PARKER' S
CRITICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS
WRITINGS.








THE
CRITICAL AND AMISCELLANEOUS
WRITINGS
OF
THEODORE  PARKER,
MIINISTER OF THE TWENTY-EIGHTH CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY IN BOSTON.
SECOND EDITION.
BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY.
1 8 5 6.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by
THEODORE PARKER,
In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
CA MBRI D GE:
ALLEN AND FARNIIA31, PRINTERS.




P R E FAC E
THE following Critical and Miscellaneous articles
have, with a single exception, been published before.
A few verbal alterations have been made, here and
there, and in Article XI. some few lines have been
omitted from the original publication, and some paragraphs have been added, namely, the introductory
paragraph ending on page 281, and the passage beginning with the twenty-fourth line on page 339, and
ending with the last line on page 340.
WEST ROXBURY, Dec. 28th, 1842.








CONTENTTS.
PAGE
I. A LESSON FOR THE DAY...  1
II. GERMIAN LITERATURE.                  26
III. THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX...  61
IV. TRUTH AGAINST THE WORLD...   119
V. THOUGHTS ON LABOR..                            122
VI. A DISCOURSE OF THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT IN
CHRISTIANITY.                                  152
VII. THE PHARISEES..190
VIII. ON THE EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.   214
IX. HOW TO MIOVE THE WORLD....   245
X. PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY..                  247
XI. STRAUSS'S LIFR OF JESUS......   276
XII. THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.......    344








ES SAYS.
I.
A LESSON FOR THE DAY:
THE CHRISTIANITY OF CHRIST, OF THE CHURCH, AND OF SOCIETY.
" Hear what the Spirit saith unto the Churches,.... I know thy works, that thou hast
a name, that thou livest, and art dead." - BIBLE.*
EVERY man has at times in his mind the Ideal of
what he should be, but is not. This ideal may be high
and complete, or it may be quite low and insufficient;
yet in all men that really seek to improve, it is better
than the actual character. Perhaps no one is satisfied
with himself, so that he never wishes to be wiser, better,
and more holy.  Man never falls so low, that he can see
nothing higher than himself. This ideal man which we
project, as it were, out of ourselves, and seek to make
real; this Wisdom, Goodness, and Holiness, which we
aim to transfer from our thoughts to our life, has an
action, more or less powerful, on each man, rendering
him dissatisfied with present attainments, and restless,
unless ie is becoming better. With some men it takes
* From the Dial for October, 1840.
1




2             A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
the rose out of the cheek, and forces them to wander a
long pilgrimage of temptations, before they reach the
delectable mountains of Tranquillity, and find " Rest
for the Soul," under the Tree of Life.
Now there is likewise an ideal of perfection floating
before the eyes of a community or nation; and that
ideal, which hovers, lofty or low, above the heads of our
nation, is the Christian Ideal, "the stature of the perfect man in Christ Jesus." Christianity then is the
ideal our nation is striving to realize in life; the sublime
prophecy we are laboring to fulfil. Of course, some
part thereof is made real and actual, but by no means
the whole; for if it were, some higher ideal must immediatelv take its place. Hence there exists a difference
between the actual state in which our countrymen are,
and the ideal state in which they should be; just as
there is a great gulf between what each man is, and
what he knows he ought to become. But there is at
this day not only a wide difference between the true
Christian ideal, and our actual state, but what is still
worse, there is a great dissimilarity between our ideal,
and the ideal of Christ. The CHRISTIANITY OF CHRIST
is the highest and most perfect ideal ever presented to
the longing eyes of man; but the CHRISTIANITY OF THE
CHURCH, which is the ideal held up to our eyes, at this
day, is a very different thing; and the CHRISTIANITY OF
SOCIETY, which is that last ideal imperfectly realized,
has but the slightest affinity with Christ's sublime
archetype of man. Let us look a little more narrowly
into the matter.
Many years ago, at a time when all nations were in
a state of deep moral and religious degradation; when
the world lay exhausted and sick with long warfare; at




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.            3
a time when Religion was supported by each civilized
State; but when everywhere the religious form was
outgrown and worn-out, though the State yet watched
this tattered garment with the most jealous care, calling
each man a blasphemer, who complained of its scantiness, or pointed out its rents; at a time when no wise
man, anywhere, had the smallest respect for the Popular Religion, except so far as he found it a convenient
instrument to keep the mob in subjection to.their lords;
and when only the few had any regard for Religion, into
whose generous hearts it is by nature so deeply sown,
that they are born religious; at such a time, in a little
corner of the world, of a people once pious but then
corrupted to the heart; of a nation well known but only
to be justly and universally hated- there was born a
man; a right true man. He had no advantage of birth,
for he was descended from the poorest of the people;
none of education, for he was brought up in a little
village, whose inhabitants were wicked to a proverb;
and so little had schools and colleges to do for him, that
his townsmen wondered how he had learned to read.
He had no advantage of aid or instruction from the
great and the wise; but grew up and passed his life,
mainly, with fishers, and others of like occupation,the most illiterate of men.
This was a true man; such as had never been seen
before. None such has risen since his time. He was
so true, that he could tolerate nothing false; so pure
and holy, that he, and perhaps he alone of all men, was
justified in calling others by their proper name; even
when that proper name was Blind Guide, Fool, Hypocrite, Child of the Devil. He found men forgetful of
God. They seemed to fancy He was dead. They
lived as if there had once been a God, who had grown




4             A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
old and deceased. They were mistaken also as to the
nature of Man., They saw he had a body; they forgot
he is a Soul, and has a Soul's Rights, and a Soul's
Duties.  Accordingly they believed there had been
Revelations, in the days of their fathers, when God
was alive and active.  They knew not there were
Revelations every day to faithful Souls; - Revelations
just as real, just as direct, just as true, just as sublime,
just as valuable, as those of old time; for the Holy
Spirit has not yet been exhausted, nor the river of
God's inspiration been drunk dry by a few old Hebrews,
great and divine souls though they were.
He found men clinging to tradition, as orphan girls
cling to the robe of their mother dead and buried, hoping to find life in what had once covered the living.
Thus men stood with their faces nailed to the past;
their eyes fastened to the ground. They dreamed not
the sun rose each morning fresh and anew. So their
teachers looked only at the West, seeking the light
amid dark and thundering clouds, and mocking at such
as, turning their faces to the East, expounded the signs
of new morning, and "wished for the day."
This true man saw through their sad state, and cornforting his fellows he said, Poor brother man, you are
deceived. God is still alive. His Earth is under your
feet. His Heaven is over your head. He takes care of
the sparrows. Justice, and Wisdom, and Mercy, and
Goodness, and Virtue, and Religion, are not superannuated and ready to perish. They are young as Hunger
and Thirst, which shall be as fresh in the last man as
they were in the first. God has never withdrawn from
the universe, but he is now present and active in this
spot, as ever on Sinai, and still guides and inspires all
who will open their hearts to admit him there. Men




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.            5
are still men; born pure as Adam and into no less a
sphere. All that Abraham, Moses, or Isaiah possessed
is open unto you, just as it was to them. If you will,
your inspirations may be glorious as theirs, and your
life as divine. Yea, far more; for the least in the
New Kingdom is greater than the greatest in the Old.
Trouble not yourselves then with the fringes and tassels
of threadbare tradition, but be a man on your own
account.
Poor sinful Brother, said he to fallen man, you have
become a fool, an hypocrite, deceiving and deceived.
You live as if there were no God; no soul; as if you
were but a beast. You have made yourself as a ghost,
a shadow, not a man. Rise up and be a man, thou
child of God. Cast off these cumbrous things of old.
Let Conscience be your Lawgiver; Reason your Oracle;
Nature your Temple; Holiness your High-priest; and a
Divine Life your Offering. Be your own Prophet; for
the Law and the old Prophets were the best things men
had before John; but now the Kingdom of Heaven is
preached; leave them, for their work is done. Live no
longer such a mean life as now. If you would be
saved-love God with your whole heart, and man as
yourself. Look not back for better days, and say Abraham is our father; but live now, and be not Abrahams,
but something better. Look not forward to the time
when your fancied deliverer shall come; but use the moment now in your hands. Wait not for the Kingdom
of God; but make it within you by a Divine Life.
What if the Scribes and Pharisees sit in the seat of
authority? Begin your kingdom of the divine life,
and fast as you build it, difficulties will disappear;
false men will perish, and the true rise up. Set not for
your standard the limit of old times, -for here is one
1*3




i'6           A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
greater than Jonah or Solomon, - but be perfect as
God. Call no man master. Call none father, save the
Infinite Spirit. Be one with him; think his thoughts;:feel his feelings, and live his will. Fear not; I have
overcome the world, and you shall do yet greater things;
I and the Father will dwell with you for ever. Thus
he spoke the word which men had longed to hear
spoken, and others had vainly essayed to utter. While
the great and gifted asked in derision, Art thou greater
than our. father Jacob?-multitudes of the poor in
spirit heard him; their hearts throbbed with the mighty
pulsations of his heart. They were swayed to and fro
by his words, as an elm-branch swings in the summer
wind. They said, This is one of the old prophets,
Moses, Elias, or even that greater prophet, the' desire
of all nations." They shouted with one voice, He:shall be our King; for human nature is always loyal at
its heart, and never fails of allegiance, when it really
sees a real hero of the Soul, in whose heroism of Holiness there is nothing sham. As the carnal pay a shallow worship to rich men, and conquering chiefs, and
other heroes of the Flesh, so do men of the spirit revere
a faithful Hero of the Soul, with'whatever in them is
deepest, truest, and most divine.
Before this man had seen five-and-thirty summers, he
-was put to death by such men as thought old things'
were new enough, and false things sufficiently true, and
like owls and bats shriek fearfully when morning comes,
because their day is the night, and their power, like the
spectres of fable, vanishes as the cockerowing ushers
the morning in. Scarce had this divine youth begun to
spread forth his brightness; men had seen but the twilight of his reason and inspiration; the full noon must
have come at a later period of life, when experience and




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.            7
long contemplation had matured the divine gifts, never
before nor since so prodigally bestowed, nor used so
faithfully. But his doctrine was ripe, though he was
young. The truth he received at first hand from God
required no age to render it mature. So he perished.
But, as the oak, the woodman fells in autumn on the
mountain side, scatters ripe acorns over many a rood,
some falling perchance into the bosom of a stream, to
be cast up on distant fertile shores, so his words sprang
up a host of men; living men like himself, only feebler
and of smaller stature. They were quickened by his
words, electrified by his love, and enchanted by his
divine life. He who has never _seen the sun can learn
nothing of it from all our words; but he who has once
looked thereon can never forget its burning brilliance.
Thus these men, "who had been with Jesus," were lit
up by him. His spirit passed into them, as the sun
into the air, with light and heat. They were possessed
and overmastered by the new spirit they had drunken
in. They cared only for truth and the welfare of their
brother men. Pleasure and ease, the endearments of
quiet life and the dalliance of home, were all but a
bubble to them, as they sought the priceless pearls of a
divine life. Their heart's best blood -what was it to
these men? They poured it joyfully as festal wine was
spent at the marriage in Cana of Galilee; for, as their
teacher's life had taught them to live, so had his death
taught them to die to the body, that the soul might live
greater and more. In their hearts burned a living consciousness of God; a living love of man. Thus they
became rare men, such as the world but seldom sees.
Some of them had all of woman's tenderness, and
more than man's will and strength of endurance, which
earth - and hell cannot force from the right path. Thus




8             A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
they were fitted for all work. So the Damascus steel,
we are told, has a temper so exquisite, it can trim a
feather and cleave iron bars.
Forth to the world are sent these willing seedsmen of
God; bearing in their bosom the Christianity of Christ,
desiring to scatter this precious seed in every land of the
wide world. The Priest, the Philosopher, the Poet, and
the King, — all who had love for the past, or an interest in present delusions, -join forces to cast down and
tread into dust these Jewish fishermen and tent-makers.
They fetter the limbs; they murder the body; but the
word of God is not bound, and the soul goes free. The
seed, sown broadcast with faith and prayers, springs up
and grows night and day, while men wake and while
they sleep. Well it might, beneath the hot sun of persecution, and moistened by the dew that martyrs shed.
The mailed Roman, hard as iron from his hundred
battles, saw the heroism of Christian flesh, and beginning to worship that, saw with changed heart, the heroism of the Christian soul; the spear dropped from his
hand, andS the man, new-born, prayed greater and
stronger than before.  Hardhearted Roman men, and
barbarians from the fabulous Hydaspis, stood round in
the Forum, while some Christian was burned with
many tortures for his faith. They saw his gentle meekness, far stronger than the insatiate steel or flame, that
never says enough. They whispered to one another —
those hardhearted men — in the rude speech of common life, more persuasive than eloquence, That young
man has a dependent and feeble father, a wife, and a
little babe, newly born, but a day old. HI-e leaves them
all to uncertain trouble, worse, perhaps, than his own;
yet neither the love of young and blissful life, nor the
care of parent, and wife, and child, can make him




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.             9
swerve an inch from the truth. Is there not God in
this? And so when the winds scattered wide the eloquent ashes of the uncomplaining victim to regal or
priestly pride, the symbolical dust, which Moses cast
towards Heaven, was less prolific and less powerful
than his.
So the world went for two ages. But in less than
three. centuries \the faith of that lowly youth, and so untimely slain, proclaimed by the fearless voice of -those
trusting apostles, written in the blood of their hearts,
and illuminated by the divine life they lived - this faith
goes from its low beginning on the Galilean lake,
through Jerusalem, Ephesus, Antioch, Corinth, and
Alexandria; ascends the throne of the Caesars, and
great men, and temples, and towers, and rich cities, and
broad kingdoms lie at its feet. What wrought this
wonderous change so suddenly; in the midst of such
deadly peril; against such fearful odds? We are sometimes told it was because that divine youth had an
unusual entrance into life; because he cured a few sick
men, or fed many hungry men, by unwonted means.
Believe it you who may; it matters not. Was it not
rather because his doctrine was felt to be true, real,
divine, satisfying to the soul; proclaimed by real men,
true men, who felt what they said, and lived what they
felt?  Man was told there was a God still alive, and
that God a Father; that man had lost none of that
high nature which shone in Moses, Solomon, or Isaiah,
or Theseus, or Solon, but was still capable of Virtue,
Thought, Religion, to a degree, those sages not only
never realized, but never dreamed of. He was told
there were Laws for his nature, —laws to be kept:
Duties for his nature, - duties to be done: Rights for
his nature, — rights to be enjoyed: Hopes for his




10             A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
nature, -hopes to be realized, and more than realized,
as man goes forward to his destiny, with perpetual increase of stature. It needs no miracle, but a man, to
spread such doctrines. You shall as soon stay Niagara
with a straw; or hold in the swelling surges of an
Atlantic storm, with the "spider's most attenuated
thread," as prevent the progress of God's truth, with all
the Kings, Poets, Priests, and Philosophers, the world
has ever seen; and for this plain reason, that Truth and
God are on the same side. Well said the ancient,
"Above all things Truth beareth away the victory."
Such was the nature, such the origin of the CHRISTIANITY OF CHRIST; the true ideal of a divine life; such
its history for three hundred years. It is true that, soon
as it was organized into a church, there were divisions
therein, and fierce controversies, Paul withstanding
fickle Peter to the face. It is true, hirelings came from
time to time to live upon the flock; indolent men
wished to place their arm-chair in the'church and sleep
undisturbed; ambitious men sought whom they might
devour. But in spite of all this, there was still a real
religious life. Christianity was something men felt,
and felt at home, and in the market-place, by fire-side
and field-side, no less than in the temple. It was something they would, make sacrifice for, leaving father and
mother, and child and wife, if needful; something they
would die for, thanking God they were accounted
worthy of so great an end.  Still more, it was something they lived every day; their religion and their life
were the same.
Such was Christianity as it was made real in the lives
of the early Christians. But now, the CHRISTIANITY OF
THE CHURCH, by which is meant that somewhat which
is taught in our religious books, and preached in our




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.             11
pulpits, is a thing quite different, nay, almost opposite.
It often fetters and enslaves men. It tells them they
must assent to all the doctrines and stories of the Old
Testament, and to all the doctrines and stories of the
New Testament; that they must ascribe a particular
and well-defined character to God; must believe as
they are bid respecting Christ and the Bible, or they
cannot be saved.  If they disbelieve, then is the
anathema uttered against them; true, the anathema
is but mouthfuls of spoken wind; yet still it is uttered
as though it could crush and kill. The church; insists.
less on the divine life' than on the doctrines a man believes. It measures a man's religion by his creed, and
calls him a Heathen or a Christian, as that creed is
short or long. Now in the Christianity of Christ, there
is no creed essential, unless it be that lofty desire to
become perfect as God; no form essential, but love to,
man and love to God. In a word, a divine life on the
earth is the all in all'with the Christianity of Christ.,
This, and this only, was the Kingdom of God, and
eternal life. Now the church, as keeper of God's Kingdom, bids you assent to arbitrary creeds of its own.
device, and bow the knee to its forms. Thus the
Christianity of the Church, as it is set forth at this day,
insults the soul, and must belittle a man before it can
bless him. The church is too small for the soul; "thebed is shorter than that a man can stretch himself on:
it, and the covering narrower than that he can wrap
himself in it." Some writer tells us of a statue of
Olympian Jove, majestic and awful in its exquisite
beauty, but seated under a roof so low, and within
walls so narrow, that should the statue rise to its feet,
and spread the arms, it must demolish its temple, roof
and wall. Thus sits Man in the Christian church at




12            A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
this day. Let him think in what image he is made;
let him feel his immortal nature, and rising, take a
single step towards the divine life - then where is the
church?
The range of subjects the church deigns to treat of is
quite narrow; its doctrines abstract; and.thus Christianity is made a letter and not a life; an occasional
affair of the understanding, not the daily business of the
heart. The ideal now held up to the public, as the
highest word ever spoken to man, is not the ideal of
Christ, the measure of a perfect man, not even the
ideal of the Apostles and early Christians. Anointed
teachers confess without shame, that Goodness is better
than Christianity. True alas, it is better in degree, yes
different in kind from the Christianity of the church.
Hence, in our pulpits, we hear but little of the great
doctrines of Jesus; the worth of the soul; the value of
the present moment; the brotherhood of all men, and
their equality before God; the necessity of obeying that
perfect law God has written on the soul; the consequences which follow necessarily from disobeying;
consequences which even Otnnipotence cannot remove;
and the blessed results for now and for ever, that arise
from obedience, and the all importance of a divine life;
the power of the soul to receive the Holy Ghost; the
divine might of a regenerate man; the presence of God
and Christ now in faithful hearts; the inspiration of
good men; the Kingdom of God on the Earth - these
form not the substance of the church's preaching. Still
less are they applied to life, and the duties which come
of them shown and enforced. The church is quick to
discover and denounce the smallest deviation from the
belief of dark ages, and to condemn vices no longer
popular; it is conveniently blind to the great fictions




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.            13
which lie at the foundation of Church and State; sees
not the rents, daily yawning more wide, in the bowing
walls of old institutions; and never dreams of those
causes, which, like the drugs of the Prophet in the
fables are rending asunder the Idol of Brass and Clay,.
men have set up to worship. So the mole, it has been
said, within the tithe of an inch its vision extends over,
is keener of insight than the lynx or the eagle; but to
all beyond that narrow range is stone blind.
Alas, what men call Christianity, and adore as the
best thing they see, has been degraded; so that if men
should be all that the pulpit commonly demands of
them, they would by no means be Christians. To such,
a pass have matters reached, that if Paul should come
upon the Earth now, as of old, it is quite doubtful that
he could be admitted to the Christian church; for
though Felix thought much klnowledge had made the
Apostle mad, yet Paul ventured no opinion on points
respecting the nature of God, and the history of Christ,.
where our pulpits utter dogmatic and arbitrary decisions, condemning as infidels and accursed all such as
disagree therewith, be their life never so godly. These
things are notorious. Still more, it may be set down as
quite certain, that if Jesus could return from the other
world, and bring to New England that same boldness
of inquiry, which he brought to Judea; that same love
of living truth, and scorn of dead letters; could he
speak as he then spoke, and live again as he lived before, he also would be called an infidel by the church;.
be abused in our newspapers, for such is our wont, and
only not stoned in the streets, because that is not our
way of treating such men as tell us the truth.
Such is the Christianity of the church in our times.
It does not lookforward but backward. It does not ask
2




14            A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
truth at first hand from God; seeks not to lead men
directly to Him, through the divine life, but only to
make them wvalk in the old paths trodden by some
good pious Jews, who, were they to come back to
earth, could as little understand our circumstances as
we theirs. The church expresses more concern that
men should walk in these peculiar paths, than that they
should reach the goal. Thus the means are made the
end. It enslaves men to the Bible; makes it the isouPs
master, not its servant; forgetting that the Bible, like
the Sabbath, was made for nman, not man for the Bible.
It makes man the less and the Bible the greater. The
Saviour said, Search the Scriptures; the Apostle recommended them as profitable reading; the church says,
Believe the Scriptures, if not with the'consent of
Reason and Conscience, why, without that consent or
against it. It rejects all attempts to humanize the
Bible, and separate its fictions from its facts; and
would fain wash its hands in the heart's blood of those
who strip the robe of human art, ignorance, or folly,
from the celestial form of divine truth. It trusts the
imperfect Scripture of the Word, more than the Word
itself, writ by God's finger on the living heart. "Where
the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty," says the
Apostle. But where the spirit of the church is, there
is slavery. It would make all men think the same
thoughts; feel the same feelings; worship by the same
form.
The church itself worships not God, who is all in all,
but Jesus, a man born of woman. Grave teachers, in
defiance of his injunction, bid us pray to Christ. It
supposes the Soul of all our souls cannot hear, or will
not accept a prayer, unless offered formally, in the
church's phrase, forgetting that we also are men, and




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.            15
God takes care of oxen and sparrows, and hears the
young ravens when they cry, though they pray not in
any form or phrase. Still, called by whatever name,
called by an idol's name, the true God hears the living
prayer. And yet perhaps the best feature of Christianity, as it is now preached, is its idolatrous worship
of Christ. Jesus was the brother of all. He had more
in common with all men, than they have with one
another. But he, the brother of all, has been made to
appear as the master of all; to speak with an authority
greater than that of Reason, Conscience, and Faith;an office his sublime and Godlike spirit would revolt
at. But yet,'since he lived divine on the earth, and
was a hero of the soul, and the noblest and largest hero
the world has ever seen, perhaps the idolatry that is
paid him is the nearest approach to true worship, which
the mass of men can readily make in these days. Reverence for heroes has its place in history; and though
worship of the greatest soul ever swathed in the flesh,
however much he is idealized and represented as incapable of sin, is without measure below the worship of
the ineffable God; still it is the purest and best of our
many idolatries in the nineteenth century. Practically
speaking, its worst feature is, that it mars and destroys
the highest ideal of man, and makes us beings of very
small discourse, that look only backward.
The influence of real Christianity is to disenthrall the
man; to restore him to his nature, until he obeys Conscience, Reason, and Religion, and is made free by that
obedience. It gives him the largest liberty of the Sons
of God, so that as faith in truth becomes deeper, the
man is greater and more divine. But now those pious
souls who accept the church's Christianity are, in the
main, crushed and degraded by their faith.  They




16            A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
dwindle daily in the church's keeping. Their worship
is not Faith, but Fear; and Bondage is written legibly
on their forehead, like the mark set upon Cain. They
resemble the dwarfed creed they accept. Their mind
is incrusted with unintelligible dogmas. They fear to
love man, lest they offend God. Artificial in their
anxiety, and morbid in their self-examination, their life
is sickly and wretched. Conscience cannot speak its
mother tongue to them; Reason does not utter its
oracles; nor Love cast out fear. Alas, the church
speaks not to the hearty and the strong; and the little
and the weak, who accept its doctrines, become weaker
and less thereby. Thus woman's holier heart is often
abased and defiled, and the deep-thoughted and true of
soul forsake the church, as righteous Lot, guided by an
angel, fled out of Sodom.  There will always be
wicked men who scorn a pure church', and perhaps
great men too high to need its instructions. But what
shall we say when the church, as it is, impoverishes
those it was designed to enrich, and debilitates so often
the trusting souls that seek shelter in its arms?
Alas for us, we see the Christianity of the Church is
a very poor thing; a very little better than heathenism.
It takes God out of the world of nature and of man,
and hides him in the church. Nay, it does worse; it
limits God, who possesseth heaven and earth, and is from
everlasting to everlasting, restricting his influence and
inspiration to a little corner of the world, and a few
centuries of history, dark and uncertain. Even in this
narrow range, it makes a deity like itself, and gives us
not God, but Jehovah. It takes the living Christ out
of the heart, and transfigures him in the clouds, till he
becomes an anomalous being, not God, and not man;
but a creature, whose holiness is not the divine image,




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.            17
he has sculptured for himself out of the rock of life,
but something placed over him, entirely by God's hand,
and without his own effort. It has taken away our
Lord, and left us a being whom we know not; severed
from us by his prodigious birth, and his alleged relation
to God, such as none can share. WVhat have we in
common with such an one, raised above all chance of
error, all possibility of sin, and still more surrounded by
God at each moment, as no other man has been? It
has transferred him  to the clouds. It makes Christianity a Belief, not a Life. It takes Religion out of
the world, and shuts it up in old books, whence, from
time to time, on Sabbaths, and Fast-days, and Feastdays -it seeks to evoke the divine spirit, as the witch
of Endor is fabled to have called up Samuel from the
dead. It tells you, with grave countenance, to believe
every word spoken by the Apostles, -weak, Jewish,
fallible, prejudiced, mistaken as they sometimes were -
for this reason, because forsooth Peter's shadow, and
Paul's pocket handkerchief cured the lame and the
blind. It never tells you, Be faithful to the spirit God
has given; open your soul and you also shall be inspired, beyond Peter and Paul it may be, for great
though they were, they saw not all things and have not
absorbed the Godhead. No doubt the Christian church
has been the ark of the world; no doubt some individual churches are now free from these disgraces; still
the picture is true as a whole.
Alas, it is true that men are profited by such pitiful
teachings; for the church is above the community, and
the CHRISTIANITY OF SOCIETY is far below that of the
church; even in that deep there is a lower deep. This
is a hard saying, no doubt. But let us look the facts in
the face, and see how matters are. It is written in travel2*




18'           A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
lers' journals and taught in our school-books, that the
Americans are Christians! It is said in courts of justice that Christianity is part of the law of the land;
with the innocent meaning, it is likely, that the law of
the land is part of Christianity. But what proofs have
we that the men of New England are Christians? WTe
point to our churches. Lovely emblems they are of devotion. In city and village, by roadside and stream-;side, they point meekly their taper finger to the sky,
the enchanting symbol of Christian aspiration and a
Christian life. Through all our land of hill and valley,
of springs and brooks, they stand, and most beautifully
do they make it, catching the earliest beam of day, and
burning in the last flickering rays of the long lingering
sun. Sweet too is the breath of the Sabbath bell;
dear to the hearts of New England; it floats undulating on the tranquil air, like a mother's brooding note,
calling her children to their home. Wte mention our
Bibles and religious books, found in the houses of the
rich, and read with blissful welcome bbside the hearthstone of the poor. We point to our learned clergy, the
appointed defenders of the letter of Christianity. All
this proves nothing. The Apostles could point to no
ilong series of learned scribes; only to a few rough
fishermen in sheep-skins and goat-skins. They had no
multitude of Bibles and religious books, for they cast
behind them the Old Testament, as a law of sin and
death, and the New Testament was not then written,
save in the heart; they had no piles of marble and
mortar; no silvery and sweet-noted bell to rouse for
them  the slumbering morn.  Yet were those men
Christians. They did not gather of a Lord's day, in
costly temples, to keep an old form, or kill the long-de-.aying hours; — but in small upper rooms; on the sea



A LESSON FOR THE DAY.             19
shore; beneath a tree; in caves of the desert mountains; or the tombs of dead men in cities, met those
noble hearts, to worship God at first hand, and exhort
one another to a manly life, and a martyr's death, if
need were.
We see indeed an advance in our people above all
ancient time; we fondly say, the mantle of a more
liberal culture is thrown over us all. The improved
state of society brings many a blessing in its train.
The arts diffuse comfort; industry and foresight afford
us, in general, a competence; schools and the printingpress, which works indefatigable with its iron hand,
day and night, spread knowledge wide. Our hospitals,
our asylums, and churches for the poor, give some signs
of a Christian spirit. Crimes against man's person are
less frequent than of old, and the legal punishments
less frightful and severe. The rich do not ride roughshodden over the poor. These things prove that the
age has advanced somewhat. They do not prove that
the spirit of Religion, of Christianity, of Love, the
spirit of Christ, of God, are present among us and
active; for enlightened prudence, the most selfish of
selfishness would lead to the same results; and who
has the hardihood to look facts in the face, and call our
society spiritual and Christian? The social spirit of
Christianity demands that the strong assist the weak.
We appeal as proofs of our Christianity to our
attempts at improving ruder tribes, to our Bibles and
Missionaries, sent with much self-denial and sacrifice
to savage races. Admitting the nobleness of the design, granting the Christian spirit is shown in these
enterprises, -for this at least must be allowed, and all
heathen antiquity is vainly challenged for a similar
case, -there is still a most melancholy reverse to this




20            A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
flattering picture. Where shall we find a savage nation
on the wide world that has, on the whole, been blessed
by its intercourse with Christians? Where one that
has not, most manifestly, been polluted and cursed by
the Christian foot? Let this question be asked from
Siberia to Patagonia, from the ninth century to the
nineteenth; let it be put to the nations we defraud of
their spices and their furs, leaving them in return our
Religion and our Sin; let it be asked of the red man,
whose bones we have broken to fragments, and trodden
into bloody mire on the very spot where his mother
bore him; let it be asked of the black man, torn by our
cupidity from his native soil, whose sweat, exacted by
Christian stripes, fattens our fields of cotton and corn,
and brims the wine-cup of national wealth; whose
chained hands are held vainly up as his spirit strives to
God, with great, overmastering prayers for vengeance,
and seem to clutch at the volleyed thunders of just, but
terrible retribution, pendent over our heads. Let it be
asked of all these, and who dares stay to hear the
reply, and learn what report of our Christianity goes up
to God?
We need not compare ourselves with our fathers, and
say we are more truly religious than they were. Shame
on us if we are not. Shame on us if we are always to
be babes in Religion, and whipped reluctant into decent
goodness by fear, never growing up to spiritual manhood. Admitting we are a more Christian people than
our fathers, let us measure ourselves with the absolute
standard. What is Religion amongst us?  Is it the
sentiment of the Infinite penetra'ting us with such depth
of power, that we would, if need were, leave father and
mother and child and wife, to dwell in friendless solitudes, so that we might worship God in peace? 0 no,




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.            21
we were very fools to make such a sacrifice, when called
on for the sake of such a Religion as that commonly
preached; commonly accepted and lived. It is not
worth that cost; so mean and degraded is Religion
among us. Religion does not possess us as the sun
possesses the violets, giving them warmth, and fragrance, and color, and beauty. It does not lead to a
divine character. One would fancy the banns of wedlock were forbidden between Christianity and Life, also,
as we are significantly told, they have been between
Religion and Philosophy; so that the feeling and the
thought, like sterile monks and nuns, never approach to
clasp hands, but dwell joyless, each in a several cell.
Religion has become chiefly, and with the well-clad
mass of men, a matter of convention, and they write
Christian with their name as they write " Mr.," because
it is respectable; their fathers did so before them.
Thus to be Christian comes to nothing, it is true, but it
costs nothing, and is fairly worth what it costs.
Religion should be " a thousand-voiced psalm," from
the heart of man to man's God, who is the original of
Goodness, Truth, and Beauty, and is revealed in all
that is good, true, and beautiful. But Religion is
amongst us, in general, but a compliance with custom;
a prudential calculation; a matter of expediency;
whereby men hope, through giving up a few dollars in
the shape of pew-tax, and a little time in the form of
church-going, to gain the treasures of heaven and eternal life. Thus Religion has become Profit; not reverence of the highest, but vulgar hope and vulgar fear;
a working for wages, to be estimated by the rules of
loss and gain. Men love Religion as the mercenary
worldling his well-endowed wife: not for herself, but
for what she brings. They think Religion is useful to the




22            A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
old, the sick, and the poor, to charm them with a comfortable delusion through the cloudy land of this earthly
life; they wish themselves to keep some running account therewith, against the day, when they also shall
be old, and sick, and poor. Christianity has two modes
of action, direct on the heart and life of a man, and indirect through conventions, institutions, and other machinery; and in our time the last is almost its sole
influence. Hence men reckon Christianity as valuable
to keep men in order; it would have been good policy
for a shrewd man to have invented it, on speculation,
like other contrivances, for the utility of the thing. In
their eyes the church, especially the church for the poor,
is necessary as the court house or jail; the minister is a
xwell-educated Sabbath day constable; and both are
parts of the great property establishment of the times.
They value Religion, not because it is true and divine,
but because it serves a purpose. They deem it needful
as the poll-tax, or the militia system, a national bank,
or a sub-treasury. They value it among other commnodities; they might give it a place in their inventories
of stock; and hope of Heaven, or faith in Christ, might
be summed up in the same column with money at one
per cent.
The problem of men is not first the Kingdom of God,
that is a perfect life on the earth, lived for its own sake;
but first all other things, and then, if the Kingdom of
God come of itself, or is thrown in to the bargain, like
pack-thread and paper with a parcel of goods, why
very well; they are glad of it. It keeps "all other
things " from soiling. Does Religion take hold of the
heart of us? Here and there, among rich men and
poor men, especially among women, you shall find a
few really religious; whose life is a prayer, and Chris



A LESSON FOR THE DAY.            23
tianity their daily breath. They would have been religious had they been cradled among cannibals, and before the flood. They are divine men; of whom the
spirit of God seems to take early hold, and Reason and
Religion to weave up, by celestial instinct, the warp
and woof of their daily life. Judge not the age by its
religious geniuses. The mass of men care little for
Christianity; were it not so, the sins of the forum and
the market-place, committed in a single month, would
make the land rock to its centre. Men think of Religion at church, on the Sabbath; they make sacrifices,
often great sacrifices, to support public worship, and
attend it most sedulously, these men and women. But
here the matter ends. Religion does not come into
their soul; does not show itself in their housekeeping
and trading. It does not shine out of the windows of
morning and evening, and speak to them at everyturn.
How many young men in the thousand say thus to
themselves, Of this will I make sure, a Christian character and divine life, all other things be as God sends?
How many ever set their hearts on any moral and religious object, on achieving a perfect character, for example, with a fraction of the interest they take in the
next election? Nay, woman also must share the same
condemnation. Though into her rich heart God more
generously sows the divine germs of Religion; though
this is her strength, her loveliness, her primal excellence,
yet she also has sold her birthright for tinsel ornaments,
and the admiration of deceitful lips. Men think of Religion when they are sick, old, in trouble, or about to
die, forgetting that it is a crown of life at all times;
man's choicest privilege; his highest possession; the
chain that sweetly links him to Heaven. If good for
any thing, it is good to live by. It is a small thing to




24             A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
die religiously; a devil could do that; but to live divine
is man's work.
Since Religion is thu's regarded, or disregarded by
men, we find that talent and genius, getting insight of
this, float off to the market, the workshop, the senate,
the farmer's field, or the court house, and bring home
with honor the fleece of gold.  Meanwhile, anointed
dulness, arrayed in canonicals, his lesson duly conned,
presses, semi-somnous, the consecrated cushions of the
pulpit, and pours forth weekly his impotent drone, to
be blest with bland praises, so long as he disturbs not
respectable iniquity slumbering in his pew, nor touches
an actual sin of the times, nor treads an inch beyond
the beaten path of the church. Well is it for the safety
of the actual church, that genius and talent forsake its
rotten walls, to build up elsewhere the church of the
first-born, and pray largely and like men -Thy kingdom come. There is a concealed skepticism amongst
us, all the more deadly because concealed. It is not a
denial of God, -though this it is whispered to our ear
is not rare, — for men have opened their eyes too
broadly not to notice the fact of God, everywhere apparent, without and within; still less is it disbelief of
the Scriptures; there has always been too much belief
in their letter, though far too little living of their truths.
But there is a doubt of man's moral and religious
nature; a doubt if righteousness be so superexcellent.
We distrust Goodness and Religion, as the blind doubt
if the sun be so fine as men tell of; or as the deaf
might jeer at the ecstatic rapture of a musician. Who
among men trusts Conscience as he trusts his eye or
ear? With them the highest in man is self-interest.
When they come to outside goodness, therefore, they
are driven by fear of hell, as by a scorpion whip; or




A LESSON FOR TIIE DAY.           25
bribed by the distant pleasures of Heaven.  Accordingly, if they embrace Christianity, they make Jesus,,
who is the archetype of a divine life, not a man like his,
brothers, who had human appetites and passions; was
tempted in the flesh; was cold, and hungry, and faint,,
and tired, and sleepy, and dull - each in its season -
and who needed to work out his own salvation, as we
also must do. But they make him an unnatural character; passionless; amphibious; not man and not God;
whose holiness was poured on him from some celestial!
urn, and so was in no sense his own work, and who,
therefore, can be no example for us, goaded as we are'by appetite, and bearing the ark of our destiny in our
own hands. It is not the essential element of Christianity, love to mian and love to God, men commonly'
gather from the New Testament; but some perplexing"
dogma, or some oriental dream. How  few religious
men can you find, whom Christianity talkes by the
hand, and leads through the Saharas and Siberias of'
the world; men whose lives are noble; who can speak.
of Christianity as of their trading, and marrying, out
of their own experience, because they have lived it?,
There is enough cant of Religion, creeds written on
sanctimonious faces, as signs of that emptiness of'
heart, -"which passeth show," but how little real Re,ligion, that comes home to men's heart and life, let experience decide.
Yet, if he would, man cannot live all to this world..
If not religious, he will be superstitious. If he worship
not the true God, he will have his idols. The web of'
our mortal life, with its warp of destiny and its woof of'
freewill, is most strangely woven up, by the flying
shuttles of time, which rest not, wake we or sleep; but:
through this wondrous tissue of the perishing there runs
3




26            A LESSON FOR THE DAY.
the gold thread of eternity, and like the net Peter
saw in his vision, full of strange beasts and creeping
things, this web is at last seen to be caught up to
Heaven by its four corners, and its common things
become no longer unclean. We cannot always be
false to Religion. It is the deepest want of man.
Satisfy all others, we soon learn, that we cannot live
by bread only, for as an ancient has said, " It is not the
growing of fruits that nourisheth man, but thy Word,
which preserveth them that put their trust in thee."
Without the divine life we are portionless, bereft of
strength; without the living consciousness of God, we
are orphans, left to the bleakness of the world.
But our paper must end. The Christianity of the
Church is a very poor thing; it is not bread, and it is
not drink. The Christianity of Society is still worse;
it is bitter in the mouth and poison in the blood. Still
men are hungering and thirsting, though not always
knowingly, after the true bread of life. Why shall we
perish with hunger?  In our Father's house is enough
and to spare. The Christianity of Christ is high and
noble as ever. The religion of Reason, of the Soul,
the Word of God, is still strong and flamelike, as when
first it dwelt in Jesus, the chiefest incarnation of God,
and now the pattern man. Age has not dimmed the
lustre of this light that lighteneth all, though they cover
their eyes in obstinate perversity, and turn away their
faces from this great sight. Man has lost none of his
God-likeness. He is still the child of God, and the
Father is near to us as to him who dwelt in his bosom.
Conscience has not left us. Faith and hope still abide;
and love never fails. The Comforter is with us; and
though the man Jesus no longer blesses the earth, the
ideal Christ, formed in the heart, is with us to the end




A LESSON FOR THE DAY.            27
of the world. Let us then build on these. Use good
words when we can find them, in the church, or out
of it. Learn to pray, to pray greatly and strong; learn
to reverence what is highest; above all learn to live;
to make Religion daily work, and Christianity our
common life. All days shall then be the Lord's day;
our homes, the house of God, and our labor, the
ritual of Religion. Then we shall not glory in men,
for all things shall be ours; we shall not be impoverished by success, but enriched by affliction. Our service shall be worship, not idolatry.   The burdens
of the Bible shall not overlay and crush us; its wisdom shall make us strong, and its piety enchant us.
Paul and Jesus shall not be our masters, but elder
brothers, who open the pearly gate of truth and cheer
us on, leading us to the Tree of Life. WVe shall find
the Kingdom of Heaven and enjoy it now, not waiting till death ferries us over to the other world. We
shall then repose beside the rock of ages, smitten by
divine hands, and drink the pure water of life as it
flows from the Eternal, to make earth green and
glad. We shall serve no longer a bond-slave to tradition, in the leprous host of sin, but become free men,
by the law and spirit of life. Thus like Paul shall
we form the Christ within; and like Jesus, serving
and knowing God directly, with no mediator intervening, become one with him. Is not this worth a man's
wish; worth his prayers; worth his work, to seek the
living Christianity; the Christianity of Christ?  Not
having this, we seem  but bubbles, -bubbles on an
ocean, shoreless and without bottom; bubbles that
sparkle a moment in the sun of life, then burst to be no
more. But with it we are men, immortal souls, heirs
of God, and joint-heirs with Christ.




II.
GERMAN  LITERATURE.*
OPINIONS are divided respecting German literature.
If we are to believe what is currently reported, and
generally credited, there is, somewhere in New England,
a faction of discontented men and maidens, who have
conspired to love every thing Teutonic, from Dutch
skates to German infidelity. It is supposed, at least
asserted, that these  misguided  persons  would  fain
banish all other literature clean out of space; or, at the
very least, would give it precedence of all other letters,
ancient or modern.  Whatever is Germnan, they admire;
philosophy, dramas, theology, novels, old ballads, and
modern sonnets; histories, and dissertations, and sermons; but above all, the immoral and irreligious writings, which it is supposed the Germans are chiefly engaged in writing, with the generous intention of corrupting the youth of the world, restoring the worship
of Priapus, or Pan, or the Pope, — it is not decided
which is to receive the honor of universal homage,*From the Dial for January, 1842. - Specimens of Foreign
Standard Literature, edited by GEORGE RIPLEY, vol. vii., viii., and
ix., containing German Literature, translated from the German of
Wolfgang  MAenzel, by C. C. FELTON; in three volumes. Boston:
Hilliard, Gray and Co. 1840.




GERMAN L1TEIRATURE.               29
and thus gradually preparing for the Kingdom of Misrule, and the dominion of Chaos and "most ancient
Night." It is often charitably taken for granted, that
the lovers of German works on Philosophy and Art
amongst us are moved thereto, either by a disinterested
love of whatever is German, or else, which is the more
likely, by a disinterested love of evil, and the instigation
of the devil, who, it is gravely said, has actually inspired
several of the most esteemed writers of that nation.
This German epidemic, we are told, extends very wide.
It has entered the boarding-schools for young misses, of
either sex, and committed the most frightful ravages
therein.  We have been apprised that it has sometimes
seized upon a College, nay, on Universities, and both
the Faculty and the Corporation have exhibited symptoms of the fatal disease.  Colleges, did we say?
" No place is sacred, not the Church is free."
It has attacked clergymen, in silk and in lawn. The
Doctors of Divinity fall before it. It is thought, that
"Fever and ague, jaundice and catarrh,
The grim-looked tyrant's heavy horse of war;
And apoplexies, those light troops of death,
That use small ceremony with our breath,"
are all nothing to the German epidemic. We meet
men with umbrellas and overshoes, men "shawled to
the teeth," and suppose they are prudent persons, who
have put on armor against this subtle foe. Histories of
this plague, as of the cholera, have been written; the
public has often been called to defend itself from the
enemy, and quarantine regulations are put in force
against all suspected of the infection. In short, the
prudent men of the land, men wise to foresee, and curi3*




30              GERMAN LITERATURE.
ous to prevent evil, have not failed to advise the public
from time to time of the danger that is imminent, and
to recommend certain talismans, as effectual safeguards.'Ve think a copy of the " Westminster Catechism," or
the " Confessions of Faith adopted by the Council of
Trent," or the " Athanasian Creed," perhaps if, hung
about the neclk, and worn next the skin, might save
little children, and perhaps girls nearly grown up, especially, if they read these amulets every morning, fasting. But a more important specific has occurred to us,,which we have never known to fail, and it has been
tried in a great many cases, in both hemispheres.  The
remedy is simple; it is a strong infusion of Dulness.
Continued applications of this excellent nostrum will:save any person, we think, from  all but very slight
attacks of this epidemic. Certainly, it will secure the
patient from the worst form of the disease, - the
philosophical frenzy, which it is said prevails in colleges, and among young damsels, but which, we think,
does not attack the pulpit. The other forms of the
malady are mainly cutaneous, and  easily guarded;against.
It has often been matter of astonishment to us, that
the guardians of the public welfare did not discover
German literature when it first set foot in America, and
-thrust it back into the ocean; and we can only account.for the fact of its extension here, from  the greater.activity of Evil in general. " Rank weeds do grow
apace." So this evil has grown up in the absence of.our guardians, as the golden calf was made, while
Moses was in the mount, fasting.  While the young
men and maidens have been eating the German lotus,
the guardians of the public weal have been "talking,
or pursuing, or journeying, or peradventure, they slept,




GERMAN LITERATURE.             31
and must needs be awaked."  However this may be,
they are now awake, and in full cry.
Now, for our own part, we have never yet fallen in
with any of these dangerous persons, who have this
exaggerated admiration of whatever is Teutonic, still
less this desire to overthrow Morality, and turn Religion
out of the world. This fact may be taken as presumptive evidence of blindness on our part, if men will.
We sometimes, indeed, meet with men, and women
also, well read in this obnoxious literature; they are
mostly,- yes, without a single exception, as we remember, - unoffending persons.  They " gang their ain
gait," and leave others the same freedom. They have
tastes of their own; scholarly habits; some of them
are possessed of talent, and no contemptible erudition,
judging by the New England standard. They honor
what they find good, and to their taste, in German
literature as elsewhere. Men and women, some of them
are, who do not think all intellectual and esthetic excellence is contained in a hundred volumes of Greek and
Roman authors, profound and beautiful as they are.
They study German Philosophy, Theology, Criticism,
and Literature in general, as they would the similar
works of any nation, for the good they contain. This,
we think, is not forbidden by the Revised Statutes, or
any other universal standard of right and wrong. Why
should no-l a man study even Sanscrit Philosophy, if he
will, and profit by it, in peace, if he can? WVe do not
say there are no enthusiatic or fanatical admirers of this
literature; nor, that there are none, who " go too far " in
their admiration, - which means, in plain English,
further than their critic, -but that such persons are by
no means common; so that there seems, really, very
small cause for the panic, into which some good people




32              GERMAN LITERATURE.
have seen fit to fall. WVe doubt the existence, therefore,
of this reputed faction of men and maidens, who design
to reinstate Confusion on her throne.
But on the other hand, we are told, - and partly believe it, -that there is a party of cool-headed, discreet,
moderate, sound, and very respectable persons, who
hate German literature. Of these we can speak from
knowledge. Most men have heard of them, for they
have cried out like Bluebeard in the tale, "till all shook
again." They are plenty as acorns in autumn, and
may be had for the asking. This party has, to speak
gently, a strong dislike to German literature, philosophy,
and theology. Sometimes this dislike is founded on a
knowledge of facts, an acquaintance with the subject,
in which case no one will find fault; but far oftener it
rests merely on prejudice, - on the most utter ignorance
of the whole matter. Respecting this latter class of
haters without knowledge, we have a few words to say.
We have somewhere seen it written, " he that answereth
a matter before he heareth it, it is a folly and shame
unto him."  We commend it to the attention of these
judges. They criticize German literature by wholesale
and retail, -to adopt the ingenious distinction of Dr.
Watts. They issue their writs, and have the shadow
of some poor German brought into the court of their
greatness, and pass sentence with the most speedy
justice, never examining the evidence, nor asking a
question, nor permitting the prisoner at the bar to say a
word for himself, till the whole matter is disposed of.
Before this honorable bench, Goethe, and Schleiermacher, and Schiller, and Arndt, and Kant, and Leibnitz,
Henry Heine, and Jacob B6hme, Schelling of universal
renown, and Schefer of Muskau in Nieder-Lausitz, and
Hege], and Strauss, with their aids and abettors, are




GERMAN LITERATURE.                  33
brought up and condemned as mystics, infidels, or pantheists; in one word, as Germans.  Thus the matter is
disposed of by the honorable court.  Now  we would
not protest against this method of proceeding, ancient
as it is, and supported by precedents from the time of
Jethro to General Jackson. Such a protest would be
"a dangerous innovation," no doubt.  We would have
no exceptions from the general method made in favor of
German letters.  No literature was ever written into
more than temporary notice, and certainly none was
ever written down.  German literature amongst us encounters just the same treatment the classic authors
received at the hands of the middle ages.  When those
old sages and saints began to start out of the corners,
where night had overtaken them, men were alarmed at
their strange faces and antique beards, and mysterious
words. "1 What," said they, as they gaped on one another, in the parlor, the court, the camp, or the church,
with terror in their faces, --   What! study Greek and
Roman letters! Greek and Roman philosophy? shall
we men of the TENTH century, study authors who lived
two thousand  years  ago, in  an  age  of darkness?
Shame on the thought!  Shall we, who are Christians,
and live in an age of light, look for instruction to Plato,
Aristotle, Cicero, or Seneca, men from dark pagan
times?  It were preposterous!  Let such works perish,
or sink back to their original night."' So it goes with
*The followingo anecdote is quite to the point. One day, in the
year 1530, a French monk said in the pulplit, "a new language has
been discovered, which is called Greek. You must take good heed,
and keep out of' its way. This language engenders all heresies. I
see in the hands of many, a book written in this language.  It is
called the New Testament. It is a book full of thorns and vipers.
As for the Hebrew language, all who study that become Jews imme



34              GERMAN LITERATURE.
us, and it is said, "Shall we Americans, excellent
Christians as wve are, who live in a land of education,
of righteousness, of religion, and know how to reconcile it all with our three millions of slaves; in the land
of steamboats and railroads; we Americans, possessed
of all needed intelligence and culture, shall we read the
books of the Germans, infidels as they are? Germans,
who dwell in the clouds, and are only fitted by divine
grace to smoke tobacco and make dictionaries! Out
upon the thought."
No doubt this decision is quite as wise as that pronounced so gravely by conservatives and alarmists of
the middle ages. " Would you have me try the criminal before I pass sentence? " said the Turkish justice;
"' that were a waste of words and time, for if I should
condemn him after examination, why not before, and
so save the trouble of looking into the matter?"  Certainly the magistrate was wise, and wherever justice is
thus administered, the traditional complaint of the
"law's delay " will never dare lift up its voice. Honor
to the Turkish judge' and his swift decision; long may
it be applied to German literature.  Certainly it is
better that ninety-and-nine innocent persons should
suffer outrageous torture, than that one guilty should
escape. Why should not public opinion lay an embargo on German works, as on India crackers, or forbid
their sale? Certainly it costs more labor to read them,
than the many excellent books in the mother-tongue.
No doubt a ready reader would go over the whole
ninety-eight volumes of Sir Walter Scott, in less time
than he could plod through and master the single obstidiately."- Sismoldi, Histoire des Fraencais, T. X7VI. p. 364, cited in
Mlichelet's ltist. Luther.




