks of such a revelation? exclusively of a pervading holiness, and wisdom, and sublimity, which could not be dispensed with, and in some sort should be worthy of the god; there would be, it was probable, frequent evidences of man's infirmity, corrupting all he toucheth. the almighty works no miracles for little cause: one miracle alone need be current throughout scripture: to wit, that which preserves it clean and safe from every perilous error. but, in the succession of a thousand scribes each copying from the other, needs must that the tired hand and misty eye would occasionally misplace a letter: this was no nodus worthy of a god's descent to dissipate by miracle. again: the original prophets themselves were men of various characters and times and tribes. god addresses men through their reason; he bound not down a seer "with bit and bridle, like the horse that has no understanding"--but spoke as to a rational being--"what seest thou?" "hear my words;"--"give ear unto my speech." was it not then likely that the previous mode of thought and providential education in each holy man of god should mingle irresistibly with his inspired teaching? should not the herdsman of tehoa plead in pastoral phrase, and the royal son of amoz denounce with strong authority? should not david whilst a shepherd praise god among his flocks, and when a king, cry "give the king thy judgments?" the bible is full of this human individuality; and nothing could be thought as humanly more probable: but we must, with this diversity, connect the other probability also, that which should show the work to be divine; which would prove (as is literally the case) that, in spite of all such natural variety, all such unbiassed freedom both of thought and speech, there pervades the whole mass a oneness, a marvellous consistency, which would be likely to have been designed by god, though little to have been dreamt by man. once more on this full topic. difficulties in scripture were expectable for many reasons; i can only touch a few. man is rational as he is responsible: god speaks to his mind and moral powers: and the mind rejoices, and moralities grow strong in conquest of the difficult and search for the mysterious. the muscles of the spiritual athlete pant for such exertion; and without it, they would dwindle into trepid imbecility. curious man, courageous man, enterprising, shrewd, and vigourous man, yet has a constant enemy to dread in his own indolence: now, a lion in the path will wake up sloth himself: and the very difficulties of religion engender perseverance. additionally: i think there is somewhat in the consideration, that, if all revealed truth had been utterly simple and easy, it would have needed no human interpreter; no enlightened class of men, who, according to the spirit of their times, and the occasions of their teaching, might "in season and out of season preach the word, reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long-suffering and doctrine." i think there existed an anterior probability that scripture should be as it is, often-times difficult, obscure, and requiring the aid of many wise to its elucidation; because, without such characteristic, those many wise and good would never have been called for. suppose all truth revealed as clearly and indisputably to the meanest intellect as a sum in addition is, where were the need or use of that noble christian company who are every where man's almoners for charity, and god's ambassadors for peace? a word or two more, and i have done. the bible would, as it seems to me probable, be a sort of double book; for the righteous, and for the wicked: to one class, a decoy, baited to allure all sorts of generous dispositions: to the other, a trap, set to catch all kinds of evil inclinations. in these two senses, it would address the whole family man: and every one should find in it something to his liking. purity should there perceive green pastures and still waters, and a tender shepherd for its innocent steps: and carnal appetite should here and there discover some darker spot, which the honesty of heaven had filled with memories of its chiefest servants' sins; some record of adultery or murder wherewith to feast his maw for condemnation. while the good man should find in it meat divine for every earthly need, the sneerer should proclaim it the very easiest manual for his jests and lewd profanities. the unlettered should not lack humble, nay vulgar, images and words, to keep himself in countenance: neither should the learned look in vain for reasonings; the poet for sublimities; the curious mind for mystery; nor the sorrowing heart for prayer. i do discern, in that great book, a wondrous adaptability to minds of every calibre: and it is just what might antecedently have been expected of a volume writ by many men at many different eras, yet all superintended by one master mind; of a volume meant for every age, and nation, and country, and tongue, and people; of a volume which, as a two-edged sword, wounds the good man's heart with deep conviction, and cuts down "the hoary head of him who goeth on still in his wickedness." on the whole, respecting faults, or incongruities, or objectionable parts in scripture, however to have been expected, we must recollect that the more they are viewed, the more the blemishes fade, and are altered into beauties. a little child had picked up an old stone, defaced with time-stains: the child said the stone was dirty, covered with blotches and