GERMAN LITERATURE.             35
nate book of Kant's Kritik of the Pure Reason. Stewart, and Brown, and Reid, and Paley, and Thomas
Dick, and Abercrombie, are quite easy reading. They
trouble no man's digestion, though he read them after
dinner with his feet on the fender. Are not these
writers, with their illustrious progenitors, successors,
and coadjutors, sufficient for all practical purposes?
Why, then, allow our studious youth in colleges and
log-cabins to pour over Leibnitz and Hegel, till they
think themselves blind, and the red rose yields to the
white on their cheek?
In the name of good, sense, we would ask if English
literature, with the additions of American genius, is not
rich enough without our going to the Hercynian forest,
where the scholars do not think, but only dream? Not
to mention Milton, and Shakspeare, and Bacon, —
names confessedly without parallel in the history of
thought, - have we not surpassed the rest of the world,
in each department of science, literature, philosophy,
and theology? WThence comes the noble array of scientific works, that connect general laws with single facts,
and reveal the mysteries of nature? Whence come
the most excellent works in poetry, criticism, and art?
Whence the profound treatises on ethics and metaphysics?  Whence the deep and wide volumes of theology, the queen of all sciences? Whence come works
on the classics of Greece and Rome? Whence histories
of all the chief concerns of man? Do they not all
come, in this age, from England and our own bosom?
What need have we of asking favors from the Germans,
or of studying their literature?  As the middle-age
monks said of the classics, - ANATHEMA SIT. It is certainly right, that the ghost of terror, like Mr. Littlefaith
in the story, should cross itself in presence of such a




36              GERMAN LITERATURE.
spirit, and utter its APAGE SATHANAS. Such al anathema would, no doubt, crush the Monadnock — or a
sugar-plum.
But let us come out of this high court of Turkish
justice, and for a moment look German literature in the
face, and allow it to speak for itself. To our apprehension, German literature is the fairest, the richest, the
most original, fresh, and religious literature of all modern times. We say this advisedly. We do not mean
to say Germany has produced the greatest poetic genius
of modern times. It has no Shakspeare, as the world
has but one, in whom the Poetic Spirit seems to culminate, though it will doubtless rise higher in better ages.
But we sometimes hear it said, admitting the excellence
of two or three German writers, yet their literature is
narrow, superficial, and poor, when compared with that
of England. Let us look at the facts, and compare the
two in some points. Classical taste and culture have
long been the boast of England. There is a wealth of
classical allusion in her best writers, which has an inexpressible charm, and forms the chief minor grace, in
many a work of poetic art.  Classical culture is the
pride, we take it, of her two "ancient and honorable
universities," and their spirit prevails everywhere in the
island. The English scholar is proud of his " quantity,"
and the correctness of his quotations from Seneca and
Demosthenes. But from what country do we get editions of the classics, that are worth the reading, in
which modern science and art are brought to bear on
the ancient text?  What country nurtures the men that
illustrate Homer, Herodotus, the Anthology of Planudes, and the dramatic poets?  Who explain for us
the antiquities of Athens, and write minute treatises on




GERMAN LITERATURE.             37
the law of inheritance, the castes, tribes, and manners
of the men of Attica?  Who collect all the necessary
facts, and reproduce the ideas lived out, consciously or
unconsciously, on the banks of the Eurotas, the Nile,
or the Alpheus? Why, the Germans. VWe do not
hesitate to say, that in the present century not a Greek
or a Roman classic has been tolerably edited in England, except through the aid of some German scholar..
The costly editions of Greek authors'that come to us
from Oxford and London, beautiful reprints of Plato,,
Aristotle, Aristophanes, Euripides, Sophocles, iEschylus,.
Herodotus, the Attic orators, and Plotinus, all these
are the work of German erudition, German toil, German genius sometimes. The wealthy islanders, proud
of their classic culture, furnish white paper and luminous type; but the curious diligence that never tires;.
the profound knowledge and philosophy which brings
the whole, light of Grecian genius to illuminate a single.
point; all this is German, and German solely. Did it.
not happen within ten years, that the translation of a
German work, containing some passages in Greek, incorrectly pointed in the original edition, and, therefore,
severely censured at home, was about being published
in Edinburgh, and no man could be found; in the
Athens of the North, and "no man in: all Scotland,"'
who could correctly accent the Greek words!  The
fact must be confessed. So the book was sent to
its author, - a Professor of Theology, - and he put it.
into the hands of one of his pupils, and the work was:
done. These things are trifles, but' a straw shows,
which way the stream runs, when a millstone wouldl
not. Whence come even the grammars and lexicons,,
of almost universal use in studying the ancient authors?'
The name of Reimer, and Damm, and' Schneider, andl
4




38              GERMAN LITERATURE.
Biittman, and Passow, give the answer. Where are
the English classical scholars in this century, who take
rank with Wolf, Heyne, Schweighauser, WVyttenbach,
Boeckh, Herrmann, Jacobs, Siebelis, Hoffman, Siebenkees, Mtiller, Creutzer, Wellauer, and Ast?  Nay, where
shall we find the rivals of Dindorf, Schafer, Stallbaumn,
Spitzner, Bothe, and Bekker, and a host more? for we
have only written down those which rushed into our
mind. What English name of the present century can
be mentioned with the least of these? Not one. They
labor, and we may enter into their labors, if we are not
too foolish. Who write ancient history like Niebiihr,
and Miiller, and Schlosser?  But for the Germans, the
English would have believed till this day, perhaps, all
the stories of Livy, that it rained stones, and oxen spoke,
for so it was written in Latin, and the text was unimpeachable.
But some may say, these are not matters of primary
concern; in things of" great pith and moment " we are
superior to these Teutonic giants. Would it were so.
Perhaps, in some of the physical' sciences the English
surpass their German friends, though even here we have
doubts, which are strengthened every month.  One
would expect the most valuable works on physical
geography from England; but we are disappointed, and
look in vain for any one to rival Ritter, or even Mannert. In works of general, civil, and political history
in the present century, though we have two eminent
historians in our own country, one of whom must take
rank with Thucydides and Tacitus, Gibbon and Hume,
England has nothing to equal the great works of Von
Hammer, Wilkins, and Schlosser. Why need we mention the German histories of inventions, of art, of each
science, of classical education, of literature in general?




GERMAN LITERATURE.            39
Why name their histories of Philosophy, from Brucker
down to Brandis and Michelet?  In English, we have
but Stanley, good in his time, and valuable even now,
and Enfield, a poor compiler from Brucker. The G-ermans abound in histories of literature, from the beginning of civilization down to the last Leipsic fair. In
England, such works are unknown. VWe have as yet
no history of our own literature, though the Germans
have at least one, quite readable and instructive. Even
the dry and defective book of Mr. Hallam,- for such
it is with all its many excellences, -is drawn largely
from its German predecessors, though it is often inferior
to them in vigor, and almost always in erudition and
eloquence.
Doubtless, the English are a very learned people; a
very Christian people likewise, no doubt. But within
the present century, what has been written in the English tongue, in any department of theological scholarship, which is of value, and makes a mark on the age?
The Bridgewater Treatises, and the new edition of
Paley, — ve blush to confess it, - are the best things.
In the criticism and explanation of the Bible, Old Testament or New Testament, what has been written, that
is worth reading?  Nothing, absolutely nothing of any
permanent value, save some half dozen of books, it may
be, drawn chiefly from German sources.  Who have
written the grammars and lexicons, by which the Hebrew and Greek Testaments are read? Why, the Germans. Who have written critical introductions to the
Bible, useful helps in studying the sacred letters?
WVhy, the Germans. Who have best, and alone developed the doctrines of the Bible, and explained them,
philosophically and practically?  Why, the Germans
again. Where are the men, who shall stand up in




40              GERMAN LITERATURE.
presence of Gesenius, Fiirst, Schleusner, and Wahl;
VWiner, and Ewald, and Nordheirner; Michaelis, Eichhorn, Jahn, and Bertholdt, Hug, and De Wette; the
Rosenmiillers, Maurer, Urnbreit, Credner, Paulus, Kuinoel, Fritzsche, Von Meyer, Liicke, Olshausen, Hengstenberg, and Tholuck, and take rank as their peers?
We look for them, but in vain. "We put our finger
on them, and they are not there." What work on theology, which has deserved or attracted general notice,
has been written in English, in the present century?
We know of none. In Germany, such works are numerous. They have been written by pious men, and
the profoundest scholars of the age. Wegscheider's
Theology is doubtless a poor work; but its equal is nowhere to be found in the English tongue. Its equal,
did we say? There is nothing that can pretend to approach it. Where, then, shall we find rivals for such
theologians as Ammon, Hase, Daub, Baumrgarten
Crusius, Schleiermacher, Bretschneider, and De Wette?
even for Zacharive, Vatke, and Kaiser?
In ecclesiastical history everybody knows what sort
of works have proceeded from the English and American scholars. Jortin, Milner, Priestley, Campbell, Echard,
Erskine, Jones, Waddington, and Sabine; these are our
writers. But what are their works?  They are scarcely
known in the libraries of scholars. For our knowledge
of ecclesiastical history we depend on the translations
from Du Pin, and Tillemont, or more generally on those
from  the German Mosheim  and Gieseler. All our
English ecclesiastical historians, what are they when
weighed against Mosheim, the Walchs, Vater, Gieseler,
Schrbckh, Planck, Muenscher, Tzschirner, and Neander?
Why, they might make sumptuous repasts on the crumbs
which fall from these men's table. The Germans pub



GERMAN LITERATURE.             41
lish the Fathers of the Greek and Latin church, and
study them. To the English they are almost "a garden
shut up and a fountain sealed."  It is only the Germans
in this age, who study theology, or even the Bible, with
the aid df enlightened and scientific criticism. There
is not even a history of theology in our language.
But this is not all, by no means the chief merit of the
German scholars.  WTithin less than threescore years
there have appeared among them four philosophers,
who would have been conspicuous in any age, and will
hereafter, we think, be named with Plato, Aristotle,
Bacon, Descartes, and Leibnitz - among the great
thinkers of the world. They are Kant, Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel. Silently these lights arose and went
up the sky without noise, to take their place among
the fixed stars of Genius and shine with them; names
that will not fade out of heaven until some ages shall
have passed away.  These men were thinkers all;
deep, mighty thinkers. They knelt reverently lown
before Nature, with religious hearts, and asked her
questions. They sat on the brink of the well of Truth,
and continued to draw for themselves and the world.
Take Kant alone, and in the whole compass of thought,
we scarce know his superior. Frorn Aristotle to Leibnitz, we do not find his equal. No, nor since Leibnitz.
Need we say it?  Was there not many a Lord Bacon
in Immanuel Kant?  Leibnitz himself was not more
capacious, nor the Stagyrite more profound. What
revolutions are in his thoughts. His books are battles.
Philosophical writers swarm in Germany. Philosophy
seems epidemic almost, and a score of first-rate American, or half a dozen English reputations, might be made
out of any of their philosophical writers of fourth or
A?




42              GERMAN LITERATURE.
fifth magnitude. Here, one needs very little scholarship to establish a name.  A small capital suffices for
-the outfit, for the credit system seems to prevail in the
literary, as well as the commercial world; and one can
draw on the Bank of Possibilities, as well as the fund.of achievements. One need but open any number of
-the Berlin Jahrbiicher, the Jena Allgemeine Literatur
Zeitung, or the Studien und Kritiken, to see what a
lofty spirit prevails among the Germans in philosophy,
criticism, and religion. There, a great deal is taken for
granted, and supposed to be known to all readers, which
here is not to be supposed, except of a very few, the
most learned. Philosophy and theology we reckon as
-the pride of the Germans. Here their genius bursts
iinto bloom, and ripens into fruit. But they are greatly,eminent, likewise, in the departments of poetry, and.
-elegant letters in general. Notwithstanding their wealth,of erudition, they are eminently original. Scandinavia:and the East, Greece and the middle ages, all pour
-their treasures into the lap of the Gertnan muse, who
not only makes trinkets therefrom, but out of her own
stores of linen, and wool, and silk, spins and weaves,strong and beautiful apparel for all her household, and
the needy everywhere. " She maketh herself coverings
-of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple." No doubt,;among the Germans there is an host of servile imita-tors, whose mind travels out of itself, so to say, and
makes pilgrimages to Dante, or Shakspeare, or Pindar,
(or Thucydides. Some men think they are very Shak~speares, because they transgress obvious rules.  The.sickly negations of Byron, his sensibility, misanthropy,.and affectation, are aped every day in Berlin and
Vienna. Horace and Swift, Anacreon and Bossuet,




GERMAN LITERATURE.              43
and Seneca and Walter Scott, not to name others, have
imitators in every street, who remind one continually
of the wren that once got into the eagle's nest, set up
to be king of the birds, and attempted a scream.  Still
the staple of their literature is eminently original. In
point of freshness, it has no equal since the days of
Sophocles. Who shall match with Wieland, and Lessing, the Schlegels, Herder, so sweet and beautiful,
Jean Paul, Tieck, and Schiller, and Goethe?  We
need not mention lesser names, nor add more of their
equals.
In what we have said, we would not underrate English literature, especially the works of former ages.  We
would pay deep and lasting homage to the great poets,
historians, philosophers, and divines of the mother country, in her best days. Their influence is still fresh and
living throughout the world of letters. But as these
great spirits ascended, the mantle of their genius, or inispiration, has fallen on the Germans, and not the English. Well says a contemporary, " Modern works are
greatly deficient both in depth and purity of sentiment.
They seldom contain original and striking views of the
nature of man, and of the institutions which spring
from his volition. There is a dearth of thought and
sterility of sentiment among us. Literature, art, philosophy, and life, are without freshness, ideality, verity,
and spirit.  Most works, since the days of Milton,
require little thought; they want depth, freshness; the
meaning is on the surface; and the charm, if any, is no
deeper than the fancy; the imagination is not called
into life; the thoughts are carried creepingly along the
earth, and often lost amid the low and uncleanly things
of sense and custom." " I do not, at this time, think
of any writer since Milton, excepting Coleridge and




44              GERMAN LITERATURE.
Wordsworth, whose works require a serene and thoughtful spirit, in order to be understood."' 
As little would we be insensible to the merits of the
rising literature of our own land. Little could be expected of us, hitherto. Our business has been, to hew
down the forest; to make paths and saw-mills; railroads
and steamboats; to lay the foundation of a great people, and provide for the emergencies of the day. As
yet, there is no American literature, which corresponds
to the first principles of our institutions, as the English
or French literature corresponds to theirs. We are,
perhaps, yet too young and raw to carry out the great
American idea, either in literature or society.  At
present, both are imitations, and seem rather the result
of foreign and accidental circumstances, than the off:
spring of our own spirit.  No doubt, the time- will
come, when there shall be an American school, in
science, letters, and the elegant arts.  Certainly, there
is none now. The promise of it must be sought in our
newspapers, and speeches, oftener than in our books.
Like all other nations, we have begun with imitations,
and shall come to originals, doubtless, before we end.
But there is one peculiar charm in German literature,
quite unequalled, we think, in modern days, that is, the
RELIGIOUS character of their works. W~e know it is
often said, the Germans are licentious, immoral in all
ways, and above all men, - not the old giants excepted, - are haters of religion. One would fancy Mezentius or Goliath was the archetype of the nation. We
say it advisedly, that this is, in our opinion, the most
religious literature the world has seen since the palmy
days of Greek writing, when the religious spirit seemed
* A. B. Alcott in " Record of a School."




GERMAN LITERATURE.               45
fresh, and warm, coming into life, and playing grateful
with the bland celestial light, reflected from each flowercup, and passing cloud, or received direct and straightway from the Source of all. It stands an unconscious
witness to the profound piety of the German heart.
We had almost said it was the only Christian national
literature the world has ever seen.  Certainly, to our
judgment, the literature of Old England, in her best
days, was less religious in thought and feeling, as it was
less beautiful in its form, and less simple in its quiet,
loving holiness, than this spontaneous and multiform
expression of the German soul. But we speak not for
others; let each drink of "that spiritual rock," where
the water is most salubrious to him. But we do not
say that German literature comprises no works decidedly immoral and irreligious. Certainly we have read
such, but they are rare, while almost every book, not
entirely scientific and technical, breathes a religious
spirit. You meet this, coming unobtrusively upon you,
where you least of all expect it. We do not say, that
the idea of a Christian literature is realized in Germany,
or likely to be realized. No; the farthest from it possible. No nation has yet dreamed of realizing it. Nor
can this be done, until Christianity penetrates the heart
of the nations, and brings all into subjection to the
spirit of life. The Christianity of the world is yet but
a baptized heathenism, so literature is yet heathen and
profane. We dare not think, lest we think against our
Faith. As if Truth were hostile to Faith, and God's
house were divided against itself. The Greek literature
represents the Greek religion; its ideal and its practical
side. But all the literature of all Christian nations,
taken together, does not represent the true Christian
religion, only that,fraction of it these nations could




46              GERMAN LITERATURE.
translate into their experience. Hence, we have as yet
only the cradle song of Christianity, and its nursery
rhymes. The same holds true in art, - painting, sculpture, and architecture. Hitherto it is only the church
militant, not the church triumphant, that has been represented. A Gothic cathedral gives you the aspiration,
not the attainment, the resting in the fulness of God,
which is the end of Christianity.  We have Magdalens,
Madonnas; saints, emaciated almost to anatornies, with
most rueful visage; and traditional faces of the Saviour.
These, however, express the penitence, the wailing of
the world lying in darkness, rather than the light of the
nations. The SON OF MAN risen from the grave is yet
lacking, in art. The Christian Prometheus, or Apollo,
is not yet; still less the triple Graces, and the Olympian
Jove of Christianity.  What'is Saint Peter's to the
Parthenon, considered as symbols of the two religions?
The same deficiency prevails in literature. We have
inherited much from the heathen, and so Christianity,
becoming the residuary legatee of deceased religions,
has earned but little for itself. History has not yet
been written in the spirit of the Christian scheme; as a
friend says, hitherto it has been the "history of elder
brothers."   Christianity would write of the whole
family. The great Christianr poem, the Tragedy of
Mankind, has not yet been conceived. A Christian
philosophy founded on an exhaustive analysis of Man,
is among the things that are distant. The true religion
has not yet done its work in the heart of the nations.
How, then, can it reach their literature, their arts, their
society, which come from the nation's, heart? Christianity is still in the manger, wrapped in swaddling
bands, and unable to move its limbs. Its Jewish parent
watches fearful, with a pondering heart. The shepherds,




GERMAN LITERATURE.             47
that honor the new-born, are Jewish still, dripping as
yet with the dews of ancient night. The heathen magicians have come up to worship, guided by the star of
truth, which goes before all simple hearts, and lighteth
every man that cometh into the world. But they are
heathen even now. They can only offer "gold, and
frankincense, and myrrh."  They do not give their
mind, and still less their heart. The celestial child is
still surrounded by the oxen, that slumber in their stalls,
or wake to blame the light that prevents their animal
repose. The Herod of superstition is troubled, and his
city with him. Alarmed at the new tidings, he gathers
together his mighty men, his chief priests and scribes,
to take counsel of his twin prophets, the Flesh and the
Devil, and while he pretends to seek only to worship,
he would gladly slay the young child, that is born King
of the world. But Christianity will yet grow up to
manhood, and escape the guardianship of traditions, to
do the work God has chosen. Then, and not till then,
will the gospel of beautiful souls, fair as the light, and
"terrible as an army with banners," be written in the
literature, arts, society, and life of the world. Now
when we say that German literature is' religious, above
all others, we mean, that it comes nearer than any other
to the Christian ideal of literary art. Certainly it by
no means reaches the mark.
Such, then, is German literature. Now, with those
among us, who think nothing good can come of it, we
have nothing to say. Let them rejoice in their own
cause, and be blessed in it. But from the influence this
rich, beloved, and beautiful literature will exert on our
infant world of letters, we hope the most happy results.
The diligence which shuns superficial study; the bold



48              GERMAN LITERATURE.
ness which looks for the causes of things, and the desire
to fall back on what alone is elementary and eternal, in
criticism, philosophy, and religion; the religious humility
and reverence which pervades it, may well stimulate
our youth to great works. We would not that any one
should give in his adhesion to a German master, or copy
German models. All have their defects. We wonder
that clear thinkers can write so darkly as some do, and
that philosophers and theologians are content with their
slovenly paragraphs, after Goethe has written such
luminous prose. We doubt, that their philosophical or
theological systems can ever take root in the American
rnind. But their method may well be f6llowed; and
fortunate will it be for us if the central truths, their systems are made to preserve, are sown in our soil, and
bear abundant fruit. No doubt, there is danger int
studying these writings; just as there is danger in reading Copernicus, or Locke, Aristotle, or Lord Brougham,
or Isaiah and St. John. As a jocose friend says, "it is
always dangerous for a young man to think, for he may
think wrong, you know." It were sad to see men run
mad after German philosophy; but it is equally sad to
see them go to the same excess in English philosophy.
If " Transcendentalism" is bad, so is Paleyism, and
Materialism.  Truth is possessed entire by no sect,
German or English. It requires all schools to get at
all Truth, as the whole Church is needed to preach the
whole Gospel. Blessed were the days when Truth
dwelt among men in her wholeness. But alas! they
only existed in fable, and now, like Osiris in the story,
she is cut into fragments and scattered world-wide, and
sorrowing mortals must journey their life long, to gather
here a piece and there a piece. But the whole can
never be joined and reanimated in this life. Where




GERMAN LITERATURE.            49
there is much thought, there will be some truth, and
where there is freedom in thinking, there is room for
misconduct also. We hope light from Germany; but
we expect shadows with it. The one will not eclipse
the sun, nor the other be thicker than the old darkness,
we have "felt" from our youth up. We know there is,
BIN among the Germans; it is so wherever there are
men and women. Philosophy, in Germany or England-,
like the stout man a journeying, advances from day to,
day; but sometimes loses the track and wanders, " not
knowing whither he goeth;" nay, sometimes stumbles
into a ditch. When this latter accident, - as it is confessed, - has befallen Philosophy in America and Eng —
land, and men declare she is stark dead, we see Inot why
her friends might not call on her German sister, to extricate her from the distress, and revive her once more,,
or at least give her decent burial. We are sorry, we
confess it, to see foolish young men, and old men not
burdened with wisdom, trusting wholly in a man;
thinking as he thinks, and moving as he pulls the
strings. It is dangerous to yield thus to a German, or
a Scotch philosopher. It were bad to be borne off on al
cloud by Fichte and Hegel, or to be made " spouse of
the worm and brother of the clay," by Priestley or Paley.
But we fancy it were better to fall into the hands of Jove
than Pluto. We cannot predict the result of the Ger —
man movement in Philosophy; but we see no more,
reason for making Henry Heine, Gutzkow, and Schefer,.
the exponents of that movement,s —as the manner of
some is, —than for selecting Bulwer, Byron, Moore,
and Taylor the infidel, to represent the Church of England. Seneca and Petronius were both Roman men,
but which is the type? Let Germani literature be
weighed in an even balance, and then pass for what it;
5




50              GERMAN LITERATURE.
is worth.  We have no fear that it will be written
down, and should be sorry to see any exaggerated statement of its excellence, which would, in the end, lead to
disappointment.
We turn now to the book named at the head of our
article. The author's design is to give a picture of Ger-'
man literature. His work does not pretend to be a
history, nor to point out the causes which have made
the literature what it is. His aim is to write of subjects,
rather than to talk about books. His work is merely a
picture. Since this is so, its character depends on two
things, namely, the artist's point of sight, and the fidelity with which he has painted things as they appear,
from that point. The first question then is, from what
point does he survey the field? It is not that of philosophy, theology, or politics.  He is no adept in either
of these sciences. He is eminently national, and takes
the stand of a German amateur. Therefore it is his
duty to paint things as they appear to a disinterested
German man of letters; so he must treat of religion,
philosophy, education, history, politics, natural science,
poetry, law, and criticism, from this point of view. It
would certainly require an encyclopedical head to discuss ably all these subjects, and bring them down to
the comprehension of the unlearned. It was scarcely
to be expected, that any one man should be so familiar
with all departments of thought in a literature so wide
and rich as this, as never to make mistakes, and even
great mistakes. But Mr. Menzel does not give us a
faithful picture of things as seen from this position, as
we shall proceed to show in some details. He carries
with him violent prejudices, which either blind his eyes
to the truth, or prevent him from representing it as it is.




GERMAN LITERATURE.                51
On his first appearance, his unmanly hostility to Goethe
began to show itself.* Nay, it appeared, we are told,
in his Streckverse, published a little before.  This hostility amounts to absolute hatred, we think, not only of
the works, but of the man himself. This animosity
towards distinguished authors vitiates the whole work.
Personal feelings and prepossessions perpetually interrupt the cool judgment of the critic. When a writer
attempts, as Menzel does, to show that an author who
has a reputation, which covers the world, and rises
higher and higher each year, who is distinguished for
the breadth of his studies, and the newness of his views,
and his exquisite taste in all matters of art, is only a
humbug, what' can we do but smile, and ask, if effects
come without causes? Respecting this hostility to
Goethe, insane as it obviously is, we have nothing to
say. Besides, the translator has ably referred to the
matter in the preface. That Goethe, as a man, was
selfish to a very high degree, a debauchee and well-bred
epicurean, who had little sympathy with what was
highest in man, so long as he could crown himself with
rose-buds, we are willing to admit.  But let him have
justice, none the less. Mr. Menzel sets up a false
standard, by which to judge literary productions. Philosophy, ethics, art, and literature, should be judged of by
their own laws.  We would not censure the Laocoin,
because it did not teach us agriculture, nor the Iliad,
because it was not republican enough for our taste.
Each of these works is to be judged' by its own principles. Now, we object to our friend, that he judges
*Europaischen Blittern for 1824, I. B. p. 101-108, and IV.p. 233'
seq. But these we have never seen, and only a few stray numbers of
the Literatur-Blatt.




~52              GERMAN LITERATURE.
literary works by the political complexion of their
author. Thus, for example, not to mention Goethe, he.condemns Johann Von MUller, -whom, as a Swiss, he
was not bound to mention among German writers, —
and all his works, because lhe was no patriot. For him
" of all the German writers, I entertain the profoundest
contempt." No doubt, the venerable historian, as some
one has, said, would be overwhelmed as he stands in- the
Elysian fields, with Tacitus and Thucydides, to be despised by such an historian as Menzel!*  So Krug is
condemned, not for his fustiness and superficiality, but
because he wrote against the Poles.t It is surprising
to what a length this is carried. He ought to condemn
the "Egoism" of Fichte, no less than that of Hegel.
But because the former is a liberal, and the latter a conservative, the same thing is tolerated in the one and
condemned in the other. Words cannot express his
abhorrence of Hegel. Fries is condemned as a philosopher, because he was "almost the only true patriot
among our philosophers." Oken must not be reproached with his coarse Materialism, because he resigned his
professorship at Jena, rather than give up his liberal
journal. These few instances are sufficient to show the
falseness of his standard.
He indulges in personal abuse; especially does he
pour out the vials of his calumny on the "young Germans," whom he censures for their personal abuse. He
seems to have collected all the "little city twaddle," as
the Germans significantly name it, as material for his
work, and very striking are the colors, indeed. His
* See an able defence of Von Miller, in Strauss's Streitschriften,
Heft 2. Tiibigen: 1837, p. 100.
t Vol. I. p. 235, seq.




GERMAN LITERATURE.                53
abuse of this kind is so gross, that we shall say no more
of it.*  Mr. Menzel is the Berserker of modern critics.
He scorns all lanws of literary warfare; scalps, and
gouges, and stabs under the fifth rib, and sometimes
condescends to tell a little fib, as we shall show in its
place.  He often tries the works he censures by a moral,
and not a critical or artistic standard. No doubt, the
moral is the highest, and a work of art, wherein the
moral element is wanting, deserves the severest censure.
No man can insist on this too strongly. But when a
man writes from the artistic point of view, we think it
his duty to adhere to his principles.  If a work is immoral, it is so far false to the first principles of art. It
does very little good, we fancy, merely to cry out, that
this book of Gutzkow, or that of Goethe, is immoral.
It only makes foolish young men the more eager to
read it. But if the critic would show, that the offend.
ing parts were false, no less than wicked, and mere
warts and ulcers on the bodv of the work, he would
make the whole appear loathsome, and not attractive.
Mr. Menzel is bound to do this, for he believes that the
substance and the form of art are inseparable, or in
plain English, that virtue is beautiful, and vice ugly.
Having made this criticism, he might justly pronounce
the moral sentence also. If truth is harmonious, then
a licentious work is false and detestable, as well in an
artistic, as in a moral point of view. But we cannot
enlarge on this great question at the end of an article.
Judging Menzel from his own point of view, this
work is defective in still graver points. He carries his
partisan feelings wherever he goes, and with very superficial knowledge passes a false sentence on great men
* Read who will, Vol. III. p. 228, for an example.
53




,54              GERMAN LITERATURE.
and great things. His mistakes are sometimes quite
amusing, even to an American scholar, and must be
doubly ludicrous to a German, whose minute knowledge of the literature of his own country would reveal
more mistakes than meet our eye. We will point out
a few of these in only two chapters. That on philosophy and religion. In the first, we think the author may:safely defy any one to divine from his words the philo-.sophical systems of the writers he treats of. Take, for
a very striking example, his remarks upon Leibnitz.*' The great Leibnitz, who stood on the boundary line
between the old times of astrology, magic, and sympathetic influences, and the later times of severe scientific
method, united the labyrinth of life, belonging to these
-austere dark days, with the clear light of our own. He
was animated with deep religious faith, but still had the
full vigor of thought.  Living faith in God was his
rock; but his system of world-harmony,t showed nothing
of the darkly-colored cathedral light of the ancient
mystics; it stood forth in the clear white light of the
day, like a marble temple on the mountain top." From
this statement, one would naturally connect Leibnitz
with Pythagoras, Kepler, and Baron Swedenborg, who
really believed and taught the world-harmony. But
who would ever dream of the Monads, which play such
{a part in the system of Leibnitz?  He tells us, that
Eberhard has written a one-sided and Kantian history'of philosophy, which is very strange in a man who
-lived a Wolfian all his days, and fought against the
critical philosophy, though with somewhat more zeal
*Vol. I. p. 219.;t Mr. Felton has translated Weltharmonie " Preestablished Haranony," which Leibnitz believed in, but it is not the meaning of the
word.




GERMAN LITERATURE.             55
than knowledge, it is thought. Besides, his history of
Philosophy was published in 1788, before the Kantian
philosophy'had become lord of the ascendant. As he
criticizes poets by the patriotic standard, so he tries the
philosophers by his esthetic rule, and wonders they are
hard to understand. But these are minor defects; come
we to the greater. His remarks on Kant are exceedingly unjust, not to speak more harshly. "The philosophical century wanted an earth without a heaven, a
State without a church, man without a God. No one
has shown so plainly as Kant, how with this limitation
earth may still be a paradise, the State a moral union,
and man a noble being, by his own reason and power,
subjected to law." * We do not see how any one could
come to this conclusion, who had read Kant's Kritik of
Judgment, and Practical Reason, and conclude our
critic, forgetting to look into these books, in his abhorrence of scholastic learning, and "study, that makes
men pale," cut the matter short, and rode over the "high
priori road," in great state to the conclusion. We pass
over his account of Fichte and 8chelling, leaving such
as have the ability to determine, from his remarks, what
were the systems of these twVo philosophers, and reconstruct them at their leisure. There is an old remark we
have somewhere heard, that it takes a philosopher to
judge a philosopher; and the- truth of the proverb is
very obvious to the readers of this chapter. Hegel
seems the obje~ct of our author's most desperate dislike.
His sin, however, is not so much his philosophy, as his
conservative politics, as it appears. He does not condescend, - as an historian might do once in a while, -
to give us a portrait, or even a caricature of his system;
* Vol. I. p. 223.




56              GERMAN LITERATURE.
but contents himself with such abuse as the following
precious sentences. " Hegel first reduced God to a
mere speculation, led about by an evil spirit, in the void
of his heavenly heath, who does nothing but think, indeed, nothing but think of thinking."    " He makes no
distinction between himself and God; he gives himself
out for God." He says God first came to a clear
consciousness of himself "in the philosopher who
has the only right philosophy, therefore in himself, in
the person of Hegel. Thus we have, then, a miserable,
hunch-backed, book-learned God; a wooden and squinting academical man, a man of the most painful and
pompous scholasticism; in a word, a German pedant
on the throne of the world."  We need make no comments on the spirit which suggests such a criticism
upon a philosopher like Hegel. Still further, he says,
F6rster " declared, over the grave of Hegel, that, beyond
all doubt, Hegel was himself the Holy Ghost, the third
person in the Godhead." When we read this several
years ago, we believed the words were uttered by some
man of an Oriental imagination, who meant no harm
by his seeming irreverence. But on inquiry we find it
is not so. One who heard Mr. Fdrster's Oration, who
had it lying before him, in print, at the time of writing,
declares, there was no such thing in it, but the strongest
passage was this; " Was it not he, who reconciled the unbelievers with God, inasmuch as he taught us truly to
understand Jesus Christ? " t
But enough on this subject. Let us say a word respecting the chapter on Religion, more particularly on
that part relating to theology. Here the learned author's abhorrence of book-learning is more conspicuous
* Vol. I. p. 259.  t Strauss, ubi sup. p. 212, 213.




GERMAN LITERATURE.             57
than elsewhere, though obvious enough in all parts of
the book. We pass over the first part of the chapter,which contains some very good things, that will come
to light in spite of the smart declamations in which
they are floating, - and proceed to his account of
Catholicism in Germany.* Here, in a work on German literature, we naturally expect a picture of the
Catholic theology, at least a reference to the -chief
Catholic writers in this department. But we are disappointed again. We find declamations and anecdotes
well fitted for the Penny Magazine, as a German critic
says, to whom we are indebted for some hints on this
topic.t He throws together such remarks as would
make excellent and smart paragraphs in a newspaper;
but gives no calm, philosophical view of the subject.
He can enlarge on the Jesuits, or Jansenists, on the influence of Kant's and Schelling's philosophy, and the
reaction in favor of Catholicism, for these subjects are
in all mouths; but he scarce looks at the great philosophical question, on which the whole matter hinges.
His acquaintance with modern Catholic writers seems
to be as narrow as his philosophy is superficial. Gunther, Pabst, Mihler, Singler, Staudenmaier, Klee, and
Hermes, have escaped the sharp glance of our author.t
In the portion of the chapter which relates to Protestantism, we find the same defects. The sketch of the
history of theology since Luther is hasty and inaccurate. It does not give the reader a clear conception of
the progress of ideas. He makes some amusing misrepresentations on page 159 and 173, to which we will
* Vol. I. p. 114-139.
t A writer in Rheinwald's Ropertorium, Vol. XV. p. 14, seq.
t See Rheinwald, ubi sup. p. 16.




58              GERMAN LITERATURE.
only refer. Among the most celebrated of German
preachers, since the middle of the last century, he forgets to mention Teller, Lbffler, Zollikoffer, Lavater,
Herder, Tzschirner, Schmalz, Rbhr, Zimmermann, De
Wette, Marheineke, Nitzsch, Tholuck, Ehrenberg,
Strauss, Reinhard, Therimin, Couard, Lisco, and many
others of equal fame. Mosheim is mentioned as a distinguished writer on morals, Amrnon and Bretschneider
are despatched in a word.  Wetstein is mentioned
among the followers of Ernesti and Semler, and is put
after Eichhorn, though he died only two years after the
latter was born. But it is an ungrateful task to point
out these defects. Certainly we should not name them,
if there were great and shining excellences beside.
But they are not to be found. The chapter gives a confused jumble of ideas, and not a true picture. True,
it contains passages of great force and beauty, but
throughout the whole section, order and method, accurate knowledge and an impartial spirit, are grievously
wanting. Who would guess what great things had
been done in Biblical criticism, from  Mr. Menzel's
words? Who would know that De Wette had written
profound works in each of the four great departments
of theology; indeed, that he wrote any thing but a
couple of romances?  But we are weary with this
fault-finding. However, one word must be said, by
way of criticism upon his standing point itself. German literature is not to be surveyed by an amateur
merely. The dilettanti has no rule and compasses in his
pocket, by which he can measure all the objects in this
German ocean of books. No doubt, histories of literature have hitherto been too often " written in the special
interest of scholastic learning," and are antiquarian lists
of books and not living histories. It is certainly well




GERMAN LITERATURE.             59
to write a history of literature so that all men may
read. But it would require a most uncommon head to
treat ably of all departments of literature and science.
In one word, it is quite impossible to judge all by one
rule. The writer, therefore, must change his position
as often as he changes the subject. He must write of
matters pertaining to religion, with the knowledge of a
theologian; on philosophical subjects, like a philosopher,
and so of the rest. Any attempt to describe them all
from one point of sight seems as absurd as to reckon
pounds, shillings, and pence, and drachms, ounces,
quarters, and tons in the same column. A sketch of
German theological literature ought to tell what has
been done and what is now doing by Protestants and
Catholics, in the four great departments of exegetical,
historical, systematic, and practical theology. It should
put us in possession of the idea, which lies at the bottom of Catholicism and Protestantism, and tell what
form this ideal assumes, and why it takes this form and
no other. But to this Mr. Menzel makes no pretension.
He has not the requisite knowledge for this. His learning seems gathered from reviews, newspapers, the conversations-lexicon, literary gossip, and a very perfunctory
perusal of many books. The whole work lacks a plan.
There is no unity to the book. It seems a compilation
of articles, written hastily in the newspapers, and designed for immediate-effect. So the spirit of the partisan appears everywhere. We have declamation instead
of matter-of-fact and cool judgment. Still the work is
quite entertaining. Its author, no doubt, passes for a
man of genius; but as a friend says, who rarely judges
wrong, " he has more show than sinew, and makes up
in smartness what he wants in depth." We are glad
to welcome the bQok in its English dress, but we hope




60                GERMAN LITERATURE.
it will be read with caution, as a guide not to be
trusted.  Its piquant style, and "withering sarcasm,"
remind us often of Henry Heine, and the young Germans, with whom the author would not wish to be
classed. We think it will not give a true idea of the
German mind and its workings, to the mere English
reader, or aid powerfully the student of German to find
his way amid that labyrinthian literature. The book
is very suggestive, if one will but follow out the author's hints, and avoid his partialities and extravagance.
Professor Felton seems to have performed the work
of translation with singular fidelity. His version is uncommonly idiomatic and fresh. It reads like original
English. But here and there we notice a slight verbal
inaccuracy in translating, which scarce any human diligence could avoid.* We regard the version as a monument of diligence and skill. The metrical translations
are fresh and spirited.
* It would have been a convenience to the readers, if it had been
stated in the preface, that the version was made from the second German edition, published at Stuttgart, 1836; for the author only treats
of things as they were at that time, or before it.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD  OF CLAIRVAUX.*~
A CHAPTER OUT OF TIE MIDDLE AGES.
SAINT BERNARD of Clairvaux, — his name carries us,
back to the depths of the middle ages. We connect it,
in  our associations, with  Scholastic  Theology, and
Mystical Religion; with activity almost unbounded in
the affairs of the Church. Austere monks, admiring
women, and long ranks of crusaders come up in our
fancy when his name is mentioned.  St. Bernard was a
great man in his time, and his day outlasted several
centuries; for after his death  he made a mark on the
* De Melliflui devotique doctoris sacti Bernardi Abbatis clarevallensis cisterciesis ordinis opus preclaru suos copletes, sermones de
tempore; de sanctis; et super cantica canticarum. Aliosque plures
ejus sermones, et sentetias nusq. hactenus impressas.  Ejusdem
insuper epistolas ceteraque universa ejus 6puscula. Domini quoque
Gilleberti Abbatis Do. Hoiladia in Anglice prelibati ordinis super
cantica sermones.  Omnia sm. seriem hic a sequati pagella annotatam
collocata vigilanter et accurate super vetustissima clarevallis exam —
plaria apprime correcta. Johan Petit.
Venudantur Parisiis in vice divi Jacobi sub Lilio aureo a Johanne
Parvo. (Paris, 1513, one vol. fol.) - [Firom the Christian Examinerfor March, 1841].
6




62            THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
ages as they passed over his tomb, and the church long
bore the impress of his gigantic spirit. A man who
oftener than once scorned to be archbishop; who dictated to kings, and wrote a manual for the "infallible
head of the church;" who projected a crusade, uttered
prophecies, and worked miracles, even after his death,so his biographers affirm, —such a man was St. Bernard
in his day.  Such is he now, by force of tradition, in
the minds of many a true Catholic. It has been said
that he honored the year when he became immortal,
" and went to receive in heaven the reward of his illustrious virtue and glorious fatigues."" He was called
in his own age and after it, "the firm pillar of the
church," the "fellow-citizen of the angels," the second
interpreter of the Holy Ghost, and the second child of
the most holy mother of God.t "' The salutiferous
honey of moral instruction fell from his lips and flowed
everywhere," says a learned Jesuit, writing many hundred years after his death.:t  "The Bossuet of the
twelfth century," his word shook the church, and made
two: great empires rock to their foundation.
Yet this man is forgotten in less than eight centuries
from his birtfi. His books, no man reads them; or only
those scholars "who have folios in their library," and
graze with delight amid the frowzy pastures of old time,
where the herbage is thick and matted together with
ages of neglect. The Saint is no longer appealed to in
controversies; his works are not reprinted, except in
ponderous collections of the Fathers, which the herd of
scholars stare at and pass by, in quest of new things,
* Muratori, Annali d' Italia, etc. Tom. vi. p. 403, sq.' Andres, dell' Origine progressi e Stato attuale di ogni Letteratura, Romo. 1817. Tom. vii. p. 219, sq.
$ Ibid.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.         63
wondering at the barbarism that could write, and the
stupidity that can still read such works. But Bernard
is eclipsed only because brighter lights have gone into
the sky. We are struck with the wealth of thought
there is in the world, when we read, on the pages of the
nations, those names which Genius and Virtue have
consecrated and forbid to die. But the world's richness
seems still greater, when men, like this mighty Bernard,
are not deemed worth remembering. But if he is thus
quickly forgot, who of modern great men can stand?
What existing reputation shall not be blown away as
chaff, before the mystic fan of time?
Saint Bernard belongs to that long list of middle-age
scholars, on whom the world has passed the bitter doom
of forgetfulness and night. We would gladly rescue
much that it consigns to oblivion; but its decree is irreversible, and there is no higher court of appeal, save only
" the pure eyes and perfect witness of all-judging Jove."
The works of these men stand in old libraries, and fill
goodly presses with forgotten folios.  Their ribbed
backs, their antiquated dress, eaten with worms and
covered with dust as many generations have passed
by, - dust which no antiquarian finger has disturbed,
these things frighten the loose-girt student, and he turns
away to read the novels of Bulwer and Scott, or laugh
at the illustrations of La Fontaine's fables. Should he
open the venerable tome, the barbarism of the print; the
contractions unnumbered, which defile its thousand folio pages; the uncouth phraseology; the strange subjects which it treats; the scholastic terms; the distinctions without a difference, -all these repel the modern
student. The gaunt shadow of the monk, its author,
seems to rise from its coffin, and staring at the literary
gentleman, to say, "-Why hast thou disturbed my re



64           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
pose, and brought me to the day once more? Break
not again my mystic dream." These are the authors
before whom Industry folds her hands, and gives up
the task; from whom Diligence, with his frame of iron
and his eye of fire, turns away, dispirited and worn
down. Yet were these men lights in their day. They
shed their lustre over many a land. The shadows they
cast, fall still on us. Mankind looked hopeful as their
light arose, and saw it sink, doubting that another
would ever arise and equal it.
What a different spirit pervades the men of those
ages we call dark, — not dreaming that our age, -the
nineteenth century itself, - shall likewise one day be'
called by the same name. Their spirit is not classic,
and it is not modern. You come down from Plato to
St. Bernard, for example, and feel that you have made
a descent. The high ideal of mortal life does not float
before the eyes of the saint as before that great-hearted
pagan. The character of these writings is unique.
They have not the majestic tranquillity of the Greek
literature, nor the tempestuous movement of modern
works. Here worship takes the place of passion, and
contemplation is preferred before action. Their ideal
life would be wretchedness to an American, and Tartarus itself to a Greek, for fast and vigils are thought better than alms-deeds -and daily duty. The senses are
looked upon as legitimate inlets of pain, and pain only.
What austerity of discipline, —to which the wars of
antiquity, and the commercial enterprises of our day
were pastime; what watching; what fast and prayer;
what visions and revelations, — the natural result of
their life, - conspired to form these stout spirits.
You turn from the bustling literature of the nineteenth century to the works of Bernard, and the change




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.         6,5
of atmosphere is remarkable. You feel it in every limb.
It is- as if you stepped at once from the hot plains of
Ethiopia to the very summit of the Mountains of the
Moon. Or better, as if you were transferred in a moment from the feverish heat of an August noon, to the
cool majesty of an April night, when there was frost in
the air, and a rawness in the occasional gusts of wind,
come from  what quarter they would; when clouds
of grotesque shape and threatening darkness mingled
capriciously with the uncertain shining of the moon,
and the mysterious twinkle of the stars; when you were
uncertain what weather had preceded or what would
follow, but knew that a storm was not far off, it might
have been, or might yet come, for all was organic and
not settled. The difference between this and the spirit
of Greek literature, is the difference between a forest, with
its underbrush and winding paths, leading no one knows
whither, - a forest full of shadows and wild beasts,
and a trim garden of great and beautiful trees, reared
with art, planted by science, and arranged with most
exquisite taste, -a garden where flowers bloomed out
their fragrant life, fruits ripened on the stem, and little
birds sang their. summer carol, to complete the harmony
of the scene.
In the days of Bernard, a saint was a popular character; the great man of a kingdom. Men went in
crowds to see him. Women threw garlands on him as
he passed, and branches were spread in his way. Rude
peasants and'crowned kings begged for his blessing,
though it were but a mere wave of his hand. But we
have changed all that, and more wisely confer them and
the like honors on men in epaulets, and dancing girls. It
is nature's law to pay men in kind. It may be surprising
to our readers, but it is still true, that Saint Bernard,
6*




66           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
though lean as a skeleton almost, was received with as,much eclat wherever he chanced to go, as the most,popular modern statesman, or electioneering orator.
Nay more, men made long pilgrimages to see him;
they laid the sick, that they might be healed, in the
streets where he walked, or beneath the windows of the
house in which he chanced to pass the night, and the,sick were cured, at least his three monkish and contemporary biographers credited the miracle. Rebellious
Dukes, and a refractory Emperor were subservient to
his will, and'when at high mass he elevated the host,
the stoutest of heart fell on his knees, and forgot his,rebellion, becoming like a little child. The bold deniers,of the church's authority, - bold even then, when it was
dangerous to be bold, - shrunk from the grasp of this
nervous athlete of the faith. Peter of Bruis, Henry of
Lausanne, Gilbert of Poictiers, even Abelard himself,
with his net of subtle dialectics, fine-meshed as woven
wind, gave up at last to him. He uttered prophecies
which time has not yet seen fit to fulfil, though the good'Catholic, no doubt, hopes they will yet come to pass.
In what follows, we shall rely chiefly on the lives of this
great man, which were written by several of his contemporaries.
Saint Bernard was born at Fontaines, in Burgundy,
not far from Dijon, in the year of our Lord 1091. His
father, Trecelin, a knight of an ancient family of considerable fortune, spent most of his life in arms, taking
little pains about the education of his children. This,duty fell to the lot of his pious and intelligent wife,
Aleth, the daughter of Count Montbart, who discharged
-it with most exemplary fidelity. In old times, we are
told, that supernatural signs preceded the birth of men,predestined to eminence, and swarms of bees, or flocks




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.          67
of birds, or sheep with one horn in the middle of the
forehead, foretold the character and prowess of the babe
unborn, so that when he came into the world, he had
nothing to do but realize the augury. The monkish
historian, Abbot William of St. Thierry,' relates similar
things of Bernard. To Aleth, as to Hecuba, was foretold the character of her son, with the same clearness in
both cases. Aleth, before the birth of her child, dreamed
of a dog, " white all over, but somewhat reddish on the
back," and in her dream the dog barked, as dogs often
do. Terrified at this prodigy, she sought ghostly counsel of a certain religious man. He, remembering that
King David wished " that the tongue of the dogs may
be dipped in the blood of the enemy," and being " filled
with the spirit of prophecy," foretold that the child about
to be born should bark loud and long at the enemies of the
church. He should be an excellent preacher of the word,
and his tongue should have a medicinal savor and cure
diseases of the soul. The mother was comforted by
this interpretation, which coming events very kindly
fulfilled, and proved he could not only bark but bite also.
Aleth, the mother of Bernard, and of five other sons
and one daughter, was a religious woman, as religious
was then understood. She declined the splendors which
usually belonged to her wealth and station; lived almost
a monastic life of prayer, fasting, and self-mortification.
She early dedicated her child to a monastic life, and
accordingly gave him an education suited to his destiny.
He received some instruction in the church at Chatillon.
Hlis contemporary and friend, the above-named William,
relates that in study he far surpassed his fellow students,
* Vita S. Bernardi Abbati, Lib. I. C. 1-3. Prefixed to Bernard's
Works.




68           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
but began his mortification of the flesh, also, at the
same time. Even in his youth, he gave signs of the
excellent virtue that was in him, and by his remarkable
greatness of soul foreshowed what he was one day to
become. Once he was violently afflicted with a headache, and" a sorry little woman was called in to cure
him by the magic of songs. But soon as she came in
with the implements of. her art, which she used to delude the superstitious, he cried out against her with
great indignation, and ordered the witch out of the
house. He felt that virtue had come into him, and rising
in the strength of the spirit, found himself free from all
pain." This is looked on as one of his earliest miracles.
Exceeding grace was given to the youth even in his
tender years. "The Lord appeared to him, as to Samiuel at Shiloh, and manifested his glory." This took
place on Christmas night, as he sat waiting the event,
between sleeping and waking. "' Jesus appeared to him,
like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber," and then
took the form of the word just incarnated in the newborn babe, "beautiful above the sons of men." After
this, as he grew up and " increased in favor with God
and man," the great Enemy spread in vain the witchery
of his most enticing nets, and the serpent lay in wait to
sting his heel. On one occasion, he was so sorely
pressed by the same temptation that overcame even St.
Anthony, and has been thought irresistible, that he
could find no relief, except by jumping into a pond of
exceedingly cold water up to his ears. Here he remained
until similar temptations lost all their power, and he lost
nearly his life. But by " virtue of divine grace " he was,
ever after, "ice all over" to such allurements. Those
who are curious in such matters may see, in the good
monk's biography, how variously he was tempted by




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.         69
this Protean Devil, transformning himself into an angel
of light, and how he yet kept whole, as a salamander in a
Brazier's fire. While a school-boy in the world, he became a soldier of Christ, and had " visions and revelations of the Lord." Bernard lost his mother at an early
age, and then his youthful companions sought to seduce
him from his pious vow, and lead him away to their
life of violence, and riot, and bloodshed.
In this period of the middle ages, the line of distinction between noble and ignoble blood was drawn with
peculiar sharpness, as feudal society is based on birth
and birth only. For the ignoble there was open the
common lot of the poor and despised. They served to
flesh the swords of the nobles; to fight in their wars,
with the certainty of loss to themselves, whether conquering or conquered. Slaves they were, to till the soil
for their masters, to build castles and churches, at this
day the proud monuments of gothic and feudal grandeur. Men's heads were made to think, but theirs to
bear burdens. They were hewers of wood and drawers
of water for their superiors, who should have borne their
sorrows and upheld them when they fell. God gives to
a few more excellent gifts of mind, or body, or social
position, or wealth, not that they may thereby oppress
their brethren, but that they may comfort and bless
them. There are but two scales in the balance of society, the Rulers and the Ruled. As the one rises, the
other falls. In that age the world was far less rich in
the comforts and conveniences of life, than it is now.
Therefore when we admire at the ruler's scale so well
loaded, we are to remember also the empty scale of the
poor, who could not tell their tale to other times, except
by implication. When we admire the possessions of




70           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
the powerful, the castles and cathedrals of those days,
it may be profitable to remember, how wretched were
the cabins in which the builders slept, and with what
reluctant atid compulsory toil, with what privation,
hunger, and wretchedness this magnificence must have
been bought. The desires of the rich were fed with
the bread of the poor. Mien were left naked and comfortless, that grandeur might pile up its marble and
mortar. The needy asked bread, and literally a stone
was given them. The name of a tyrant who harried a
province, and whose character was well imaged by
the ferocious beasts he bore on his scutcheon, comes
down to our times coupled with the epithet of Pious,
or Gentle, because, forsooth, he built a church, or endowed a convent, with the fragments of rapacity that
fell from his table; while the men, who paid for it all
with pain and toil and bloody sweat, lie forgotten in the
ditches and fens where they labored and died. At that
time the Christian maxim, " we that are strong ought
to bear the infirmities of the weak,"- a maxim which
meant something to Paul and Jesus, as their lives
attest, -was regarded far less than even now. Such
was the simple lot of the low-born and poor; their
"puddle-blood" flowed at the mercy of each noble of
haughty head and rapacious hand. But their prayers
and the cry of their blood went up to the God of justice, who answered in the peasant wars, and similar
convulsions, from the twelfth century to the nineteenth.
Such was their lot, a life of subjection, hardships, and
bondage.
But for the other and less numerous class, two arenas
were open, the World and the Church. There seems
to have been no middle ground between the life of a
Nobleman and that of an Ecclesiastic. Fortune met




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.                   71
well-born men at their entrance into being, and said,
" choose which you will, the Church or the World. I
have no other alternative." The life of an Ecclesiastic,
and the life of a Noble; the cloister and the camp, what
a world lies between them! On the one side, celibacy,
fasting, and  poverty, and prayer;* on the other, riot,
debauchery, wealth, and  sin  in  general.   Ambition
pointed, and perhaps etually to both, for the Cardinal
was often  greater than the King, and the Pope was
second only to the Almighty. Every lawyer in England, it is said, hopes one day to be Lord Chancellor, or
at least Judge; and so, perhaps, every priest in the
twelfth century hoped to be Pope, Cardinal, or Bishop
at the very least. So young men of the noblest families rushed into convents, just as others rushed into
camps. To the lasting praise of the Catholic Church,
be it said, that she knew nothing of difference between
* It may be said celibacy was not universal at this time among the
clergy, and it is certain the laws of that period are conflicting on this
point. In some countries, as Hungary and Ireland, great freedom
prevailed in this respect. Priests and Deacons, even Bishops, had
their wives. At the council of Gran, 1114, a singular decree was
passed. "Presbyteris uxores-runs the original —quas legitimis
ordinibus accesserint, moderatius habendas, praevisa fragilitate, indulsimus."  Synod Strigonicus. C. xxxi. p. 57, cited in Schroeckh's
Kirchengeschichte, Vol. xxvii. p. 203. (Leipzig, 1798.) But Bernard
complains bitterly that men with wives, - viri uxorti, -had got into
the church. Even the Hungarian clergy gradually lost their freedom.
Yet in 1273, Bishop Henry of Liittich had fourteen children born in
a little less than two years. See in Schroeckh, 1. c. the gradual progress of celibacy in the church. But out of this partial evil there
grew a general benefit.  When there was no legitimate heir, there
could be no spiritual aristocracy growing up to usurp dominion over
the church, as the nobles had done over the State. " lAe wrath of
man shall praise thee," says the Psalmist, " and the remnant of wrath
thou wilt restrain."




72           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
rich and poor; at least, nothing in theory, though rich
men daily bought and sold benefices, and that without
concealment in the Pope's court. The Church was the
last bulwark of Humanity in the dark ages. She kept
in awe the rude barons and barbarous kings, and nestled
the poor and forsaken comfortably in her bosom. In
her eyes every one born at all was well-born. Hence we
find a cobbler in the chair of StP Peter, and that cobbler
Gregory the Seventh, of whom all Europe stood in awe.
The Church, thus opening for the poor the road to wisdom and power, unconsciously bettered their condition
at large. For bishops, cardinals, and popes, elevated
from the servile class,- having no legitimate issue to
provide for, or enrich with power and place transmitted
to them, —felt strongly the natural, instinctive love of
their native class, and watched over it with a jealous
care. The history of Thomas a Becket, and his sovereign, is a striking instance of this kind, where each
represents a class.
The church and the camp were the two fields open before the wealthy and well-born. But in Bernard's time,
a new and distinct arena was also opened; that of
letters. A great enthusiasm for literature and philosophy sprang up in the eleventh century, as the world began to awake from its long sleep, and rub its drowsy
eyes. Its starting point was the ancient philosophy,
and the Organum of Boethius. In the twelfth century,
the brilliant success of Abelard was both a cause and
an effect of the new movement.*  With him the scholastic philosophy began, as M. Cousin thinks.
* On the number of Abelard's pupils, and his influence, see Ourrages inedites d' Abelard, etc.; par MI. Victor Cousin. Paris, 1836.
Introdtuction, p. ii. seq.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.          73
After Bernard's companions found the camp had no,
charms " to shake the settled purpose of his soul," they
tried him with the life of letters, in which his bright
spirit found activity and joy. But this attempt also was.
fruitless. The image of his mother soared above him,.
and forbade the unholy life. His lively fancy brought
her from the grave, in visions, and in his waking hours;
she reminded him of her past example, and seemed to
chide him for his faltering faith. Once, as he was
travelling alone, to see his brothers in the Burgundian
camp at Grancy, this thought came over him, and the
image of his mother filled his soul. He turned aside
into a church to pray for strength to keep his resolve
and be a monk. His prayer was granted. A voice saidl
to him, Qui audit dicat " Veni."  After this the diffi-s
culty was all over. He persuaded others to follow his
example. Among these were his uncle Galdric, a rich,
and celebrated man, and some of his own brothers..
But Guido, his oldest brother, mocked at Bernard's
resolution, and called it frivolous. Guido, a distinguished man, bound by wedlock, and more strongly
rooted in the world than the others, stoutly refused the
monastic life, when urged: by the young enthusiast to,
accept it. WVVell he might shudder at the thought, for
his married life seems to have been happy, and the
change proposed involved a separation from his wife
and children, and imprisonment, - such it really was, —
amid monks as cheerless and stupid as they were superstitious. " Yet," says Abbot William, " at first hesitating, but weighing the matter continually, aHd thinking
it over and over, he consented to the change, on condition that his wife were willing. But this contingency
seemed scarcely possible to a young woman of noble
birth, the mother of several daughters, at that time of'
7




74           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
tender age." But Bernard, nothing daunted at the
difficulty, tenderly promised Guido that " his wife would
soon consent, or die."  To bring about one of these
pleasant alternatives, " the Lord gave the husband this
manly counsel, that he should abjure all he seemed to
have in the world, lead a rustic life, earning with his
own hands the subsistence of himself and wife, whom
it was not lawful for him to divorce against her will."
This ingenious counsel, so pleasantly attributed to the
Holy Ghost, succeeded like a charm. The wife very
naturally fell sick, and remembering the prediction, and
finding " how hard it was to kick against the pricks,"
begged Bernard's forgiveness, and promised all that he
required of her. Accordingly she was separated from
her husband, and took the usual conventual vow, which
she kept 1" until this day," says the Abbot, for he wrote
while she and Bernard were both still living.
The other brother, Gerhard, still held out, " and loved
the world."  " Nothing but suffering will ever convince
you," said Bernard. "But the day is coming," continued he, putting his finger on his brother's side, " and
it comes quickly, when the lance plunged in your breast,
shall open to }your heart a way for my counsels, which
now' you despise."  "No sooner said than done," proceeds the biographer, "for after a few days, he was
wounded in just the spot marked by the priestly finger,
and taken prisoner besides." Then, fearing death, he
exclaimed, "I am a monk, a Cistercian monk.", Bernard
was sent for to comfort him in prison. But he refused
to go, saying, he " knew all this before, and the wound
was not unto death, but unto life." And " it was even
so," for, contrary to expectation, the wound healed of a
sudden. However, he was still a captive, and kept
closely in ward. But one day, as he grew continually




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.              75
more and more desirous of the monastic life, he heard
a voice more than mortal, as he lay wakeful in his dungeon, saying to him, " This day shalt thou be set free,"
and about nightfall, by accident as it were, he felt of his
chains, and they fell off his hands with a heavy clank;
still the door was shut, and a crowd of beggars stood
before it, not to' mention the guards. But the bar fell
back, and the door opened at his approach. The beggars, astonished at the prodigy, fled without speaking.
It was the hour of evening prayers when he drew nigh
the, church, walking slowly, for some of the chains still
clung to him. Bernard espied his brother, and said:
" Brother Gerhard, have you come? There is still
something left that you may hear." But "'his eyes
were holden, so that he did not know what was going
on," until Bernard led him into the church.  " Thus was
he freed from captivity and love of the world."
After this, Bernard " went to and fro upon the earth,
and walked up and down in it," seeking to bring souls
into the monastic fold.  He compelled many to come
in. His word was so taking, his eloquence so persuasive, -for he knew the way equally to the heart of the
clown and the courtier,  that when he was to preach
in public or private, wise "mothers shut up their sons
at home; wives kept back their husbands from hearing,
for the Holy Ghost gave such voice and power to his
words, that'scarce any tie could restrain those who
listened."  All whom  he converted were like the first
Christians, " of one heart and one mind."'
* The monastic life was then held in very high esteem. Bernard
calls it " a second baptism;" "it renders its professors like the angels,
and unlike men." It could wash out the deepest sins. See Neander's
Heilige Bernhard und sein Zeitalter, etc. Berlin, 1813, p. 1, 42,
note 2. But he mentions Norbert advising Count Theobald of Cham



76           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
His biographer gives a glowing account of his
noviciate, and holds him up as an ideal of austerity,
to be looked up to and imitated by all tyros in the convents. He not only resisted the desire of the senses,
but turned the senses themselves out of doors. " When,
with the interior sense, he began to feel the sweetness
of divine love breathe gently over him, he feared lest the
secret sense within should be darkened by the senses
from without, so he scarce gave them enough to keep
them in being. The'breathings of divine love' were
at first but a momentary impression, but soon became
a constant habit, and the habit at length, nature itself."
" Absorbed entirely in the Spirit, all his hopes directed
inward to God, his mind entirely occupied with spiritual
meditation, seeing, he saw not; hearing, he heard not;
eating, he tasted not; and scarce felt any thing with the
corporeal sense. After pa~sing a year in the noviciate's
cell, he hardly knew when he went out whether it had
a roof or not." This was deemed the perfection of a
monk's life. He ate only to sustain the body, and
knew not whether he fed on bread or stones, or whether
his drink was water or wine. "He went to his dinner
as to the rack." Nemesis never sleeps even in a monk's
cell, so nature took sweet revenge, and racked him all
his life long in every limb of his attenuated frame.
However, he did two good things, and that daily. He
worked hard with his hands, and walked in the woods,
where he used afterwards to confess he found his best
thoughts, and had no teachers but the birch trees and
the oaks. "Trust my experience," he subsequently
wrote to Henry of Murdoch, a celebrated teacher of
pagne not to become a monk, because he was already so useful'to the
poor and downtrodden.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.                77
speculative theology, "thou  wilt find in the woods
somewhat more than in books; wood and stone shall
teach thee what thou canst not learn from  masters." *
The cheerful, though serious countenance of Nature,
we should fancy, might shame even a monk into a
rational life; but man outgrows nothing so reluctantly
as the religious prejudice of his times, and it is given
to but few to take a single step in advance of their age.
But one day, while exhausted with very slight labor in
reaping, Bernard felt a natural shame at the artificial
weakness of his body; he turned aside, and " besought
the Lord for strength," which was given, miraculously,
as the Abbot thinks, and he reaped before them all.
On entering the monastic state, he had not chosen, as
many did, a cloister, where the buxom ascetics revelled
in every thing but self-mortification. He chose the cloister at Citeaux, a wild quarter of the bishopric of
Chalons sur la Saone. The number of monks increased
so rapidly, through his efforts and austere reputation,
that the buildings of the establishment required to be
enlarged, and new ones erected.  A  new cloister, alsp,
was established in another place.  This was the celebrated cloister of Clairvaux, a wild desolate glen,
formerly named the Valley of Wormwood,t on account
of a den of robbers in it, as some say; but after the
*Boulau, Hist. Universitatis Parisiensis, tom. II. p. 162, cited in
Neander, 1. c. p. 45.
t Nicolaus Hacqueville thus poetically celebrates the charms of the
place: —
Abdita vallis erat, mediis in montibus, alto
Et nemore. et viridi tune adoperta rubq,
Hanc claramn vallent merito dixere priores,
Mutarunt nomen vallis anzara tuum, etc.
De Laudibus Bernardi, prefixed to his works, fol. 24, 1, of this
edition.
7*




78            TUIE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.,cloister was built, it was called Clairvaux, - the fair,valley. In three years from its foundation, Bernard was.appointed Abbot of Clairvaux, and ordained to that
office by the famous William, de Champeaux, whose
skill in dialectics took nothing from the jolly roundness,of his face. The spectators laughed, or admired, at the
contrast between the bishop and the monk. Established
in his new office, his example animated the whole cloister. " You might see there a weak and languid man,
solicitous for all, but careless of himself: obedient to,all in all things, but scarce doing any thing for himself.
Not deeming his own concerns of prior importance to.others, he strove chiefly to avoid sparing his own body.
So he made his spiritual studies the more rigorous.
His body, attenuated by various infirmities, was still.more worn down by fast and watching without inter-'mission.  He prayed standing day and night, till his
knees, weakened by fasting, and his feet swollen with
extreme toil, refused to sustain his body. For a long
time, in secrecy he wore sackcloth next his skin, but
when the fact was accidentally discovered he cast it,off,
and returned to his common dress. His food was
bread and milk; water in which pulse had been boiled,,or such thin water gruel as men make for little chil-.dren."   Physicians who saw him and listened to his
eloquence, wondered at the strength in his emaciated
franie, as much as if they had seen a lamb drawing the,plough.
The monkish admirer relates that Gerhard was a sort
of butler in the establishment, and as winter began to set:in, he naturally, in the way of his vocation, complained,of the slender provision, both in money and victuals,:* Vita, S. Bernardi, 1. c. i. c. viii.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.                79
laid in for the season. To this complaint Bernard
returned no reply.  But being told, that no less a sum
than eleven pounds was absolutely needed, and that for
the present emergency, he sent away his brother and
betook himself to prayer.  While at his devotion  a
messenger arrived, and said that a woman stood at the
gate, asking to see him.  She fell down at his feet, and
gave him twelve pounds to pray for her husband, then
dangerously ill.  " Go in peace," said Bernard to the
woman, " thou shalt find thy husband safe and sound."
She went home and found as he had foretold.  A similar case often occurred, says, William, and unexpected
help came from  the Lord, whenever common  means
failed.  It is difficult to estimate the power of prejudice
and superstition to blind men's eyes, but each of the
then contemporary biographers of Bernard ascribes to
him  a similar miraculous power, and relates the wonderful cures he effected on men, women, and children.'
Weak as Bernard was in body, and secluded from
the world, in that remote valley, he yet took an active
part'n all the great concerns of church and State, inot
only in France but out of it. He was present at councils, and men journeyed from far to ask his advice.  He
lifted his voice indignantly to rebuke the wantonness
and pride of the clergy; wantonness and pride not sur-; Neander tells a singular story, illustrating this peculiarity of the
age. One Norbert, a rough, tempestuous, destructive personage, was
once riding in a hunting expedition, and a violent storm came on.
His horse was struck down by lightning, and he lay senseless nearly
an hour. ]W'hen le recovered, and saw how providentially he had
escaped death, a shudder came over him, at the thoulght of his past
life, from which lie was so near being summoned to the bar of God.
He resolved to found a religious institution, kept his vow, and was one
of the most distinguished reformers of his age. 1. c. p. 44, seq.




80           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
passed by the nobles of the court of Sardanapalus.  He
declaimed with the sternest vehemence against the great,
who trod the humble down into the dust. He labored
to extend his own order, and still more to defend the
church from the assaults of the temporal powers, - no
light work, nor lightly undertaken.
At this time the moral state of the clergy was bad,
very bad. Men of loose habits and no religion pressed
into the lucrative offices of the church, through the
influence of some prince or count.
" Of other care they little reckoning took,
Than how to scramble at the shearer's feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest."
Their office was gain. The pope might make laws,
often as he listed, against simony, extravagance, licentiousness, and all other clerical sins of the age; cunning
men found means to break them all, and live unconcerned, or at least unmolested.  The Popes themselves
were partakers of their crimes.  " The stench of the
Roman Court," says William  of Paris, "rising from
this dunghill of usury, robbery, and simony, went up a
hateful steam, to the very clouds." The vice of the
clergy reached its height about the middle of the twelfth
century. In England alone, about that time, in the
short space of ten or twelve years, more than a hundred
murders were committed by priests. Bernard saw these
monstrous evils, and labored with great diligence to
reform the clergy. He censured the monks with the
greatest severity.
But while engaged in this good work, if we may
trust his biographer, he did not neglect the minor gifts
of healing the sick, and casting out devils. We will
set down some of the miraculous works ascribed to the




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.          81
saint by his contemporaries. In a certain monastery,
called Carus-Locus (Charlieu), he cured a boy, who
wept and wailed incessantly, with a kiss. For when
he had been weeping for several days, and found no
help from his physicians, our holy man advised him to
confess his sins. He did so, and with a serene face
asked Bernard to kiss him. This also was done, and
" the kiss of peace being received from the saint's face,
he rested in perfect peace; the fountain of his tears
were dried up, and he went back rejoicing to his friends,
satfe and sound."
A new Oratory was to be dedicated at Fusniacum,
(Foigny,) and a great swarm of flies took possession of
it, so that their noise and buzzing was very offensive to
all who entered. There was no help to be had. The
holy Bernard said, " I excommunicate them," and the
next morning they were all found dead. This affair
was so well known, that the curse upon the flies of
Foigny became a proverb.*
Once, however, Bernard himself fell sick of the
influenza, we should judge, and " his body failing on all
hands, he was brought wellnigh to death's door." " His
sons and his friends came as it were to the funeral of
so great a father, and I also was present among them,"
says William, "for his esteem for me gave me a place
among his friends. When he seemed about to draw
his last breath, as his soul was on the point of leaving
the body, he seemed to himself to stand before the
tribunal of the Lord. And Satan also was present,
attacking him with bitter accusations. When he had
brought forward all his charges, and it was time for this
man of God to speak for himself, nothing daunted or
* Vita, S. Bernardi, 1. c. Lib. I. c. xi.




82           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
disturbed in the slightest degree, he said,' I confess that
[ am not worthy, nor can I, of my own merits, obtain
the kingdom of Heaven. But my Lord has obtained
it for me, in two legitimate ways; namely, by inheritance from his Father, and by the merit of his own
suffering. He is satisfied with one, and grants me the
other claim. I claim it on the ground of his gift, and
shall not be confounded.' At these words the enemy
was put to shame; the meeting, (before the tribunal of
the Lord,) broke up, and the man of God came to himself."   His recovery was no- less remarkable. "The
blessed Virgin appeared to him, with two companions,
Saint Laurentius and Saint Benedict; they laid their
hands on him, and by their pious manifestations
assuaged the pain in the most afflicted parts of his
body; they drove off the sickness, and all pain ceased."
Still further, to show to what length human credulity will go, William relates gravely a miracle Bernard
wrought on the historian himself. " Once upon a time,
when I had long been sick in our own house, and my
illness, long continued, had weakened and worn me
down to a great degree, Bern'ard heard of it, and sent
his brother, Gerhard, - a man of happy memory, —directing me to come to Clairvaux, and promising that
I should be cured, or should die very soon. I set out
forthwith, though with great pain and trouble, for I
looked on this as an opportunity, divinely given, or at
least offered, of dying with him, or of, living with him
some time, and I do n't know which I should have then
preferred. That was performed which had been promised, and, I confess it, as I wished. My health was
restored fromn this great and dangerous infirmity, and
* L. c. Lib. i. c. xi. xii.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.            83
my strength gradually returned. But, good God! what
advantage did this infirmity bring me! All the time of
my illness with him, his sickness wrought with my necessity, for he also was sick at that time. We were both
ill together, and he talked all day about the spiritual
physic of the soul, and the remedial force of the virtues
against the weakening influence of the vices. Accordingly he discoursed to me of the Song of Songs, as far
as my weakness allowed it."  One day during his convalescence, he abstained from his customary food, and
suffered accordingly. His pains returned with such
violence that he despaired of life. Bernard came in, in
the morning, and learned the cause and the result.
"What would you advise me to do? " said William.
" Keep quiet," said he, "you shall not die this time,"
and went out.  And what shall I say? -immediately all
my pain vanished; the next day I was well again, and
recovered strength, and after a few days went home,
with the benediction of my kind host." *
We will now mention but one more miracle attributed to Bernard.  On a certain time, "when that
blessed man was coming from  Laviniacum, a noble
city in the bishopric of MIeldis, a deaf and dumb girl,
nearly grown up, was brought to him. She was placed
on the neck of his horse, and he looking up to heaven,
uttered a short prayer. Then he anointed her ears and
lips with saliva; blessed her, and commanded her to
call on the Holy Virgin. Immediately the damsel, who
had never before spoken a word, opened her mouth and
* Beside the stories of his miracles related in the lives of Bernard, - and his life was a favorite theme, - there is a distinct treatise of his miracles. Narratio Herberti Abbatis Coenobii Morensis
de libro liiraculorum S. Bernardi; per insigne miraculum servato.
It may be found in Mabillon's Edition of Bernard, Vol. II.




84 -         THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
cried out, Sancta Maria. There was present one Roger,
afterwards an ecclesiastic and monk of Clairvaux, but
then in the world, and seeing this miracle wrought
before his eyes, he was sharply pricked in the heart, and
as he has told me, this was the chief cause that induced
him to enter the cloister at Clairvaux." *
In the year of our Lord 1130, died Pope Honorius
the Second, in the sixth year of his Pontificate. "In a
city like Rome," says Neander, " where party spirit,
ambition, and intrigues had long prevailed, where Avarice, Poverty, and Wantonness stood side by side, where
a restless people and ambitious families struggled together, it was but natural the choice of a Pope should
create the greatest discord and dissensions." The deceased Pope was not legally chosen, and trouble and
bloodshed were avoided only by the rare self-denial of
his rival, Cardinal Buccapecu. Honorius the Second
had been placed in the chair by the great families of
Rome, and especially by the Frangipani. At his death
there were two candidates for the papacy, one the descendant of a rich Jewish usurer, who had been converted to Christianity, and had taken the name of Leo.
Cardinal Gregory was supported by the opposite faction, who appointed him the very night Honorius died,
pretending that such was his wish. The new Pope
assumed the title of Innocent Second. Leo was proclaimed Pope by the other party, with the title of
Anaclete Second. Thus there were two Popes at the
same time. Innocent repeatedly declined the power
that was offered him, and with many tears threw off the
* Fragmenta ex Iierberti libris de miraculis Cisterciensium monachorum. C. 13, p. 1247, ed. Mabillon.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.             85
pontifical robes, but was at last prevailed on to accept
the office, when convinced that he alone could insure
the peace and prosperity of the church in these times of
trouble.  Roger of Sicily declared in favor of Anaclete.
But Louis Sixth of France, to whom Innocent had fled,
declined at first deciding between the two competitors,
until he had called a council of the Bishops.  Bernard
was also called to this council, and cheered by revelations and visions on his way thither. His character
and reputation gave great weight to his opinion.* The
affair before the council turned chiefly on the merit of'
the two Popes, for the question of a legal choice was
little regarded by either party. Bernard declared in favor of Innocent, and by his eloquent and forcible ha —
rangue, made such an impression on the council, that a
unanimous vote was passed confirming the claims of
Innocent to the Papal chair and its consequent infallibility. But as all the neighboring kingdoms did not
readily follow the example of France, Bernard was despatched to England to persuade King Henry First to
declare for Innocent.  But that acute investigator
donbted if the election were legal and regular in all
respects, and after Bernard had cleared up that point,.
and found his representations were of no avail, he re —
sorted to a device, as he often did when better weapons
failed him.  " You fear that if you obey Innocent as,
Pope you shall bring a sin upon yourself. Let this
rather be your only concern, to answer before God for
all your other sins; leave this sin to me, I will take it* Dupin is mistaken when he says the sale decision of the matter
was left to him, (Ecclesiastical History of the 12th Century, Ch. iv.
p., 43, ed. Lond. 1698,) and in making the Pope post hither (to,
France) with all diligence, after the King's declaration. He went
there before.
8




86           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
upon myself."  And the word of the venerable man
was sufficient to quiet his scruples.*  Bernard then
accompanied the new Pope in a journey through the
greater part of France,'" strengthening the churches."
At this time Lothaire of Saxony, and Conrad of the
Swabian family, - so hateful to the Popes, - were contending for the crown of Germany. The former Pope
had acknowledged Lothaire, and both of the rival
Popes, recognizing their predecessor's infallibility, declared in favor of Lothaire. He was indeed addressed
by the Roman friends of Anaclete, but took no notice
of their letter, for his chief Bishops had already given
in their adhesion to Innocent. To quiet these difficulties, or rather to strengthen the papal hands, Innocent
went to Germany. Bernard accompanied him, serving
the cause by his eloquence and activity. When he
preached, the audience was melted into tears, even
though they did not understand the language in which
he spoke. This event often happened. At Liittich the
Pope and Emperor first met, the latter surrounded by
his great men, "the Lords Spiritual and Temporal."
He dismounted,- walked through the assembly, took the
Pope's horse by the bridle with one hand, and holding
in the other the staff of defence for the chufch, conducted the pontiff to the church. Here, after mentioning the many evils the Empire had borne for the church,
he touched upon the right of investiture, so long a subject of controversy between them, and of course maintained his own claims. But Bernard set forth in such
glowing colors the injustice of his demand, that he receded, leaving this important right in the hands of the
* Vita S. Bernardi Auctore Ernaldo, etc. Lib. ii. c. i. and Neander, p. 72, sq.




TIIE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.              87
Pope.* This signal service of the holy abbot was never
forgot. Innocent and Lothaire separated in perfect
harmony.t The next year, after Bernard and the Pope
had passed through several districts of France; had
quieted the discontented, and reconciled the hostile, and
held a council at Rheims, Lothaire conducted Innocent
to Rome, and entering by violence into the city, was
crowned by that Pope. But Anaclete's party was still
strong in the metropolis, and Innocent fled to Pisa,
which was near both to France and Germany, and
where his friends were powerful enough to protect
him.
The letter of Bernard to the Pisans is a curious monument of the spirit of the age.  "M May the Lord bless
you and remember the faithful service and pious compassion, and consolation, which you have shown, and
still continue to show, toward the spouse of his Son, in
an evil time, and in the days of her affliction. This is
already in part fulfilled, and some fruit of my prayer is
already in our hands. A worthy recompense shall soon
remunerate you. God rewards thee for thy works, Oh
nation, whom he hath chosen as an heritage to himself,
an acceptable nation, zealous of good works. Pisa is
taken in the place of Rome, and is chosen out of all
cities of the earth, as the place of the apostolic seat.
* See on this point an extract from Echart's Quaternis vet. Monument. p. 46, in Gieseler's Eccles. History, Am. ed. Vol. ii. p. 182,
note 1.
t Lothaire, it seems, was little better than a puppet for the Pontiff.
He received his crown on his knees, as a feudal investiture from the
Pope, and so became the vassal of the church. The Pope caused a
painting to be made of this imperial genuflection, with the following
inscription beneath it.  REX HOMO FIT PAPAE.  See Wolfgang
Menzel's Geschichte der Deutschen, etc. 3d ed. 1937. Chap. 199,
p. 284, sq.




88           TIIE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
This has not happened by any human chance, or counsel, but by the celestial providence and divine favor of
God, who loves those that love him, and has said to
Christ his friend Innocent, (Christo suo Innocentio,)
Dwell thou in Pisa, and blessing, I will bless it. Inhabit
th'ere since I have chosen it. By my counsel, the constancy of the Pisans yields not to the wickedness of the
Sicilian tyrant, nor is shaken by his threats, nor corrupted by his gifts, nor circumvented by his frauds. Oh
men of Pisa! imen of Pisa! God hath done greatly for
you; we are made joyful. What city does not envy
you! Keep what is committed to thee, faithful city;
acknowledge the favor; seek to b,e found not ungrateful for the privilege. Honor the father of thyself and
all; honor the chiefs of the world who are in thee, and
the judges of the earth whose presence renders thee
illustrious, glorious, famous.*
Bernard thus wrought diligently for the head of the
church, both in person and by his many letters. The inhabitants of Milan had been fast friends to Anaclete.
The city was one of his strong-holds. It had espoused
the party of Conrad. And Anselm, the metropolitan
Bishop, strenuously opposed Innocent, though some of
the clergy had taken his part  This disagreement
among the clergy led to many evils, and a certain time
was appointed by the magistrates to settle the matter
between the parties. On the day appointed, a large
body of men, dressed in coarse and undyed woollen garments, their heads shaven in an unusual fashion; appeared in the place of meeting. They were men more
or less connected with the Cistercian order of monks,
and of course were friends to Bernard and Innocent.
* Epist. 130. Ed. Mabillon.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.           89
" These men," said Anselm to the hostile Bishops,
"these men are heretics."  But it would not do; the
people regarded them as angels of light, and he was no
longer looked on as the head and bishop of the diocese.
Messengers were sent to bring Bernard himself, "the
last of the fathers," the great pacificator. He came;
the result was wonderful, and is thus described by a
contemporary. " When the inhabitants of Milan heard
that the well-beloved abbot was drawing nigh to their
borders, all the people went out to meet him  seven
miles from the city. Noble and vulgar, horse a'nd foot,
rich and poor, as if migrating fromn the city, left their
homes, and, arranged in regular order, received the Man
of God, with incredible reverence. All were delighted
to see him; they judged themselves happy who could
hear him speak, and they kissed his feet. They pulled
threads out of his garments, and took whatever thread
they could from the hem of his garments, (de pannorum
laciniis,) as remedies for sickness, counting as sadred
whatever he had touched, and thinking that they also
should be made holy by using or touching any of those
things." *
Here he allayed all the strife and settled the dificulties as usual. Nor is this all. Landulf the younger,
an eye-witness, thus speaks of his work. "' At a nod
from him all sorts of church apparel, that was of gold
or silver, - because disagreeable to the abbot, - were
shut up in presses.  Men and women put on garments
of hair, or the coarsest wool; water was changed into
wine. Devils werecast out and the sick healed. The
abbot loosed the bonds of the captives taken by the
Milanese, and restored them to freedom. And by an
* Vita S. Bernard. I. c. Lib. ii. Cap. ii.
8 *




90           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
oath he maude them take, he bound this great people in
love to the Emperor Lothaire, and obedience to the
Pope." *
One day, continues Ernaldus, the people, knowing
" that he obtained whatever he chanced to ask of the
Lord, brought to him, nothing doubting, a woman; a
-woman known to all of them, and whom an unclean
spirit had vexed seven years, suppliantly asking him, in
the name of the Lord, to put the devil to flight, and
restore the woman to health."  He blushed a little as
they persisted, but thought he might offend God if he
declined doing so good a work. Thinking within himself, he concluded it would be a sign to the unbelieving,
"so he committed his enterprise to, the Holy Ghost,"
and kneeling in prayer, put the devil to route, in the
spirit of fortitude, and gave back the woman safe and
sound. " The noise of this affair soon went abroad,
and suddenly it filled all the city; and through, the
churches, the camps, (prsetoria,) and all the public;streets, they came thronging together.   Everybody
was talking about the Man of God. It was stated in.public that nothing was impossible which he asked of
God. They say and believe, they preach and confirm
it, that the ears of God are open to his prayers. They
could not be satisfied with seeing and, hearing him.
Some rushed into his presence; others took their
stations before the doors until he should go out. Men
left business and trade; all the city was in suspense on
this spectacle. They rush together; they beg to be
-blest, and some seem to have been healed by touching
ihim." t  He healed a woman deaf, dumb, and blind,,and possessed of a devil, in the presence of a great mul* Landuff, cited in Neander, p. 83, sq.  t L. c. c. ii.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.            91
titude, by going up to the house with the Host in his
hand, and adjuring the devil, in the name of God, to
leave the woman.
We will not weary the patience of our readers with
more details. The few we have given mark an age of
credulity, when a sharp distinction was not made between the miraculous and the natural; when the effects
of imagination, of a strong will, or sensitive nerves,
were less understood than nowv, and when " wonders "
were expected of each very holy man.  Where they are
expected, or looked for, they always come. The history
of trials for witchcraft might lead a philosopher to
ponder deeply the natural law of testimony.  There is
no doubt that these monks believed Bernard wrought
surprising miracles.* No doubt, he himself believed
that he wrought them, for he often mentions the fact,
but without any vainglory.  His biographer relates
with surprise that he never grew vain of his powers,
" never walked above himself in wonderful things, but
judging humbly of himself, thought he was not the
author of these venerable works, but only their minister;
and when in the opinion of all, he was the greatest, in
his own opinion, he was the least." This latter staterment is not strictly true, for the vice of pride had entered into his soul, and his ambition and love of power
knew  no bounds.  His hatred of those who stood
in his way was cruel and remorseless, as we shall soon
see.
After he had finished his work in Italy, Bernard returned to Clairvaux. But the fame of his greatness
* Even Fenelon believed these miracles, and cites them as proofs of
the power of God. See his " Sermon pour la fete de Saint Bernard,"
in his (Euvres. Paris. 1822. Tom. iii. pp. 196-219.




92          THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
went before him. As he passed the Alps "the herdsmen and boors came down from their rocks to see him,
and after receiving his blessing, turned back joyful to
their rude dwellings."  His monks received him with
no less joy. They fell down before him and embraced
his knees; they rose up and kissed him, and in this
manner conducted him to the cloister. Here, during
his long absence from Clairvaux, "the Devil could effect
nothing. No mildew had gathered on the pure minds
therein, and the house of God, founded on a rock, was
in no part shaken." " No quarrels had been kept for
his coming, and no long-nursed hatred broke out in his
presence." The young did not accuse the old of austerity, nor did the old accuse the young of remissness,'" but they were all found of one accord, in the house ofGod; in holiness and peace ascending the ladder of
Jacob, and hastening up to look on God, whose delectable countenance shone in the upper realm.  The
Abbot, not unmindful of him who said,'I saw Satan
falling as lightning from heaven,' was the more humble
and submissive to God as he saw that God was propitious to his desires. Nor did he rejoice because the
devils were subject to him, but rather he rejoiced in the
Lord, because he saw the names of his brethren were
written in heaven."
But the difficulties of the times would not suffer the
strong and active spirit of Bernard to remain idle or
contemplative at Clairvaux, "bewailing his own sins."
New troubles called him  forth again. William the
Ninth of Aquitaine and Poictou, espousing the part of
Anaclete, deposed all the bishops of the Province who
were hostile to him. Bishop Godfrey of Chartres went
with Bernard to visit the rebellious prince. He was a
rough layman, who knew no reason for following one




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.         93
Pope more than the other, but had taken a solemn oath
never to be reconciled with the degraded bishops. Bernard attempted for a long time to bring the Baron to
reason; but his efforts were fruitless. So he went into
the church to celebrate high mass. The Prince, who
had been excommunicated, did not venture in, but stood
without at the door. Bernard consecrated and transubstantiated the bread and wine; gave his blessing to the
people, and then, with fiery countenance and flaming
eyes, and threatening look, " bearing on a platter the
bread just changed to the body of Christ," went out to
the Prince, and said to him, " in terrible words," " We
have entreated, and you have despised us. The multitude of God's servants united has besought you in two
meetings, and you have mocked at them. So now
comes to you the Son of the Virgin, the Head and
Lord of the Church, which you persecute. Here is thy
Judge, at whose name every name shall bow', of things
celestial, and terrestrial, and things under the earth.
Here is thy Judge, into whose hands thy soul will
come. Will you despise Him  also?  Will you despise Him, as you have despised his servants?
The prince was overcome; he fell like one lifeless
on the ground. His servants raised him up. Bernard ordered him to rise upon his feet; to be reconciled with the bishops of Poictiers; to give him the kiss
of peace, and yield to Pope Innocent. The humbled
Prince did as he was commanded, and thus peace was
restored to a whole province. This event is characteristic of the middle ages, — the presumption of the
priest, and the folly of the Prince.
Bernard was the most powerful man in Europe;
though but an ecclesiastic, without money, or lands, or




94           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
soldiers, or powerful connections, by the might of his
spirit alone, this emaciated monk kept the wide world
in awe. He tamed rough barons; said to kings, thus
far and no farther. It was mainly through his influence,
that Innocent kept possession of the papal chair. He
reconciled Conrad with Lothaire. A third time he was
called to Rome, by the Pope, whom German arms once
more established in the capital, though here he held
only divided empire. He attempted to reconcile the
two papal parties without loss of blood, and had a convenient formula, wherewith to remove any oaths, that
interfered with his plans. " Alliances hostile to the law
can never be comfirmed by an oath, for God's la w renders them of no avail." He went to Roger, king of
Sicily, on the eve of a battle, hoping to divert that
prince from assisting Anaclete. This effort was vain;
but after Roger had lost the battle he consented to decide between the two popes, on condition that their
respective claims were laid before him. So on a set
day Roger arrayed himself in his robes of State, and
sat down to hear the conflicting parties. The cardinals
of the two Popes appeared as counsel. On the side of
Anaclete, the chief speaker was Cardinal Peter, or Pisa,
a man well skilled in dialectics and the canon lawv.
Bernard, of course, was the foremost in favor of Innocent. Bernard's chief argument was this: There is no
salvation out of the true church; the legal Pope is
head of the true church. Now almost all the western
churches have declared Innocent to be that head, and it
is more likely they should be in the right, since they all
agree, than it is that Roger, a single layman, is alone
right; for God would not suffer so many to go astray,
and be damned eternally, while one only, and he a layman, was saved. Cardinal Peter was convinced by the




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.         95
logical skill and eloquence of his opponent, and was
soon reconciled to Innocent; for it would be quite
unfair to suppose, the offers of power, and wealth,
thrown privately into the scales, had the slightest
weight in the dialectic balance of this cardinal, so well
versed in the canon law. Roger still held out, but
luckily Anaclete died soon after, (1138,) and when his
friends appointed Victor the Third his successor, Bernard had the hardihood to beard the lion in his den,
and ask the new Pope to renounce his budding honors;
and still more, he had the address to succeed in the
attempt. Victor went and fell down at Innocent's feet,
and did him homage. Peace was thus restored to the
Church. Years of war and thousands of lives were
saved, by the force of this'poor monk. The public
gratitude did not loiter behind such signal merit. The
people received him everywhere with shouts. Men and
women escorted him in processions from place to place.
But, his work done, he returned again to the quiet
repose, and mystical devotion of Clairvaux, to retire
into himself, and to write letters to the ends of the world.
But the repose of this "Dog of the Church" was
never very deep, or of long continuance. The Church
was always in trouble.  Bishops quarrelled with one
another, or a priest took a wife, a lord sold a benefice,
or a monk went back to the cottage or the camp, and
the burden of the Church fell on Bernard. We must
pass over the troubles occasioned by nobles pressing,
uncalled for, into ecclesiastical offices, and by the wickedness of the clergy, to come to the remarkable quarrel
between Bernard and Abelard.
So long as ignorance lowered dark and heavy on the
middle ages, there was no doubt of the Church's doc



96          THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
trine. Then nothing opposed the ecclesiastical sway,
but the Flesh and the Devil, - ambitious and wicked
men. The Church was in advance of the world, and
the little light by which men walked came mainly from
the Church itself. But there is no monopoly of truth,
and least of all can the whole of wisdom be appropriated by a body of men, however pious and thoughtful,
who resolve to accept nothing, whieh was not admitted
by their fathers, centuries before. So wvhen light began
to dawn on the world once more, and the clouds to
withdraw  their heavy folds, and the noble army of
Greek and Roman sages or poets to come out of their
recesses, men began to doubt, for the first time, whether
all moral, philosophical, and religious truth were contained ini the dogmas of the Church. These doubts
came from the wisest and best men of the age. Thus
the Church was assaulted not only by its old enemies,
the Flesh and the Devil, with whom it knew how to
contend, but also by the Spirit and the Holy Ghost,
against whom some new device was to beftried. Men,
wiser and holier than the Church itself, rose up, -often
coming from its own bosom,-and opened their dark
sayings. Hence arose two parties; one stood on authority, and adhered strictly to the old theological formulas, and if they could not find expressed therein the
sum of wisdom which they sought, they found it by
implication.'A few of the latter sort of this class, calling a certain capricious mysticism to their aid, succeeded
marvellously with their work. They were the conservatists of that time, and dealt out, with a lavish hand, the
thunders of the Church, and its fire and fagots too,
against all who dared to look forward. The other
party, few in numbers, but often mighty in talents,
relied on no authority, however great and good. They




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.              97
referred all to the human soul, or rather to the Spirit of
God in the soul of man. Hence they deduced their
doctrines, and hereby they formed the dogmas they accepted. To them, philosophy was more than history.
They might not disagree with the creed of the Church,.
in whose bosom they sometimes continued all their life
long, but their starting point, their new method, their
spirit differed entirely from that of the Church. This
party was inclined to rationalism, as the other was to
a vicious sort of mysticism. Yet there were genuine
mystics and religious men in either sect. It would be
instructive, as well as curious,, to trace the gradual
growth of Protestantism in the middle age, - coinci-.
dent as it was with the spread of light, - but we forbear.'
Abelard would be prominent in any period of the,
world's history; but in the twelfth century he towers
above his contemporaries like a colossus.  He went
back to the human soul, and from that he attempted to
prove the truth of his doctrines, knowing well, that
while men rested on truths that were elementary and
universal, even if they should doubt the Scriptures, and
deny the Church, they would still be religious, Useful to
their fellows, and acceptable to God. Besides, he saw
Credulity confounded with  Faith, and  Superstition
mistaken for vital Piety.  His aim was to unite Reason
and Religion.  He denied, that we can form  an adequate conception of God, or express his nature, in,
*Among those -who contributed most powerfully, directly or remotely to this, may be named Scotus Erigena, Gerbert, (afterwards
Pope Sylvester II.,) Berenger, or Berengarius of Tours. (See Lessing's Simtliche, Werke, Vol. XX.),. Lanfranc, Roscelin, Anselm,.
and Abelard.
9




98           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
words.' He attempted to explain the Trinity in a
manner sufficiently orthodox, if that mystery is to be
explained at all, and the profound truth it covers, but
too often conceals, also is to be pointed out and explained.  He denied free-will to God, in the sense we
apply that term  to man, who, from his weakness and
wickedness, must decide between conflicting desires.
He found virtue, like Christian excellence, among the
heathen also, who, as wTell as the Jews, received revelations, and sometimes had power to work miracles. But
the doctrines of the Church forbid the free action of his
mind in this direction, and so he concluded that baptism
was necessary to salvation and the forgiveness of sins,
though the man lived a life never so divine. But he
dwelt with great delight on the virtue of some of the
heathens, and with the obvious design of shaming the
hideous sin of the clergy in his own day. He judged
virtue by its motives, not by its actions; defined sin as
voluntary action opposed to God's law. He spoke with
the greatest indignation against those men, who were
frightened by fear of hell, and after a life of sin, repenting on their death-bed, left money got by crime, that
priests, wicked as themselves, and hypocrites besides,
might say masses for their souls. He denied the false
or alleged miracles of his time, though he admitted the
Christian miracles in full.
Such a man could not want for opponents. His
philosophical opinions; his Christian zeal, which sometimes, out-travelled his discretion; still more, his tendency to call sin, sin, and his violent invectives against
* To judge from his remarks on this point, there seems to be a striking similarity between him and Hegel.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.          99
vice and hollowness, raised up for him a host of enemies. The timid feared; the wicked hated him. But
we are now concerned with Abelard, only so far as he
comes into the history of Bernard. The first persecution* of Abelard, — and in which Bernard took an
active part, — arose, like many others, from personal,
and not ecclesiastical jealousy. Albric and Lotulf, rival
professors at Rheims, brought two charges against him;
the one, that he, a monk, engaged in secular studies;
the other, that he taught theology, which he had never
learned " from the great doctors of the age," and without a regular theological education. Their complaints
were brought before the Council of Soissons, (1121,)
where his obnoxious book (de Theologia) was to be explained. The matter was referred to a greater council,
at Paris. Here, to' quell the alarm, Abelard threw his
offensive book into the fire, knowing well that this act
would recoil upon his enemies. He withdrew to a
cloister. But the public condemned his opponents, and
he soon returned in triumph to Paris, renewed his teachings and attacks on the wicked lives of the monks.
But, getting weary of this work, - as hopeless as to
pick up all the sands of Sahara, -and, desiring leisure
to think far down into the deep of things, he retired to
solitude once more. Here he lived in poverty and want.
But pupils came to be taught. The neighborhood was
filled with young men. A great enthusiasm, wide and
deep, broke out in his favor. His doctrines spread far
and wide. The watch-dog of the Church awoke from
his brief slumbers at Clairvaux, and began his threatening growl. Bernard, - the Napoleon of the twelfth
* The opposition of Walter de Mauritania does not deserve ao larsh
a name.