all colours: but his father brings a microscope, and shows to his astonished glance that what the child thought dirt, is a forest of beautiful lichens, fruited mosses, and strange lilliputian plants with shapely animalcules hiding in the leaves, and rejoicing in their tiny shadow. every blemish, justly seen, had turned to be a beauty: and nature's works are vindicated good, even as the word of grace is wise. heaven and hell. probably enough, the light which i expect to throw upon this important subject will, upon a cursory criticism, be judged fanciful, erroneous, and absurd; in parts, quite open to ridicule, and in all liable to the objection of being wise, or foolish, beyond what is written. nevertheless, and as it seems to me of no small consequence to reach something more definite on the subject than the anywhere or nowhere of common apprehensions, i judge it not amiss to put out a few thoughts, fancies, if you will, but not unreasonable fancies, on the localities and other characteristics of what we call heaven and hell: in fact, i wish to show their probable realities with somewhat approaching to distinctness. it is manifest that these places must be somewhere; for, more especially of the blest estate, whither did enoch, and elijah, and our risen lord ascend to? what became of these glorified humanities when "the chariot of fire carried up elijah by a whirlwind into heaven;" and when "he was taken up, and a cloud received him?" those happy mortals did not waste away to intangible spiritualities, as they rose above the world; their bodies were not melted as they broke the bonds of gravitation, and pierced earth's swathing atmosphere: they went up somewhither; the question is where they went to. it is a question of great interest to us; however, among those matters which are rather curious than consequential; for in our own case, as we know, we that are redeemed are to be caught up, together with other blessed creatures, "in the clouds, to meet our coming saviour in the air, and thereafter to be ever with the lord." i wish to show this to be expected as in our case, and expectable previously to it. we have, in the book of job, a peep at some place of congregation: some one, as it is likely, of the mighty globes in space, set apart as god's especial temple. why not? they all are worlds; and the likelihood being in favour of overbalancing good, rather than of preponderating evil from considerations that affect god's attributes and the happiness of his creatures, it is probable that the great majority of these worlds are unfallen mansions of the blessed. perhaps each will be a kingdom for one of earth's redeemed, and if so, there will at last be found fulfilled that prevailing superstition of our race, that each man has his star: without insisting upon this, we may reflect that there is no one universal opinion which has not its foundation in truth. tradition may well have dropped the thought from adam downwards, that the stars may some day be our thrones. we know their several vastness, and can guess their glory: verily a mighty meed for miserable services on earth, to find a just ambition gladdened with the rule of spheres, to which terra is a point; while that same ambition is sanctified and legalized by ruling as vicegerent of jehovah. is this unlikely, or unworthy of our high vocation, our immortality, and nearness unto, nay communion with god? the idea is only suggested: let a man muse at midnight, and look up at the heavens hanging over all; let him see, with rosse and herschell, that, multiply power as you will, unexhausted still and inexhaustible appear the myriads of worlds unknown. yea, there is space enow for infinite reward; yea, let every grain of sand on every shore be gathered, and more innumerable yet appear that galaxy of spheres. let us think that night looks down upon us here, with the million eyes of heaven. and for some focus of them all, some spot where god himself enthroned receives the homage of all crowns, and the worship of all creature service, what is there unreasonable in suggesting for a place some such an one as is instanced below? i have just cut the following paragraph out of a newspaper: is this the ridiculous tripping up the sublime? i think otherwise: it is honest to use plain terms. i speak as unto wise men--judge ye what i say. with respect to the fact of information, it may or it may not be true; but even if untrue, the idea is substantially the same, and i cannot help supposing that with angels and archangels and the whole company of heaven, such bodily saints as enoch is, (and similar to him all risen, holy men will be,) meet for happy sabbaths in some glorious orb akin or superior to the following: "a central sun.