100          THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
century, -was more formidable than all other opponents, bishops, and councils. To escape the imminent
danger, Abelard accepted the post of Abbot in Brittany.
But he could not be silent, and here likewise his hateful
doctrines were taught, and rumors of Abelard's fame
went up like a cloud, and extended to Clairvaux. Bernard "eyed him" as " Saul eyed David."  He warned
him, in letters, to change his " manner of theologizing,"
and on all occasions cautioned Abelard's pupils against
the poison of their master's doctrines. He was not a
man to sit quietly down and thus suffer dictation,
though from "the first man in the century." He expressed a willingness to look Bernard in the face, and
argue the matter in the Synod of Sens (1140), before
an assembly of the first men of the nation. He called
on his thousands of scholars to come and witness his
triumph. But Bernard declined entering the lists with
the first dialectician of the age. He knew what he was
about, -the artful monk. So he cunningly wrote, —
that precursor of the Jesuits, -" he would not make
the articles of faith matters of dispute."  No. They
rested on authority, which was abandoned soon as he
came down into a fair field. He wished his opponent's
doctrines to be compared with the " standards" of the
only infallible Church. Thus the accused was condemned by implication, and without a hearing. But it
is easy to gainsay such a swift verdict of condemnation,
and Abelard's reputation rose higher even than before.
His scholars boasted, that even Bernard dared not venture into the arena with their master. So it became
necessary for the Abbot of Clairvaux to make a regular
attack, and risk a defeat, or else leave his rival master
of the field. So he came to the council. The king
wa,.lXe~'ntj inil the most eminent bishops, abbots, and




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.              101
clergymen in general; men over whom Bernard's authority was almost despotic. Abelard knew a fair hearing would not be allowed him. Bernard was resolved
to give him no chance for it, and laid before the council
a list of passages, carefully culled from Abelard's works,
and flanked by the conflicting doctrines of the Church.
He then called on the accused to recant, or defend the
passages. Abelard was silent, and the council pronounced the obnoxious sentences heretical. But before
they could take the next step, and condenin the man as
a heretic, he appealed to the pope. No sooner was this
done, than Bernard wrote letters to the pope, and the
nobles of Rome, to prejudice their minds against the
alleged heretic. In these letters, as in the statement
made to the council, Bernard either intentionally misrepresented, or atrociously  misunderstood  Abelard; 
charged upon him doctrines, he never taught, and
twisted sentences into a form different from the original. Bernard had great influence at the Roman court.
The Church was afraid of Philosophy. The result was,
that the passages obnoxious to Bernard were judged
heretical; the author was pronounced a heretic, and forbidden to teach the obnoxious doctrines. All who adhered to them  were excommunicated.  Thus was he
condemned, through the jealousy of one man, without
* See Epist. 187-194. lie condemns the works of Abelard, namely,
Theologia, Liber Sententiarum, and Nosce Teipsum. He calls his
opponent many hard names, an Arian, a Pelagian, a Nestorian, " a
Herod at home, and a Saint John abroad." "In all things that are
in Heaven above, etc., he sees only himself." "A fabricator of lies."
Epist. 327-338. Abbot William fears the treatise, Sic et Non, is
" monstrous in doctrine as it is in name." See also Bernardi Opuscula, especially the " Tract concerning the errors of Peter Abelard,"
sometimes put among his letters, as Epist. 190.
9'




102          THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
any proof that the obnoxious passages were contained,in his writings, or that they would not bear a different
interpretation, and without asking if the author could
not reconcile them with the orthodox faith. All his
heretical doctrines were condemned, but no care was
taken to specify which were heretical. Bernard's conduct in this affair justifies fully the sharp and bitter censure of Bayle and others, whom he follows. "It is
certain, that he had very great talents, and a great deal
of zeal; but some pretend, that his zeal made him too
jealous of those, who acquired a great name through
the study of human learning, and they add, that his
mild and easy temper rendered him too credulous, when
he heard any evil reported of these learned persons. It
is difficult to imagine he was free from human passions,
when he made it his business to cause all, that seemed
heterodox to him, to be overwhelmed with anathemas.
But it is very easy to conceive, that his good reputation,,and the ardor wherewith he prosecuted the condemnation of his adversaries, surprised the judges, and made
the accused persons sink under the weight of these
irregular proceedings."  " They do not do him justice,
who call him only a hound, or a mastiff dog; he ought,
in some sense, to be compared to Nimrod, and styled a
nmig,hty hunter before the Lord."
Abelard's scholars, - especially the young and enthusiastic part of them, - defended their master, with
the keen wit and exquisite sarcasm, for which the
French were remarkable, even then. But the philosopher himself, weary of conflict, worn down by repeated,calamities, yielded to the tide of trouble, and became
reconciled with the Argus of the Church. He offered
to strike out of his works whatever offended orthodox.ears, and to renounce both his school and his study.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.         103
This reconciliation, - as men call it, - was effected
by Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Clugny, who received
Abelard into his establishment, where, and at the more
healthy cloister of Chalons sur la Saone, he spent the
brief and bitter remnant of his days, and ended a life,
at once the brightest and most sad that appears in the
middle ages. Few men have been so often misjudged
and abused as he. Fate seemed to pursue him with a
fiery sword, and the furies, - Ambition, Hatred, Fear,
- to scourge him with their bloody scorpion whip,
through life. Bernard rejoiced that he had reduced
that eloquent voice to silence, and restored tranquillity
to the churches! So the old Romans, after they had
desolated a province, "proclaimed peace, where they
had made only solitude."  But, though he went where
the wicked cease from troubling, his spirit passed into
the ages, and lives even now. It is an easy thing to
kill a man, or to shut him up in a cloister, especially if
he is old or constitutionally timid. To burn.a heretic
is no difficult matter, for the weakest princes have,
perhaps, burned the most. But to suppress heresy;
to stay thought: or'stop the truth thereby, the world
has not found so easy. Bernard could cut off the
hydra's head; but others sprouted anew. What was
personal in Abelard died, or faded out of the public mind. But the scorn of whatever is false; the love
of truth; the desire of a divine life, burnt in many a
young heart, like a fire in the forest, and would not be
put down.
Arnold of Brescia was among these. The corruption
of the clergy; the strife between the emperors and the
popes; the increasing study of the Roman law; the
general advance of knowledge, all favored his design
of founding a true Church on the earth, which could




104          THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
offer no bribes, and claim no secular power. He fell
back on primitive Christianity, and preached it with a
soul of fire. He held up to shame the conduct and life
of the clergy. At Bernard's suggestion, he was excommunicated and condemned to a cloister. He refused to
make his peace as his master had done, and finding few
disposed to enforce the papal sentence, went to Zurich,
where even the bishop tolerated him. Guido a Castellis, through the pope's legate, received him kindly, and
took little heed to Bernard's admonitory letters. After
the death of Innocent the Third, Arnold repaired to
Rome, and made " no small stir" among the people.
But we pass over all this, and the troubles about the
popes, and come down to the crusade, and the administration of Eugene the Third, - the friend and pupil
of Bernard.
Celestine the Second, the successor of Innocent,
filled the papal chair but four months. Lucian the
Second, the next pope, lived but a short time after his
election, and when Eugene the Third was elected, the
confusion at Rome forced him to take refuge in Viterbo,
where he speedily excommunicated Arnold, no doubt to
the great satisfaction of his old persecutor. Bernard
wrote letters to the Romans, exhorting them to receive
Eugene as their father. But these falling fruitless to
the ground, he tried Conrad, his old enemy, exhorting
him to revenge the Pope. " Gird on the sword. Give
to yourself, as Cesar, what is Ccesar's, and to God,
what is God's."  " God forbid," says he, "that the
power of the nation, the insolence of the rabble should
hold out a moment before the eyes of the monarch."
Bernard exerted himself with all his might to sustain
his friend in the chair of the Church.  Meantime, a
great event was gathering, in the future, and coming




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.       105
near at hand. The mountain once produced a mouse,
as the story goes; but here, several mice produced a
mountain. The occasion of a new crusade was as follows. Louis the Seventh of France felt some natural
compunctions of conscience for the cruelties he had
been guilty of in the war against Theobald of Champagne. He hoped to efface the old crime, by engaging
in a new war, at the command of the Church, and thus
wash the old blood from his hands, in the fresh stream
of so many lives. A crusade in the twelfth century,it stirred men's hearts, as a line of gas packets to the
moon would do in our day. We know not who first
proposed the new enterprise, but Bernard caught readily
at the idea, and called on the pope to summon all Christendorn to the work. Eugene the Third knew as well
as Lord Chatham, that when a brilliant war burns in
the distance, men will not look at grievances they suffer
at home. So he readily favored a plan, which would
strengthen his own hands.
At that day it was easy to raise armies. Especially
was it easy to raise armies for a crusade. There have
always been sinners enough in the world; sinners, too,
who wished their guilt might be wiped off all at once,
and they be cleansed of their old leprosy without
trouble, by a single plunge into the Jordan. The pope
promised that all sins, however great, however numerous and deeply ingrained, should be all wiped out for
those who engaged in the crusade, on condition that
they repented, - which was easily done, and cost
nothing, - and joined the expedition with good motives.
A council was held on Easter-day. But the castle at
Bezelay, where it had met, would not hold the retainers
of the church militant. The assembly adjourned to a




106          THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
field. Here the king appeared on a stage, with the sign
of the cross on his back. Bernard was beside him, and
addressing the multitude, he poured out such a molten tide of hot words, eloquent and persuasive, that the
assembly yielded to his counsels, and shouted, till all
rung again,- To THE CRoss, To THE CRoss. Meanwhile, - says the monkish chronicler, - the holy Abbot
wrought miracles more plenteous than ever. Miracles
became the order of the day, almost of the hour; for
not only "was no day without its miracle;;" but " one
day he Wrought twenty. Men, blind from their birth,
received sight; the lame walked; men withered up became fresh again at his word; the dumb spake; the
deaf heard, divine grace supplying what nature lacked."
Biernard's zeal burned like a rocket, kindling as it rose.
He declaimed with fiery eloquence, and wrote letters,
and preached, and watched, and fasted, and prayed, to
a degree almost exceeding belief. But the most attenuated body sometimes becomes powerful under the pressure of a giant will. He labored with good effect; for
he soon writes in triumph to the pope; " The cities and
castles are getting empty, and seven women can scarcely
find one man; wives are widowed while their husbands
are yet alive! " A great assembly once demanded Bernard himself as the leader of the host; but the wily
monk knew how to make excuses. " It is too foreign
to my holy office; " precious scruple, of a man who
preached and got up the whole affair! He journeyed
through France, fanning the flame. In the neighborhood of the Rhine, he found one Ralph, an ignorant
monk, who had excited many to murder the Jews,
thinking, no doubt, he did great honor to Jesus by
slaying the poor remnant of that nation, which produced the Bible, both Old Testament and New Testa



THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.           107
ment, and gave birth to the Saviour, and the " mother
of God." Bernard, to his praise be it spoken, thought
it better to convert the Jews than to kill them; and
really, mrronk as he was, took sides with the oppressed
race.
Conrad,- the German emperor, - was averse to
the crusade, and for the best reason. Bernard must attempt to bring him over; and here the greatness of his
influence and the triumph of his genius are seen in all
their iustre. He had an interview with Conrad, and the
result was unfavorable. He gave up the attempt for
the moment, and waited his time. But on Christmas
day, after settling some difficulties, and healing some
dissensions among the great men of Germany, he exhorted the nobles and emperor to the work. Three
days later, in private, he advised the emperor to accept
so easy a penance, and wash out his many sins. Soon
after he celebrated the mass before the court, and unexpectedly delivered a sermron relating to the crusade.
At the end of the ceremony, he went to the emperor,
in the church. He addressed him as though he was a
private man; described the last judgment, and the
consternation of a man unable to give God an answer, if he had not done his best. He spoke of Conrad's blessings, his wealth, power, strength of body and
mind.  Conrad burst into tears, and sobbed forth, " I
am ready to serve him. He himself exhorts me." A
scream of joy followed, from all who filled the church.
Bernard took a consecrated banner from the altar, and
placed it in Conrad's hands, and the work was done.*
* The following sentence, from his appeal to the German nation,
is curious, and a fair specimen of his style of address. " The earth
trembles and quakes because the God of Heaven is afraid he shall
lose his land; his land, I say, where the Word of the Heavenly




108           THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
After the crusade was fairly on its,feet, and the last
straggler of the army was out of sight, Bernard returned
to his cloister, and his old work, hunting heretics; and
no English squire ever loved to unearth an otter, better
than the good Abbot to scent a heretic, and drive him
out of the Church. He found no lack of employment
in this agreeable occupation. The spirit of Abelard
was not yet laid. It stood in the background of the
Church, and made mouths at the crusade; nay, at
orthodoxy itself. Protean in its nature, it assumed all
manner of forms, most frightful to Catholic believers.
The metaphysics of the Trinity opened a wide field for
philosophical inquiry and speculation. The Cerberus
of Heresy bayed loud at the Church. Nominalism,
Realism, and Scholastlcism, all were at feud, and each
engendered its band of heretics. Among these was
Gilbert of Poictiers, - often called Porretanus, -a man
allied to Abelard by a kindred love of philosophy, but
differing widely from his conclusions. Though a bishop,
he was soon accused before the pope, and Bernard was
easily put upon the scent. He accused Gilbert in a
council at Paris, but he found more than his equal, for
Gilbert could " parry, pass, and ward," and was well
skilled in the dazzling fence of dialectics. He would
not be silent, like Abelard; he had all the weapons of
logic at command; could quote councils and fathers
readily as the paternoster or decalogue, and, what was
still more important in that crisis, his friends and pupils
were great men; some of them cardinals, who, however,
were fearful of offending Bernard. The whole affair
was referred to the great council at Rheims. When the
Father was affianced for more than twenty years, teaching and conversing with men, - his land, glorified by his miracles, sanctified by
his blood," etc.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.         109
dispute had outlasted the patience of the pope and'
the cardinals, the latter said, "' We will now decide."''Whereupon Bernard, fearing the result, hastily collected.
his friends, telling them, that "Gilbert must be put
down." So they drew up a paper, condemning him,and sent it to the pope, for whom it was a cake of the'
right leaven.  But the cardinals were very justly
offended because the pope had violated justice, and,
preferred the opinion of one man to the united council..
The head of the Church knew not which way to turn.
Bernard was called in to end the troubles. He reconciled Gilbert, who shook hands with his foes, and wenthome in greater honor than ever before.
He who begins to pursue heretics, finds his work in-.
crease before him. In the twelfth century, there were
men in no small number, whom the Church could not
feed. Thev turned away from cold abstractions and:
lifeless forms, to warm and living love for man and
God; they shrunk away from the contaminating breath
of emaciated monks, and ambitious cardinals, to fresh
and glowing nature, which still reflected the unfading
goodness of the Infinite. These were men, who took
what was good, where they could find it, and so found
manna even in the wilderness. They were content to
sit on the brink of the well of Truth, and watch the
large, silent faces of the stars reflected from its tranquil
deeps, which they did not ruffle, while they drew life
from its waters; men, whose inward eye, once opened,
by the Holy Ghost, could never again be closed, but
ever looked upwards and right on, for Light and Life..
These men might be branded as heretics, scourged in,
the market-place for infidelity, or burned at high noon
for atheism. The natural man does not understand the,
things of the Spirit. They had too, much religion to be!
10




110          THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
understood by their contemporaries; they were too far
above them for their sympathy, too far before them for
their comprehension. No doubt these men were often
mistaken, fanatical; their minds overclouded, and their
hearts filled with bigotry. Still, it is in them that we
find the religion of the age. The veriest tyro in ecclesiastical history knows, that the true life of God in the
soul, from the third century downwards, has displayed
itself out of the established Church, and not in it. It
would be both curious and instructive to trace the
growth of Protestantism from Paul down to Luther,
and notice the various phases it assumed, of mysticism
or rationalism, as the heart or the head uttered the protest, and consider the treatment it met with from men
of a few good rules, of much ambition, and little elevation of character. The mass of men is too often eager
to punish both such as loiter in the rear, and such as
hurry in the front, - especially the latter. Perhaps this
contagion of heresy, this epidemic of non-conformity,
like Christianity itself, came from the East, where every
religion that has taken a strong hold of the heart has
had its home. The Gnostics and Manicheans, and
men of more mystical piety, for whom the blind orthodoxy of the Church offered little attraction, - these men
fattened the Christian soil with their blood, in the fifth,
sixth, and seventh centuries. Their bones fell still more
abundantly in the two ages that followed. But, in
countries where Christianity was neWly introduced, the
obnoxious sects took root, and flourished. The tumults
of the tenth century brought them to Italy, France, and
Germany. Heresy spread like the plague; no one
knows how, or by whom it is propagated. Rather let
us say, Truth passes, like morning, from land to land,
and men, *ho all night long have read with bleared




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.        111
eyes by the candle of tradition, wonder at the light
which streams through the crevice of window and wall.
In the eleventh century, these "heretical doctrines "
were  still more  common.  The headsman's axe
gleamed over many a Christian neck. But the neck
of Heresy was not cut off; for in the twelfth century
there were still some to be done to death.. It is sad to
reflect, that every advance in science, art, freedom, and
religion, has been bought with the best hearts that ever
beat, who have poured out the stream of their lives, and
thus formed a deep, wide channel of blood, which has
upborne and carried forward the ark of Humanity,
Liberty, and Truth, from the dawn of things till this
day. On every lofty path, where man treads securely
now, naked feet have bled, as they trampled the flint
into dust. IIow many forerunners leave their heroic
heads in a charger; and even the Saviour must hang
upon the cross, before men can be redeemed. In Bernard's time, these reformers came to a world lying in
wickedness; they came to priests, still more wicked,
who attempted to heal the world by church ceremonies,
theological dogmas, councils, and convents, and "communion in one kind."  There were a few, who wished
to fall back on miorality and religion. They counted
the Bible as the finite stream, that comes from the infinite source and waters the gardens of the earth. They
took their stand on primitive Christianity; when they
spoke, it wvas from heart to heart, and so the common
people heard them gladly.
We lament to say, that Bernard, great man as he
was, good and pious as we know him to have been, set
his face seriously against all these men, and thought he
did God service by hunting them to death. His garments were rolled in the blood of these innocents. One




112          THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
of his friends, Everwin of Steinfeld, tells him he has
"written enough against the pharisaism of Christians;
now lift up your voice against the heretics, who are
come into all the churches, like a breath from hell."
Among the most eminent of these reformers and heretics were Peter of Bruis, founder of the Petrobrusians,
and Henry of Lausanne. Bernard signalized himself
in attacking these men, though with various success.
On a certain occasion, some heretics were burned in a
remote district, and Everwin, writing an account of the
affair, and, as usual, throwing all the blame on the people, wonders that these limbs of the devil, in their heresy,
could exhibit such steadfastness in suffering the most
cruel tortures, as was scarce ever found even among
pious orthodox Christians.*  The monk's wonder is
quite instructive. In one of his letters, Bernard thus
complains of the desolations wrought by the heretics.
"' The churches are shunned as if they were synagogues;
the sanctuary of God is no longer reckoned holy; the
sacraments are not honored; the festivals not celebrated.
Men die in their sins; their souls are brought into the
dreadful judgments of God, not reconciled by penance;
not confirmed by taking the Last Supper."  Yet, even
among these heretics, Bernard was nearly all-powerful.
He came to the city Albigeois, the head-quarters of
these men, and did wonders. The -following anecdote
exhibits the character of the Saint, and the age. He
once preached against the heretics at Toulouse, and,
finishing his sermon, mounted his horse to ride off. In
presence of the crowd, one of the dissenters said; " Your
horse, good Abbot, is fatter and better fed than the beast
of our Master, much as you say against him."  "I do
* Neander, p. 244.




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.         113
not deny it," said Bernard, with a friendly look; " It is
the nature of the beast'to be fat; not by our horses, but
by ourselves, are we to be judged before God." He
then laid bare his neck, and showed, naked, his meagre
and attenuated breast. This was, for the public, the
most perfect confutation of the heretic!
But we must, however unwilling, hasten from these
scenes. In 1148, Pope Eugene visited Bernard in the
cloister at Clairvaux, and remained with him some
time. It was a beautiful homage from the conventional'Head of the Church to a poor monk, whom piety, zeal,
and greatness of soul, had raised above all the heroes
of convention. Bishop Malachias, who had done a
great work in Ireland, came to lay his bones at Clairvaux. But bitter disappointment came at last upon
Bernard. The crusade, for which he had preached, and
prophesied, and worked miracles, and travelled over half
Europe, was a failure. Its ruin was total.'Half-smothered invectives and fierce denunciations arose against
him. All his predictions fell to the ground; the miracles he wrought; the vaunting boast and fiery words he
had uttered came back on the head of the poor monk,
mingled with the scorn of the nations. He had sophistry enough to refer the calamity to the sins of the
crusaders. But this availed little, for he had promised
their sins should be forgiven, and expressly called
notorious sinners to the task.  So he laid the blame
upon the Almighty, who had assigned him his mission, gave him the promise, and " confirmed it by miracles."
Weary and disappointed, the poor Abbot betook
himself to finish his greatest literary work, the celebrated treatise de Consideratione, a sort of manual for
the popes, giving a picture of an ideal pope, a book of
10*




114          THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
no small merit. This was the latest work of his life,,and its concluding lines flowed forth from lips longing
-to give up the ghost. His usefulness continued to the
last. His letters went on as usual; he exhorted his
friends and pupils. But the shadow of defeat was on
the man. It grew thicker and blacker each day. His
letter to Andreas, written shortly before his death,
dhows how a monk can feel, and a man, whose word
then shook the world, can be overcome. All his life
long, he had looked to the west, and found no comfort,
as the rising luminary shed new day over the world.
But even on his death-bed, cast down as he was, he
gave proofs of that mysterious power the soul exerts
over those decaying elements which it gathers about
itself, a power remarkably shown in his whole life.
While sick almost to death, scarce any strength left in
hirn, Hillin, Archbishop of Friers, came to ask him to
mediate between the people of Metz, and the nobility
-of the neighborhood. Bernard arose from his bed; forgot his weakness; forgot his pain; forgot his disappointment. His body seemed sinewy and strong beneath his mighty will. He met the delegates of the
two parties on the banks of the Moselle. The haughty
-knights, flushed with victory, refused to listen to his
terms, and withdrew, " not wishing the sick monk farewell."  " Peace will soon come," said he. "It was
foretold me last night, in a dream; for I thought I was
celebrating mass, and was ashamed because I had forgotten the chant, Gloria in Excelsis; and so I sung it
with you to the end." Before the time arrived for singing the chant, a messenger came to say, the knights
Nvere penitent;!  His words had (lone the work in
silence. The two parties were reconciled, and the kiss
of peace exchanged. He returned to Clairvaux, and his




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.         115
strong spirit soon left the worn-out frame where it had
long dwelt almost in defiance of the body's'law. He
had lived sixty-three years, and his spirit was mighty in
the churches long after his death.
His biographer Alanus thus describes the last scene.
"About the third hour of the day, (August 20, 1153,)
this shining light of his age, this holy and truly blessed
Abbot passed away from the body of death to the land
of the living; from the heavy sobbings and abundant
tears of his friends, standing around him, to the chorus
of angels chanting continually, with Christ at their
head. Happy that soul, which rises by the excellent
grace of its own merits; which is followed by the pious
Vows of friends, and drawn upwards by holy desire for
things above. Happy that transition from labor to rest;
from expectation to enjoyment of the reward; from the
battle to the triumph; from death to life; from faith to
knowledge; from a pilgrimage to his own home; from
the world to the Father."
In stature, Saint Bernard was a little below the common standard; his hair of a flaxen color; his beard
somewhat reddish, but both became gray as he grew
old. The might of the man was shown in his countenance. Yet his face had'a peculiar cheerfulness, more
of heaven than of earth, and his eye at once expressed
the serpent's wisdom, with the simpli.city of the dove.
It was indifferent to him whether he drank oil, or wine,
or water. He was dead to the pleasures of the table,
and to all sensual delights. He could walk all day by
the lake of Lucerne, and never see it. In summing
up his character, we must allow him great acuteness of
insight; a force of will, great and enduring almost beyond belief, - a will like that of Hannibal, or Simeon




116              THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
the Stylite, which shrunk at no difficulty, and held out
Promethean to the end. He was zealous and self-denying; but narrow in his self-denial, and a bigot in his
zeal. He was pious, — beautifully pious, - but superstitious withal. In a formal age, no man loved forms
better than he, or clung closer to the letter, when it
served his end. His writings display a masculine good
sense;; great acquaintance with the Scriptures, which
he quotes in every paragraph, and with Augustine and
Ambrose, "with whom he would agree, right or
wrong." t   He hated all tyranny but the tyranny  of
* His works are, 447 Letters; numerous Sermons on all the Sundays and Festivals in the year; 86 Sermons on the Canticles; a
Treatise, in five books, de Consideratione; another, de Officio
Episcoporum, de Proecepto et Dispensatione; Apologia ad Guliel.
mum Abbatum; this contains some of his sharpest rebukes of the
monks and clergy. De laude Novm Militioe, i. e. the new order of
knights templars. De gradibus humilitatis et superbiae, de gratia et
libero arbitrio, de baptismo, de erroribus Petri Abelardi. De Vita
S. Malachire, de Cantu. Besides these. there are many works attributed to him, which belong to others, known or unknown.  Such
are the famous " Meditations of Saint Bernard," which are sometimes printed in English in the same volume with Saint Augustine's
Meditations. No writer of the middle ages has been so popular as
Bernard. His works were read extensively before the art of printing was invented, and have often been published since then. The
best edition is that of Mabillon. Paris. 1719. 2 vols. folio. A
new edition has recently been published, (Paris. 1838. 4 vols. 8vo.)
which we have not examined. Besides, he wrote a Summa Theologiae not noticed by Mabillon, but commented on by Gerson, whose
book thereon is called Floretus, published at Paris, 1494, 1 vol. 4to.
This by the way is not in Dupin's edition of Gerson, 1706, 5 vols.
fol. It is noticed in Fleury, Hist. Eccl. vol. xiv. p. 444, ed. Nismes,
1779.
t His reverence for the authority of the Church was most uncompromising. He thought it had power to change the words of Scriptures, and make the Bible better by the change; " Cum in Scripturis




THE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.              117
the Church. Yet his heart was by nature gentle; he
could take pains to rescue a hen from the hawk; but
would yet burn men at the stake for explaining the
mystery of the Trinity. He was ambitious as Caesar;
not that he cared for the circumstance and trappings of
authority, but he loved power for itself, as an end. All
the wax of Hymettus could not close his ears against
this syren, nor a whole Anticyra heal his madness. He
lived in an age when new light came streaming upon
the world.  But he called on men to close their shutters
and stir their fires. Greek and Roman letters, then
beginning their glorious career in modern times, he
hated as profane, and never dreamed of the wonders
they were to effect for art, science, religion, yea, for
Christianity itself. He was a man of the eleventh century, not of the twelfth. Its spirit culminated most
beautifully in him. But he had no sympathy for those,
who, grateful for their fathers' progress, would yet carry
the line of improvement still farther on. He did nothing directly to promote a pure theology, or foster philosophical views, and thus to emancipate mankind from
their long thraldom. Yet he did much remotely. Frozen hands are best warmed in snow.  Bernard was a
mystic,' and the age was growing rational.  But in
his mystic flights he does not soar so sublime as the
Pseudo-Dionysius, or Scotus Erigena, from whom his
mysticism seems derived. Still less has he the depth
of Saint Victor, Tauler, Eckart, and Nicolas of Basle,
divinis verba vel alterat, vel alternat, fortior est illa compositio quam
positio prima verborum." - Sermon on the Nativity.
* On his Mysticism, see Ammon, Fortbildung des Christenthums,
Vol. II., 2d edition, p. 355, seq. Heinroth, Geschichte und Kritik
der Mysticismus, p. 324, seq.; and Schmid, Der M3lsticismus der
Mittelalter, etc., p. 187, seq.




118          TIIE LIFE OF ST. BERNARD.
or the profound sweetness of Fenelon, the best, perhaps,
of modern mystical Christians. His practical tendency
was lead to the wings of mystical contemplation, and
the very strength of his will prevented him from seeing
Truth as other mystics, all absorbed in contemplation.
Yet he was a great man, and without him the world
would not have been what it is. Well does he deserve
the praise of Luther,  "if there ever was a pious monk,
it was Saint Bernard."




IV.
TRUTH AGAINST THE WORLD.*
A PARABLE OF PAUL.
ONE day Abdiel found Paul at Tarsus, after his
Damascus journey, sitting meek and thoughtful at the
door of his house; his favorite books, and the instruments of his craft, lying neglected beside him. " Strange
tidings I hear of you," said the sleek Rabbi. "You
also have become a follower of the Nazarene! What
course shall you pursue after your precious conversion?"  "I shall go' and preach the Gospel to all
nations," said the new convert, gently. "I shall set off
to-morrow.'
The Rabbi, who felt a sour interest in Paul, looked
at him with affected incredulity and asked, "Do you
know the sacrifice you make? You must leave father
and friends; the society of the Great and the Wise.
You will fare hard and encounter peril. You will
be impoverished; called hard names; persecuted;
scourged; perhaps put to death."  " None of these
things move me," said Paul. " I have counted the cost.
* From the Dial for October, 1840.




120         TRUTH AGAINST THE WORLD.
I value not life the half so much as keeping God's Law,
and proclaiming the truth, though all men forbid. I
shall walk by God's light, and fear not. I am no longer
a slave to the old Law of sin and death, but a free man
of God, made free by the Law of the Spirit of Life in
Christ Jesus."  "Here," rejoined the Rabbi, " you have
ease and fame; in your new work you must meet toil,
infamy, and death." " The voice of God says Go,"
exclaimed the Apostle, with firmness, " I am ready to
spend and be spent in the cause of Truth."
" )ie then," roared the Rabbi, " like a Nazarene fool
and unbelieving Atheist, as thou art. He that lusts
after new things, preferring his silly convictions, and
that whim of a conscience, to solid ease, and the
advice of his friends, deserves the cross. Die in thy
folly. Henceforth I disclaim thee. Call me kinsman
no more!"
Years passed over; the word of God grew and prevailed. One day it was whispered at Tarsus, and ran
swiftly from mouth to mouth, in the market-place,
" Paul, the apostate, lies in chains at Rome, daily expecting the Lions. His next trouble will be his last."
And Abdiel said to his sacerdotal crones in the synagogue, "I knew it would come to this. How much
better to have kept to his trade, and the old ways
of his fathers and the prophets, not heeding that whim
of a conscience.  He might have lived respectably
to an easy old age at Tarsus, the father of sons and
daughters. Men might have called him RABBI in the
streets."
Thus went it at Tarsus. But meantime, in his dungeon at Rome, Paul sat comforted. The Lord stood
by him in a vision and said, " Fear not, Paul. Thou
hast fought the good fight. Lo, I am with thee to the




TRUTH AGAINST TIHE WORLD.        121
end of the world." The tranquil old man replied, " I
know whom I have served, and am thoroughly persuaded that God will keep what I have committed to
him. I have not the spirit of fear, but of love, and a
sound mind. I shall finish my course with joy, for I
see the crown of Righteousness laid up for me, anid
now my salvation is more perfect, and my hope is
higher, than when first I believed."
Then in his heart spoke that voice, which had spoken
before on the mount of Transfiguration; " Thou also
art my beloved Son. In thee I am well pleased."




Vy
THOUGHTS ON LABOR.*
"GoD has given each man a back to be clothed, a
mouth to be filled, and a pair of hands to work with."
And since wherever a mouth and a back are created a
pair of hands also is provided, the inference is unavoidable, that the hands are to be used to supply the needs
of the mouth and the back. Now  as there is one
mouth to each pair of hands, and each mouth must be
filled, it follows quite naturally, that if a single pair of
hands refuses to do its work, then the mouth goes
hungry, or, which is worse, the work is done by other
hands. In the one case, the supply failing, an inconvenience is suffered, and the man dies; in the other he
eats and wears the earnest of another man's work, and
so a wrong is inflicted. The law of nature is this, " If
a man will not work neither shall he eat." Still further,
God has so beautifully woven together the web of life,
with its warp of Fate, and its woof of Freewill, that in
addition to the result of a man's duty, when faithfully
done, there is a satisfaction and recompense in the very
discharge thereof. In a rational state of things, Duty
* From the Dial for April, 1841.




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            123
and Delight travel the same road, sometimes hand in
hand. Labor has an agreeable end, in the result we
gain; but the means also are agreeable, for there are
pleasures in the work itself. These unexpected compensations, the gratuities and stray gifts of Heaven, are
scattered abundantly in life. Thus the kindness of our
friends, the love of our children is of itself worth a
thousand times all the pains we take on their account.
Labor, in like manner, has a reflective action, and gives
the working man a blessing over and above the natural
result which he looked for. The duty of labor is written on a man's body; in the stout muscle of the arm
and the delicate machinery of the hand. That it is
congenial to our nature appears from the alacrity with
which children apply themselves to it, and find pleasure
in the work itself, without regard to its use. The
young duck does not more naturally betake itself to the
water, than the boy to the work which goes on around
him. There is some work, which even the village
sluggard and the city fop love to do, and that only can
they do well. These two latter facts show that labor,
in some degree, is no less a pleasure than a duty, and
prove, that man is not by nature a lazy animal who is
forced by Hunger to dig and spin.
Yet there are some who count labor a curse and a
punishment. They regard the necessity of work, as
the greatest evil brought on us by the " Fall;" as a
curse that will cling to our last sand. Many submit to
this yoke, and toil, and save, in hope to leave their posterity out of the reach of this primitive curse!
Others, still more foolish, regard it as a disgrace.
Young men, —the children of honest parents, who,
living by their manly and toil-hardened hands, bear up
the burden of the world on their shoulders, and eat with




124            THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
thankful hearts their daily bread, won in the sweat of
their face, —are ashamed of their fathers' occupation,
and forsaking the plough, the chisel, or the forge, seek
a livelihood in what is sometimes named a more respectable and genteel vocation; that is, in a calling
which demands less of the hands, than their fathers'
hardy craft, and quite often less of the head likewise;
for that imbecility which drives men to those callings,
has its seat mostly in a higher region than the hands.
Affianced damsels beg their lovers to discover (or invent)
some ancestor in buckram who did not work. The
Sophomore in a small college is ashamed of his father
who wears a blue frock, and his dusty brother who toils
with the saw and the axe. These men, after they have
wiped off the dirt and the soot of their early life, sometimes become arrant coxcombs, and standing like the
heads of Hermes without hands, having only a mouth,
make faces at such as continue to serve the State by
plain handiwork. Some one relates an anecdote, which
illustrates quite plainly this foolish desire of young men
to live without work. It happened in one of our large
towns, that a Shopkeeper and a Blacksmith, both living
in the same street, advertised for an apprentice on the
same day. In a given time fifty beardless youngsters
applied to the Haberdasher, and not one to the Smith.
But that story has a terrible moral, namely, that fortyand-nine out of the fifty were disappointed at the outset.
It were to be wished that this notion of labor being
disgraceful was confined to vain young men, and giddy
maidens of idle habits and weak heads, for then it
would be looked upon as one of the diseases of early
life, which we know must come, and rejoice when our
young friends have happily passed through it, knowing




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            125
it is one of " the ills that flesh is heir to," but is not
very grievous, and comes but once in the lifetime.
This aversion to labor, this notion that it is a curse and
a disgrace, this selfish desire to escape from the general
and natural lot of man, is the sacramental sin of " the
better class " in our great cities. The children of the
poor pray to be rid of work; and what son of a rich
man learns a trade or tills the soil with his own hands?
Many men look on the ability to be idle as the most
desirable and honorable ability. They glory in being
the Mouth that consumes, not the Hand that works.
Yet one would suppose a man of useless hands and
idle head, in the midst of God's world, where each thing
works for all; in the midst of the toil and sweat of the
human race, must needs make an apology for his sloth,
and would ask pardon for violating the common law,
and withdrawing his neck from the general yoke of humanity. Still more does he need an apology, if he is
active only in getting into his hands the result of others'
work. But it is not so. The man who is rich enough
to be idle values himself on his leisure; and what is
worse, others value him for it. Active men must make
a shamefaced excuse for being busy, and working men
for their toil, as if business and toil were not the Duty
of all and the support of the world. In certain countries
men are divided horizontally into two classes, the men
who WORK and the men who RULE, and the latter despise the employment of the former as mean and degrading. It is the slave's duty to plough, said a Heathen
poet, and a freeman's business to enjoy at leisure the fruit
of that ploughing. This same foolish notion finds favor
with many here.  It is a remnant of those barbarous
tirmes, when all labor was performed by serfs and bondsmen, and exemption from toil was the exclusive sign of
11*




126            THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
the freeborn. But this notion, that labor is disgraceful,
conflicts as sharply with our political institutions, as it
does with common sense, and the law God has writ
on man. An old author, centuries before Christ, was so
far enlightened on this point, as to see the true dignity
of manual work, and to say, " God is well pleased
with honest works; he suffers the laboring man, who
ploughs the earth by night and day, to call his life
most noble. If he is good and true, he offers continual
sacrifice to God, and is not so lustrous in his dress as
in his heart."
Manual labor is a blessing and a dignity. But to
state the case on its least favorable issue, admit it were
both a disgrace and a curse, would a true man desire
to escape it for himself, and leave the curse to fall on
other men?  Certainly not.  The generous soldier
fronts death, and charges in the cannon's mouth; it
is the coward who lingers behind. If labor were hateful, as the proud would have us believe, then they who
bear its burdens, and feed and clothe the human race,
*and fetch and carry for them, should be honored as
those have always been, who defend society in war. If.it be glorious, as the world fancies, to repel a human
foe, how much more is he to be honored who stands up
when Want comes upon us, like an armed man, and
puts him to rout? One would fancy the world was
mad, when it bowed in reverence to those who by superior cunning possessed themselves of the earnings of.others, while it made wide the mouth and drew out the
tongue at such as do the world's work. " Without
these," said an ancient, "cannot a city be inhabited, but
they shall not be sought for in public council, nor sit
high in the congregation;" and those few men and
women who are misnamed the World, in their wis



THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            127
dom have confirmed the saying.  Thus they honor
those who sit in idleness and ease; they extol such as
defend a state with arms, or those who collect in their
hands the result of Asiatic or American industry; but
pass by with contempt the men who rear corn and cattle, and weave and spin, and fish and build for the
whole human race. Yet if the state of labor were so
hard and disgraceful as some fancy, the sluggard in
fine raiment and that trim figure - which, like the lilies
in the Scripture, neither toils nor spins, and is yet
clothed in more glory than Solomon - would both bow
down before Colliers and Farmers, and bless them as
the benefactors of the race. Christianity has gone still
further, and makes a man's greatness consist in the
amount of service he renders to the world. Certainly
he is the most honorable who by his head or his hand
does the greatest and best work for his race. The noblest soul the world ever saw appeared not in the ranks
of the indolent; but "took on him the form of a servant," and when he washed his disciples' feet, meant
something not very generally understood perhaps in the
nineteenth century.
Now manual labor, though an unavoidable duty;
though designed as a blessing, and naturally both a
pleasure and a dignity, is often abused, till, by its terrible excess, it becomes really a punishment and a curse.
It is only a proper amount of work that is a blessing.
Too much of it wears out the body before its time;
cripples the mind, debases the soul; blunts the senses,
and chills the affections. It makes a man a spinningjenny, or a ploughing machine, and not "a being of a
large discourse, that looks before and after." He ceases
to be a man, and becomes a thing.




128             THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
In a rational and natural state of society, - that is,
one in which every man went forward towards the true
end he was designed to reach; towards perfection in
the use of all his senses; towards perfection in wisdom,
virtue, affection, and religion, — labor would never interfere with the culture of what was best in each man.
His daily business would be a school to aid in developing the whole man, body and soul, because he would
then do what nature fitted him to do. Then. his business would be really his calling. The diversity of -gifts
is quite equal to the diversity of work to be done.
There is some one thing which each man can do with
pleasure, and better than any other man; because he
was born to do it. Then all men would labor, each at
his proper vocation, and an excellent farmer would not
be spoiled to make a poor lawyer, a blundering physician, or a preacher, who puts the world asleep. Then
a small body of men would not be pampered in indolence, to grow up into gouty worthlessness, and die of
inertia; nor would the large part of men be worn down
as now by excessive toil before half their life is spent.
They would not be so severely tasked as to have no
time to read, think, and converse. When he walked
abroad, the laboring man would not be forced to catch
mere transient glimpses of the flowers by the way-side,
or the stars over his head, as the dogs, it is said, drink
the waters of the Nile, running while they drink afraid
the crocodile shohld seize them if they stop. When he
looked from his window at the landscape, Distress need
not stare at him from every bush. He would then have
leisure to cultivate his mind and heart no less than to
do the world's work.
In labor, as in all things beside, moderation is the




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.             129
law. If a man transgresses and becomes intemperate
in hisiwork, and does nothing but toil with the hand,
he must suffer. We educate and improve only the
faculties we employ, and cultivate most what we use
the oftenest. But if some men are placed in such circumstances that they can use only their hands, who is
to be blamed if they are ignorant, vicious, and, in a
measure, without God?  Certainly not they. Now it
is a fact, notorious as the sun at noonday, that such
are the circumstances of many men. As society advances in refinement, more labor is needed to supply its
demands; for houses, food, apparel, and other things
must be refined and luxurious.  It requires more work,
therefore, to fill the mouth and clothe the back, than in
simpler times. To aggravate the difficulty, some escape
from their share of this labor, by superior intelligence,
shrewdness, and cunning; others by fraud and lies, or
by inheriting the result of these qualities in their ancestors. So their share of the common burden, thus
increased, must be borne by other hands, which are
laden already with more than enough. Still further,
this class of mouths, forgetting how hard it is to work,
and not having their desires for the result of labor
checked by the sweat necessary to satisfy them, but
living vicariously by other men's hands, refuse to be
content with the simple gratification of their natural
appetites.  So Caprice takes the place of Nature, and
must also be satisfied. Natural wants are few; but to
artificial desires there is no end. When each man
must pay the natural price, and so earn what he gets,
the hands stop the mouth, and the soreness of the toil
corrects the excess of desire, and if it do not, none has
cause of complaint, for the man's desire is allayed by
his OWN work. Thus if Absalom  wishes for sweet




130            THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
cakes, the trouble of providing them checks his extravagant, or unnatural appetite. But when the Mouth and
Hand are on different bodies, and Absalom can coax
his sister, or bribe his friend, or compel his slave to furnish him dainties, the natural restraint is taken from
appetite, and it runs to excess. Fancy must be appeased; peevishness must be quieted; and so a world
of work is needed to bear the burdens which those
men bind, and lay on men's shoulders, but will not
move with one of their fingers. The class of Mouths
thus commits a sin, which the class of Hands must
expiate.
Thus, by the treachery of one part of society, in
avoiding their share of the work; by their tyranny in
increasing the burden of the world; an evil is produced
quite unknown in a simpler state of life, and a man of
but common capacities not born to wealth, in order to
insure a subsistence for himself and his family, must
work with his hands so large a part of his time, that
nothing is left for intellectual, moral, Esthetic, and religious improvement. He cannot look at the world;
talk with his wife; read his Bible, nor pray to God, but
Poverty knocks at the door, and hurries him to his
work. He is rude in mind before he begins his work,
and his work does not refine him. Men have attempted
long enough to wink this matter out of sight, but it will
not be put down. It may be worse in other countries,
but it is bad enough in New England, as, all men know
who have made the experiment. There must be a
great sin somewhere in that state of society, which
allows one man to waste day and night in sluggishness or riot, consuming the bread of whole families,
while from others, equally well-gifted and faithful, it
demands twelve, or sixteen, or even eighteen hours of




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            131
hard work out of the twenty-four, and then leaves the
man so weary and worn, that he is capable of nothing
but sleep,- sleep that is broken by no dream!  Still'
worse is it when this life of work begins so early, that
the man has no fund of acquired knowledge on which
to draw for mental support in his hours of toil. To,
this man the blessed night is for nothing but work and
sleep, and the Sabbath day simply what Moses commanded, a day of bodily rest for Man, as for his Ox and'
his Ass. Man was sent into this world to use his best
faculties in the best way, and thus reach the high end
of a man. How can he do this while so large a part of'
his time is spent in unmitigated work? Truly he cannot. Hence we see, that while, in all other departments
of nature, each animal lives up to the measure of his
organization, and with very rare exceptions becomes
perfect after his kind, the greater part of men are debased and belittled; shortened of half their days, andi
half their excellence, so that you are surprised to find a
man well educated whose whole life is hard work..
Thus what is the exception in nature, through our perversity becomes the rule with man. Every Blackbird
is a blackbird just as God designs; but how many
men are only bodies? If a man is placed in such cir-c
cumstances, that he can use only his hands, they only become broad and strong. If no pains be taken to obtain
dominion over the flesh, the man loses his birthright,
and dies a victim to the sin of society. No doubt there
are men, born under the worst of circumstances, who
have redeemed themselves from  them, and obtained:
an excellence of intellectual growth, which is worthy
of wonder; but these are exceptions to the gen —
eral rule; men gifted at birth with a power almost
superhuman.  It is not from exceptions we are to.
frame the law.




132            THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
Now to put forward the worst possible aspect of the
case. Suppose that the present work of the world can
only be performed at this sacrifice, which is the best,
that the work should be done, as now, and seven tenths
of men and women should, as the unavoidable result
of their toil, be cursed with extremity of labor, and
ignorance, and rudeness, and unmanly life, or that less
of this work be done, and, for the sake of a wide spread
and generous culture, we sleep less softly, dine on humbler food, dwell in mean houses, and wear leather, like
George Fox?  There is no doubt what answer Common Sense, Reason, and Christianity would give to this
question; for wisdom, virtue, and manhood, are as
much better than sumptuous dinners, fine apparel, and
splendid houses, as the Soul is better than the Senses.
But as yet we are slaves. The senses overlay the soul.
We serve brass, and mahogany, and beef, and porter.
The class of Mouths oppresses the class of Hands, for
the strongest and most cunning of the latter are continually pressing into the ranks of the former, and while
they increase the demand for work, leave their own
share of it to be done by others. Men and women of
humble prospects in life, while building the connubial
nest that is to shelter them and their children, prove
plainly enough their thraldom to the senses, when such
an outlay of upholstery and joiners' work is demanded,
and so little is required that appeals to Reason, Imagination, and Faith. Yet when the mind demands little
besides time, why prepare so pompously for the senses,
that she cannot have this, but must be cheated of her
due? One might fancy he heard the stones cry out of
the wall, in many a house, and say to the foolish people who tenant the dwelling, -" O ye fools, is it from
the work of the joiner, and the craft of those who are




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.              133
cunning in stucco and paint, and are skilful to weave
and to spin, and work in marble and mortar, that ye
expect satisfaction and rest for your souls, while ye
make no provision for what is noblest and immortal
within you?  But ye also have your rewardi "  Thepresent state of things, in respect to this matter, has no,
such excellences that it should not be changed. It is'
no law of God, that when Sin gets a footing in the
world it should hold on forever, nor can Folly keep its
dominion over society simply by right of " adverse possession."  It were better the body went bare and hungry, rather than the soul should starve.  Certainly the
Life is more than the meat, though it would not weigh
so much in the butcher's scales.
There are remedies at hand. It is true a certain;
amount of labor must be performed, in order that society be fed and clothed, warmed and comforted, relieved
when sick, and buried when dead. If this is wisely
distributed; if eachi performs his just proportion; the
burden is slight, and crushes no one. Here, as elsewhere, the closer we keep to nature, the safer we are.
It is not under the burdens of Nature that society
groans; but the work of Caprice, of Ostentation, of
contemptible Vanity, of Luxury, which is never satisfied-these oppress the world. If these latter are
given up, and each performs what is due fiom him, and
strives to diminish the general burden and not add to
it, then no man is oppressed; there is time enough for
each man to cultivate what is noblest in him, and be
all that his nature allows. It is doubtless right that
one -man should use the service of another; but only
when both parties are benefited by the relation.  The
Smith may use the service of the Collier, the Grocer;
and the Grazier, for he does them a service in return
12




134            THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
He who heals the body deserves a compensation at the
hands of whomsoever he serves. If the Painter, the
Preacher, the Statesman, is doing a great work for mankind, he has a right to their service in return. His fellow man may do for him what otherwise he ought to
do for himself. Thus is he repaid, and is at liberty to
devote the undivided energy of his genius to the work.
But on what ground an idle man, who does nothing for
society, or an active man, whose work is wholly selfish,
can use the services of others, and call them to feed and
comfort him, who repays no equivalent in kind, it yet
remains for Reason to discover. The only equivalent
for service is a service in return. If Hercules is stronger,
Solon wiser, and Job richer than the rest of men, it is
not that they may demand more of their fellows, but
may da more for them.' We that are strong ought to
bear the infirmities of the weak," says a good man. In
respect, however, to the matter of personal service, this
seems to be the rule; that no one, whatever be his station, wants, attainments, or riches, has any right to receive from another any service which degrades the servant in his own eyes, or the eyes of the public, or in the
eyes of him who receives the service. It is surely unmanly to receive a favor which you would not give.
If it debases David to do a menial service for Ahud,
then it debases Ahud just as much to do the same
to David.  The difference between King and Slave
vanishes when both are examined from the height of
their common humanity, just as the difference between
the west and north-west side of a hair on the surface
of the Earth is inconsiderable to an eye that looks down
from the Sun, and takes in the whole system, though it
might appear stupendous to the motes that swim uncounted in a drop of dew. But no work, useful or orna



THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            135
mental to human life, needs be debasing. It is the lasting disgrace of society, that the most useful employments are called " low."  There is implied in this very
term, the tacit confession, on the part of the employer,
that he has wronged and subjugated the person who
serves him; for when these same actions are performed
by the mother for her child, or the son for his father,
and are done for love and not money, they are counted
not low, but rather ennobling.
The law of nature is, that work and the enjoyment
of that work go together. Thus God has given each
animal the power of self-help, and all necessary organs.
The same Robin builds the nest and lives in it. Each
Lion has claws and teeth, and kills his own meat.
Every Beaver has prudence and plastic skill, and so
builds for himself. In those classes of animals where
there is a division of labor, one brings the wax, another builds the comb, and a third collects the honey,
but each one is at work. The drones are expelled when
they work no more. Even the Ruler of the colony is
the most active member of the State, and realty the
mother of the whole people. She is only " happy as a
king," because she does the most work.  Hence she
has a divine right to her eminent station. She never
eats the bread of sin. She is Queen of the WVorkers.
Here each labors for the good of all, and not solely for
his own benefit. Still less is any one an injury to the
others. In nature those animals that cannot work, are
provided for by Love. Thus the young Lion is fed by
the Parent, and the old Stork by its children. WVere a
full-grown Lion so foolish that he would not hunt, the
result is plain he must starve. Now this is a foreshadowing of man's estate. God has given ten fingers for
every two lips. Each is to use the ability he has for




136            THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
himself and for others, Who, that is able, will not return to society, with his head or his hand, an equivalent
for what it received? Only the Sluggard and the Robber. These two, the Drones and Pirates of Society,
represent a large class. It is the plain duty of each, so
far as he is able, to render an equivalent for what he
receives, and thus to work for the good of all; but each
in his own way; Dorcas the seamstress at her craft, and
Moses and Paul at theirs. If one cannot work through
weakness, or infancy, or age, or sickness, - Love works
for him, and he too is fed. If one will not wTork, though
he can- the law of nature should have its effect.,He
ought to starve. If one insist simply upon getting into
his hands the earnings of others, and adding nothing to
the common stock, - he is a robber, and should properly meet with the contempt and the stout resistance of
society. There is in the whole world but a certain
amount of value, out of which each one is to have a
subsistence, while here; for we are all but life-tenants
of the Earth, which we hold in common. We brought
nothing into it; we carry nothing out of it. No man,
therefore, has a natural right to any more than he earns
or can use. He who adds any thing to the common
stock and inheritance of the next age, though it be but
a sheaf of wheat, or cocoon of silk, he has produced, a
napkin, or a brown loaf he has made, is a benefactor to
his race, so far as that goes. But he who gets into
his bands, by force, cunning, or deceit, more than he
earns, does thereby force his fellow-mortal to accept less
than his true share. So far as that goes, he is a curse
to mankind.
There are three ways of getting wealth. First, by
seizing with violence what is already in existence, and




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            137
appropriating it to yourself. This is the method of the
old Romans; of Robbers and Pirates, fiom Sciron to
Captain Kidd. Second, by getting possession of goods
in the way of traffic, or by some similar process. Here
the agent is Cunning, and not Force; the instrument
is a gold coin, and not an iron sword, as in the former case.  This method is called Trade, as the other
is named Robbery. But in both cases wealth is acquired by one party and lost by the other. In the first
case there is a loss of positive value; in the latter there
is no increase. The world gains nothing new by either.
The third method is the application of labor and skill
to the earth, or the productions, of nature. Here is a
positive increase of value. We have a dozen potatoes
for the one that was planted, or an elegant dress instead of an handful of wool and flax. Such as try the
two former ways consume much, but produce nothing.
Of these the Roman says, " fruges consumere nati," -
they are born to eat up the corn. Yet in all ages they
have been set in high places.  The world dishonors
its workmen; stones its prophets; crucifies its Saviour,
but bows down its neck before wealth, however won,
and shouts till the welkin rings again, LONG LIVE VIOLENCE AND FRAUD.
The world has always been partial to its oppressors.
Many men fancy themselves an ornament to the world,
whose presence in it is a disgrace and a burden to the
ground they stand on. The man who does nothing for
the race, but sits at ease, and fares daintily, because
wealth has fallen into his hands, is a burden to the
world. He may be a polished gentleman, a scholar, the
master of elegant accomplishments, but so long as he
takes no pains to work for man, with his head or his
hands, what claim has he to respect, or even a subsist12*




138            THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
ence?  The rough-handed woman, vho, with a saltfish and a basket of vegetables, provides substantial
food for a dozen working men, and washes their apparel,
and makes them comfortable and happy, is a blessing to the land, though she hasve no education, while
this fop with his culture and wealth is a curse. She
does her duty so far as she sees it, and so deserves the
thanks of man. But every oyster or berry that fop has
eaten, has performed its duty better than he. " It was
made to support nature, and it has done so," while he
is but a consumer of food and clothing. That public
opinion tolerates such men is no small marvel.
The productive classes of the world are those who
bless it by their work or their thought. He, who invents a machine, does no less a service than he, who
toils all day with his hands. Thus the inventors of the
plough, the loom, and the ship were deservedly placed
among those whom society was to honor. But they
also, who teach men moral and religious truth; who;give them dominion over the world; instruct them to
think, to live together in peace, to love one another, and
pass good lives enlightened by Wisdom, charmed by
Goodness, and enchanted by Religion; they who build
up a loftier population, making man more manly, are
the greatest benefactors of the world. They speak to
-the deepest wants of the soul, and give men the water
of life and the true bread from IHeaven. They are
loaded with contumely in their life, and come to a violent end. But their influence passes like morning from
land to land, and village and city grow glad in their
light. That is a poor economy, common as it is, which
overlooks these men.  It is a very vulgar mind, that
would rather Paul had continued a tent-maker, and
Jesus a carpenter.




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            139
Now the remedy for the hard service that is laid upon
the human race consists partly in lessening the number
of unproductive classes, and increasing the workers and
thinkers, as well as-in giving up the work of Ostentation and Folly and Sin. It has been asserted on high
authority, that if all men and women capable of work
would toil diligently but tvo hours out of the twentyfour, the work of the world would be done, and all
would be as comfortably fed and clothed, as well educated and housed, and provided for in general, as they
now are, even admitting they all went to sleep the other
twenty-two hours of the day and night. If this were
done, we should hear nothing of the sickness of sedentary and rich men. Exercise for the sake of health
would be heard of no more. One class would not be
crushed by hard work; nor another oppressed by indolence, and condemned, in order to resist the just vengeance nature takes on them, to consume nauseous
drugs, and resort to artificial and hateful methods to
preserve a life that is not worth the keeping, because it
is useless and ignominious. Now  men may work at
the least three or four times this necessary amount each
day, and yet find their labor a, pastime, a dignity, and
a blessing, and find likewise abundant opportunity for
study, for social intercourse, and recreation. Then if
a man's calling were to think and write, he would
not injure the world by even excessive devotion to his
favorite pursuit, for the general burden would still be
slight.
Another remedy is this, the mind does the body's
work. The head saves the hands. It invents machines,
which, doing the work of many hands, will at last set
free a large portion of human time from slavery to the
elements. The brute forces of nature lie waiting man's




140             THOUJGTS ON LABOR.
command, and ready to serve him. At the voice of
Genius, the river consents to turn his wheel, and weave
and spin for the antipodes. The Mine sends him iron
Vassals, to toil in cold and heat. Fire and WAXater embrace at his bidding, and a new servant is born, which
will fetch and carry at his command; will face down
all the storms of the Atlantic; will forge anchors, and
spin gossamer threads, and run of errands up and down
the continent with men and women on his back.  This
last child of Science, though yet a stripling and in leading strings, is already a stout giant. The Fable of Orpheus is a true story in our times. There are four stages
of progress in regard to labor, which are observable in
the history of man. First, he does his own work by
his hands.  Adam tills the ground in the swveat of his
own face, and Noah builds an ark in many years of
toil. Next he forces his fellow-mortal to work for him,
and Canaan becomes a servant to his brother, and Job
is made rich by the sweat of his great household of
slaves. Then he seizes on the beasts, and the Bull and
the Horse drag the plough of Castor and Pollux.  At
last he sets free his brother; works with his own hands;
commands the beasts, and makes the brute force of the
elements also toil for him.  Then he has dominion over
the earth, and enjoys his birthright.
Man, however, is still in bondage to the elements;
and since the beastly maxim is even now prevalent, that
the Strong should take care of themselves, and use the
weak as their tools, though to the manifest injury of the
weak, the use of machinery has hitherto been but a
trifling boon in comparison with what it may be. In
the village of Humdrum, its thousand able-bodied men
and women, without machinery, and having no intercourse with the rest of the world, must work fourteen




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            141
hours out of the twenty-four, that they may all be
housed, fed, and clothed, warmed, instructed, and made
happy.  Some ingenious hands invent water-mills,
which saw, plane, thrash, grind, spin, -\-eave, and do
many other things, so that these thousand people need
work but five hours in the day to obtain the result of
fourteen by the old process. Here then a vast amount
of time - nine hours in the day - is set free from toil.
It may be spent in study, social improvement, the pursuit of a favorite art, and leave room for amusement
also. But the longest heads at Humdrum have not
Christian but only selfish hearts beating in their bosoms,
and sending life into the brain. So these calculators
think the men of Humdrum shall work fourteen hours
a day as before. " It would be dangerous," say they,
"to set free so much time.  The deluded creatures
would soon learn to lie and steal, and would speedily
end by eating one another up. It would not be Christian to leave them to this fate. Leisure is very good
for us, but would be ruinous to them."  So the wise
men of Humdrum persuade their neighbors to work the
old fourteen hours. More is produced than is consumed.
So they send off the superfluities of the village, and in
return bring back tea and porcelain, rich wines, and
showy gew-gaws, and contemptible fashions that change
every month. The strong-headed men grow rich; live
in palaces; their daughters do not work, nor their sons
dirty their hands. They fare sumptuously every day;
are clothed in purple and fine linen. Meanwhile the
common people of Humdrum  work as long as before
the machines were invented, and a little harder. They
also are blest by the " improvement." The young women have red ribbons on their bonnets, French gloves
on their hands, and shawls of India on their shoulders,




142             THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
and "tinkling ornaments" in their ears. The young
man of Humdrum is better off than his father who
fought through the Revolution, for he wears a beaver
hat, and a coat of English cloth, and has a Birmingharn whittle, and a watch in his pocket. When he
marries he will buy red curtains to his windows, and a
showy mirror to hang on his wall. For these valuable
considerations he parts with the nine hours a day, which
machinery has saved, but has no more bread than before. For these blessings he will make his body a slave,
and leave his mind all uncultivated. He is content to
grow up a body- nothing but a body. So that if you
look therein for his Understanding, Imagination, Reason, you will find them like three grains of wheat in
three bushels of chaff. You shall seek them all day
before you find them, and at last they are not worth
your search. At Humdrum, Nature begins to revolt at
the factitious inequality of condition, and thinks it
scarce right for bread to come fastest into hands that
add nothing to the general stock. So many grow restless and a few pilfer. In a ruder state crimes are few;
— the result of violent passions. At Humdrum they
are numerous; - the result of want, indolence, or neglected education; they are in great measure crimes
against property. To remedy this new and unnatural
evil, there rises a Court House and a Jail, which must
be paid for in work; then Judges and Lawyers and
Jailors are needed likewise in this artificial state, and
add to the common burden. The old Athenians sent
yearly seven beautiful youths and virgins; -a tribute
to the Minotaur. The wise men of Humdrum shut up
in Jail a larger number; — a sacrifice to the spirit of
modern cupidity; unfortunate wretches, who were the
victims not the foes of society; men so weak in head




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            143
or heart, that their bad character was formed FOR them,
through circumstances far more than it was formed BY
them, through their own freewill.  Still further, the
men who violate the law of the body, using the Mouth
much and the Hand little, or in the opposite way, soon
find Nature taking vengeance for the offence.  Then
unnatural remedies must oppose the artificial disease.
In the old time, every sickly dunce was cured "with
Motherwort and Tansy," which grew by the road side;
suited all complaints, and was administered by each
mother in the village. Now Humdrum has its "l medical faculty," with their conflicting systems, homreopathic and allopathic, but no more health than before.
Thus the burden is increased to little purpose. The
strong men of Humdrum have grown rich and become
educated. If one of the laboring men is stronger than
his fellows, he also will become rich, and educate his'
children. He becomes rich, not by his own work, but
by using the hands of others whom his cunning overreaches. Yet he is not more avaricious than they. He
has perhaps the average share of selfishness, but superior
adroitness to gratify that selfishness. So he gets and
saves, and takes care of himself; a part of their duty,
which the strong have always known how to perform,
though the more difficult part, how to take care of
others, to think for' them, and help them to think for
themselves, they have yet to learn, at least to practise.
Alas, we are still in bondage to the elements, and so
long as two of the " enlightened" nations of the earth,
England and America, insist on weaving the garments
for all the rest of the world, - not because they would
clothe the naked, but that their strong men might live
in fine houses, wear gay apparel, dine on costly food,
and their Mouths be served by other men's Hands, —we




144             THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
must expect that seven tenths of mankind will be degraded, and will hug their chains, and count machinery
an evil. Is not the only remedy for all the evils at
Humdrum  in the Christian idea of wealth, and the
Christian idea of work?
There is a melancholy background to the success and
splendid achievements of modern society. You see it
in rural villages, but more plainly in large cities, where
the amount of Poverty and Wealth is summed up as
in a table of statistics, and stands in two parallel
columns. The wretchedness of a destitute mother contrasts sadly with a warehouse, whence she is excluded
by a single pane of glass, as cold as popular charity
and nearly as thin. The comfortless hutch of the poor,
who works, though with shiftless hands and foolish
head, is a dark background to the costly stable of the
rich man, who does nothing for the world, but gather
its treasures, and whose horses are better fed, housed,
trained up, and cared for than his brother. It is a
strange contrast to the church of God, that, with thick
granite walls, towers up to Heaven near by. One cannot but think, in view of the suffering there is in the
world, that most of it is the fault of some one; that
God, who made men's bodies, is no bankrupt, and does
not pay off a penny of Satisfaction for a pound of
WVant, but has made enough and to spare for all his
creatures, if they will use it wisely. Who does not
sometimes remember that saying, Inasmuch as you have
not done it unto the least of these, you have not done
it unto me?
The world no doubt grows better; comfort is increased
from age to age. What is a luxury in one generation,
scarce attainable by the wealthy, becomes at last the




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.             145
possession of most men. Solomon, with all his wealth,
had no carpet on his chamber floor; no glass in his.
windows; no shirt to his back. But as the world goes,
the increase of comforts does not fall chiefly into the
hands of those who create them by their work. The
mechanic cannot use the costly furniture he makes..
This, however, is of small consequence; but he has not
always the more valuable consideration, TIME TO GROW
WVISER AND BETTER IN. As society advances, the standard,
of poverty rises. A man in New England is called,
poor at this day, who would have been rich a hundred
and fifty years ago; but as it rises, the number that falls
beneath that standard becomes a greater part of the
whole population. Of course the comfort of a few is
purchased by the loss of the many. The world has
grown rich and refined, but chiefly by the efforts of those
who themselves continue poor and ignorant. So the
Ass, while he carried wood and spices to the Roman
bath, contributed to the happiness of the State, but was
himself always dirty and overworked. It is easy to see.
these evils, and weep for them. It is common also to
censure some one class of men -the Rich or the Educated, the Manufacturers, the Merchants, or the Politicians, for example — as if the sin rested solely with
them, while it belongs to society at large. But the
world yet waits for some one to heal these dreadful
evils, by devising some new remedy, or applying the
old.  Who shall apply for us Christianity to sociali
life?
But God orders all things wisely. Perhaps it is best
that man should toil on some centuries more before the'
race becomes of age, and capable of receiving its birthright!  Every wrong must at last be righted, and he
who has borne the burden of society in this ephemeral
13




146             THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
life, and tasted none of its rewards, and he also, who
has eaten its loaves and fishes and yet earned nothing,
will no doubt find an equivalent at last in the scales of
divine Justice. Doubtless the time will come when
labor will be a pleasant pastime; when the sour sweat
and tears of life. shall be wiped away from many faces;
when the few shall not be advanced at the expense of
the many; when ten pairs of female hands shall not be
deformed to nurse a single pair into preternatural delicacy, but when all men shall eat bread in the sweat of
their face, and yet find leisure to cultivate what is best
and divinest in their souls, to a degree we do not dream
of as yet; when the strong man who wishes to be a
Mouth and not a Hand, or to gain the treasures of society by violence or cunning, and not by paying their
honest price, will be looked upon with the same horror
we feel for pirates and robbers, and the guardians who
steal the inheritance of their wards and leave them to
want and die. No doubt it is a good thing that four or
five men out of the thousand should find time, exemption from labor, and wealth likewise to obtain a generous education of their H-ead and Heart and Soul, but
it is a better thing, it is alone consistent with God's law,
that the world shall be managed, so that each man shall
have a chance to obtain the best education society can
give him, and while he toils, to become the best and
greatest his nature is capable of being, in this terrene
sphere. Things never will come to their proper level so
long as Thought with the Head, and Work with the
Hanlds are considered incompatible. Never till all men
follow the calling they are designed for by nature, and
it becomes as common for a rich man's son to follow a
trade, as now it is happily for a poor man's to be rich.
Labor will always be unattractive and disgraceful, so




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.              147
long as wealth unjustly obtained is a distinction, and
so long as the best cultivation of a man is thought inconsistent with the life of the farmer and the tailor.
As things now are, men desert a laborious occupation
for which they are fitted, and have a natural fondness,
and seek bread and honor in the "learned professions,"
for which they have neither ability nor taste, solely because they seek a generous education, which is thought
inconsistent with a life of hard work. Thus strong
heads desert the plough and the anvil, to come into a
profession which they dislike, and then to find their
Duty pointing one way and their Desire travelling
another. Thus they attempt to live two lives at the
same time, and fail of both, as he who would walk
eastward and westward at the same time makes no
progress.
Now the best education and the highest culture, in a
rational state of society, does not seem inconsistent
with a life of hard work. It is not a figure of speech,
but a plain fact, that a man is educated by his trade, or
daily calling. Indirectly, Labor ministers to the wise
man intellectual, moral, and spiritual instruction, just
as it gives him directly his daily bread. Under its
legitimate influence, the frame acquires its due proportions and proper strength. To speak more particularly,
the work of a farmer, for example, is a school of mental
discipline.  He must watch the elements; must understand the nature of the soil he tills, the character and
habits of the plants he rears, the character and disposition of each animal that serves him as a living instrument. Each day makes large claims on him for knowledge, and sound judgment.  He is to apply good sense
to the soil. Now these demands tend to foster the




14S             THOUGHTS ON LABOR.
habit of observing and judging justly; to increase
thought, and elevate the man. The same may be said
of almost all trades. The sailor must watch the elements, and have all his knowledge and faculties at
command, for his life often depends on having "the
right thought at the right time." Judgment and decision are thus called forth. The education men derive
from their trade is so striking, that craftsmen can express almost any truth, be it never so deep and high, in
the technical terms of the " shop."  The humblest business may thus develop the noblest power of thinking.
So a trade may be to the man, in some measure, what
the school and the college are to the scholar. The wise
man learns more from  his corn and cattle, than the
stupid pedant from all the folios of the Vatican. The
habit of thinking, thus acquired, is of more value than
the greatest number of thoughts learned by rote, and
labelled for use.
But an objection may readily be brought to this view,
and if may be asked, why then are not the farmers as a
class so well instructed as the class of lawyers? Certainly there may be found farmers who are most highly
educated. Men of but little acquaintance with books,
yet men of thought, observation, and sound judgment.
Scholars are ashamed before them when they meet, and
blush at the homely wisdom, the acute analysis, the
depth of insight and breadth of view  displayed by
laborers in blue frocks. But these cases are exceptions.
These men were geniuses of no mean order, and would
be great under any circumstances. It must be admitted,
that, as a general rule, the man who works is not so
well educated as the lawyer. But the difference between them rises not so much from any difference in
the two callings, as from this circumstance, that the




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            149
lawyer enters his profession with a large fund of knowledge and the habits of intellectual discipline, which the
farmer has not. He therefore has the advantage so
long as he lives. If two young men of the same age
and equal capacity were to receive the same education;
till they were twenty years old, both taking proper
physical exercise at the same time, and one of them
should then spend three years in learning the science of
the Law, the other in the science of the Farm, and then
both should enter the full practice of their two callings,
each having access to books if he wished for them, and
educated men and women, can any one doubt that the
farmer, at the age of forty, would be the better educated
man of the two?  The trade teaches as much as the
profession, and it is as well known that almost every
farmer has.as much time for general reading as the
lawyer, and better opportunity for thought, since he can
think of what he will when at his work, while the
lawyer's work demands his thought all the time he
is in it. The farmer would probably have the more
thoughts; the lawyer the more elegant words. If there
is any employment which degrades the nian who is
always engaged in it, cannot many bear the burden —
each a short time -and so no one be crushed to the
ground?
Morality, likewise, is taught by a trade. The man
must have dealings with his fellows. The afflicted call
for his sympathy; the oppressed for his aid. Vice
solicits his rebuke, and virtue claims his commendation.
If he buys and sells, he is presented with opportunities
to'defraud. He may conceal a fault in his work, and
thus deceive his employer. So an appeal is continually
made to his sense of Right. If faithful, he learns jus13*




'150            THOUGIITS ON LABOR.
tice. It is only by this exposure to temptation, that
virtue can be acquired. It is in the water that men
learn to swim.  Still more, a man does not toil for himself alone, but for those dearest to his heart; this for
his father; that for his child;* and there are those who!out of the small pittance of their daily earnings contribute to support the needy, print Bibles for the ignorant, and preach the Gospel to the poor. Here the
meanest work becomes Heroism.  The man who toils
for a principle ennobles himself by the act.
Still further, Labor has a religious use. It has been
-well said, " an undevout astronomer is mad."  But an:undevout farmer, sailor, or mechanic, is equally mad,
for the duties of each afford a school for his devotion.
In respect to this influence, the farmer seems to stand
on the very top of the world.  The laws of nature are
at work for him. For him the sun shines and the rain
falls. The earth grows warm to receive his seed. The
dew moistens it; the blade springs up and grows, he
knows not how, while all the stars come forth to keep
watch over his rising corn. There is no second cause
between him and the soul of all. Every thing he looks
on, from the earliest flowers of spring to the austere:grandeurs of a winter sky at night, is the work of God's
hand. The great process of growth and decay, change;and reproduction, are perpetually before him. Day and
Night, Serenity and Storm visit and bless him as they
move.  Nature's great works are done for no one in
special; yet each man receives as much of the needed
rain, and the needed heat, as if all rain and all heat
were designed for his use alone. He labors, but it is
not only the fruit of his labor that he eats. No; God's,exhaustless Providence works for him; works with him.




THOUGHTS ON LABOR.            151
His laws warm and water the fields, replenishing the
earth. Thus the Husbandman, whose eye is open,
walks always in the temple of God. He sees the
divine goodness and wisdom in the growth of a flower
or a tree; in the nice adjustment of an insect's supplies
to its demands; in the perfect contentment found everywhere in nature - for you shall search all day for a
melancholy fly, yet never find one. The influence of all
these things on an active and instructed mind is ennobling. The man seeks daily bread for the body, and
gets the bread of life for the soul. Like his corn and
his trees, his heart and mind are cultivated by his toil;
for as Saul seeking his father's stray cattle found a
kingdom, as stripling David was anointed king while
keeping a few sheep in the wilderness, and when sent
to carry bread to his brothers in the camp slew a giant,
and became monarch; so each man who with true
motives, an instructed mind, and soul of tranquil devotion, goes to his daily work, however humble, may slay
the giant Difficulty, and be anointed with gladness and
possess the Kingdom of Heaven. In the lowliest calling he may win the loftiest result, as you may see the
stars from the deepest valley as well as from the top of
Chimborazo. But to realize this end the man must
have some culture, and a large capital of information
at the outset; and then it is at a man's own option,
whether his work shall be to him  a blessing or a
curse.




YI.
A DISCOURSE OF THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
IN Cl-RISTIANITY.*
LUKE XXi. 33. "'Ieaven and earth shall pass away: but my word shall not pass away."
IN this sentence we have a very clear indication that
Jesus of Nazareth believed the religion he taught would
be eternal, that the substance of it would last forever.
Yet there are some, who are afr aighted by the faintest
rustle which a heretic makes among the dry leaves of
theology; they tremble lest Christianity itself should
perish without hope. Ever and anon the cry is raised,
"' The Philistines be upon us, and Christianity is in danger."  The least doubt respecting the popular theology,
*or the existing machinery of the church; the least sign
of distrust in the Religion of the Pulpit, or the Religion
of the Street, is by some good men supposed to be at
enmity with faith in Christ, and capable of shaking
Christianity itself.  On the other hand, a few bad men
and a few pious men, it is said, on both sides of the
water, tell us the day of Christianity is past. The
* Preached at the Ordination of Mr. Charles C. Shackford, in the
IHawes Place Church in Boston, Mlay 19, 1841.




TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT IN CHRISTIANITY. 153
latter - it is alleged - would persuade us that, hereafter, Piety must take a new form; the teachings of
Jesus are to be passed by; that Religion is to wing her
way sublime, above the flight of Christianity, far away,
toward heaven, as the fledged eaglet leaves forever the
nest which sheltered his callow youth. Let us, therefore, devote a few moments to this subject, and consider
what is T-ransient in Christianity, and what is Permezanent therein. The topic seems not inappropriate to
the times in which we live, or the occasion that calls us
together.
Christ says, his Word shall never pass away. Yet
at first sight nothing seems more fleeting than a word.
It is an evanescent impulse of the most fickle element.
It leaves no track where it went through the air. Yet
to this, and this only, did Jesus intrust the truth wherewith he came laden, to the earth; truth for the salvation
of the world. He took no pains to perpetuate his
thoughts; they were poured forth where occasion found
him an audience, -by the side of the lake, or a well;
in a cottage, or the temple; in a fisher's boat, or the
synagogue of the Jews. He founds no institution as a
monument of his words. HIe appoints no order of men
to preserve his bright and glad revelations. He only
bids his friends give freely the truth they had freely received. He did not even write his words in a book.
With a noble confidence, the result of his abiding faith,
he scattered them broadcast on the world, leaving the
seed to its own vitality. He knew, that what is of God
cannot fail, for God keeps his own. He sowed his seed
in the heart, and left it there, to be watered and warmed
by the dew and the sun which heaven sends. He felt
his words were for eternity.  So he trusted them to the




154       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
uncertain air; and for eighteen hundred years that faithful element has held them good, - distinct as when first
warm from his lips. Now they are translated into every
human speech, and murmured in all earth's thousand
tongues, from the pine forests of the North to the palm
groves of eastern Ind. They mingle, as it were, with
the roar of a populous city, and join the chime of the
desert sea. Of a Sabbath morn they are repeated from
church to church, from isle to isle, and land to land, till
their music goes round the world. These words have
become the breath of the good, the hope of the wise, the
joy of the pious, and that for many millions of hearts.
They are the prayers of our churches; our better devotion by fireside and fieldside; the enchantment of our
hearts. It is these words, that still work wonders, to
which the first recorded miracles were nothing in grandeur and utility. It is these, which build our temples
and beautify our homes. They raise our thoughts of
sublimity; they purify our ideal of purity: they hallow
our prayer for truth and love. They make beauteous
and divine the life which plain men lead. They give
wings to our aspirations. W\hat charmers they are!
Sorrow is lulled at their bidding. They take the sting
out of disease, and rob adversity of his power to disappoint. They give health and wings to the pious soul,
broken-hearted and shipwrecked in his voyage through
life, and encourage him to tempt the perilous way once
more. They make all things ours: Christ our brother;
Time our servant; Death our ally and the witness of
our triumph. They reveal to us the presence of God,
which else we might not have seen so clearly, in the
first wind-flower of spring; in the falling of a sparrow;
in the distress of a nation; in the sorrow or the rapture
of the world. Silence the voice of Christianity, and the




IN CHRISTIANITY.             155
world is Nwellnigh dumb, for gone is that sweet music
which kept in awe the rulers of the people, which cheers
the poor widow in her lonely toil, and comes like light
through the windows of morning, to men who sit stooping and feeble, with failing eyes and a hungering heart.
It is gone -all gone! only the cold, bleak world left
before them.
Such is the life of these Words; such the empire they
have won for themselves over men's minds since they
were spoken first. In the mean time, the words of great
men and mighty, whose name shook whole continents,
though graven in metal and stone, though stamped in
institutions and defended by whole tribes of priests and
troops of followers -their words have gone to the
ground, and the world gives back no echo of their voice.
Meanwhile the great works also of old times, castle and
tower and town, their cities and their empires, have perished, and left scarce a mark on the bosom of the earth
to show they once have been. The philosophy of the
wise, the art of the accomplished, the song of the poet,
the ritual of the priest, though honored as divine in their
day, have gone down, a prey to oblivion. Silence has
closed over them; only their spectres now haunt the
earth. A deluge of blood has swept over the nations;
a night of darkness, more deep than the fabled darkness
of Egypt, has lowered down upon that flood, to destroy
or to hide what the deluge had spared. But through
all this, the words of Christianity have come down to
us from the lips of that Hebrew youth, gentle and beautiful as the light of a star, not spent by their journey
through time and through space. They have built up
a new civilization, which the wisest Gentile never hoped
for; which the most pious Hebrew  never foretold.
Through centuries of wasting, these words have flown




156       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
on, like a dove in the storm, and now wait to descend
on hearts pure and earnest, as the Father's spirit, we are
told, came down on his lowly Son. The old heavens
and the old earth are indeed passed away, but the Word
stands. Nothing shows clearer than this, how fleeting
is what man calls great; how lasting what God pronounces true.
Looking at the Word of Jesus, at real Christianity,
the pure religion he taught, nothing appears more fixed
and certain. Its influence widens as light extends; it
deepens as the nations grow more wise. But, looking
at the history of what men call Christianity, nothing
seems more uncertain and perishable. While true religion is always the same thing, in each century and
every land, in each man that feels it, the Christianity of
the Pulpit, which is the religion taught; the Christianity
of the People, which is the religion that is accepted and
lived out; has never been the same thing in any two
centuries or lands, except only in name. The difference
between what is called Christianity by the Unitarians
in our times, and that of some ages past, is greater than
the difference between Mahomet and the Messiah.
The difference at this day between opposing classes of
Christians; the difference between the Christianity of
some sects, and that of Christ himself; is deeper and
more vital than that between Jesus and Plato, Pagan as
we call him. The Christianity of the seventh century
has. passed away. We recognize only the ghost of Superstition in its faded features, as it comes up at our
call. It is one of the things which has been, and can
be no more, for neither God nor the world goes back.
Its terrors do not frighten, nor its hopes allure us. We
rejoice that it has gone. But how do we know that our




IN CHRISTIANITY.             157
Christianity shall not share the same fate? Is there
that difference between the nineteenth century, and"
some seventeen that have gone before it, since Jesus, to
warrant the belief that our notion of Christianity shall
last forever? The stream of time has already beat
down Philosophies and Theologies, Temple and Church,.
though never so old and revered. How do we know
there is not a perishing element in what we call Chris —
tianity? Jesus tells us, his Word is the word of God,.
and so shall never pass away.  But who tells us, that
our word shall never pass away? that our, notion of his
Word shall stand forever?
Let us look at this matter a little more closely. In.
actual Christianity —that is, in that portion of Chris —
tianity which is preached and believed - there seem to
have been, ever since the time of its earthly founder,
two elements, the one transient, the other permanent..
The one is the thought, the folly, the uncertain wisdom,
the theological notions, the impiety of man, the other,
the eternal truth of God.  These two bear perhaps the
same relation to each other that the phenomena of outward nature, such as sunshine and cloud, growth, decay, and reproduction, bear to the great law of nature,
which underlies and supports them all. As in that case,
more attention is commonly paid to the particular phenomena than to the general law; so in this case, more
is generally given to the Transient in Christianity than
to the Permanent therein.
It must be confessed, though with sorrow, that transient things form a great part of what is commonly
taught as Religion. An undue place has often been
assigned to forms and doctrines, while too little stress
has been laid on the divine life of the soul, love to God,
14




158       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
and love to man. Religious forms may be useful and
beautiful. They are so, whenever they speak to the
soul, and answer a want thereof. In our present state,
some forms are perhaps necessary. But they are only
the accident of Christianity; not its substance. They
are the robe, not the angel, who may take another robe,
quite as becoming and useful. One sect has many
forms; another none. Yet both may be equally Christian, in spite of the redundance or the deficiency. They
are a part of the language in which religion speaks,
and exist, with few exceptions, wherever man is found.
In our calculating nation, in our rationalizing sect, we
have retained but' two of the rites so numerous in-the
early Christian church, and even these we have attenuated to the last degree, leaving them little more than a
spectre of the ancient form. Another age may continue or forsake both; may revive old forms, or invent,new ones to suit the altered circumstances of the times,
and yet be Christians quite as good as we, or our
fathers of the dark ages. Whether the Apostles designed these rights to be perpetual, seems a question
which belongs to scholars and antiquarians; not to us,
as Christian men and women. So long as they satisfy
or help the pious heart, so long they are good. Looking behind, or around us, we see that the forms and
rites of the Christians are quite as fluctuating as those
of the heathens; from whom some of them have been,
not unwisely, adopted by the earlier church.
Again, the doctrines that have been connected with
Christianity, and taught in its name, are quite as
changeable as the form. This also takes place unavoidably. If observations be made upon Nature, —
which must take place so long as man has senses and
understanding, - there will be a philosophy of Nature,




IN CHRISTIANITY.              159
and philosophical doctrines. These will differ as the observations are just or inaccurate, and as the deductions
from observed facts are true or false.  Hence there wTill
be different schools of natural philosophy, so long as
men have eyes and understandings of different clearness and strength.  And if men observe and reflect
upon Religion, -which will be done so long as man is
a religious and reflective being, -there must also be a
philosophy of religion, a theology and theological doctrines. These wvill differ, as men have felt much or little
of religion, as they analyze their sentiments correctly or
otherwise, and as they have reasoned right or wrong.
Now the true system of Nature which exists in the outward facts, whether discovered or not, is always the
same thing. though the philosophy of Nature, which
men invent, change every month, and be one thing at
London and the opposite at Berlin. Thus there is but
one system of Nature as it exists in fact, though many
theories of Nature, which exist in our imperfect notions
of that system, and by which we may approximate and
at length reach it. Now there can be but one Religion
which is absolutely true, existing in the facts of human
nature, and the ideas of Infinite God. That, whether
acknowledged or not, is always the same thing and
never changes. So far as a man has any real religion 
either the principle or the sentiment thereof- so far he
has that, by whatever name he may call it. For, strictly
speaking, there is but one kind of religion, as there is
but one kind of love, though the manifestations of this
religion, in forms, doctrines, and life, be never so diverse. It is through these, men approximate to the true
expression of this religion. Now while this religion is
one and always the same thing, there may be numerous
systems of theology or philosophies of religion.  These




160        THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
with their creeds, confessions, and collections of doctrines, deduced by reasoning upon the facts observed,
mav be baseless and false, either because the observation was too narrow in extent, or otherwise defective in
point of accuracy, or because the reasoning was illogical, and therefore the deduction spurious. Each of
these three faults is conspicuous in the systems of theology. Now the solar system as it exists in fact is permanent, though the notions of Thales and Ptolemy, of
Copernicus and Descartes about this system, prove
transient, imperfect approximations to the true expression. So the Christianity of Jesus is permanent, though
what passes for Christianity with Popes and catechisms,
with sects and churches, in the first century or in the
nineteenth century, prove transient also. Now it has
sometimes happened that a man took his philosophy of
Nature at second hand, and then attempted to make his
observations conform to his theory, and Nature ride in
his panniers. Thus some philosophers refused to look
at the Moon through Galileo's telescope, for, according
to their theory of vision, such an'instrument would not
aid the sight. Thus their preconceived notions stood
up between them and Nature. Now it has often happened that men took their theology thus at second hand,
and distorted the history of the world and man's nature
besides, to make Religion conform  to their notions.
Their theology stood between them and God. Those
obstinate philosophers have disciples in no small num —
ber.
What another has said of false systems of science,
will apply equally to the popular theology: "' It is barren in effects, fruitful in questions, slow and languid in
its improvement, exhibiting in its generality the counterfeit of perfection, but ill filled up in its details, popu



IN CHRISTIANITY.              161
lar in its choice, but suspected by its very promoters,
and therefore bolstered up and countenanced with artifices. Even those who have been determined to try for
themselves, to add their support to learning, and to
enlarge its limits, have not dared entirely to desert received opinions, nor to seek the spring-head of things.
But they think they have done a great thing if they intersperse and contribute something of their own; prudently considering, that by their assent they can save
their modesty, and by their contributions, their liberty.
Neither is there, nor ever wnill be, an e'nd or limit to
these things. One snatches at one thing, another is
pleased with another; there is no dry nor clear sight of
any thing. Every one plays the philosopher out of the
small treasures of his own fancy.  The more sublime
wits more acutely and with better success; the duller
with less success but equal obstinacy, and, by the discipline of some learned men, sciences are bounded within
the limits of some certain authors which they have set
down, imposing upon them old men and instilling them
into young. So that now (as Tully cavilled upon
Casar's consulship) the star Lyra riseth by an edict,
and authority is taken for truth and not truth for authority; which kind of order and discipline is very convenient for our present use, but banisheth those which
are better."
Any one, who traces the history of what is called
Christianity, will see that nothing changes more from
age to agethan the doctrines taught as Christian, and
insisted on as essential to Christianity and personal salvation.  What is falsehood in one province passes for
truth in another. The heresy of one age is the orthodox belief and " only infallible rule " of the next. Now
14 




162        THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
Arius, and now Athanasius is Lord of the ascendant.
Both were excommunicated in their turn, each for:affirming what the other denied. Men are burned for
professing what men are burned for denying. For centuries the doctrines of the Christians were no better, to
say the least, than those of their contemporary pagans.
The theological doctrines derived from our fathers seem
to have come from Judaism, Heathenism, and the caprice of philosophers, far more than they have come
from the principle and sentiment of Christianity. The
doctrine of the Trinity, the very Achilles of theological
dogmas, belongs to philosophy and not religion; its subtleties cannot even be expressed in our tongue. As old
religions became superannuated and died out, they left
to the rising faith, as to a residuary legatee, their forms
and their doctrines; or rather, as the giant in the fable
left his poisoned garment to work the overthrow of his,conqueror. Many tenets, that pass current in our theol-.ogy, seem to be the refuse of idol temples; the offscourings of Jewish and heathen cities, rather than the sands
of virgin gold, which the stream of Christianity has
worn off' from the rock of ages, and brought in its
bosom for us. It is wood, hay, and stubble, wherewith
men have built on the corner-stone Christ laid. What
w-onder the fabric is in peril when tried by fire?  The
stream of Christianity, as men receive it, has caught a
stain from every soil it has filtered through, so that now
it is not the pure water from the well of Life, which is
offered to our lips, but streams troubled and polluted by
man with mire and dirt. If Paul and Jesus could read
our books of theological doctrines, would they accept
as their teaching, what men have vented in their name?
Never till the letters of Paul had faded out of his rnemtory; never till the words of Jesus had been torn out




IN CHRISTIANITY.              163
from the Book of Life. It is their notions about Christianity men have taught as the only living word of
God. They have piled their own rubbish against the
temple of Truth where Piety comes up to worship;
what wonde the pile seems unshapely and like to fall?
But these theodlgical doctrines are fleeting as the leaves
on the trees. The,
" Are found
Now green in youth, now withered on the ground;
Another race the following spring supplies;
They fall successive amnd successive rise."
Like the clouds of thed sky, they are here to-day; tomorrow, all swept off and vanished; while Christianity
itself, like the heaven above, with its sun, and moon,
and uncounted stars, is always over our head, though
the cloud sometimes debars us of the needed light. It
must of necessity be the case that our reasonings, and
therefore our theological doctrines, are imperfect, and
so perishing. It is only gradually that we approach to
the true system of Nature by observation and reasoning, and work out our philosophy and theology by the
toil of the brain. But meantime, if we are faithful, the
great truths of morality and religion, the deep sentiment
of love to man and love to God, are perceived intuitively, and by instinct, as it were, though our theology
be imperfect and miserable. The theological notions of
Abraham, to take the story as it stands, were exceedingly gross, yet a greater than Abraham has told us
Abraham desired to see my day, saw it, and was glad.
Since these notions are so fleeting, why need we accept
the commandment of men, as the doctrine of God?
This transitoriness of doctrines appears, in many in