--dr. madier, the professor of astronomy at dorpat, has published the results of the researches pursued by him uninterruptedly during the last sixty years, upon the movements of the so-called fixed stars. these more particularly relate to the star alcyone, (discovered by him,) the brightest of the seven bright stars of the group of the pleiades. this star he states to be the central sun of all the systems of stars known to us. he gives its distance from the boundaries of our system at thirty-four million times the distance of the sun from our earth, a distance which it takes five hundred and thirty-seven years for light to traverse. our sun takes one hundred and eighty-two million years to accomplish its course round this central body, whose mass is one hundred and seventeen million times larger than the sun." one hundred and seventeen million times larger than the sun! itself, for all its vastness, not more than half one million times bigger than this earth. to some such globe we may let our fancies float, and anchor there our yearnings after heaven. it is a glorious thought, such as imagination loves; and a probable thought, that commends itself to reason. behold the great eye of all our guessed creation, the focus of its brightness, and the fountain of its peace. a topic far less pleasant, but alike of interest to us poor men, is the probable home of evil; and here i may be laughed at--laugh, but listen, and if, listening, some reason meets thine ear, laugh at least no longer. we know that, for spirit's misery as for spirit's happiness, there is no need of place: "no matter where, for i am still the same," said one most miserable being. more--in the case of mere spirits, there is no need for any apparatus of torments, or fires, or other fearful things. but, when spirit is married to matter, the case is altered; needs must a place to prison the matter, and a corporal punishment to vex it. nothing is unlikely here; excepting--will a man urge?--the dread duration of such hell. this is a parenthesis; but it shall not be avoided, for the import of that question is deep, and should be answered clearly. a man, a body and soul inmixt, body risen incorruptible, and soul rested from its deeds, must exist for ever. i touch not here the proofs--assume it. now, if he lives for ever, and deliberately chooses evil, his will consenting as well as his infirmity, and conscience seared by persisted disobedience, what course can such a wilful, rational, responsible being pursue than one perpetually erratic? how should it not be that he gets worse and worse in morals, and more and more miserable in fact? and when to this we add, that such wretched creatures are to herd together, continually flying further away from the only source of happiness and good; and to this, that they have earned by sin, remorses and regrets, and positive inflictions; how probable seems a hell, the sinner's doom eternal. the apt mathematical analogy of lines thrown out of parallel, helps this for illustration: for ever and for ever they are stretching more remote, and infinity itself cannot rëunite their travel. this, then, as a passing word; a sad one. honest thinker, do not scorn it, for thine own soul's sake. "now is the time of grace, now is the day of salvation." to return. a place of punishment exists; to what quarter shall we look for its anterior probability? i think there is a likelihood very near us. there may be one, possibly, beneath us, in the bowels of this fiery-bursting earth; whither went korah and his company? this idea is not without its arguments, just analogies, and scriptural hints. but my judgment inclines towards another. this trial-world, we know, is to be purified and restored, and made a new earth: it was even to be expected that redemption should do this, and i like not to imagine it the crust and case of hell, but rather, as thus: at the birth of this same world, there was struck off from its burning mass at a tangent, a mournful satellite, to be the home of its immortal evil; the convict shore for exiled sin and misery; a satellite of strange differences, as guessed by virgil in his musings upon tartarus, where half the orb is, from natural necessities, blistered up by constant heats, the other half frozen by perennial cold. a land of caverns, and volcanoes, miles deep, miles high; with no water, no perceptible air: imagine such a dreadful world, with neither air nor water! incapable of feeding life like ours, but competent to be a place where undying wretchedness may struggle for ever. a melancholy orb, the queen of night, chief nucleus of all the dark idolatries of earth; the moon, isis, hecate, ashtaroth, diana of the ephesians! this expression of a thought by no means improbable, gives an easy chance to shallow punsters; but ridicule is no weapon against reason. why should not the case be so? why should not earth's own satellite, void, as yet, be on the resurrection of all flesh, the raft whereon to float away earth's evil? read of it astronomically; think of it as connected with idols; regard it as the ruler of earth's night; consider that the place of a gehenna must be somewhere; and what is there in my fancy quite improbable? i do not dogmatize as that the fact is so, but only suggest a definite place at least as likely as any other hitherto suggested. think how that awful, melancholy eye looks down on deeds of darkness how many midnight crimes, murders, thefts, adulteries, and witchcrafts, that would have shrunk into nonentity from open, honest day, have paled the conscious moon! add to all this, it is the only world, besides our own, whereof astronomers can tell us, it is fallen. an offer. nothing were easier than to have made this book a long one; but that was not the writer's object: as well because of the musty greek proverb about long books; which in every time and country are sure never to be read through by one in a thousand; as because it is always wiser to suggest than to exhaust a topic; which may be as "a fruit-tree yielding fruit after its kind whose seed is in itself." the writer then intended only to touch upon a few salient points, and not to discuss every question, however they might crowd upon his mind: time and space alike with mental capabilities