164       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
stances, of which two may be selected for a more attentive consideration. First, the doctrine respecting the
origin and authority of the Old and New Testament.
There has been a time when men were burned for
asserting doctrines of natural philosophy, which rested
on evidence the most incontestable, because those doctrines conflicted with sentences in the Old Testament.
Every word of that Jewish record was regarded as
miraculously inspired, and therefore as infallibly true.
It was believed that the Christian religion itself rested
thereon, and must stand or fall with the immaculate
Hebrew text. He was deemed no small sinner who
found mistakes in the manuscripts. On the authority
of the written Miord, man was taught to believe impossible legends, conflicting assertions; to take fiction for
fact; a dream for a miraculous revelation of God; an
oriental peem for a grave history of miraculous events;
a collection of amatory idyls for a serious discourse
"touching the mutual love of Christ and the Church;"
they have been taught to accept a picture sketched by
some glowing eastern imagination, never intended to
be taken for a reality, as a proof that the Infinite God
spoke in human words, appeared in the shape of a cloud,
a flaming bush, or a man who ate, and drank, and vanished into smoke; that he gave counsels to-day, and
the opposite to-morrow; that he violated his own laws;
was angry, and was only dissuaded by a mortal man
from destroying at once a whole nation -millions of
men who rebelled against their leader in a moment of
anguish.  Questions in philosophy, questions in the
Christian religion, have been settled by an appeal to
that book. The inspiration of its authors has been
assumed as infallible. Every fact in the early Jewish
history has been taken as a type of some analogous




IN CHRISTIANITY.             165
fact in Christian history.  The most distant events,.
even such as are still in the arms of time, were supposed
to be clearly foreseen and foretold by pious Hebrews
several centuries before Christ. It has been assumed at
the outset, with no shadow of evidence, that those
writers held a miraculous communication with God,
such as he has granted to no other man. What was
originally a presumption of bigoted Jews became an
article of faith, which Christians "were burned for not
believing.  This has been for centuries the general
opinion of the Christian church, both Catholic and
Protestant, though the former never accepted thle Bible
as the only source of religious truth. It has been so.
Still worse, it is now the general opinion of religious
sects at this day. Hence the attempt, which always
fails, to reconcile the philosophy of our times with the
poems in Genesis writ a thousand years before Christ;
hence the attempt to conceal the contradictions in the
record itself. Matters have come to such a pass, that
even now he is deemed an infidel, if not by implication
an atheist, whose reverence for the Most High forbids
him to believe that God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his Son, a thought at which the flesh creeps xvith
horror; to believe it solely on the authority of an
oriental story, written down nobody knows when or by
whom, or for what purpose; which may be a poem, but
cannot be the record of a fact, unless God is the author
of confusion and a lie.
Now this idolatry of the Old Testament has not
always existed. Jesus says that none born of a woman
is greater than John the Baptist, yet the least in the
kingdom of heaven was greater than John. Paul tells
us the Law - the very crown of the old Hebrew revelation —is a shadow of good things, which have now




166        THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
come; only a schoolmaster to bring us to Christ, and
when faith has come, that we are no longer under the
schoolmaster; that it was a law of sin and death, from
which we are made free by the Law of the spirit of
Life. Christian teachers themselves have differed so
widely in their notion of the doctrines and meaning of
those books, that it makes one weep to think of the
follies deduced therefrom. But modern Criticism is fast
breaking to pieces this idol which men have made out
of the Scriptures. It has shown that here are the most
different works thrown together.  That their authors,
wise as they sometimes were; pious as we feel often
their spirit to have been, had only that inspiration which
is common to other men equally pious and wise; that
they were by no means infallible; but were mistaken in
facts or in reasoning; uttered predictions which time
has not fulfilled; men who in some measure partook of
the darkness and limited notions of their age, and
were not always above its mistakes or its corruptions.
The history of opinions on the New Testament is
quite similar. It has been assumed at the outset, it
would seem  with no sufficient reason, without the
smallest pretence on its writers' part, that all of its
authors were infallibly and miraculously inspired, so
that they could commit no error of doctrine or fact.
AMen have been bid to close their eyes at the obvious
difference between Luke and John; the serious disagreement between Paul and Peter; to believe, on the
smallest evidence, accounts which shock the moral
sense and revolt the reason, and tend to place Jesus in
the same series with  Hercules, and Apollonius of
Tyana; accounts which Paul in the Epistles never
mentions, though he also had a vein of the miraculous
running quite through him. Men have been told that




IN CHRISTIANITY.             167
all these things must be taken as part of Christianity,
and if they accepted the religion, they must take all
these accessories along with it; that the living spirit
could not be had without the killing letter. All the
books, which caprice or accident had brought together
between the lids of the Bible, were declared to be the
infallible word of God; the only certain rule of religious
faith and practice. Thus the Bible was made not a
single channel, but the only certain rule of religious
faith and practice. To disbelieve any of its statements,
or even the common interpretation put upon those statements by the particular age or church in which the man
belonged, was held to be infidelity if not atheism. In
the name of him who forbid us to judge our brother,
good men and pious men have applied these terms to
others, good and pious as themselves.  That state of
things has by no means passed away. Men, who cry
down the absurdities of Paganism in the worst spirit
of the French "fiee-thinkers," call others infidels and
atheists, who point out, though reverently, other absurdities which men have piled upon Christianity. So the
world goes. An idolatrous regard for the imperfect
scripture of God's word, is the apple of Atalanta,
which defeats theologians running for the hand of divine
truth.
But the current notions respecting the infallible inspiration of the Bible have no foundation in the Bible
itself.  Which Evangelist, which Apostle of the New
Testament, what Prophet or Psalmist of the Old Testament, ever claims infallible authority for himself or for
others?  Which of them does not in his own writings
show that he was finite, and with all his zeal and piety,
possessed but a limited inspiration, the bound whereof
we canll sometimes discover? Did Christ ever demand




168       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
that men should assent to the doctrines of the Old Testament, credit its stories, and take its poems for histories,
and believe equally two accounts that contradict one
another? Has he ever told you that all the truths of
his religion, all the beauty of a Christian life should be
contained in the writings of those men, who, even after
his resurrection, expected him to be a Jewish king; of
men who were sometimes at variance with one another
and misunderstood his divine teachings?  Would not
those modest writers themselves be confounded at the
idolatry we pay them? Opinions may change on these
points, as they have often changed —changed greatly
and for the worst since the days of Paul. They are
changing now, and we may hope for the better; for
God makes man's folly as well as his wrath to praise
Him, and continually brings good out of evil.
Another instance of the transitoriness of doctrines,
taught as Christian, is found in those which relate to
the nature and authority of Christ. One ancient party
has told us, that he is the infinite God; another, that he
is both God and man; a third, that he was a man, the
son of Joseph and Mary,- born as we.are; tempted
like ourselves; inspired, as we may be, if we wMill pay
the price. Each of the former parties believed its doctrine on this head was infallibly true, and formed the
very substance of Christianity, and was one of the
essential conditions of salvation, though scarce any two
distinguished teachers, of ancient or modern times,
agree in their expression of this truth.
Almost every sect, that has ever been, makes Christianity rest on the personal authority of Jesus, and. not
the immutable truth of the doctrines themselves, or the
authority of God, who sent him into the world. Yet it




IN CHRISTIANITY.              169,
seems difficult to conceive any reason, why moral and
religious truths should rest for their support on the per-.
sonal authority of their revealer, any more than the.
truths of science on that of him  who makes them
known first or most clearly. It is hard to see why thegreat truths of Christianity rest on the personal authority
of Jesus, more than the axioms of geometry rest on the
personal authority of Euclid, or Archimedes. The authority of Jesus, as of all teachers, one would naturally
think, must rest on the truth of his words, and not their
truth on his authority.
Opinions respecting the nature of Christ seem to be
constantly changing. In the three first centuries after
Christ, it appears, great latitude of speculation prevailed.
Some said he was God, with nothing of human nature,
his body only an illusion; others, that he was man, with
nothing of the divine nature, his miraculous birth having no foundation in fact. In a few centuries it was
decreed by councils that he was God, thus honoring the
divine element; next, that he was man also, thus admitting the htuman side. For some ages the Catholic
Church seems to have dwelt chiefly on the divine nature that was in him, leaving the human element to mystics and other heretical persons, whose bodies served to
flesh the swords of orthodox believers.  The stream of'
Christianity has come to us in two channels — one
within the Church, the other without the Church -and
it is not hazarding too much to say, that since the fourthcentury the true Christian life has been out of the established Church, and not in it, but rather in the ranks
of dissenters. From the Reformation till the latter part
of the last century, we are told, the Protestant Church
dwelt chiefly on the human side of Christ, and since
that time many works have been written to show how
15




170       THIE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
the two - perfect Deity and perfect manhood - were
united in his character. But, all this time, scarce any
two eminent teachers agree on these points, however
orthodox they may be called. What a difference between the Christ of John Gerson and John Calvin, -
yet were both accepted teachers and pious men. What
a difference between the Christ of the Unitarians and
the Methodists — yet may men of both sects be true
Christians and acceptable with God. What a difference
between the Christ of Matthew and John —yet both
were disciples, and their influence is wide as Christendom and deep as the heart of man. But on this there
is not time to enlarge.
Now it seems clear, that the notion men form about
the origin and nature of the Scriptures; respecting the
nature and authority of Christ, have nothing to do with
Christianity except as its aids or its adversaries; they
are not the foundation of its truths. These are theological questions; not religious questions. Their connection with Christianity appears accidental; for if Jesus
had taught at Athens, and not at Jerusalem; if he had
wrought no miracle, and none but the human nature
had ever been ascribed to him; if the Old Testament
had forever perished at his birth, - Christianity would
still have been the Word of God; it would have lost
none of its truths. It would be just as true, just as
beautiful, just as lasting, as now it is; though we
should have lost so many a blessed word, and the work
of Christianity itself would have been, perhaps, a long
time retarded.
To judge the future by the past, the former authority
of the Old Testament can never return. Its present
authority cannot stand. It must be taken for what it




IN CHRISTIANITY.              171
is worth. The occasional folly and impiety of its authors must pass for no more than their value; - while
the religion, the wisdom, the love, which make fragrant
its leaves, will still speak to the best hearts as hitherto,
and in accents even more divine, when Reason is allowed her rights. The ancient belief in the infallible
inspiration of each sentence of the New Testament is
fast changing; very fast. One writer, not a sceptic,
but a Christian of unquestioned piety, sweeps off the
beginning of Matthew; another, of a different church
and equally religious, the end of John. Numerous
critics strike off several epistles. The Apocalypse itself
is not spared, notwithstanding its concluding curse.
Who shall tell us the work of retrenchment is to stop
here; that others will not demonstrate, what some pious
hearts have long felt, that errors of doctrine and errors
of fact may be found in many parts of the record, here
and there, from the beginning of Matthew to the end
of Acts?  We see how opini6ns have changed ever
since the apostles' time; and who shall assure us that
they were not sometimes mistaken in historical, as well
as doctrinal matters; did not sometimes confound the
actual with the imaginary; and that the fancy of these
pious writers never stood in the place of their recollection?
But what if this should take place? Is Christianity
then to perish out of the heart of the nations, and vanish from the memory of the world, like the religions that
were before Abraham? It must be so, if it rest on a
foundation which a scoffer may shake, and a score of
pious critics shake down. But this is the foundation of
a theology, not of Christianity. That does not rest on
the decision of Councils. It is not to stand or fall with
the infallible inspiration of a few Jewish fishermen, who




172        THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
have writ their names in characters of light all over the
world. It does not continue to stand through the for-.
bearance of some critic, who can cut, when he will, the
thread on which its life depends.  Christianity does not
rest on the infallible authority of the New Testament.
It depends on this collection of books for the historical
statement of its facts. In this we do not require infallible inspiration on the part of the writers, more than in
the record of other historical facts.  To me it seems as
presumptuods, on the one hand, for the believer to claim
this evidence for the truth of Christianity, as it is absurd, on the other hand, for the sceptic to demand such
evidence to support these historical statements. I cannot see that it depends on the personal authority of
Jesus. He was the organ through which the Infinite
spoke. It is God that was manifested in the flesh by
him, on whom rests the truth which Jesus brought to
light and made clear, and beautiful in his life; and if
Christianity be true, it seems useless to look for any
other authority to uphold it, as for some one to support
Almighty God. So if it could be proved, - as it cannot, -in opposition to the greatest amount of historical
evidence ever collected on any similar point, that the
gospels were the fabrication of designing and artful
men, that Jesus of Nazareth had never lived, still Christianity would stand firm, and fear no evil. None of the
doctrines of that religion would fall to the ground; for
if true, they stand by themselves.  But we should
lose, - oh, irreparable loss! - the example of that character, so beautiful, so dlivine, that no human genius
could have conceived it, as none, after all the progress
and refinement of eighteen centuries, seems fully to
have comprehended its lustrous life. If Christianity
were true, we should still think it was so, not because




IN CIRISTIANITY.              173
its record was written by infallible pens; nor because it
was lived out by an infallible teacher, — but that it is
true, like the axioms of geometry, because it is true,
and is to be tried by the oracle God places in the breast.
If it rest on the personal authority of Jesus alone, then
there is no certainty of its truth, if he were ever mistaken in the smallest matter, as some Christians have
thought he was, in predicting his second coming.
These doctrines respecting the Scriptures have often
changed, and are but fleeting. Yet men lay much stress
on them. Some cling to these notions as if they were
Christianity itself. It is about these and similar points
that theological battles are fought from age to age.
Men sometimes use worst the choicest treasure which
God bestows. This is especially true of the use men
make of the Bible. Some men have regarded it as the
heathen their idol, or the savage his fetish. They have
subordinated Reason, Conscience, and Religion to this.
Thus have they lost half the treasure it bears in its
bosom. No doubt the time will come when its true
character shall be felt. Then it will be seen, that, amid
all the contradictions of the Old Testament; its legends
so beautiful as fictions, so appalling as facts; amid its
predictions that have never been fulfilled; amid the
puerile conceptions of God, which sometimes occur,
and the cruel denunciations that disfigure both Psalm
and Prophecy, there is a reverence for man's nature, a
sublime trust in God, and a depth of piety rarely felt in
these cold northern hearts of ours.  Then the devotion
of its authors, the loftiness of their aim, and the majesty of their life, will appear doubly fair, and Prophet
and Psalmist will warm our hearts as never before.
Their voice will cheer the young and sanctify the gray153




174        THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
headed; will charm us in the toil of life, and sweeten
the cup Death gives us, when he comes to shake off
this mantle of flesh. Then will it be seen, that the
words of Jesus are the music of heaven, sung in an
earthly voice, and the echo of these words in John and
Paul owe their efficacy to their truth and their depth,
and to no accidental matter connected therewith. Then
can the Word, -which Nwas in the beginning and now
is,-find access to the innermost heart of man, and
speak there as now it seldom speaks. Then shall the
Bible, — which is a whole library of the deepest and
most earnest thoughts and feelings and piety and love,
ever recorded in human speech, - be read oftenr than
ever before, not with Superstition, but with Reason,
Conscience, and Faith fully active. Then shall it sustain men bowed down with many sorrows; rebuke sin;
encourage virtue; sow the world broadcast and quick
with the seed of love, that man may reap a harvest for
life everlasting.
With all the obstacles men have thrown in its path,
how much has the Bible done for mankind. No abuse
has deprived us of all its blessings. You trace its path
across the world from the day of Pentecost to this day.
As a river springs up in the heart of a sandy continent,
having its father in the skies and its birthplace in distant, unknown mountains; as the stream rolls on, enlarging itself, making in that arid waste a belt of verdure,
wherever it turns its way; creating palm groves and
fertile plains, where the smoke of the cottager curls up
at eventide, and marble cities send the gleam of their
splendor far into the sky;- such has been the course
of the Bible on the earth. Despite of idolaters bowing
to the dust before it, it has made a deeper mark on the
world than the rich and beautiful literature of all the




IN CHRISTIANITY.             175
heathen. The first book of the Old Testament tells
man he is made in the image of God; the first of the
New Testament gives us the motto, Be perfect as your
Father in heaven. Higher words were never spoken.
How the truths of the Bible have blest us. There is
not a boy on all the hills of New England; not a girl
born in the filthiest cellar which disgraces a capital in
Europe, and cries to God against the barbarism of
modern civilization; not a boy nor a girl all Christendom through, but their lot is made better by that great
book.
Doubtless the time will come when men shall see
Christ also as he is. Well might he still say: " Have I
been so long with you, and yet hast thou not known
me?"  No! we have made him an idol, have bowed
the knee before him, saying, " Hail, king of the Jews; "
called him  "Lord, Lord!" but done not the things
which he said. The history of the Christian world
might well be summed up in one word of the evangelist-" and there they crucified him," for there has
never been an age when men did not crucify the Son of
God afresh. But if error prevail for a time and grow
old in the world, truth will triumph at the last, and then
we shall see the Son of God as he is. Lifted up he
shall draw all nations unto him. Then will men understand the WCord of Jesus, which shall not pass away.
Then shall xwre see and love the divine life that he lived.
How vast has his influence been.  How  his spirit
wrought in the hearts of his disciples, rude, selfish,
bigoted, as at first they were. How it has wrought in
the world. His words judge the nations. The wisest
son of man has not measured their height. They speak




176       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
to what is deepest in profound men; what is holiest in
good men; what is divinest in religious men. They
kindle anew the flame of devotion in hearts long cold.
They are Spirit and Life. His truth was not derived
from Moses and Solomon; but the light of God shone
through him, not colored, not bent aside. His life is
the perpetual rebuke of all time since. It condemns
ancient civilization; it condemns modern civilization.
Wise men we have since had, and good men; but this
Galilean youth strode before the world whole thousands
of years,- so much of Divinity was in him. His
words solve the questions of this present age. In him
the Godlike and the Human met and embraced, and a
divine Life was born. Measure him  by the world's
greatest sons; - how poor they are. Try him by the
best of men, - how little and low they appear. Exalt
him as much as we may, we shall yet, perhaps, come
short of the mark. But still was he not our brother;
the son of man, as we are; the Son of God, like ourselves? His excellence, was it not human excellence?
His wisdom, love, piety, - sweet and celestial as they
were, — are they not what we also may attain? In
him, as in a mirror, we may see the image of God, and
go on from glory to glory, till we are changed into the
same image, led by the spirit which enlightens the humble. Viewed in this way, how beautiful is the life of
Jesus. Heaven has come down to earth, or rather,
earth has become heaven. The Son of God, come of
age, has taken  possession of his birthright.  The' brightest revelation is this, - of what is possible for all;men, if not now at least hereafter. How pure is his
spirit, and how encouraging its words. " Lowly sufferer," he seems to say, " see how I bore the cross. Pa



IN CHRISTIANITY.             177
tient laborer, be strong; see how I toiled for the unthankful and the merciless. Mistaken sinner, see of
what thou art capable. Rise up, and be blessed."
But if, as some early Christians began to do, you take
a heathen view, and make him a God, the Son of God
in a peculiar and exclusive sense -much of the significance of his character is gone. His virtue has no merit;
his love no feeling; his cross no burden; his agony no
pain. His death is an illusion; his resurrection but a
show. For if he were not a man, but a god, what are
all these things; what his words, his life, his excellence
of achievement? It is all nothing, weighed against the
illimitable greatness of Him who created the worlds and
fills up all time and space! Then his resignation is no
lessonl; his life no model; his death no triumph to you
or me, — who are not gods, but mortal men, that know
not what a day shall bring forth, and walk by faith
" dim sounding on our perilous way."  Alas, we have
despaired of man, and so cut off' his brightest hope.
In respect of doctrines as well as forms we see all is
transitory. " Everywhere is instability and insecurity."
Opinions have changed most, on points deemed most
vital. Could we bring up a Christian teacher of any
age,- from the sixth to the fourteenth century, for example, though a teacher of undoubted soundness of
faith, whose word filled the churches of Christendom,
clergymen  would scarce allow himn to kneel at their
altar, or sit down with them at the Lord's table. His
notions of Christianity could not be expressed in our
forms; nor could our notions be made intelligible to his
ears. The questions of his age, those on which Christianity was thought to depend,- questions which perplexed and divided the subtle doctors, — are no ques



178       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
tions to us. The quarrels which then drove wise men
mad, now only excite a smile or a tear, as we are disposed to laugh or weep at the frailty of man. We
have other straws of our own to quarrel for. Their
ancient books of devotion do not speak to us; their
theology is a vain word. To look back but a short
period, the theological speculations of our fathers during
the last two centuries; their " practical divinity;" even
the sermons written by genius and piety, are, with rare
exceptions, found unreadable; such a change is there in
the doctrines.
Now who shall tell us that the change is to stop
here? That this sect or that, or even all sects united,
have exhausted the river of life, and received it all in
their canonized urns, so that we need draw no more out
of the eternal well, but get refreshment nearer at hand?
Who shall tell us that another age will not smile at our
doctrines, disputes, and unchristian quarrels about
Christianity, and make wide the mouth at men who
walked brave in orthodox raiment, delighting to blacken
the names of heretics, and repeat again the old charge
"he hath blasphemed?"  Who shall tell us they will
not weep at the folly of all such as fancied Truth shone
only into the contracted nook of their school, or sect, or
coterie?  Men of other times may look down equally
on the heresy-hunters, and men hunted for heresy, and
wonder at both. The men of all ages before us, were
quite as confident as we, that their opinion was truth;
that their notion was Christianity and the whole thereof. The men who lit the fires of persecution, from the
first martyr to Christian bigotry down to the last murder
of the innocents, had no doubt their opinion was divine.
The contest about transubstantiation, and the immaculate purity of the Hebrew and Greek texts of the Scrip



IN CHRISTIANITY.             179
tures, was waged with a bitterness unequalled in these
days. The Protestant smiles at one, the Catholic at the
other, and men of sense wonder at both. It might
teach us all a lesson, at least of forbearance. No doubt,
an age will come, in which ours shall be reckoned a
period of darkness - like the sixth century - when men
groped for the wall but stumbled and fell, because they
trusted a transient notion, not an eternal truth; an age
when temples were full of idols, set up by human folly,
an age in which Christian light had scarce begun to
shine into men's hearts. But while this change goes
on; while one generation of opinions passes away, and
another rises up; Christianity itself, that pure Religion,
which exists eternal in the constitution of the soul and
the mind of God, is always the same. The Word that
was before Abraham, in the very beginning, will not
change, for that word is Truth. From this Jesus subtracted nothing; to this he added nothing. But he
came to reveal it as the secret of God, that cunning
men could not understand, but which filled the souls of
men meek and lowly of heart. This truth we owe to
God; the revelation thereof to Jesus, our elder brother,
God's chosen son.
To turn away from the disputes of the Catholics and
the Protestants, of the Unitarian and the Trinitarian, of
Old School and New School, and come to the plain
words of Jesus of Nazareth, Christianity is a simple
thing; very simple. It is absolute, pure Morality; absolute, pure Religion; the love of man; the love of God
acting without let or hindrance. The only creed it lays
down is the great truth which springs up spontaneous
in the holy heart -there is a God. Its watchword is,
Be perfect as your Father in Heaven. The only form




180        THIE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
it demands is a divine life; doing the best thing, in the
best way, from the highest motives; perfect obedience
to the great law of God. Its sanction is& the voice of
God in your heart; the perpetual presence of Him, who
made us and the stars over our head; Christ and'the
Father abiding within us. All this is very simple; a
little child can understand it; very beautiful, the loftiest
mind can find nothing so lovely. Try it by Reason,
Conscience, and Faith - things highest in man's nature
-we see no redundance, we feel no deficiency. Examine the particular duties it enjoins; humility, reverence, sobriety, gentleness, charity, forgiveness, fortitude,
resignation, faith, and active love; try the whole extent
of Christianity so well summed up in the command,
" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart,
and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind —thou
shalt love thy neighbor as thyself;" and is there any
thing therein that can perish? No, the very opponents
of Christianity have rarely found fault with the teachings of Jesus. The end of Christianity seems to be to
make all men one with God as Christ was one with
Him; to bring them to such a state of obedience and
goodness, that we shall think divine thoughts and feel.divine sentiments, and so keep the law of God by living
a life of truth and love. Its means are Purity and
Prayer; getting strength from God and using it for our
fellow men as well as ourselves. It allows perfect freedom. It does not demand all men to think alike, but
to think uprightly, and get as near as possible at truth;
not all men to live alike, but to live holy, and get as
near as possible to a life perfectly divine. Christ set up
no pillars of Hercules, beyond which men must not sail
the sea in quest of truth. He says, "I have many
things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now.




IN CHRISTIANITY.              181
Greater works than these shall ye do."  Christianity lays no rude hand on the sacred peculiarity of
individual genius and character. But there is no Christian sect which does not fetter a man. It would makeall men think alike, or smother their conviction in
silence. Were all men Quakers or Catholics, Unitarians or Baptists, there would be much less diversity
of thought, character, and life; less of truth active in
the world than now. But Christianity gives us the
largest liberty of the sons of God, and were all men
Christians after the fashion of Jesus, this variety would
be a thousand times greater than now; for Christianity
is not a system of doctrines, but rather a method of attaining oneness with God. It demands, therefore, a
good life of piety within, of purity without, and gives
the promise that whoso does God's will, shall know of'
God's doctrine.
In an age of corruption, as all ages are, Jesus stood
and looked up to God.  There was nothing between
him and the Father of all; no old world, be it of Moses,
or Esaias, of a living Rabbi or Sanhedrim of Rabbis;
no sin or perverseness of the finite will. As the result
of this virgin purity of soul and perfect obedience, the,
light of God shone down into the very deeps of his,
soul, bringing all of the Godhead which flesh can
receive. He would have us do the same; worship with,
nothing between us and God; act, think, feel, live, in
perfect obedience to Him; and we never are C/lristians'
as he was the Chirist, until we worship, as Jesus did,,
with no mediator, with nothing between us and the
Father of all. He felt that God's word was in him;.
that he was one with God. He told what he saw -
the Truth; he lived what he felt - a life of Love. The,
truth he brought to light must have been always the;
16




182       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
same before the eyes of all-seeing God, nineteen centuries before Christ, or nineteen centuries after him. A
life supported by the principle and quickened by the
sentiment of religion, if true to both, is always the
same thing in Nazareth or New England. Now that
divine man received these truths from God; was illumined more clearly by " the light that lighteneth every
man;" combined or involved all the truths of Religion
and Morality in his doctrine, and made them manifest
in his life. Then his words and example passed into
the world, and can no more perish than the stars be
wiped out of the sky. The truths he taught; his doctrines respecting man and God; the relation between
man and man, and man and God, with the duties that
grow out of that relation, are always the same, and can
never change till man ceases to be man, and creation
vanishes into nothing. No; forms and opinions change
and perish; but the Word of God cannot fail. The
form  Religion takes, the doctrines wherewith she is
girded, can never be the same in any two centuries or
two men; for since the sum of religious doctrines is
both the result and the measure of a man's total growth
in wisdom, virtue, and piety, and since men will always
differ in these respects, so religious doctrines and forms
will always differ, always be transient, as Christianity
goes forth and scatters the seed she bears in her hand.
But the Christianity holy men feel in the heart — the
Christ that is born within us, is always the same thing
to each soul that feels it. This differs only in degree
and not in kind, from age to age and man to man;
there is something in Christianity which no sect from
the " Ebionites " to the " latter day saints " ever entirely
overlooked. This is that common Christianity, which
burns in the hearts of pious men.




IN CHRISTIANITY.             183
Real Christianity gives men new life.  It is the
growth and perfect action of the Holy Spirit God puts
into the sons of men, It makes us outgrow any form
or any system of doctrines we have devised, and approach still closer to the truth.  It would lead us to
take what help we can find. It would make the Bible
our servant, not our master. It would teach us to profit
by the wisdom and piety of David and Solomon; but
not to sin their sins, nor bow to their idols. It would
make us revere the holy words spoken by "godly men
of old," but revere still more the word of God spoken
through Conscience, Reason, and Faith, as the holiest
of all. It would not make Christ the despot of the
soul, but the brother of all men. It would not tell us,
that even he had exhausted the fulness of God, so that
He could create none greater; for with Him "' all things
are possible," and neither Old Testament or New Testament ever hints that creation exhausts the creator.
Still less would it tell us, the wisdom, the piety, the
love, the manly excellence of Jesus, was the result of
miraculous agency alone, but, that it was won, like the
excellence of humbler men, by faithful obedience to
Him who gave his Son such ample heritage. It would
point to him as our brother, who went before, like the
good shepherd, to charm us with the music of his words,
and with the beauty of his life to tempt us up the steeps
of mortal toil, within the gate of Heaven. It would
have us make the kingdom of God oq earth, and enter
more fittingly the kingdom on high. It would lead us
to form Christ in the heart, on which Paul laid such
stress, and work out our salvation by this. For it is not
so much by the Christ who lived so blameless and beautiful eighteen centuries ago, that we are saved directly,
but by the Christ we form in our hearts and live out in




184        THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
our daily life, that we save ourselves, God working with
us, both to will and to do.
Compare the simpleness of Christianity, as Christ sets
it forth on the Mount, with what is sometimes taught
and accepted in that honored name; and what a difference. One is of God; one is of man. There is something in Christianity which sects have not reached;
something that will not be won, we fear, by theological
battles, or the quarrels of pious men; still we may
rejoice that Christ is preached in any way. The Christianity of sects, of the pulpit, of society, is ephemeral
-a transitory fly.  It will pass off and be forgot.
Some new form will take its place, suited to the aspect
of the changing times. Each will represent something
of truth; but no one the whole. It seems the whole
race of man is needed to do justice to the whole of
truth, as " the whole church, to preach the whole gospel."
Truth is intrusted for the time to a perishable Ark of
human contrivance. Though often shipwrecked, she
always comes safe to land, and is not changed by her
mishap. That pure ideal Religion which Jesus saw on
the mount of his vision, and lived out in the lowly life
of a Galilean peasant; which transforms his cross into
an emblem of all that is holiest on earth'; which makes
sacred the ground he trod, and is dearest to the best of
men, most true to what is truest in them, cannot pass
away. Let men improve never so far in civilization, or
soar never so higlion the wings of Religion and Love,
they can never outgo the flight of Truth and Christianity. It will always be above them. It is as if we
were to fly towards a Star, which becomes larger and
more bright the nearer we approach, till we enter and
are absorbed in its glory.
If we look carelessly on the ages that have gone by,




IN CHRISTIANITY.             185
or only on the surfaces of things as they come up before us, there is reason to fear; for we confound the
truth of God with the word of man. So at a distance
the cloud and the mountain seem the same. When the
drift changes with the passing wind, an unpractised eye
might fancy the mountain itself was gone. But the
mountain stands to catch the clouds, to win the blessing
they bear, and send it down to moisten the fainting
violet, to form streams which gladden valley and
meadow, and sweep on at last to the sea in deep
channels, laden with fleets. Thus the forms of the
church, the creeds of the sects, the conflicting opinions
of teachers, float round the sides of the Christian
mount, and swell and toss, and rise and fall, and dart
their lightning, and roll their thunder, but they neither
make nor mar the mount itself. Its lofty summit far
transcends the tumult; knows nothing of the storm
which roars below; but burns with rosy light at evening and at morn; gleams in the splendors of the midday sun; sees his light when the long shadows creep
over plain and moorland, and all night long has its
head in the heavens, and is visited by troops of stars
which never set, nor veil their face to ought so pure and
high.
Let then the Transient pass, fleet as it will, and may
God send us some new manifestation of the Christian
faith, that shall stir men's hearts as they were never
stirred; some new Word, which shall teach us what
we are, and renew us all in the image of God; some
better life, that shall fulfil the Hebrew prophecy, and
pour out the spirit of God on young men and maidens,
and old men and children; which shall realize the
Word of Christ, and give us the comforter, who shall
16'




186       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
reveal all needed things. There are Simeons enough
in the cottages and Churches of New England, plain
men and pious women, who wait for the Consolation,,and would die in gladness, if their expiring breath could;stir quicker the wings that bear him on. There are
-men enough, sick and " bowed down, in nowise able to
lift up themselves," who would be healed could they
kiss the hand of their Saviour, or touch but the hem of
his garment; men who look up and are not fed, because
they ask bread from heaven and water from the rock,
not traditions or fancies, Jewish or heathen, or new or,old; men enough who, with throbbing hearts, pray for
the spirit of healing to come upon the waters, which
other than angels have long kept in trouble; men
enough who have lain long time sick of theology, nothing bettered by many physicians, and are now dead, too
dead to bury their dead, who would come out of their
graves at the glad tidings. God send us a real religious
life, which shall pluck blindness out of the heart, and
make us better fathers, mothers, and children; a re-;ligious life, that shall go with us where we go, and
make every home the house of God, every act accept-:able as a prayer. We would work for this, and pray:for it, though we wept tears of blood while we prayed.
Such, then, is the Transient, and such the Perrnanent in Christianity. What is of absolute value never.changes; we may cling round it and grow to it forever.
No one can say his notions shall stand. But we may
all say, the Truth, as it is in Jesus, shall never pass
away. Yet there are always some even religious men,
wvho do not see the Permanent element, so they rely on
the fleeting; and, what is also an evil, condemn others
for not doing the same. They mistake a defence of the




IN CHRISTIANITY.            187
Truth for an attack upon the Holy of Holies; the removal of a theological error for the destruction of all
religion. Already men of the same sect eye one another
with suspicion, and lowering brows that indicate a
storm, and, like children who have fallen out in their
play, call hard names. Now, as always, there is a collision between these two elements. The question puts
itself to each man, " Will you cling to what is perishing, or embrace what is eternal?"  This question each
must answer for himself.
My friends, if you receive the notions about Christianity, which chance to be current in your sect or
church, solely because they are current, and thus accept
the commandment of men instead of God's truth -
there will always be enough to commend you for soundness of judgment, prudence, and good sense; enough
to call you Christian for that reason. But if this is all
you rely upon, alas for you. The ground will shake
under your feet if you attempt to walk uprightly and
like men. You will be afraid of every new opinion,
lest it shake down your church; you will fear'" lest if a
fox go up, he will break down your stone wall."  The
smallest contradiction in the New Testament or Old
Testament; the least disagreement between the Law
and the Gospel; any mistake of the Apostles, will
weaken your faith. It shall be with you " as when a
hungry man dreameth, and behold, he eateth; but he
awaketh, and his soul is empty."
If, on the other hand, you take the true Word of God,
and live out this, nothing shall harm you.,Men may
mock, but their mouthfuls of wind shall be blown back
upon their own face. If the master of the house were
called Beelzebub, it matters little what name is given to
the household. The name Christian, given in mockery,




188       THE TRANSIENT AND PERMANENT
will last till the world go down. He that loves God
and man, and lives in accordance with that love, needs
not fear what man can do to him. His Religion comes
to him in his hour of sadness, it lays its hand on him
when he has fallen among thieves, and raises him up,
heals, and comforts him. If he is crucified, he shall
rise again.
My friends, you this day receive, with the usual formalities, the man you have chosen to speak to you on
the highest of all themes, - what concerns your life on
earth; your life in heaven. It is a work for which no
talents, no prayerful diligence, no piety, is too great; an
office, that would dignify angels, if worthily filled. If
the eyes of this man be holden, that he cannot discern
between the perishing and the true, you will hold him
guiltless of all sin in this; but look for light where it
can be had; for his office will then be of no use to you.
But if he sees the truth, and is scared by worldly motives, and will not tell it, alas for him! If the watchman see the foe coming and blow not the trumpet, the
blood of the innocent is on him.
Your own conduct and character, the treatment you
offer this young man, will in some measure influence
him. The hearer affects the speaker. There were some
places where even Jesus " did not many mighty works,
because of their unbelief." Worldly motives - not
seeming such — sometimes deter good men from their
duty. GclJ and Ease have, before now, enervated
noble minds. Daily contact with men of low aims
takes down the ideal of life, which a bright spirit casts
out of itself. Terror has sometimes palsied tongues
that, before, were eloquent as the voice of Persuasion.
But thereby Truth is not holden. She speaks in a




IN CHRISTIANITY.              189
thousand tongues, and with a pen of iron graves her
sentence on the rock forever. You may prevent the
freedom of speech in this pulpit if you will. You may
hire you servants to preach as you bid; to spare your
vices and flatter your follies; to prophesy smooth
things, and say, It is peace, when there is no peace.
Yet in so doing you weaken and enthrall yourselves.
And alas for that man who consents to think one thing
in his closet, and preach another in his pulpit. God
shall judge him in his mercy; not man in his wrath.
But over his study and over his pulpit might be writ -
EMPTINESS; on his canonical robes, on his forehead and
right hand - DECEIT, DECEIT.
But, on the other hand, you may encourage your
brother to tell you the truth. Your affection will then
be precious to him; your prayers of great price. Every
evidence of your sympathy will go to baptize him anew
to Holiness and Truth. You will then have his best
words, his brightest thoughts, and his most hearty
prayers. He may grow old in your service, blessing
and blest. He will have
" The sweetest, best of consolation,
The thought, that he has given,
To serve the cause of-Heaven,
The freshness of his early inspiration."
Choose as you will choose; but weal or woe depends
upon your choice.




VII.
THE PHARISEES.*
IF we may trust the statement of grave philosophers,
who have devoted their lives to Seience, and given
proofs of what they affirm, which are manifest to the
senses, as well as evident to the understanding, there
were once, in very distant ages, classes of monsters on
the earth, which differed, in many respects, from any
animals now on its surface. They find the bones of
these animals, " under the bottom of the monstrous
world," or imnbedded in masses of stone, which have
since formed over them.  They discover the footprints,
also, of these monstrous creatures, in what was once
soft clay, but has since become hard stone, and so
has preserved these traces for many a thousand years.
These creatures gradually became scarce, and at last
disappeared entirely from the face of the earth, while
nobler races grew up and took their place. The relics
of these monsters are gathered together by the curious.
They excite the wonder of old men and little girls, of
the sage and the clown.
Now there was an analogous class of moral monsters
* From the Dial for July, 1841.




THE PHARISEES.              191
in old time. They began quite early, though no one
knows who was the first of the race. They have left
their footprints all over the civilized globe; in the
mould of institutions, laws, politics, and religions,
which were once pliant, but have since become petrified
in the ages, so that they seem likely to preserve these
marks for many centuries to come. The relics of these
moral monsters are preserved for our times in some of
the histories and institutions of past ages. But they
excite no astonishment, when discovered, because, while
the sauri of gigantic size, the mammoth, and the mastodon, are quite extinct, the last of the Pharisees has not
yet been seen, but his race is vigorous and flourishing
now as of old time. Specimens of this monster are by
no means rare. They are found living in all countries,
and in every walk of life. We do not search for them
in the halls of a museum, or the cabinets of the curious,
but every man has seen a Pharisee going at large on
the earth. The race, it seems, began early. The Pharisees are of ancient blood; some tracing their genealogy
to the great Father of Lies himself. However this
may be, it is certain, we find them well known in
very ancient times. Moses encountered them in Egypt.
They counterfeited his wonders, as the legend relates, and "'did so with their enchantments." They
followed him into the desert, and their gold thrown
into the fire, by the merest accident came out in
the shape of an idol. Jealous of the honor of Moses,
they begged him to silence Eldad and Medad, on whom
the spirit of the Lord rested, saying, " Lord Moses rebuke them."  They troubled the Messiah in a later day;
they tempted him with a penny; sought to entangle
him in his talk; strove to catch him, feigning themselves
just men. They took counsel to slay him soon as they




192              THE PHARISEES.
found cunning of no avail. If one was touched to the
heart by true words- which, though rare, once happened,- he came by night to that great prophet of God,
through fear of his fellow Pharisees. They could boast,
that no one of their number had ever believed on the
Saviour of the, nations, — because his doctrine was a
new thing. If a blind man was healed, they put him
out of the synagogue, because his eyes were opened,
and as he confessed by the new Teacher. They bribed
one of his avaricious followers to betray him with a
kiss, and at last put to death the noblest of all the Sons
of God, who had but just opened the burden of his
mission. Yet they took care, - those precious philanthropists, — not to defile themselves by entering the
judgment hall, with a pagan. When that spirit rose
again, they hired the guard to tell a lie, and say, " His
disciples came by night, and stole the body, while we
slept."
This race of men troubled Moses; stoned the prophets; crucified the Saviour, and persecuted the apostles. They entered the Christian Church soon as it became popular and fashionable. Then they bound the
yoke of Jewish tradition on true men's necks, and
burned with fire, and blasted with anathemas such as
shook it off, walking free and upright, like men. The
same race is alive, and by no means extinct, or likely
soon to be so.
It requires but few words to tell what makes up the
sum of the Pharisee. He is at- the bottom a man like
other men; made for whatever is high and divine. God
has not curtailed him of a man's birthright. He has in
him the elements of a Moses or a Messiah. But his
aim is to SEEM good and excellent; not to BE good and
excellent. He wishes, therefore, to have all of good



THE PHARISEES.              193
ness and religion,; except goodness and religion itself.
Doubtless, he would accept these also, were they to be.
had for the asking, and cost nothing to keep, but he:
will not pay the price. So he would make a covenant
with God and the Devil, with Righteousness and Sin,.
and keep on good terms with both. He would unite
the two worlds of Salvation and Iniquity, having the.
appearance of the one, and the reality of the other. He
would work in deceit and wickedness, and yet appear
to men with clean hands. He will pray in one direction, and yet live in just the opposite way, and thus
attempt, as it were, to blind the eyes, and cheat the justice of all-knowing God. He may be defined, in one
sentence, as the circumstances of a good man, after the
good man has left them. Such is the sum of the Pharisee in all ages and nations, variously modified by the
customs and climate of the place he happens to dwell
in, just as the rabbit is white in winter, and brown in
summer, but is still the same rabbit, its complexion only
altered to suit the color of the ground.
The Jewish Pharisees began with an honest man,
who has given name to the class, as some say. He
was moral and religious; a lover of man and God. He
saw through the follies of his time, and rose above them.
He felt the evils that oppress poor mortal man, and
sought to remove them. But it often happens that a.
form is held up, after its spirit has:departed, and a name,
survives, while the reality which bore this name is gone
forever. Just as they keep at Vienna the crown and
sword of a giant king, though for some centuries no,
head has been found large enough to wear the crown, no.
hand of strength to wield the sword, and their present
ownrer is both imbecile and diminutive. So it was,
in this case. The subsequent races of Pharisees chery17




194               THE PHARISEES.
ished the form, after the spirit had left it, clinging all the
closer because they knew there was nothing in it, and
feared, if they relaxed their hold, it would collapse
through its emptiness, or blow away and be lost, leaving them to the justice of God and the vengeance-of
men they had mocked at and insulted. In Christ's
time, the Pharisee professed to reverence the law of
Moses, but contrived to escape its excellent spirit. He
loved the Letter, but he shunned the Law. He could
pay tithes of his mint, anise, and cumin, which the
law of Moses did not ask for, and omit mercy, justice,
and truth, which both that and the law of God demanded. He could not kindle a fire, nor pluck an ear
of corn on the Sabbath, though so cold and hungry,
that he thought of nothing but his pains, and looked
for the day to end. He could not eat bread without
going through the ceremony of lustration. He could
pray long and loud, where he was sure to be heard, at
the corners of the streets, and give alms in the public
places, to gain the name of devout, charitable, or munificent, while he devoured widows' houses or the inheritance of orphans in private, and his inward part
was full of ravening and vickedness.
There are two things, which pass for religion in two
different places. The first is, the love of what is Right,
Good, and Lovely; the love of man, the love of God.
This is the religion of the New Testament, of Jesus
Christ; it leads to a divine life, and passes for religion
before the pure eyes of that Father of all, who made
us, and'the stars over our heads. The other is a mere
belief in certain doctrines, which may be true or false;
a compliance with certain forms, either beautiful or ludicrous. It does not demand a love of what is right,
good, and lovely, a love of man or God. Still less does




THE PHARISEES.              195
it ask for a life in conformity with such sentiments.
This passes for religion in the world, in kings' courts,
and in councils of the Church, from the council at Nice
to the synod at Dort. The first is a vital religion; a
religion of life. The other is a theological religion; a
religion of death; or rather, it is no religion at all; all
of religion but religion itself. It often gets into the
place of religion, just as the lizard may get into the
place of the lion, when he is out, and no doubt sets up
to be lion for the time, and attempts a roar. The one
is the religion of men, and the best men that have ever
lived in all ages and countries; the other is the religion
of Pharisees, and the worst men in all ages and in all
countries.
This race of men, it has been said, is not yet exhausted. They are as numerous as in John the Baptist's time, and quite as troublesome. Now, as then,
they prefer the praise of men to the praise of God;
which means, they would rather SEEM good, at small
cost, than take the pains to BE good. They oppose all
reforms as they opposed the Messiah. They traduce
the best of men, especially such as are true to Conscience, and live out their thought. They persecute
men sent on God's high errand of mercy and love.
Which of the prophets have they not stoned? They
build the tombs of deceased reformers, whom they
would calumniate and destroy, were they now living
and at work. They can wear a cross of gold on their
bosom, "which Jews might kiss and infidels adore."
But had they lived in the days of Pilate, they would
have nailed the Son of God to a cross of wood, and
now crucify him afresh, and put him to an open shame.
These Pharisees may be found in all ranks of life; in
the front and the rear; among the radicals and the con



196               THE PHARISEES.
servatives, the rich and the poor. Though the Pharisees are the same in nature, differing only superficially,
they may yet be conveniently divided into several
classes, following some prominent features.
THE PHARISEE OF THE FIRESIDE. He is the man, who
at home professes to do all for the comfort and convenience of his family, his wife, his children, his friends;
yet at the same time does all for his own comfort and
convenience. He hired his servants, only to keep them
from the almshouse. He works them  hard, lest they
have too much spare time, and grow indolent. He,
provides penuriously for them, lest they contract extravagant habits. Whatever gratification he gives himself,
he does entirely for others. Does he go to a neighboring place to do some important errands for himself, and
a trifle for his friend, the journey was undertaken solely
on his friend's account. Is he a husband, he is always
talking of the sacrifice he makes for his wife, who yet
never knows when it is made, and if he had love, there
would be no sacrifice. Is he a father, he tells his children of his self-denial for their sake, while they find the
self-denial is all on their side, and if he loved them selfdenial would be a pleasure. He speaks of his great
affection for them, which, if he felt, it would show itself,
and never need be spoken of. He tells of the heavy
burdens borne for their sake, while, if they were thus
borne, they would not be accounted burdens, nor felt as
heavy. But this kind of Pharisee, though more common than we sometimes fancy, is yet the rarest species.
Most men drop the cloak of hypocrisy, when they enter
their home, and seem what they are. Of them, therefore, no more need be spoken.




THE PHARISEES.               197
THE PHARISEE OF THE PRINTING PRESS. The Pharisee
of this stamp is a sleek man, who edits a newspaper.
His care is never to say a word offensive to the orthodox
ears of his own coterie. His aim is to follow in the
wake of public opinion, and utter, from time to time,
his oracular generalities, so that, whether the course be
prosperous or unsuccessful, he may seem to have predicted it. If he must sometimes speak of a new measure, whose fate is doubtful with the people, no one
knows whether he would favor or reject it. So equally
do his arguments balance one another. Never was
prophecy more clearly inspired and impersonal. He
cannot himself tell what his prediction meant until it is
fulfilled. " If Crcesus crosses the Halys, he shall destroy
a great empire," thunders the Pharisee from his editorial
corner, but takes care not to tell whether Persia or
Lydia shall come to the ground. Suggest a doubt that
he ever opposed a measure, which has since become
popular, he will prove you the contrary, and his words
really have that meaning, though none suspected it at
the time, and he, least of all.  In his, as in all predictions, there is a double sense. If he would abuse a
man or an institution, which is somewhat respectable,
and against which he has a private grudge, he inserts
most calumnious articles in the shape of a " communication," declaring at the same time his "columns are
open to all."  He attacks an innocent man, soon as he
is unpopular; but gives him no chance to reply, though
in never so Christian a spirit. Let a distinguished man
censure one comparatively unknown, he would be very
glad to insert the injured man's defence, but is prevented
by "a press of political matter," or "a press of foreign
matter," till the day of reply has passed. Let an humble scholar send a well-written article for his journal,
17*




198               THE PHARISEES.
which does not square with the notions of the coterie;
it is returned with insult added to the wrong, and an
"' editorial" appears putting the public on its guard:against such as hold the obnoxious opinions, calling
them knaves, and fools, or what is more taking with the
public at this moment, when the majority are so very
faithful, and religious, " infidels" and " atheists."  The
aim of this man is to please his party, and seem fair.
Send him a paper, reflecting on the measures or the
men of that party, he tells you it would do no good to
insert it, though ably written. He tells his wife the
story, adding that he must have meat and drink, and
the article would have cost a " subscriber."  He begins
by loving his party better than mankind; he goes on by
loving their opinions more than truth, and ends by loving his own interest better than that of his party. He
might be painted as a man sitting astride a fence, which
divided two inclosures, with his hands thrust into his
pockets. As men come into one or the other inclosure,
be bows obsequiously, and smiles; bowing lowest and
smiling sweetest to the most distinguished person.
When the people have chosen their place, he comes
down from " that bad eminence," to the side where the
majority are assembled, and will prove to your teeth,
that he had always stood on that side, and was
never on the fence, except to reconnoitre the enemy's
position.
THE PHARISEE OF THE STREET.  He is the smooth
sharper, who cheats you in the name of honor. He
wears a sanctimonious face, and plies a smooth tongue.
His words are rosemary and marjoram for sweetness.
To hear him lament at the sins practised in business,
you would take him for the most honest of men. Are




THE PHARISEES.               199
you to trade with him, he expresses a great desire to
serve you; talks much of the subject of honor; honor
between buyer and seller; honor among tradesmen:
honor among thieves.  He is full of regrets, that the
world has become so wicked; wonders that any one
can find temptation to defraud, and belongs to a society
for the suppression of shoplifting, or some similar
offence he is in no danger of committing, and so
"Compounds,for sins he is inclined to,
By damning those he has no mind to."
Does this Pharisee, meet a philanthropist, he is full of
plans to improve society, and knows of some little evil,
never heard of before, which he wishes to correct in a
distant part of the land. Does he encounter a religious
man, he is ready to build a church if it could be built
of words, and grows eloquent, talking of the goodness
of God and the sin of the world, and has a plan for
evangelizing the cannibals of New Zealand, and christianizing, forsooth, the natives of China, for he thinks it
hard they should " continue heathens, and so be lost."
Does he overtake a lady of affluence and refinement,
there are no limits to his respect for the female sex; no
bounds to his politeness; no pains too great for him to
serve her. But let him overtake a poor woman of a
rainy day, in a lonely road, who really needs his courtesy, he will not lend her his arm or his umbrella, for all
his devotion to the female sex. He thinks teachers are
not sufficiently paid, but teazes a needy young man to
take his son to school a little under price, and disputes
the bill when rendered.,He knows that a young manll
of fortune lives secretly in the most flagrant debauchery
Our Pharisee treats him with all conceivable courtesy,




200                THE PHARISEES.
defends him from small rumors; but when the iniquity
is once made public, he is the very loudest in his condemnation, and wonders any one could excuse him.
This man will be haughty to his equals, and arrogant to
those he deems below him. Wvith all his plans for
christianizing China and New  Zealand, he takes no
pains to instruct and christianize his own family. In
spite of his sorrow for the wickedness of the world, and
his zeal for the suppression of vice, he can tell the truth
so as to deceive, and utter a lie so smoothly, that none
suspects it to be untrue. Is he to sell you an article, its
obvious faults are explained away, and its secret ones
concealed still deeper. Is he to purchase, he finds a
score of defects, which he knows exist but in his lying
words.  When the bargain is made, he tells his fellow
Pharisee how adroitly he deceived, and how -great are
his gains. This man is fulfilled of emptiness:  Yet he
is suffered to walk the earth, and eat and drink, and
look upon the sun, all hollow as he is.
THE PHARISEE OF POLITICS. This, also, is a numerous class. He makes great professions of honesty;
thinks the country is like to be ruined by want of integrity in high places, and, perhaps, it is so. For his
part, he thinks simple honesty, the doing of what one
knows to be right, is better than political experience, of
which he claims but little; more safe than the eagle eye
of statesmanlike sagacity, which sees events in their
causes, and can apply the experience of many centuries
to show the action of a particular measure, a sagacity
that he cannot pretend to. This Pharisee of Politics,
when he is-out of place, thinks much evil is likely to
befall us from the office-holders, enemies of the people;
if he is in place, from the office-wanters, most pestilent




THE PHARISEES.               201
fellows! Just before the election, this precious Pharisee is seized with a great concern lest the people be deceived, the dear people, whom he loves with such vast
affection. No distance is too great for him to travel;
no stormy night too stormy for him, that he may utter
his word in season. Yet all the while he loves the people but as the cat her prey, which she charms with her
look of demure innocence, her velvet skin and glittering
eyes, till she has seized it in her teeth, and then condescends to sport with its tortures, sharpening her appetite,
and teazing it to death. There is a large body of men
in all political parties,
" who sigh and groan
For public good, and mean their own."
It has always been so, and will always continue so, till
men and women become Christian, and then, as pagan
Plato tells us, the best and wisest men will take high
offices cheerfully, because they involve the most irksome
duties of the citizen. The Pharisee of Politics is all
things to all men, (though in a sense somewhat different from  the Apostle, perhaps,) that he may, by any
means, gain some to his side. Does he meet a reformer,
he has a plan for improving and finishing off the world
quite suddenly. Does he fall in with a conservative,
our only strength is to stand still. Is he speaking with
a wise friend of the people, he would give every poor
boy and girl the best education the State could afford,
making monopoly of wisdom out of the question.
Does he talk with the selfish man of a clique, who cares
only for that person, girded with his belt; he thinks
seven eighths of the people, including all of the working
class, must be left in ignorance beyond hope; as if God
made one man all Head, and the other all Hands.




202               THE PHAIISEES.
Does he meet a Unitarian, the Pharisee signs no creed,
and always believed the Unity; with a Calvinist, he is
so Trinitarian he wishes there were four persons in the
Godhead to give his faith a test the more difficult. Let
the majority of voters, or a third party, who can turn
the election, ask him to pledge himself to a particular
measure, this lover of the people is ready, their " obedient servant," whether it be to make property out of
paper, or merchandise out of men. The voice of his
electors is to him not the voice of God, which might be
misunderstood, but God himself. But when his object
is reached, and the place secure, you shall see the demon
of ambition, that possesses the man, come out into action. This man can stand in the hall of the nation's
wisdom, with the Declaration of Independence in one
hand, and the Bible, the great charter of freedom, in the
other, and justify,-not excuse, palliate, and account
for, -but JUSTIFY, the greatest wrong man can inflict
on man, and attempt to sanction Slavery, quoting
chapter and verse from the New Testament, and do it
as our fathers fought, in the name of " God and their
country."  He can stand in the centre of a free land, his
mouth up to the level of Mason and Dixon's line, and
pour forth his eloquent lies, all freedom above the mark,
but all slavery below it. He can cry out for the dear
people, till they think some man of wealth and power
watches to destroy them, while he wants authority; but
when he has it, ask him to'favor the cause of Humanity;
ask him to aid those few hands, which would take hold
of the poor man's son in his cabin, and give him an
education worthy of a man, a free man; ask him to
help those few souls of great faith, who perfume
Heaven's ear with their prayers, and consume their
own hearts on the altar, while kindling the reluctant




THE PHARISEES.             203
sacrifice for other hearts, so slow to beat; ask him to
aid the noblest interests of man, and help bring the
kingdom  of Heaven here in New   England, - and
where is he? Why, the bubble of a man has blown
away. If you could cast his character into a melting
pot, as chemists do their drugs, and apply suitable tests
to separate part from part, and so analyze the man, you
would find a little Wit, and less Wisdom; a thimblefull of common sense, worn in the fore part of the head,
and so ready for use at a moment's call; a conscience
made up of maxims of expediency and worldly thrift,
which conscience he wore on his sleeve to swear by
when it might serve his turn. You would find a little
knowledge of history, to make use of on the Fourth of
July and election days; a conviction that there was a
selfish principle in man, which might be made active;
a large amount of animal cunning, selfishness, and ambition, all worn very bright by constant use. Down
further still in the crucible would be a shapeless lump
of faculties he had never used, which, on examination,
would contain Manliness, Justice, Integrity, Honor,
Religion, Love, and whatever else that makes man
Divine and Immortal. Such is the inventory of this
thing which so many worship, and so many would be.
Let it also pass to its reward.
THE PHARISEE Or THE CHURCH. There was a time
when he, who called himself a Christian, took as it
were the Prophet's vow, and Toil and Danger dogged
his steps; Poverty came like a Giant upon him, and
death looked ugly at him through the casement as he
sat down with his wife and babes. Then to be called
a Christian, was to be a man; to pray, prayers of great'
resolution, and to live in the Kingdom of Heaven.




204              THIE PIIARISEES.
Now it means only to be a Protestant, or a Catholic;
to believe with the Unitarians, or the Calvinists. We
have lost the right names of things. The Pharisee of
the Church has a religion for Sunday, but none for the
week.  He believes all the true things and absurd
things ever taught by popular teachers of his sect. To
him the Old Testament and the New Testament are
just the same,- and the Apocrypha he never reads, -
Books to be worshipped and sworn by. He believes
most entirely in the Law of Moses and the Gospel of
the Messiah, which annuls that Law. They are both
"translated out of the original tongues, and appointed
to be read in churches." Of course he practises one
just as much as the other. His Belief has cost him so
much he does nothing but believe; never dreams of
living his belief. He has a Religion for Sunday, and a
face for Sunday, and Sunday books, and Sunday talk,
and just as he lays aside his Sunday coat, so he puts
by his talk, his books, his face, and his Religion. They
would be profaned if used on a weekday. He can sit
in his pew of a Sunday —wood sitting upon wood -
with the demurest countenance, and never dream the
words of Isaiah, Paul, and Jesus, which are read him,
came out of the serene deeps of the soul that is fulfilled
of a divine life, and are designed to reach such'deeps in
other souls, and will reach them if they also live nobly.
He can call himself a Christian, and never do any thing
to bless or comfort his neighbor. The poor pass and
never raise an eye to that impenetrable face. He can
hear sermons, and pay for sermons that denounce the
sin he daily commits, and thinks he atones for the sin
by paying for the sermon.  His Sunday prayers are
beautiful, out of the Psalms and the Gospels, but his
weekly life, what has it to do with his prayer? How




THE PIIARISEES.            205
confounded would he be, if Heaven should take him in
earnest, and grant his request!  He would pray that
God's name be hallowed, while his life is blasphemy
against Him.  He can say, " Thy kingdom  come,"
when if it should come, he would wither up at the sight
of so much majesty. The kingdom of God is in the
Hearts of men; does he wish it there, in his own heart?'
He prays, " Thy will be done," yet never sets a foot forward to do it, nor means to set a foot forward. His
only true petition is for daily bread, and this he utters
falsely, for all men; are included in the true petition, and
he asks only for himself. When he says "forgive us as
we forgive," he imprecates a curse on himself, most
burning and dreadful; for when did he give or forgive?
The only "evil" he prays to be delivered from is worldly
trouble. He dbes not wish to be saved from avarice,
peevishness, passion, from false lips, a wicked heart, and
a life mean and dastardly. He can send Bibles to the
Heathen on the deck of his ship, and rurn, gunpowder,
and cast-iron muskets in the hold. The aim of this
man is to get the most out of his fellow-mortals, and
to do the least for them, at the same time keeping up
the phenomena of Goodness and Religion. To speak
somewhat figuratively, he would pursue a wicked calling in a plausible way, under the very windows of'
Heaven, at intervals singing hymns to God, while he
debased his image; contriving always to keep so near
the walls of the New Jerusalem, that when the destroying flood swept by, he might scramble in at a window,.
booted and spurred to ride over men, wearing his Sun-.
day face, with his Bible in his hand, to put the Saviour.
to the blush, and out-front the justice of Almighty God..
But let him pass also; he has his reward. Sentence is,
pronounced against all that is false. The Publicans,
is




206               THE PHARISEES.
and the Harlots enter into the kingdom of God before
that man.
TIlE PHARISEE OF THE PULPIT.  The Scribes and
Pharisees sat once in Moses' seat; now they go further
up and sit in the seat of the Messiah.  The Pharisee
of the Pulpit is worse than any other class, for he has
the faults of all the rest, and is set in a place where
even the slightest tarnish of human fiailty is a disgrace,
all the more disgraceful because contrasted with the
spotless vestments of that loftiest Spirit, that has bestrode the ages, and stands still before us as the highest
Ideal ever realized on the Earth, -the measure of a
perfect man. If the Gold rust, what shall the Iron do?
The fundamental sin of the Pharisee of the Pulpit is
this. He keeps up the Form, come what will come of
the Substance. So he embraces the form when the
substance is gone forever. He might be represented in
painting, as a man, his hands filled with husks, from
which the corn has long ago been shelled off, carried
away and planted, and has now grown up under God's
blessing, produced its thirty, or its hundred-fold, and
stands ripe for the reaper, waiting the sickle, while hungering crowds come up escaping from shipwreck, or
wanderings in the desert of Sin, and ask an alms, he
gives them a husk - only a husk; nothing but a husk.
"The hungry flock look tup and are not fed," while he
blasts with the curses of his church all such as would
guide the needy to those fields, where there is bread
enough and to spare. He wonders at "' the perverseness
of the age," that will no longer be fed with chaff and
husks.  He has seen but a single pillar of God's
Temple, and thinking that is the whole, condemns all
such as take delight in its beautiful porches, its many




THE PHARISEES.              207
mansions, and most holy place. So the fly, who had
seen but a nail-head on the dome of St. Peter's, condemned the Swallow who flew along its solemn vault,
and told the wonders she had seen. Our Pharisee is
resolved, God willing, or God not willing, to keep up
the form, so he would get into a false position should
he dare to think. His thought might not agree with
the form, and since he loves- the dream of his fathers
better than God's Truth, he forbids all progress in the
form. So he begins by not preaching what he believes,
and soon comes to preach what he believes not. These
are the men who boast they have Abraham to their
father, yet as it has been said, they come of quite
a different stock, which also is Ancient and of great renowTn.
The Pharisee's faith is in the letter, not the spirit.
Doubt in his presence, that the Book of Chronicles and
the Book of Kings are not perfectly inspired and infallibly true, on those very points where they are exactly
opposite; doubt that the Infinite God inspired David to
denounce his enemies, Peter to slay Ananias, Paul to
predict events that never came to pass, and Matthew
and Luke, John and Mark, to make historical statements, which can never be reconciled, and he sets you
down as an infidel, though you keep all the commandments from your youth up, lack nothing, and live as
John and Paul prayed they might live. WVith him the
unpardonable sin is to doubt that ecclesiastical doctrine
to be true, which Reason revolts at, and Conscience and
Faith spurn off with loathing. WVith him the Jews are
more than the human race. The Bible is his Master,
and not his Friend. He would not that you should
take its poems as its authors took them; nor its narratives for what they are worth, as you take others. He




208              THE PHARISEES.
will not allow you to accept the Life of Christianity;
but you must have its letter also, of which Paul and
Jesus said not a word. If you would drink the water
of life, you must take likewise the mud it has been filtered through, and drink out of an orthodox urn. You
must shut up Reason, Conscience, and Common Sense,
when you comle to those Books, which above all others
came out of this triple fountain. To those Books he
limits divine inspiration, and in his modesty has looked
so deep into the counsejs of God, that he knows the
live coal of Inspiration has touched no lips but Jewish.
No! nor never shall. Does the Pharisee do this from
true reverence for the Word of God, which was in the
beginning, which is Life, and which lighteth every man
that cometh into the world?  Let others judge. But
there is a blindness of the heart, to which the fabled
darkness of Egypt was noonday light.  That is not
the worst scepticism, which, with the Sadducee, denies
both angel and resurrection; but that which denies
man the right to think, to doubt, to conclude; which
hopes no light save from the ashes of the past, and
would hide God's truth from the world with the flap of
its long robe. We come at Truth only by faithful
thought, reflection, and contemplation when the long
flashes of light come in upon the soul. But Truth
and God are always on one side. Ignorance and a
blind and barren Faith favor only lies and their great
patriarch.
The Pharisee of the Pulpit talks much of the divine
authority of the Church and the Minister, as if the one
was any thing more than a body of men and women
met for moral and religious improvement, and the other
any thing but a single man they had asked to teach
them, and be an example to the flock, and not " Lord




THE PHARISEES.              209
of God's heritage."  Had this Pharisee been born in
Turkey, he would have been as zealous for the Mahometan church, as he now is for the Christian. It is
only the accident of birth that has given him the Bible'
instead of the Koran, the Shaster, the Vedam, or the
Shu-King. This person has no real faith in man, or he
would not fear when he essayed to walk, nor would
fancy that while every other science went forward,
Theology, the Queen of Science, should be bound
hand and foot, and shut up in darkness without sun or
star; no faith in Christ, or he would not fear that
Search and Speech should put out the light of life; no
faith in God, or he would know that His Truth, like
virgin gold, comes brighter out of the fire of thought,
which burns up only the dross. Yet this Pharisee
speaks of God, as if he had known the Infinite from
His boyhood; had looked over his shoulder when he
laid the foundations of the earth; had entered into all
his counsels, and known to the tithing of a hair, how
much was given to Moses, how much to Confucius, and
how much to Christ, and had seen it written in the
book of fate, that Christianity, as it is now unde)rstood,
was the loftiest Religion man could ever know, and all
the treasure of the Most High was spent and gone, so
that we had nothing more to hope for. Yet the loftiest
spirits that have ever lived have blessed the things of
God; have adored him in all his works, in the dew-drops
and the stars; have felt at times his Spirit warm their
hearts, and blessed him wvho was all in all, but bowed
their faces down before his presence, and owned they
could not by searching find him out unto perfection;
have worshipped and loved and prayed, but said no
more of the nature and essence of God, for Thought
has its limits, though presumption it seems hasnone.
18"




210               THE PHARISEES.
The Pharisee speaks of Jesus of Nazareth. How he
dwells on his forbearance, his gentleness, but how he
forgets that righteous indignation which spoke through,him, applied the naked point of God's truth to Pharisees.and Hypocrites, and sent them back with rousing admonitions. He heeds not the all-embracing Love that
dwelt in him, and wept at Sin, and worked with bloody
sweat for the oppressed and downtrodden.  He speaks
of Paul and Peter as if they were masters of the Soul,
and not merely its teachers and friends. Yet should
those flaming apostles start up from the ground in their
living holiness, and tread our streets, call things by their
right names, and apply Christianity to life, as they once
did, and now would do were they here, think you our
Pharisee would open his house, like Roman Cornelius,,or Simon of Tarsus?
There are two divisions of this class of Pharisees;
-those who do not think, — and they are harmless and
iperhaps useful in their way, like snakes that have no
venom, but catch worms and' flies, - and those who do,think. The latter think one thing in their study, and,preach a very different thing in their pulpit. In the one
place they are free as water, ready to turn any way; in
-the other, conservative as ice. They fear philosophy
should disturb the church as she lies bedridden at
home, so they would throw the cobwebs of Authority
and Tradition over the wings of Truth, not suffering'her with strong pinions to fly in the midst of Heaven,,and communicate between man and God. They think
"' you must use a little deceit in the world," and so use,not a little. These men speak in public of the inspira-;tion of the Bible, as if it were all inspired with equal'infallibility; but what do they think at home?  In. his:study, the Testament is a collection of legendary tales;




THE PHARISEES.              211
in the pulpit it is the everlasting Gospel; if any man
shall add to it, the seven last plagues shall be added to
him; if any one takes from it, his name shall be taken
from the Book of Life. If there be a sin in the land,
or a score of sins tall as the Anakimn, which go to and
fro in the earth, and shake the churches with their tread;
let these sins be popular, be loved by the powerful, protected by the affluent; will the Pharisee sound the
alarm, lift up the banner, sharpen the sword, and
descend to do battle? There shall not a man of them
move his tongue;" no, they are dumb dogs, that cannot bark, sleeping, lying down, loving to slumber; yes
they are greedy dogs, that can never have enough."
But let there be four or five men in obscure places, not
mighty through power, renown, or understanding, or
eloquence; let them utter in modesty a thought that is
new, which breathes of freedom, or tends directly
towards God, and every Pharisee of the Pulpit shall
cry out from Cape Sable to the Lake of the Woods,
till the land ring again. Doubtless it is heroic thus to
fight a single new thought, rather than a score of old
sins. Doubtless it is a very Christian zeal thus to pursue obscurity to its retreat, and mediocrity to its littleness, and startle humble Piety from her knees, while the
Goliath of sin walks with impudent forehead at noonday in front of their armies, and defies the living God;
-a very Christian zeal, which would destroy a modest
champion, however true, who, declining the canonical
weapons, should bring down the foe and smite off the
giant's head. Two persons are mentioned in the Bible,
who have had many followers: the one is Lot's wife,
who perished looking back upon Sodom; the other Demetrius, who feared that " this our craft is in danger to
be set at nought."




212               THE PHARISEES.
Such, then, are the Pharisees. VWe ought to accept
whatever is good in them; but their sins should be exposed. Yet in our indignation against the vice, charity
should always be kept for the man. There is " a soul
of Goodness in things evil," even in the Pharisee, for he
also is a man. It is somewhat hard to BE all that God
made us to become, and if a man is so cowardly he will
only aim to sEEM something, he deserves pity, but certainly not scorn or hate. Bad as he appears, there is
yet somewhat of Goodness left in him, like Hope at the
bottom of Pandora's box. Fallen though he is, he is
yet a man, to love and be loved. Above all men is the
Pharisee to be pitied. He has grasped at a shadow,
and he feels sometimes that he is lost. WVith many a
weary step and many a groan, he has hewn him out
broken cisterns that hold no water, and sits dusty and
faint beside them; "a deceived heart has turned him
aside," and there is " a lie in his right hand."  Meantime the stream of life hard by falls from the Rock of
Ages; its waters flow for all; and when the wornt pilgrim stoops to drink, he rises a stronger man, and thirsts
no more for the hot and polluted fountain of Deceit and
Sin. Further down men leprous as Naaman may dip
and be healed.
While these six classes of Pharisees pursue their
wicked way, the path of real manliness and Religion
opens before each soul of us all. The noblest sons of
God have trodden therein, so that no one need wander.
Moses, and Jesus, and John, and Patil, have gained their
salvation by being real men; content to seek Goodness
and God, they found their reward; they blessed the
nations of the earth, and entered the kingdom of religious souls. It is not possible for Falseness or Reality
to miss of its due recompense. The net of divine jus



THE PHARISEES.              213
tice sweeps clean to its bottom the ocean of man, and
all things, that are, receive their due. The Pharisee
may pass for a Christian, and men may be deceived for
a time, but God never. In his impartial balance it is
only real Goodness that has weight. The* Pharisee
may keep up the show of Religion; but what avails
it? Real sorrows come home to that false heart; and
when the strong man tottering calls on God for more
strength, how shall the false man stand? Before the
Justice of the All-seeing, where shall he hide?  Men
may have the Pharisee's Religion, if they will, and they
have his reward, which begins in self-deception, and
ends in ashes and dust. They may, if they, choose,
have the Christian's Religion, and they have also his
reward, which begins in the great resolution of the
heart, continues in the action of what is best and most
manly in hutnan nature, and ends in Tranquillity and
Rest for the Soul, which words are powerless to describe, but which man must feel to know. To each
man, as to Hercules, there come two counsellors; the
one of the Flesh, to offer enervating pleasures and unreal joys for the shadow of Virtue; the other of the
Spirit, to demand a life that is lovely, holy, and true.
" Which will you have? ",is the question put by Providence to each of us; and the answer is the daily life of
the Pharisee or the Christian. Thus it is of a man's
own choice that he is cursed or blessed; that he ascends
to Heaven, or goes down to Hell.




VIII.
ON TIIE EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.*
IT is sometimes fancied that here in New England
the education of the mass of men and women, who do
all the work of the world, is so near perfection, that
little need be done but keep what we have got to attain
the highest destination of any people.  But as things
are sometimes seen more clearly by their reflection in
an artificial mirror, than when looked at in the natural
way, let us illustrate our own condition by contrasting
it with another widely different.  Let us suppose we
were to go to some region in the heart of the African
continent, and should find a highly cultivated nation,
with towns and cities, and factories and commerce,
equipped with the thousand arts which diffhse comfort
all over society, but should find the whole class of lawyers were ignorant men. That they could scarcely read
and write, and never read any thing beyond the newspapers, books of legal forms, and similar matters of the
most trifling magnitude. That they could repeat the
* From Lectures before the American Institute for Instruction.
August, 1841.




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     215
laws inherited from  their ancestors, or enacted from
time to time, by their contemporaries, but never dreamed
of inquiring whether these laws were right or wrong;
still less of examining the principle on which they
rested, or ought to rest, and then of attempting to improve them. That they generally aimed to get on with
the smallest outlay of education, the least possible expenditure of thought wherewith they could keep their
sorry station of legal drudges, yet still that the nation
looked to them, in some measure, for the protection of
its legal rights.
Let us imagine also, that in our fabulous country the
physicians were in the same state of ignorance with the
lawyers. That they had inherited from their fathers a
few traditional rules of medical practice, which they
applied mechanically to all sorts of cases, but never
thought of looking into the cause or process of disease;
of discovering the laws of health; of devising new remedies, or making the old more efficacious. That they
took little care to get an accurate knowledge of their
own profession, and no pains at all to increase their
stock of general knowledge, acquire mental skill, and
give a generous and healthful development to all the
faculties with which God endows the race of men.
That they made their calling a drudgery, which gave
them daily bread, but nothing more. That their whole
life was mere handicraft. That they started in their
profession with a slender outfit of education, either
special or general; usually grew more and more stupid
after they nwere five-and-twenty, and only in rare instances made a continual and life-long progress in what
becomes a man, thus growing old in being taught and
attaining in life a complete manhood, but still that the




216      EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
public depended on this class for the preservation of the
general health.
To go still further, let us fancy that the clergy also
wandered in the same way of ignorance, and that class,
which in some countries is the best instructed, had here
the least cultivation. That taking the advice which the
devil, in a popular legend, gives to a student of divinity,
they "stuck to words, and words only."  That they
could repeat a few prayers, learned by rote from their
predecessors; took their religion on trust from their
fathers, never asking if the one were perfect, or the
other true.  That they both trembled and cursed
when the least innovation was made in either. That
they could go through the poor mummery of the African
ritual, with sonorous unction, by their bigotry, making
an abomination of what should be a delight, but never
attempting to understand what the service meant.
That'they could give official advice to the people, on
days of religious ceremony, which advice consisted
solely of commonplace maxims of prudence, virtue, and
religion, which all but the children knew as well as they.
That the mass of the clergy never dreamed of reading
a book which had thought in it; never made that " vehement application of mind" which the great Roman
called " study;" knew little of the history of their own
country, or the state of other lands; made no scientific
study of theology, which it was their duty to teach and
explain. That they paid no attention to science; knew
no more of the stars, or the flowers, the laws of matter,
or the laws of mind, than the kindred clod they trod
down as they walked. That literature was a department they never entered, either as host or guest. That
they were ignorant of the various forms their religion




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.    217had assumed, and knew little of even the rise and pro —
gress of the faith they professed; sometimes taught as.
old what was of but few years existence, and blasted
things as new which really were of ancient days. In a
word, let us fancy that they were the most ignorant
part of the population; spending their leisure, (of which,
they had abundance,) in sleep; in lounging about the.
resorts of the idle; in retailing, or inventing both small}
gossip and graver scandal; in chattering of the last
funeral or the next wedding; in talking African politics,.
whereof they knew nothing but words; in smoking; in
chewing the Betelnut; in sitting at home more dead
than alive. That when asked to improve and grow
wiser, they replied, " We know enough already to perform our official duties. More learning, accomplishment, and skill might make us mad, and lead to innovation, and besides we have no leisure to study, and
could only become wise by neglecting a well-known
duty." Ignorant as they were, let us suppose the re —
fined and cultivated African public depended on them
for the support of religion.
Now to make this picture of society more complete,,
let us imagine that these professions had fallen into disrepute, and few not born therein ever entered them, except men unfit for any other employment, who found a
natural inward vocation for these as the proper business
of the ignorant and the stupid. That soon as a noble
spirit, accidentally born in their ranks, resolved to improve himself, educate his family, and really did set his
feet forward in this work, and thought for himself, and
took time to study and grow wiser, urging others to do;
the same, that he was met with this retort, " Why get
more wisdom! Can you not eat, and drink, and sleep;
without wisdom? Can you not, by diligent prudence%
19




218      EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
leave your children, who shall come after you in the
same craft, to eat more daintily, and drink in greater
excess, and have more leisure, and sleep with more delicateness, and all this with no wisdom at all? Why,
then, waste so much time and labor in this monstrous
bugbear of an' education?'  Do you not know there
is something better, both for yourself and your children,
than a mind, heart, and soul, perfectly cultivated as
God designed them to be?  Think you an instructed
soul is better than a well-fed body, or that the latter is
not worth the most without the former? Besides, do
you not know that all wisdom needed in the professions
comes by nature, like hands and feet? Sir, you rebel
against Providence, you are a fool, and we pity you."
Suppose they sought out the wisdom of all the ancients,
and demonstrated by proof irrefragable that professional
men had always been the most ignorant in the land,
and it had come to be a proverb that "Dunces and
fools made the best lawyers, physicians, and clergymen;" that reasoning as some always do, they declared 
"what has been must be forever,"' and so accused the
reformers of violating the fundamental article of God's
constitution, which was that an error, or a sin, which
had once got foothold of the earth, should never be dislodged, or even molested.
Imagine, on the other hand, that while these three
classes were sunk in the most desperate ignorance, the
farmers, the butchers, the mechanics, the traders, the
haberdashers of all sorts, were instructed men, who
thought for themselves. That they had free schools for
all ages, and that in abundance; academies and colleges, where Learning lit her gentle flame, and Genius
shed down the light of her God-given inspiration to
guide the young to wisdom and virtue. That beside




EDTJCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.    219
these general institutions, all supported at the public
expense, they had specific establishments for each particular art or science. That the farmers had schools for
agriculture, and the mechanics for the science of their
art, and the merchants for cdmmerce, and that all classes
of the people, from the cooper to the king, - except the
drones of those three professions,- were intelligent
and instructed men; had minds well accomplished;
good manners; refined amusements, and met together
for the interchange of thoughts no less than words, and
yearly grew up to be a nobler population.
Let us add still further, to put the last touch to this
ideal picture, that when one was born the son of a lawyer, a physician, or a clergyman, and gifted by Heaven
with better parts than the mass of men, or when by any
adventure he became desirous of growth in qualities
that become a man, he left the calling of his fathers,
became a cooper, a fisherman, or a blacksmith, solely
for the sake of the education he could get in the trade,
which he fancied he could not get in the -profession, and
that he did this, even when he loved the profession he
left, having a natural aptitude therefor, and hated the
particular craft to which love of perfection impelled
him, and that as a natural consequence, there were men
in all these trades who had little natural taste, or even
ability for their employment; who longed to quit it, and
were retained therein when its ranks were overcrowded,
and themselves as good as useless, solely because they
saw no chance to educate their better nature in any of
the three professions.
MVhat should we say to this state of things?  What
to the fact, that here were three classes of men, who,
instead of getting the most they could of wisdom, were
content to take up the most beggarly pittance where



220     EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
with their drudgery could be done? Doubtless we
should say it was a very sad state of affairs; most
foolish and monstrous. It was wrong that these classes
should continue in ignorance, with no effort made for
their liberation. It was Arong the ablest heads in
Africa, - who are the natural sovereigns of the land,did not take up the matter, and toil day and night to
redress an evil so striking and fearful; it was doubly
wrong that strong minds left a calling in which they
were born; to which they were adapted by nature and
choice, to seek out of it an education they might find
in it, had they the manliness to make the search. It
was false in them to desert the calling for which nature
made them, seeking to rise above it, not seeking to raise
their calling to their own stature. We should thank
heaven that we had a Christian rule for the strong helping the weak, and should say, " Such evils could exist
only in a heathen land," and pious men would sail in
the next ship to set matters right.
But we have only to change the names a little, and
instead of lawyers, physicians, and clergymen, to read
"the greater part of laboring men and women," and
this fabulous country is in the midst of Massachusetts,
not the heart of Africa. Of us is the fable told, and on
this body of men depends the ark of our political salvation. In New England the men of these three professions are generally the best educated men in the land.
They go diligently through a long process of general
training, well adapted to exercise and strengthen the
memory, judgment, and imagination, and afford a
variety and compass of useful knowledge. They spend
years, likewise, in gaining the information and skill
requisite for their peculiar craft. We have colleges for
the general training, and other seminaries for the special




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     221
education of these men, for all see the advantage which
accrues to the public from having educated lawyers,
physicians, and clergymen in its ranks. But meantime
the education of all the others, as a general rule, is
grossly neglected. But there seems little reason, if any
at all, why men destined for these three professions
should be better educated than farmers and mechanics.
An educated lawyer, his mind stored with various information, memory, fancy, judgment, and all his faculties
quick and active, with skill to turn them all to the best
account in his special calling, is, no doubt, a safeguard,
an ornament, and a blessing to any country; and he is
this, not because he is a lawyer, but a free, educated
man, living man-like, and would be just as useful were
he a blacksmith or a carpenter; for it is not the place a
man stands in which makes him the safeguard, ornament, and blessing, but the man who stands in the
place.
It is time that we in New England had given up that
old notion, that a man is to be educated that he may
by his education serve the State, and fill a bar or a pulpit, be a captain or a constable; time we had begun to
act, and in good earnest, on this principle, that a man
is to be educated because he is a MAN, and has faculties
and capabilities which God sent him into this world to
develop and mature. The education of classes of men
is, no doubt, a good thing, as a single loaf is something
in a famished household. But the education of all born,
of woman is a plain duty. If reason teaches any thing
it is this. If Christianity teaches any thing, it is that
ien serve God with their mind, heart, and soul, and
this, of course, demands an education of mind, heart,
and soul, not only in lawyers, physicians, and clergymen, but in'all the sons and daughters of Adam. Men
19




222      EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
are to seek this for themselves; the public is to provide
it, not because a man is to fill this or that station, and
so needs the culture, but because he is a man, and
claims the right, under the great charter whereby God'created him an immortal soul.
Now it is true that we have, here and there, an in-:structed man, all his faculties awake and active, a man
master of himself, and thus attaining his birthright
" dominion over all flesh."  But still the greater part of:men and women, even here, are ignorant. The mark
they aim at is low. It is not a maxim generally admitted, or often acted upon, that this world is a school;
that man is in it, not merely to eat and drink, and vote,
and get gain or honors, (as many Americans seem to
fancy,) but that he is here and to do all these things for
the sake of growing up to the measure of a complete
man.  We have put the means for the end, and the end
for the means.
Every one sees the change education makes in animals. We could not plough with a wild buffalo, nor
hunt with a dog just taken savage from the'woods.
But here the advantage is not on the animal's side.
His education is against his nature. It lessens his animal qualities, so that he is less a dog or a buffalo than
he was before. With man the change it produces is
greater still, for here it is not against nature. It enhances his human qualities, and he is more a man after,it than before. All the difference between the English
scholar, with his accomplishment and skill, and the
English boor, who is almost an animal; all the differ-ence between the wise and refined Brahmin and the debased and enslaved Pariah; all the difference between
the best educated men of Massachusetts and the natives




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     223
of New Zealand, ignorant, savage, cannibal as they are,
comes of this circumstance,- one has had a better education than the other. (At birth they were equally of
the kingdom of heaven.i The same humanity burns in
all hearts; the same soul ebbs and flows in all that are
born of woman. The peculiarity of each man, - slight
and almost imperceptible when measured by his whole
nature, -and the particular circumstances to which he
is exposed, make all this difference between savage and
civilized. Some five-and-twenty centuries ago our ancestors, in the wilds of Europe, were quite as ignorant,
cruel, and savage, as these men of New Zealand, and
we have become what we are, only through the influence of culture and education, which ages have produced and matured. But each child in Boston is born
a savage as much as at Otaheite. No doubt, in the passage our fathers went through from the savage to the
civilized state, much has been lost, but more is won,
and it is time to retrieve what is lost, and grasp more
for the future. No doubt there are some in this, as in
all civilized countries, who are still barbarians, and by
no means gainers through the civilization of their brethren; but it is time the foremost rank turned round
to look after their straggling brothers. If education,
through schools, churches, books, and all the institutions
of society were neglected all over the earth, for a single
generation, the whole race would fall back into a savage
state. But if the culture of one single generation could
be enhanced, the spiritual welfare of mankind would
also be enhanced to the end of time.
It must appear plain to all who will think, that after
providing for the support and comfort of the body,which mrust be the basis of all spiritual operations, —
the great work of the men and women now on the earth




224     EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
is to educate themselves, and the next generation of men
and women rising up to take their place. All things
which do not tend directly or indirectly to one of these
two ends, - the physical or the spiritual development
of man, - are worse than worthless. We are sent into
the world that we might accomplish this work of education. The world without harmonizes most beautifully with the craving spirit within. If a man start with
the requisite -outfit, and use diligently the means before
him, all the callings of life, the vicissitudes that chequer
our days; the trials we are in; the crosses we carry;
our hopes and our fears; our foes and our friends; our
disappointment and success; are all guides and instructors to help us on, be our condition what it may.
Now it may be laid down as a rule that will stand
the test of rigid scrutiny, that all men are to be educated to the greatest possible extent; that education is
to be regarded as an end, valuable for itself, and not
simply as a means, valuable because conducive to some
other end; and also that the whole community owes
each-individual in it the best education his nature and
the circumstances of the public will allow. But in opposition to this rule, demanding the education of all, it
may be said, as it always has been, by the educated
themselves, that there must be an educated class it is
true, but also, from the imperfection of man, the necessity of the case, and the very nature of things, there
must be an ignorant class also; that the hard work
necessary for the comfortable subsistence of man in society renders it indispensable that seven eighths of men
should continue in almost hopeless ignorance. This
doctrine has been taught these thousand years, and
while it has sometimes been accepted by the wise and
the benevolent, whom the difficulty of the case forced




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.    225
to despair, —it has too generally become the creed of
the strong, and the indolent, and the selfish. But at
first sight it seems to belong to that same class of sayings with the remark of a distinguished " divine " of the
Church, that if there were no Vice to hate, there would
be no Virtue to love, and this other of a similar "divine "
of the State, that without slavery in the one class there
would be no freedom in the other. No doubt, under
any possible circumstances there will always be a great
difference in the attainments and powers of meh, for
this difference originates in the difference of endowments God bestows,-no education can prevent this.
But is there any argument to show, that the laboring
men of New England cannot attain as good an education as the mass of lawyers and clergymen now
possess?
One great argument in support of the common notion, that the majority of the human family must
always be ignorant, is drawn from history. Men appeal
to this authority, and quote precedents, in great numbers, to show it has always been so, and so must always
be. But it does not follow the future must be just like
the past, for hitherto no two ages have been just alike.
God does not repeat himself, so to say, nor make two
ages or two men just alike. The history of past times
does indeed show that the mass of men have always
been ignorant, and oppressed likewise. But few men
in America think this a sound argument to justify oppression. Is it stronger for ignorance? Let us look
more carefully at this same history, - which shows that
there always has been an ignorant class, - perhaps it
has other things to say likewise. It shows a progress
in man's condition, almost perpetual, from the first beginnings of history down to the present day. To look




226     EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
at the progress of our own ancestors, - two thousand
years gone by, no man within the bounds of Britain
could read or write; three fourths of the people were
no better than slaves; all were savage heathens. If a
cultivated Greek had proposed to bring in civilization
and the arts, no doubt Adelgither, or some other island
chief, would have mocked at the introduction of agriculture and the mechanic arts, and would foretell the
silnking of the firm land through the wrath of "allpowerful Hu," if such measures were attempted.
Within a very few centuries there was no man in
England'who could read and write, except the clergy,
and very few of that class. No doubt, it was then a
popular maxim with bishops and prebends, that men of
each other class, from the cobbler to the courtier, were so
engaged in their peculiar craft they could not be taught
to read and write. The maxim, no doubt, was believed. Nay more, even now there are in that same
England, men of wealth, education, rank, and influence,
who teach that the laboring people ought not to be
taught to read and write, and therefore they hang,perilous position, - as heavy weights on the wheels of
reform. Yet agriculture and the arts came into the
land; one by one, as time passed by, men came up from
the nobles, the gentry, the people, learned to read and
write, and that to good purpose, and laboring men are
now beginning to thrive on what has been branded as
poison. Now, then, these opinions, that laboring men
ought not to be taught even to read the Bible; that
none but the clergy need literary education; that agriculture would sink the island, are not these worth quite
as much as that oft-repeated maxim, that a sound, generous, manly education is inconsistent with a life of
hard work? Experience has shown that civilization




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     227
did not provoke the vengeance of Hu, the all-powerful;
that men can be instructed in letters and science, though
not priests; that a laboring population, one- most wofully oppressed by unjust labor, can learn to read, at
least radical newspapers, and the Bible, still more radical in a false state of things. Experience daily shows
us men who, never relaxing their shoulders from the
burden of manly toil, yet attain an education of mind
better than that of the most cultivated Englishman
seven centuries ago. No man needs dogmatize in this
matter. Few will venture to prophesy, but reasoning
from history, and the gradual progress it reveals, are we
to suppose the world will stop with us? Is it too much
to hope, that in our free, wealthy, Christian land, the
time will come when that excellence of education, that
masterly accomplishment of mind, which we think now
is attainable only by four or five men out of ten thousand, shall become so common that he will be laughed
at or pitied who has it not? Certainly the expectation
of this result is not so visionary as that of our present
state would have appeared a single century ago. To
win this result we must pay its price. An old proverb
represents the Deity saying to man, "V What would you
have? Pay for it, and take it." The rule holds good
in education as iii all things else. A man cannot filch
it, as coin, from his neighbors, nor inherit it from his
fathers, for David had never a good son, nor Solomon a
wise one. It must be won, each man toiling for himself. But many are born of the ignorant and the poor;
they see not how to gain this pearl for themselves; as
things now are, they find no institution to aid them, and
thus grow up and die bodies, and no more. The good
sense, the manly energy of the natives of New England, their courage, and fortitude, and faith, - the brain




228      EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
in the head, the brain in the hand, have hitherto made
them  successful in all they undertake.  We have
attained physical comfort to such a degree that the
average duration of human life with us is many times
greater than in Italy, the most civilized of States sixteen
centuries ago; physical comfort with'philanthropists
then never dreamed of in their gayest visions. We
have attained also a measure of political and civil freedom, to which the fairest States of antiquity, whether
in Greece, Egypt, or Judea, were all strangers; civil
freedom which neither the Roman nor Athenian sage
deemed possible in his ideal State. Is it, then, too
much to hope, - reasoning from the past, - that when
the exhaustless energies of the American mind are
turned to this subject, we shall go further still, and
under these more favorable circumstances, rear up a
noble population, where all shall be not only well fed,
but well instructed also, where all classes, rich and poor,
if they wish, may obtain the fairest culture of all their
powers, and men be free in fact as well as in name?
Certainly he must have the gift of prophecy, who shall
tell us this cannot be. As we look back there is much
in the retrospect to wound and make us bleed. But
what then? what is not behind is before us. A future,
to be worked for and won, is better than a past, to be
only remembered.
If we look at the analogies of nature, all is full of
encouragement. Each want is provided for at the table
God spreads for his many children. Every sparrow in
the fields of New England has " scope and verge
enough," and a chance to be all its organization will
allow. Can it be, then, that man, — of more value
than many sparrows, - of greater worth than the whole
external creation, —must of necessity have no chance




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     229
to be all his nature will allow, but that seven eighths of
the human family are doomed to be " cabined, cribbed,
confined;" kept on short allowance of every thing but
hard work, with'no chance to obtain manhood, but
forced to be always dwarfs and pigmies, manikins in
intellect, not men? Let us beware how we pay God
in Caesar's pence, and fasten on eternal wisdom what is
the reproach of our folly, selfishness, and sin. The old
maxim that any one, —class or individual, —must be
subservient to the State, sacrificed to the sin and in —
terest of the mass, — that kindred doctrine, - a fit
corollary,- that he who works with the hand can do
little else, is a foul libel on nature and nature's God.
It came from a state of things false to its very bottom.
Pity we had not left it there. We are all gifted with!
vast faculties, which we are sent into this world to mature; and if there is any occupation in life which preeludes a man from the harmonious development of all
his faculties, that occupation is false before Reason and.
Christianity, and the sooner it ends the better.
We all know there are certain things which society
owes to each man in it. Among them are a defence
from violence; justice in matters between man and
man; a supply of comforts for the body, when the man
is unable to acquire them for himself; remuneration for
what society takes away. Our policy, equally wise and!
humane, attempts to provide them for the humblest
child that is born amongst us, and in almost every case
these four things are actually provided. But there is
one more excellent gift which society owes to each;.
that is a chance to obtain the best education the man's
nature will allow and the community afford. To what
end shall we protect a man's body from war and mid20




230      EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
night violence; to what end give him justice in the
courthouse; repay him for what society takes to itself;
to what end protect him from cold and hunger, and
nakedness and want, if he is left in ignorance, with no
opportunity to improve in head, or heart, or soul? If
this opportunity be not given, the man might, as it
were, bring an action before heaven's high chancery, and
say, " I was a stranger, and ye took me not in; naked,
and ye clothed me not. Ignorant, -ye would not instruct me. Weak and unarmed, —ye put me in the
forefront of the battle, where my utter ruin was unavoidable; I had strong passions, which ye did not give
me religion to charm down. I waxed wicked, and was
scarred all over with the leprosy of sin, but ye took no
pity on me. I hungered and thirsted after the bread of
life, - not knowing my need, - ye gave me a stone,
the walls of a jail,- and I died ignominious and unpitied, the victim of society, not its foe."
Here, in Massachusetts, it seems generally admitted,
the State owes each man the opportunity to begin an
education of himself. This notion has erected the fair
and beautiful fabric of our free schools; the cradle of
freedom; the hope of the poor; the nursery of that
spirit which upholds all that is good in Church and
State. But as yet only a beginning is made. We are
still on short allowance of wisdom and cultivation; not
a gill of water a day for each man. Our system of
popular education, even where it is most perfect, is not
yet in harmony with the great American idea, which
has fought our battles with the elements, built up our
institutions, and made us a great people. It is an old
transatlantic system of education, which is too often followed, not congenial with our soil, our atmosphere, our
people.  From feudal times and governments which




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     231
knew little of the value of the human soul, the equality.
of all before God, the equal rights of strong and weak,
their equal claims for a manly education, - from them
we have derived the notion, that only a few need a liberal, generous education, and that these few must be
the children of wealth, or the well-born sons of genius,
who have many hands and dauntless courage, and faith
to remove mountains, who live on difficulties, and, like
gravitation itself, burst through all impediments. There
will always be men whom nothing can keep uneducated; men like Franklin and Bowditch, who can break
down every obstacle; men gifted with such tenacity of
resolution; such vigor of thought; such power of selfcontrol, they live on difficulties, and seem strongest
when fed most abundantly with that rugged fare; men
that go forth strong as the sun and as lonely, nor brook
to take assistance from the world of men. For such no
provision is needed. They fight their own battles, for
they are born fully armed, terrible from their very beginning.  To them  difficulty is nothing.  Poverty but'
makes them watchful. Shut out from books and teachers, - they have instructors in the birds and beasts, and
whole Vatican libraries in the trees and stones. They
fear no discouragement. They go on the errand God
sent them, trusting in him to bless the gift he gave.
They beat the mountain of difficulty into dust, and get
the gem it could not hide from an eye piercing as
Argus. But these men are rare, — exceptions to the
rule; strong souls in much-enduring flesh. Others, of
greater merit perhaps, but less ruggedness of spirit, less
vigor of body, who cannot live with no sympathy but
the silent eloquence of nature, and God's rare visitations of the inner man, require the aid of some institutions to take them up where common schools let them




232       EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
fall, and bear them on till they can walk alone. Over
many a village churchyard in the midst of us it may
still be writ, with no expression of contingency,
" Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid,
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire,
Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll,
Chill penu.ry repressed their noble rage,
And firoze the genzial current of the soul."
To have a perfect people, said pagan Plato, we must
have perfect institutions, which means, in plain English,
to enable laboring men and women to obtain a good
education, we must have some institutions to go further
than our common schools.
But this great subject of public education as yet excites but little interest among us. The talk made about
it, by a few wise and good men, proves only that we
have it not. It is only lost goods that men cry in the
streets.  We acknowledge that we have no scholars to
match the learned clerks of other lands, where old institutions and the abundant leisure of the wealthy, have
trained men to accomplishment and skill we never
reach. We boast, and with reason, of the superior education of the great mass of men and women with us.
Certain it is that learning is more marked for its diffusion in the mass, than its accumulation in the individual. It is with it as with bread in a besieged city.
Each person gets a mouthful, but not one a full meal.
This, no doubt, is better than it would be for many to
perish with hunger, while a few had enough and to




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     233
spare. Some other countries are worse off' in this particular than ourselves. The more the pity. We may
rather weep for them  than rejoice for ourselves. We
can only boast of building poorly on the foundation
our fathers laid,- laid so nobly in their toil and want
and war. An absolute monarch in Europe, recently
deceased, not holding his place by the people's choice,
but kept on his throne by hired bayonets, and, therefore,
feeling no judicial accountability to them; indebted to
a large amount, has yet done more for the education of
all classes of his people, than all the politicians of the
twenty-six States have done with the wealth of the public lands and the surplus revenue before them, and the
banner of freedom over their heads. We have orators
enough to declaim at the corners of the street about the
War of Independence, - now the blows are all over;
and the sins of George III., - now he is dead and forgotten; in favor of a " National Bank, " or a " Sub-treasury,"- as the popular current happens to set; but very
few to take up the holy and neglected cause of education, insisting that all men, rich and poor, and low and
high, shall receive this priceless boon.  Alas for us!
These few are received with cold hands and empty
houses, while the village brawler, ranting of politics, collects the huzzaing crowd from nine towns round. The
reason is plain,; there are ins for those out, and outs for
those in. A " National Bank" and a " Sub-treasury"
have dollars in them, -at least the people are told that
it is so, - men hope to get dollars out of them. While
the most "promising" friend of education offers only
wisdom, virtue, religion, things that never appear in the.
price-current, and will not weigh down an ounce in the
town-scales. We know the worth'of dollars, — which
is something, yes, it is much. Give the dollars their
20 *




234      EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
due. But alas, the worth of educated men and women
we do not know!
The fact that in our country and these times men find
it necessary to leave a particular calling, which they like,
and for which they are fitted by nature and choice, -
that of a shoemaker, a blacksmith, or a tanner, - and
enter one of the three professions, for which they have
no fondness, nor even capacity, solely for the sake of an
education, -shows very plainly into what a false position we have been brought. Wte often lay the blame
on Providence, and it seems generally thought to be a
law of the Most High, that a man, with the faculties
of an angel, should be born into the world, and live in
it threescore years and ten, in the blameless pursuit of
some calling indispensable to society, and yet die out
of it without possibility of developing and maturing
these faculties, thus at the last rather ending a long
death, than completing a life. This seems no enactment of that Lawgiver. He made man upright, and
twe have sought out many inventions, some of them
very foolish. As things now are, an excellent brazier,
a tolerable tinker or tailor is often spoiled to make an
indifferent lawyer, a sluggish physician, - coadjutor of
death, - or a parson, whose "drowsy tinkling lulls the,distant fold," solely because these men,-innocent of
sinister designs, -wanted an education, which, as things
were, could not readily be got in the trade, but came as
a requisite in the profession. Now, in all countries, the
mass of men must work; in our land, they must work;and rule likewise. Some method must, therefore, be
found to educate this mass, or it is plain our free institutions must go to the ground, for ignorance and freedom
cannot exist together more than fire and water in the,samrre vessel.