forbade an effort so gigantic: added to which, such a course seemed to be unnecessary, as the rule of probability, thus illustrated, might be applied by others in every similar instance. still, as the errand of this book is usefulness, and its author's hope is, under heaven, to do good, one personal hint shall here be thrown upon the highway. without arrogating to myself the wisdom or the knowledge to solve one in twenty of the doubts possible to be propounded; without also designing even to attempt such solutions, unless well assured of the genuine anxiety of the doubter; and preliminarizing the consideration, that a fitting diffidence in the advocate's own powers is no reason why he should not make wide efforts in his holy cause; that, such reasonable essays to do good have no sort of brotherhood with a fanatical spiritual quixotism; and that, to my own apprehensions, the doubts of a rationalizing mind are in the nature of honourable foes, to be treated with delicacy, reverence, and kindness, rather than with a cold distance and an ill-concealed contempt; preliminarizing, lastly, the thought--"who is sufficient for these things?"--i nevertheless thus offer, according to the grace and power given to me, my best but humble efforts so far to dissipate the doubts of some respecting any scriptural fact, as may lie within the province of showing or attempting to show its previous credibility. this is not a challenge to the curious casuist or the sneering infidel; but an invitation to the honest mind harassed by unanswered queries: no gauntlet thrown down, but a brother's hand stretched out. such questions, if put to the writer, through his publisher by letter, may find their reply in a future edition: supposing, that is to say, that they deserve an answer, whether as regards their own merits or the temper of the mind who doubts; and supposing also that the writer has the power and means to answer them discreetly. it is only a fair rule of philanthropy (and that without arrogating any unusual "strength") to "bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves:" and nothing would to me give greater happiness than to be able, as i am willing, to remove any difficulties lying in the track of faith before a generous mind. i hang out no glistening holly-bush a-flame with its ostentatious berries as promising good wine; but rather over my portal is the humbler and hospitable mistletoe, assuring every wearied pilgrim in the way, that though scanty be the fare, he shall find a hearty welcome. conclusion. i have thus endeavoured (with solicited help of heaven) to place before the world anew a few old truths: truths inestimably precious. remember, they cannot have lost by any such advocacy as is contained in the idea of their being shown antecedently probable; for this idea affects not at all the fact of their existence; the thing is; whether probable or not; there is, in esse, an ornithorhyncus; its posse is drowned in esse: there exists no doubt of it: evidence, whether of senses physical, or of considerations moral, puts the circumstance beyond the sphere of disputation. but such truths as we have spoken of do, nevertheless, gain something as to--not their merits, these are all their own substantially; nor their positive proofs, these are adjectives properly attendant on them, but as to--their acceptability among the incredulous of men; they gain, i say, even by such poor pleading as mine, from being shown anteriorly probable. take an illustration in the case of that strange and anomalous creature mentioned just above. its habitat is in a land where plums grow with the stones outside, where aboriginal dogs have never been heard to bark, where birds are found covered with hair, and where mammals jump about like frogs! if these are shown to be literal facts, the mind is thereby well prepared for any animal monstrosity: and it staggers not in unbelief (on evidence of honest travellers) even when informed of a creature with a duck's bill and a beaver's body: it really amounted in australia to an antecedent probability. carry this out to matters not a quarter so incredible, ye thinkers, ye free-thinkers; neither be abashed at being named as thinking freely: were not those bereans more noble in that they searched to see? for my humble part, i do commend you for it: treacherous is the hand that roots up the inalienable right of private judgment; the foundation-stone of protestantism, the great prerogative of reason, the key-note of conscience, the sole vindex of a man's responsibility: evil and false is the so-called reverential wisdom which lays down in place of the truth that each man's conscience is a law unto himself, the tyranny of other men's authority. cheap and easy and perilled is the faith, which clings to the skirt of others; which leans upon the broken staff of priestcraft, until those poisoned splinters pierce the hand. prove all things; holding fast that which is good: good to thine own reasonable conscience, if unwarped by casuistries, and unblinded by licentiousness. prove all things, if you can, "from the egg to the apple:" he is a poor builder of his creed, who takes one brick on credit. be able, as you can be, (if only you are willing so far to be wisely inconsistent, as to bend the stubborn knee betimes, and though with feeble glance to look to heaven, and though with stammering tongue to pray for aid,) be able, as it is thy right, o man of god--to give a reason for the faith that is in thee. the end.