EDUCATION OF TIIE LABORING CLASS.    235
No doubt we have done much. But how much more
remains to be done[ That absolute monarch, before
spoken of, has done more than all the free Americans
in this matter, and made his people our superiors in almost every -department of intellectual, moral, and religious education. The American mind has never yet
been applied in earnest to this great work, as to cornmrerce, and clearing land, building factories and railroads.  We do' not yet realize the necessity  of
educating all men.  Accordingly, men destined for
the "learned" professions, as they are called, hasten
through the preparatory studies thereof, and come half
educated to the work. The laboring man starts with a
very small capital of knowledge or mental skill, and
then thinks he has no time for any thing but work;
never reads a book which has thought in it; never
attempts to make his trade teach him, "getting and
spending, he lays waste his powers."  Children are
hurried from the common school just as they begin to
learn, and thus half its benefits are lost. The old rule,
that " what is gained in time is lost in power," is quite
as true in education as in Mechanics, as our experience
is teaching us at great cost. Since the advantages of
the common school are not fully enjoyed, many, whose
voices might be heard, do not see the necessity of a
higher series of free schools, -at least one in a county,
- which should do for all what the college now does
for a part. Those only feel the want of such who are
without voice in the Commonwealth, whose cry onlyHeaven hears. If such existed, or even without them,
if the common schools were what all might be and
some are, and their advantages properly used, then the
mechanic, the farmer, the shopkeeper might start with a
good capital of knowledge, good habits of study, and




236     EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
his trade, if temperately pursued, would teach him as
much as the professions teach men embarked therein.
AWdere two men of the same ability, and the same intellectual discipline, to embark in life, one a clergyman
and the other a farmer, each devoting eight or ten hours
a day to his vocation, spending the rest of his time in
the same wise way, the superiority in twenty years
could scarcely be on the clergyman's side.
But besides this lack of mental capital, with which
laboring men set out in life, there is another evil, and
even greater, which comes of the mechanical and material tendency of our countrymen at this time. They
ask a result which they can see and handle, and since
wisdom and all manly excellence are not marketable
nor visible commodities, they say they have no time for
mental culture. A young mechanic, coming into one
of our large country towns, and devoting all the spare
time he could snatch from labor or sleep to hard study,
-was asked by an older companion, " What do you
want to be?" supposing he wished to be a constable, or
a captain, or a member of the " great and general court,"
it may be. The answer was, " I wish to be a man."
"' A man! " exclaimed the questioner, thinking his friend
had lost his wits. " A man! are you not twenty-one
years old and six feet high?"  Filled with this same
foolish notion, men are willing to work so many hours
of the blessed day, that the work enslaves the man.
He becomes hands, - and hands only, a passive drudge,
- who can eat, drink, and vote. The popular term for
working men, "Hands," is not without meaning; a
mournful meaning, too, if a man but thinks of it. IHe
reads little, —that of unprofitable matter, and thinks
still less than he reads. He is content to do nothing
but work. So old age of body comes upon him before




EDUCATION OF TIIE LABORING CLASS.    237
the prime years of life, and imbecility of spirit long be,
fore that period. That human flesh and blood continue
to bear such a state of things, whence change is easy,
this is no small marvel. The fact, that wise men and
Christian men do not look these matters in the face,
and seek remedies for evils so wide spread, proves some
sad things of the state of wisdom and Christianity with
us.
Many laboring.men now feel compelled to toil all of
the weekdays with such severity, that no time is left
for thought and meditation, — the processes of mental
growth, and their discipline of mind is not perfect
enough to enable them to pursue this process, while
about their manual work. One man in the village, despising a manly growth of his whole nature, devotes
himself exclusively to work, and so in immediate results
surpasses his wiser competitor, who, feeling that he is
not a body alone, but a soul in a body, would have
time for reading, study, and the general exercise and
culture of his best gifts. The wiser man, ashamed to
be distanced by his less gifted neighbor; afraid too of
public opinion, which still counts beef and brandy better
than a wise mrind and a beautiful soul; unwilling to
wear coarse raiment and fare like a hermit, that his
mind be bravely furnished within and sumptuously fed,
-devotes himself also exclusively to his toil, and the
evil spreads. The few men with us, who have leisure
enough and to spare, rarely devote it to the Christian
work of lightening the burdens of their brethren. Rather
by withdrawing their necks from the common yoke, do
they increase the weight for such as are left faithful.
Hence th'e evil yearly becomes worse, -as some men
fear, —and the working man finds his time for study
abridged more and more. Even the use of machinery




238      EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
has hitherto done little good in this respect, to the class
that continues to work. Give a child a new knife, he
will only cut himself. The sacramental sin of the educated and wealthy amongst us, is the notion, that work
with the hands is disgraceful. While they seek to avoid
the " disgrace," others must do more than their natural
share. The lazy man wastes his leisure; the industrious,
who does his work, has no leisure to enjoy. Affiirs will
never take their true shape, nor the laboring class have
an opportunity to obtain the culture reason demands
for them, until sounder notions of labor, and a more
equitable division thereof prevail.  When he works
who is fit, and he thinks who can, Thought and Labor
may go hand in hand. The peaceful and gradual
change already apparent, will doubtless effect the object
in time, and for such an issue the world can afford to
wait some few years. It is common, as it is easy and
wicked, to throw the whole blame of this matter on the
rich and educated. But this sin belongs to the whole
community; though it must be most heavily charged
upon the strongest heads, who should think for the
weak, and help them think for themselves.
But even now much may be done, if men gather up
the fragments of tim&. The blessed Sabbath, — in spite
of the superstitious abuse thereof, the most valuable
relic the stream of time has brought us, - in half a century allows more than seven solid years redeemed from
toil. There are the long nights of winter, the frequent
periods when inclement weather forbids labor in the
fields. All of these, taken together, afford a golden opportunity to him who, having previous instruction, has
resolution to employ it well. Books, too, those "ships
of thought," that sail majestic on through time and
space, bear their rich treasure down to old and young,




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     239
landing them upon every shore. Their magic influence
reaches all who will open their arms. The blessing
they bring may quicken the laborer's mind, and place
him where he did not stand before. The thought of
others stirs his thought. His lamp is lit at some great
thinker's urn, and glitters with perennial glow. Toil
demands his hands; it leaves his thought fetterless and
free. To the instructed man his trade is a study; the
tools of his craft are books; his farm a gospel, eloquent,
in its sublime silence; his cattle and corn his teachers;
the stars his guides to virtue and to God, and every
mute and every living thing, by shore or sea, a heavensent prophet to refine his mind and heart. He is in
harmony with nature, and his education goes on with
the earth and the hours. Many such there are in the
lanes and villages of New England. They are the
hope of the land. But these are the favored sons of
genius who, under ill-starred circumstances, make a
church and a college of their daily work. To all, as
things now are, this is not possible. But when all men
see the dignity of manual work, few will be so foolish
as to refuse the privilege of labor, though many are
now wicked enough to shrink from it as a burden.
Then it will be a curse to none, but a blessing to all.
Then there will be time enough for all to live as men;
the meat will not be reckoned more than the life, nor
the soul wasted to pamper the flesh. Then some institution, not yet devised, may give the mass of men a
better outfit of education, and art supply what nature
did not give, and no man, because he toils with his
hands, be forced to live a body, and no more.
The education which our people need, apart from
strength and skill in their peculiar craft, consists in culture of mind, of the moral and the religious nature. What




240      EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
God has joined can never safely be put asunder. Without the aid of practised moral principle what mental
education can guide the man; without the comfort and
encouragement of religion what soul, however well endowed with intellectual and moral accomplishments,
can stand amid the ceaseless wash of contending
doubts, passions, interests, and fears? All partial education is false. Such as would cultivate the mind
alone soon fail of the end. The ship spreads wide her
canvas, but has neither ballast nor helm. It has been
said the education of the laboring class is safe neither
for the nation nor the class, and if only the understanding is cultivated, there is a shadow of truth somewhere
about the remark. An educated knave or pirate is, no
doubt, more dangerous than a knave or pirate not educated. It appears in some countries that crime increases with education. This fact has caused the foes
of the human race to shout long and loud, and the
noise of their shouting comes over the Atlantic to alarm
us. The result could have been foreseen when the education was intellectual chiefly. But even then, great
crimes, against the human person, become rare, and
who shall say the increased crimes against property,
have not come from the false system on which property
is held, quite as much as from the false system of education? Still the grand rule holds good, that intellectual education alone is fearfully insufficient. Let the
whole nature of man be developed. Educate only the
moral nature, - men are negatively virtuous, as a dead
man will neither lie nor steal. They who seek only
religious education soon degenerate into bigots, and become the slaves of superstition, the tools of designing
and crafty men, as both ancient and recent history
assures us. Man only is manlike, and able to realize




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     241
the idea for which he was made, when he unfolds all of
his powers, Mind, Heart, and Soul; thinks, feels, and
worships as Reason, Conscience, and Religion demand,
thus uniting in himself the three great ideas of the
True, the Good, and the Holy, which make up the sum,
of Beauty, the altogether beautiful of mortal life.
It is to be believed the American mind will one daybe turned to its greatest object, the rearing up of a
manly people, worthy to tread these hills, and breathe
this air, and worship in the temples our fathers built,
and lie down in their much honored graves. Who shall
say the dream of men, now regarded as visionary, shall
not one day become a reality blessed and beautiful? If:
the unconquerable energies of our people were turned'
to this work; if the talent and industry so profuselysquandered on matters of no pith or moment, or wastedi
in petty quarrels, during a single session of Congress;,
if half the enthusiasm and zeal, spent in a single presidential election, were all turned to devise better means;
of educating the people, we cannot help thinking matters would soon wear a very different aspect.
One of two conclusions we must accept. Either 
God made man with desires that cannot be gratified on
earth, -and which yet are his best and most godlike
desires, and then man stands in frightful contradiction
with all the rest of nature; or else it is possible for all
the men and women of every class to receive a complete education of the faculties God gave them, and,
then the present institutions and opinions of society on.
this matter of education are all wrong, contrary to
reason and the law of God. There are some good
men, and religious men, doubtless, who think that; ins
this respect matters can never be much mended, that.
21




242      EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
the senses must always overlay the soul, the strong
crush the weak, and the mass of men, who do all the
work of the world, must ever be dirty and ignorant,
and find little but toil and animal comfort, till they go
where the servant is free from his rmaster, and the
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.
These men represent the despair and the selfishness of
society. If the same thing that has been must be; if
the future must be just like the past; if falsehood and
sin are eternal, and truth and goodness ephemeral creatures of to-day, —then these men are right, and the
sooner we renounce all hope of liberty, give up all love
of wisdom, and call Christianity a lie, —a hideous
lie, -why the sooner the better. Let us never fear to
look things in the face, and call them by their true
names. But there are other men, who say the past did
its work, and we will do ours. WVe will not bow to its
idols, though they fell from the clouds; nor accept its
limitations, though Lycurgus made poor provision, and
Numa none at all, for the education of the people; we
will not stop at its landmarks, nor construct ourselves in its image, for we also are men. While we
take, gratefully, whatever past times bring us, we will
get what we call grasp, and never be satisfied. These
men represent the hope and the benevolence there is in
man. If they are right, the truths of Reason are not a
whim; aspiration after perfection is more than a dream;
Christianity not a lie, but the eternal Truth the All-seeing has writ for his children's welfare. God not a tyrant,
but the Father of all. The sooner these men are on
their feet, and about their work, to reinstate fallen mankind, the better for themselves and the world. They
may take counsel of their hopes always; of their fears
never.




EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.     243
But there are difficulties in the way of education, as
in all ways but that to destruction. There is no panacea to educate the race in a moment, and with no
trouble. It is slow work, the old way of each man toiling for himself, with labor and self-denial and many
prayers; the Christian way of the strong helping the
weak, thinking for them, and aiding them to think for
themselves. Some children can scramble up the mountain alone, but others the parents must carry in their
arms. The way is for wise men to think and toil, and
toil and think, remembering that " Zeno and Chrysippus did greater things," says Seneca, " in their studies,
than if they had led armies, borne offices, or given laws,
which indeed they did, not to one city alone, but to all
mankind." There are great difficulties to be overcome,
as MA. Pastoret, a French judge has said, respecting improvements in the law, " We have also to encounter
mediocrity, which knows nothing but its old routine;
always ready to load with reproaches such as have the
courage to raise their thoughts and observations above
the level to which itself is condemned.' These are innovators,' it exclaims.'This is an innovation,' say the
reproducers of old ideas, with a smile of contempt.
Every project of reform is, in their eyes, the result of
ignorance or insanity, and the most compassionate it is
who condescends to accuse you of what they call the
bewilderment of your understanding.'They think
themselves wiser than their fathers,' says one, and with
that the matter seems decided." Still the chief obstacle
is found in the low, material aims of our countrymen,
which make them willing to toil eight, ten, twelve, sixteen, even eighteen hours of the day, for the body, and
not one for the mind; in the popular notion, that he
who works with the hand can do nothing else. No




244     EDUCATION OF THE LABORING CLASS.
doubt it is hard work to overcome these difficulties;
slow work to get round them. But there are many encouragements for the work, — our freedom from war;
the abundance of physical comfort in our land; the
restless activity of the American mind, which requires
only right direction; in the facility with which books
are printed and circulated; in the free schools, which
have already done so vast and beautiful a work; in the
free spirit of our institutions, which have hitherto made
us victorious everywhere; but above all, in that religion
which was first revealed to a carpenter, earliest accepted
by fishermen, most powerfully set forth by a tentmaker, -that religion which was the Bethlehem-star
of our fathers, their guide and their trust, which has
nothing to fear, but every thing to hope from knowledge wide spread among the people, and which only
attains its growth and ripens its fruit when all are instructed, mind, heart, and soul. With such encouragement who will venture to despair?




IX.
HOW TO MOVE THE WORLD.
ONE day a philosopher'came to Athens, from a far
country, to learn the ways of the wonderful Greeks,
and perhaps to teach them the great lore he treasured
in his heart. The wise men heard him; sought his
company in the gardens; talked with him in private.,The young men loved him. He passed for a wonder
with that wonder-loving people. Among those that followed him, was the son of Sophroniscus, an ill-favored
young man, a mechanic of humble rank. He was one
of the few that understood the dark, Oriental doctrines
of-the Sage, when he spoke of God, Man, Freedom,
Goodness, of the Life that never dies. The young man
saw these doctrines were pregnant with actions, and
would one day work a Revolution in the affairs of men,
disinheriting many an ancient sin now held legitimate.
So he said to himself, when he saw a man rich or
famous, - Oh, that I also were rich, and famous, I
would move the world so soon. Here are sins to be
plucked up and truths to be planted. Oh that I could
do it all, I would mend the world right soon. Yet he
did nothing but wait for Wealth and Fame. One day
21 




246         HOW TO MOVE THE WORLD.
the Sage heard him complain with himself, and said,
Young man, thou speakest as silly women. This Gospel of God is writ for all. LET HI>M THAT WOULD MOVE
THE WORLD MOVE FIRST HIMSELF. He that would do good
to men begins with what tools God gives him, and gets
more as the world gets on. It asks neither Wealth nor
Fame, to live out a noble life, at the end of thy lane in
Athens. Make thy Light thy Life; thy Thought, Action; others will come round. Thou askest a place to
stand on hereafter and move the world. Foolish young
man, take it where thou standest, and begin now. So
the work shall go forward. Reform thy little self, and
thou hast begun to reform the world. Fear not thy
work shall die!
The youth took the hint; reformed himself of his
coarseness, his sneers, of all meanness that was in him.
His Idea became his Life; and that blameless and
lovely. His Truth passed into the public mind as the
sun into the air. His Acorn is the father of Forests.
His influence passes like morning, from continent to
continent, and the rich and the poor are blessed by the
light and warmed by the life of Socrates, though they
know not his name.




X.
PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.*
THERE are some ages when all seem to look for a
great man to come up at God's call, and deliver them
from  the evils they groan under.  Then Humanity
seems to lie with its forehead in the dust, calling on
Heaven to send a man to save it. There are times
when the powers of the race, though working with'their wonted activity, appear so misdirected, that little
permanent good comes from the efforts of the gifted;
times when governments have little regard for the welfare of the subject, when popular forms of Religion
have lost their hold on the minds of the thoughtful, and
the consecrated augurs, while performing the accustomed rites, dare not look one another in the face, lest they
laugh in public, and disturb the reverence of the people,
their own having gone long before. Times there are,
when the popular Religion does not satisfy the hunger
and thirst of the people themselves. Then mental
energy seems of little value, save to disclose and chronicle the sadness of the times. No great works of deep
and wide utility are then undertaken for existing or
X From the Dial for January, 1842.




248           PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
future generations. Original works of art are not sculptured out of new  thought.  Men fall back on the
achievements of their fathers; imitate and reproduce
them, but take no steps in any direction into the untrodden infinite. Though Wealth and Selfishness pile
up their marble and mortar as never before, yet the
chisel, the pencil, and the pen, are prostituted to irnitation. The artist does not travel beyond the actual. At
such times, the rich are wealthy, only to be luxurious
and dissolve the mind in the lusts of the flesh. The
cultivated have skill and taste, only to mock, openly or
in secret, at the forms of religion and its substance also;
to devise new pleasures for themselves; pursue the
study of some abortive science, some costly game, or
dazzling art. When the people suffer for water and
bread, the king digs fish-pools, that his parasites may
fare on lampreys of unnatural size. Then the Poor are
trodden down into the dust.  The Weak bear the burden of the strong, and they, who do all the work of the
world, who spin, and weave, and delve, and drudge,
who build the palace, and supply the feast, are the only
Imen that go hungry and bare, live uncared for, and'when they die, are huddled. into the dirt, with none to
-say GoD BLESS YOU. Such periods have occurred several
times in the world's history.
At these times man stands in frightful contrast with
nature.  He is dissatisfied, ill-fed, and poorly clad;'rhile all nature through, there is not an animal, from
-the Mite to the Mammoth, but his wants are met and,his peace secured by the great Author of all. Man.knows not whom to trust, while the little creature that
lives its brief moment in the dew-drop, which hangs on
the violet's petal, enjoys perfect tranquillity so long as
its little life runs on. Man is in doubt, distress, per



PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.         249
petual trouble; afraid to go forward, lest he go wrong;
fearful of standing still, lest he fall; while the meanest
worm, that crawls under his feet, is all and enjoys all its
nature allows, and the stars overhead go smoothly as
ever on their way.
At such times, men call for a great man, who can put
himself at the head of their race, and lead them on, free
from their troubles. There is a feeling in the heart of
us all, that as Sin came oy man, and Death by Sin, so
by man, under Providence, must come also Salvation
from that Sin, and Resurrection from. that Death. We
feel, all of us, that for every wrong, there is a right
somewhere, had we but the skill to find it. This call
for a great man is sometimes long and loud, before he
comes, for he comes not of man's calling but of God's
appoi ntmen t.
This was the state of mankind many centuries ago,
before Jesus was born at Bethlehem. Scarce ever had
there been an age, when a deliverer was more needed.
The world was full of riches. Wealth flowed into the
cities, a Pactolian tide. Fleets swam the ocean. The
fields were full of cattle and corn. The high-piled
warehouse at Alexandria and Corinth groaned with
the munitions of luxury, the product of skilful hands.
Delicate women, the corrupted and the corrupters of the
world's metropolis, scarce veiled their limbs in garments
of gossamer, fine as woven wind. Metals and precious
stones vied with each other to render Loveliness more
lovely, and Beauty more attractive, or oftener to stimulate a jaded taste, and whip the senses to their work.
Nature, with that exquisite irony men admire but cannot imitate - used the virgin lustre of the gem, to reveal
more plain, the moral ugliness of such as wore the gaud.
The very marble seemed animate to bud and blossom




250           PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
into Palace and Temple. But alas for man in those
days! The Strong have always known one part of
their duty,-how to take care of themselves; and so
have laid burdens on weak men's shoulders, but the
more difficult part, how to take care of the weak, their
natural clients, they neither knew nor practised so well
even as now. If the history of the Strong is ever written, as such, it will be the record of rapine and murder,
from Cain to Cush, from Nimrod to Napoleon.
In that age men cried for a great man, and wonderful to tell, the prophetic spirit of human nature, which
detects events in their causes, and by its profound faith
in the invisible, sees both the cloud and the star, before
they come up to the horizon, — foretold the advent of
such a man. " An ancient and settled opinion," says a
Roman writer, "had spread over all the East, that it
was fated at this time, for some one to arise out of
Judea, and rule the world." We find this expectation
in many shapes, psalm and, song, poem and prophecy.
We sometimes say this prediction was miraculous,
while it appears rather as the natural forecast of hearts,
which believe God has a remedy for each disease, and
balm  for every wound. The expectation of relief is
deep and certain with such, just as the evil is imminent
and dreadful. If it have lasted long and spread wide,
men only look for a greater man. This fact shows how
deep in the soul lies that religious element, which sees
clearest in the dark, when understanding cannot see at
all; which hopes most, when there is least ground, but
most need of hope. But men go too far in their expectations.  Their Faith' stimulates their Fancy, which
foretells what the deliverer shall be. In this, men are
always mistaken. Heaven has endowed the race of
men with but little invention. So in those times of




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.        251
trouble, they look back to the last peril, and hope for a
redeemer like him they had before; greater it may be,
but always of the same kind. This same poverty of
invention and habit of thinking the future must reproduce the past, appears in all human calculations. If
some one had told the amanuensis of Julius Caesar, that
in eighteen centuries, men would be able in a few hours
to make a perfect copy of a book twenty times as great
as all his master's commentaries and history, he would
pronounce it impossible; for he could think of none but
the old method of a Scribe forming each word with a
pen, letter by letter; never anticipating the modern way
of printing with a rolling press driven by steam. So if
some one had told Joab, that two thousand years after
his day, men in war would kill one another with a missile half an ounce in weight, and would send it three or
four hundred yards, driving it through a shirt of mail, or
a ploughshare of iron, he would think but of a common
bow and arrows, and'say it cannot be. WVhat would
Zeuxis have thought of a portrait made in thirty seconds,
exact as nature, pencilled by the Sun himself? Now
men make mistakes in their expectation of a deliverer.
The Jews were once raised to great power by David,
and again rescued from distress and restored from exile
by Cyrus, a great conqueror and a just man. Therefore
the next time they fell into trouble, they expected another King like David, or Cyrus, who should come, perhaps in the clouds, with a great army to do much more
than either David or Cyrus had done. This was the
current expectation, that when the Redeemer came, he
should be a great general, commander of an army, King
of the Jews. He was to restore the exiles, defeat their
foes, and revive the old theocracy to which other nations
should be subservient..




252           PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
Their deliverer comes; but instead of a noisy general,
a king begirt with the pomp of oriental royalty, there
appears one of the lowliest of men. His Kingdom was
of Truth, and therefore not of this world. He drew no
sword; uttered no word of violence; did not complain
when persecuted, but took it patiently; did not exact a
tooth for a tooth, nor pay a blow with a blow, but loved
men who hated him. This conqueror, who was to
come with great pomp, perhaps in the clouds, with an
army numerous as the locusts, at whose every word,
kingdoms were to shake - appears; born in a stable,
of the humblest extraction; the companion of fishermen, living in a town, whose inhabitants were so wicked, men thought nothing good could come of it. The
means he brought for the salvation of his race were
quite as surprising as the Saviour himself; not armies
on earth, or in heaven; not even new tables of laws;
but a few plain directions, copied out from the primitive
and eternal Scripture God wrote in the heart of man, —
the true Protevangelium, — LOVE MAN; LOVE GOD; RESIST
NOT EVIL; ASK AND RECEIVE. These were the weapons
with which to pluck the oppressor down from his throne;
to destroy the conquerors of the world; dislodge sin
from high places and low places; uplift the degraded,
and give weary and desperate human nature a fresh
start! How disappointed men would have looked,
could it have been made clear to them, that this twias
now the only deliverer Heaven was sending to their
rescue.  But this could not be; their recollection of
past deliverance, and their prejudice of the future based
on this recollection, blinded their eyes. They said,
" This is not he; when the Christ cometh no man shall
know whence he is. But we know this is the Nazarene
carpenter, the Son of Joseph and Mary."  Men treated




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.         253
this greatest of Saviours as his humble brothers had
always been treated. Even his disciples were not faithful; one betrayed him with a kiss; the rest forsook him
and fled; his enemies put him to death, adding ignominy to their torture, and little thinking this was the
most effectual way to bring about the end he sought,
and scatter the seed, whence the whole race was to be
blessed for many a thousand years.
There is scarce any thing in nature more astonishing
to a reflective mind, than the influence of one man's
thought and feeling over another, and on thousands of
his fellows. There are few voices in the world, but
many echoes, and so the history of the world is chiefly
the rise and progress of the thoughts and feelings of a
few great men. Let a man's outward position be what
it may, that of a Slave or a King, or an apparent idler
in a busy Metropolis, if he have more Wisdom, Loves
and Religion, than any of his fellow-mortals, their
Mind, Heart, and Soul are put in motion even, against
their will, and they cannot stand where they stood before, though they close their eyes never so stiffly. The
general rule holds doubly strong in this particular case.
This poor Galilean peasant, son of the humblest people,
born in an ox's crib; who at his best estate had not
where to lay his head; who passed for a fanatic with
his townsmen, and even with his brothers, — children of
the samne parents; - who was reckoned a lunatic - a
very madman, or counted as one possessed of a devil,
by grave, respectable folk about Jerusalem; who was.
put to death as a Rebel and Blasphemer at the instance
of Pharisees, the High-priest, and other sacerdotal functionaries - he stirred men's mind, heart, and soul, as
none before nor since has done, and produced a revolu22




254          PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
tion in human affairs, which is even now greater than
all other revolutions, though it has hitherto done but a
little of its work.
He looked trustfully up to the Father of all. Because
he was faithful God inspired him, till his judgment, in
religious matters, seems to have become certain as instinct, infallible as the law of gravitation, and his will
irresistible, because it wias no longer partial, but God's
will flowing through him. He gave voice to the new
thought which streamed on him, asking no question
whether Moses or Solomon, in old time, had thought as
he; nor whether Gamaliel and Herod would vouch for
the doctrine now. He felt that in him was something
greater than Moses or Solomon, and he did not, as
many have done, dishonor the greater, to make a solemn
mockery of serving the less. He spoke what he felt,
fearless as Truth. He lived in blameless obedience to
his sentiment and his principle. With him there was
no great gulf between Thought and Action, Duty and
Life. If he saw Sin in the land, - and when or where
could he look and not see that last of the giants?- he
gave warning to all who would listen. Before the
single eye of this man, still a youth, the reverend vails
fell off from antiquated falsehood; the looped and
windowed livery of Abraham dropped from recreant
limbs, and the child of the Devil stood there, naked but
not unshamed. He saw that blind men, the leaders
and the led, were hastening to the same ditch. Well
might he weep for the slain of his people, and cry, " Oh
Jerusalem, Jerusalem! " Few heard his cries, for it
seems fated, that when the Son of Man comes he shall
not find faith on the Earth. Pity alike for the oppressed
and the oppressor, -and a boundless love, even for the
unthankful and the merciless, burned in his breast, and




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.         255
shed their light and warmth wherever he turned his face.
His thought was heavenly; his life only revealed his
thought. His soul appeared in his words, on which
multitudes were fed. Prejudice itself confessed -" never
man spake like this." His feeling and his thought assumed a form more beauteous still; and a whole divine
life was wrought out on the earth, and stands there yet,
the imperishable type of human achievement, the despair of the superstitious, but the Way, the Truth, and
the Life to holy souls. His word of doctrine was uttered
gently as the invisible dew comes down on the rose of
Engaddi, but it told as if a thunderbolt smote the globe.
It brought fire and sword to the dwelling-place of hoary
Sin. Truth sweeps clean off every refuge of lies, that
she may do her entire work.
A few instances show how these words wrought in
the world. The sons of Zebedee were so ambitious
they would arrogate to themselves the first place in the
new kingdom, thinking it a realm where selfishness
should hold dominion, -so bloody-minded, they would
call down fire from Heaven to burn up such men as
would not receive the Teacher. But the Spirit of gentleness subdues the selfish passion, and the son of thunder becomes the gentle John, who says only, "Little
children, love one another."  This same word passes
into Simon Peter also, the crafty, subtle, hasty, selfish
son of Jonas; the first to declare the Christ; the first
to promise fidelity, but the first likewise to deny him,
and the first to return to his fishing. It carries this disciple -though perhaps never wholly regenerated - all
over the Eastern world; and he, who had shrunk from
the fear of persecution, now glories therein, and counts
it all joy, when he falls into trouble on account of the
word. With Joseph of Arimathea "an honorable coun



256          PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
sellor," and Nicodemus " a ruler of the Jews," the matter
took another turn. We never hear of them in the history of trial. They slunk back into the Synagogue, it
may be; wore garments long as before, and phylacteries
of the broadest; were called of men " Rabbi," " sound,
honorable men, who knew what they were about," " men
not to be taken in." It is not of such men God makes
Reformers, Apostles, Prophets. It is not for such pusillanimous characters, to plunge into the cold, hard stream
of Truth, as it breaks out of the mountain and falls
from the rock of ages. They wait till the stream
widens to a river, the river expands its accumulated
waters to a lake, quiet as a mirror. Then they confide
themselves in their delicate and trim-wrought skiff to its
silvery bosom, to be wafted by gentle winds into a quiet
haven of repose. Such men do not take up Truth,
when she has fallen by the way-side. It might grieve
their friends.  It would compromise their interests;
would not allow them to take their ease in their inn, for
such they regard their station in the world. Besides,
the thing was new. How could Joseph and Nicodemus
foretell it would prevail? It might lead to disturbance;
its friends fall into trouble. The Kingdom of Heaven
offered no safe "'investment" for ease and reputation,
as now. Doubtless there were in Jerusalem great questionings of heart among Pharisees, and respectable
men, Scribes and Doctors of the law, when they heard
of the new teacher and his doctrine so deep and plain.
There must have been a severe struggle in many
bosoms, between the conviction of duty and social sympathies which bound the man to what was most cherished by flesh and blood.
The beautiful Gospel found few adherents and little
toleration with men learned in the law, burdened with




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.         257
its minute intricacies, devoted to the mighty consideration of small particulars. But the true disciples of the
inward life felt the word, which others only listened for,
and they could not hush up the matter. It would not
be still. So they took up the ark of truth, where Jesus
set it down, and bore it on. They perilled their lives.
They left all —comfort, friends, home, wife, the embraces of their children -the most precious comfort the
poor man gets out of the cold, hard world; they went
naked and hungry; were stoned and spit upon; scourged
in the synagogues; separated from the'company of the
sons of Abraham; called the vilest of names; counted
as the offscouring of the world. But it did them good.
This was the sifting Satan gave the disciples, and the
chaff went its way, as chaff always does; but the seedwheat fell into good ground, and now nations are filled
with bread which comes of the Apostles' sowing and
watering, and God giving the increase.
To some men the spread of Christianity in two centuries appears wonderful. To others it is the most
natural thing in the world. It could not help spreading.
Things most needful to all are the easiest to comprehend, the world over. Thus every savage in Otaheite
knows there is a God; while only four or five men in
Christendom understand his nature, essence, personality,
and "know all about Him!"  Thus while the great
work of a modern scholar, which explains the laws of
the material heavens, has never probably been mastered
by three hundred persons, and perhaps there is not now
on earth half that number, who can read and understand
it, without further preparation; the Gospel, the word of
Jesus, which sets forth the laws of the soul, can be understood by any pious girl fourteen years old, of ordi22 




258            PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
nary intelligence, with no special preparation at all, and,still forms the daily bread, and very life of whole millions of men.
Primitive Christianity was a very simple thing, apart
from the individual errors connected with it; two great
speculative maxims set forth its essential doctrines,
"Love man," and " Love God."  It had also two great
practical maxims, which grew out of the speculative,
" We that are strong ought to bear the burdens of the
weak," and "' We must give good for evil."  These;maxims lay at the bottom of the Apostles' minds, and
the top of their hearts. These explain their conduct;
account for their courage; give us the reason of their
faith, their strength, their success.  The proclaimers of
these maxims set forth the life of a man in perfect conformity therewith.  If their own practice fell short of
their preaching, — which sometimes happens spite of
their zeal, - there was the measure of a perfect man, to
which they had not attained, but which lay in their
future progress.  Other matters which they preached,
that there was one God; that the soul never dies, were
known well enough before, and old heathens, in centuries gone by, had taught these doctrines quite as distinctly as the apostles, and the latter much more plainly
than the Gospels. These new teachers had certain
other doctrines peculiar to themselves, which hindered
the course of truth more than they helped it, and which
have perished with their authors.
No wonder the apostles prevailed with such doctrines,
set off or recommended by a life, which - notwithstanding occasional errors -was single-hearted, lofty, full of
self-denial and sincere manliness. " All men are brothers," said the Apostles; "their duty is to keep the law
God wrote eternally on the heart, to keep this without




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.          259
fear." The forms and rites they made use of; their
love-feasts, and Lord's Suppers; their baptismal and
funeral ceremonies, were things indifferent, of no value,
save only as helps. Like the cloak Paul left behind at
Troas, and the fishing-coat of Simon Peter, they were
to serve their turn, and then be laid aside.  They were
no more to be perpetual, than the sheepskins and goatskins, which likewise have apostolical authority in favor
of their use. In an age of many forms, Christianity
fell in with the times. It wore a Jewish dress at Jerusalem, and a Grecian costume at Thessalonica.  It became all things to all men. Some rites of the early
Church seem absurd as many of the latter; but all had
a meaning once, or they would not have been. Men of
New England would scarce be willing to worship as
Barnabas and Clement did; nor could Bartholomew
and Philip be satisfied with our simpler form it is possible. Each age of the world has its own way, which
the next smiles at as ridiculous.  Still the four maxims,
mentioned above, give the spirit of primitive Christianity, the life of the Apostle's life.
It is not marvellous these men were reckoned unsafe
persons. Nothing in the world is so dangerous and untractable in a false state of society, as one who loves
man and God. You cannot silence him by threat or
torture; nor scare him with any fear.  Set in the stocks
to-day, he harangues men in public to-morrow. " Herod
will kill thee," says one. "Go and tell that fox, behold
I cast out devils, and deceivers to-day and to-morrow,
and the third day I shall be perfected," is the reply.
Burn or behead such men, and out' of their blood, and
out of their ashes, there spring up others, who defy you to
count them, and say, " come, kill us, if you list, we shall
never be silent." Love begets love, the world over, and




260           PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
martyrdom makes converts certain as steel sparks, when
smitten against the flint. If a fire is to burn in the
woods - let it be blown upon.
Primitive Christianity did not owe its spread to the
address of its early converts. They boast of this fact.
The Apostles, who held these four maxirms, were plain
men; very rough Galilean fishermen; rude in speech,
and not over courteous in address, if we may credit the
epistles of Paul and James. They had incorrect notions
in many points, which both we and they deem vital.
Some of them - perhaps all - expected a resurrection
of the body; others, that the Jewish law, with its burdensome rites and ostentatious ceremonies, was to be
perpetual, binding on all Christians and the human
race. Some fancied - as it appears - that Jesus had
expiated the sins of all mankind; others that he had
existed before he was born into this world.  These
were doctrines of Jewish and Heathen parentage. All
of these men -so far as the New Testament enables
us to judge - looked for the visible return of Jesus to
the earth, with clouds and great glory, and expected the
destruction of the world, and that in very few years.
These facts are very plain to all, who will read the
epistles and gospels, in spite of the dust which interpreters cast in the eyes of common sense.  Some
apocryphal works, perhaps older than the canonical,
certainly accepted as authentic in some-of the early
churches, relate the strangest marvels about the doings
and sayings of Jesus, designing thereby to exhibit the
greatness of his character, while they show how little
that was understood. We all know what the canonical
writings contain on this head, and from these two
sources can derive much information, as to the state of




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.         261
opinion among the apostles and their immediate successors.  Simon Peter, notwithstanding his visions,
seems always to have been in bondage to the law of
sin and death, if we may trust Paul's statement in the
epistle; James —if the letter be his — had irrational
notions on some points, and even Paul, the largestminded of themn all, was not disposed to allow woman
the rights, which Reason claims for the last creation of
God. But what if these men were often mistaken, and
sometimes on matters of great moment? We need
not deny the fact, for the sake of an artificial theory
snatched out of the air. It is not expedient to lie in
behalf of'truth, however common it has been. We
need not fear Christianity shall fall, because Christians
were mistaken in any age. Were human beings ever
free from errors of opinion; imperfection in action?
Has the nature of things changed, and did the earth
bring forth superhuman men in the first century? It
does not appear.  But underneath  these mistakes,
errors, follies, of the Primitive Christians, there beat
the noble heart of religious love, which sent life into
their every limb. These maxims, they had learned
from Jesus, seen exhibited in his life, found written on
their heart,-these did the work, spite of the imperfection and passions of the apostles, Paul withstanding
Peter to the face, and predicting events that never came
to pass. The nobleness of the heart found its way up
to the head, and neutralized errors of thought.
By means of these causes the doctrines spread. The
expecting people felt their deliverer had come, and welcomed the glad tidings. Each year brought new converts to the work, and the zeal of the Christian burnt
brighter with his success. Paul undertook many missions, and the word of God grew mightily and pre



262           PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
vailed. In him we see a striking instance of the power
of real Christianity to recast the character. We cannot forbear to dwell a moment on the theme.
There are two classes of men, who come to Religion.
Some seem to be born spiritual. They are aboriginal
saints; natives of Heaven, whom accident has.stranded
on the earth; men of few passions, of no tendency to
violence, anger, or excess in any thing. They do not
hesitate, between right and wrong, but go the true way
as naturally as the bird takes to the air, and the fish to
the water, because it is their natural element, and they
cannot help it.  Reason and Religion seem  to be
coeval. Their Christianity and their consciousness are
of the same date. Desire and Duty, putting in the
warp and woof, weave harmoniously, like sisters, the
many-colored web of life. To these men life is easy;
it is not that long warfare which it is to so many.
It costs them nothing to be good. Their desires are
dutiful; their duties desirable. They have no virtue,
which implies struggle. They are goodness all over,
which is the harmony of all the powers. Their action
is their repose; their religion their self-indulgence; their
daily life the most perfect worship. Say what we will
of the world, these men, who are angels born, are happier in their lot than such as are only angels bred, whose
religion is not a matter of birth but of hard earnings.
They start in their flight to Heaven from an eminence,
which other souls find it arduous to- attain, and roll
down, like the stone of Sisyphus, many times in the
perilous ascent. Paul was not born of this nobility of
Heaven.
The other class are men of will; hard, iron men, who
have passions and doubts and fears, and a whole legion




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.         263
of appetites in their bosom, but yet come armed with a
strong sense of duty, a masculine intellect, a tendency
upwards towards God, a great heart of flesh, contracting and expanding between self-love, and love of man.
These are the men who feel the puzzle of the world,
and are taken with its fever; stout-hearted, strongheaded men, who love strongly and hate with violence,
and do with their might whatever they do at all. These
are the men that make the heroes of the world. They
break the way in Philosophy and Science; they found
colonies; lead armies; make laws; construct systems
of theology; form sects in the Church; a yoke of iron
will not hold them, nor that of public opinion, more
difficult to break. When these men become religipous,
they are beautiful as angels. The fire of God falls on
them; it consumes their dross; the uncorrupted gold
remains in virgin purity. Once filled with religion,
their zeal never cools. You shall not daunt them with
the hissing of the great and learned; nor scare them
with the roar of the street, or the armies of a king. To
these men the axe of the headsman, yes, all the tortures
malice can devise or tyranny inflict, are as nothing.
The resolute soul puts down the flesh, and finds in
embers a bed of roses. To this class belonged Paul, a
man evidently quick to see, stern to resolve, and immovable in executing; a man of iron will, that nothing
could break down; of strong moral sense, deep religious
faith, and a singular greatness of heart towards his fellow men; but yet furnished with an overpowering
energy of passion, which might warp his moral sense,
his faith, his philanthropy aside, and make him a bigot,
the slave of superstition, a fanatic, perverse as Loyola,
and desperate as Saint Dominic. In him the good and
the evil of the old dispensation seemed to culminate;




264           PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
for he had all the piety of David, which charms us in
the shepherd-Psalm; all the diabolic hatred, which appears in the curses of that king, who was so wondrous
a mixture of heaven, earth, and hell. In addition to
this natural character, Paul received a Jewish education, at the feet of Gamaliel,- a Pharisee of the
straitest sect. His earlier life at Tarsus brought him
in contact with the Greeks, intensifying his bigotry for
the time, but yet facilitating his escape from the
shackles of a worn-out ritual.
It is easy to see how the doctrines of Jesus would
strike the young Pharisee, fresh from the study of the
law. Christianity set aside all he valued most; struck
down the law; held the prophets of small. account; put
off the ritual; declared the temple no better place to
pray in than a fisher's boat; affirmed all men to be
brothers, thus denying the merit of descent fribm Abraham, and declared, if any one loved God and man he
should have treasure in Heaven, and inspiration while
on earth. No wonder the old Pharisee whose soul was
caught in the letter; no wonder the young Pharisee
accustomed to swear by the old, felt pricked in their
hearts and gnashed with their teeth. It is a hard thing,
no doubt, for men, who count themselves children of
Abraham, to be proved children of a very different
stock, dutiful sons of the great father of lies. It is
easy to fancy what Paul would think of the arrogance
of the new teacher, to call himself greater than Solomon, or Jonah, and profess toosee deeper down than the
Law ever went; what of the presumption of the disciples, "-unlearned and ignorant men," to pretend to
teach doctrines wiser than Moses, when they could not
read the letter of his word. It is no wonder he breathed out fire and slaughter, and " persecuted them even




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.        265
unto strange cities." But it is dangerous to go too far
in pursuit of heretical game. Men sometimes rouse up
a lion, when they look for a linnet, and the eater is himself eaten. But Paul had a good conscience in this.
He believed what came of the fathers, never applying
common sense to his theology, nor asking if these things
be so. He thought he did God service by debasing
His image, and helping to stone Stephen. At length
he becomes a Christian in thought. We know not how
the change took place. Perhaps he thought it miraculous, for, in common with most of his times and country, he never drew a sharp line between the common
and the supernatural. He seems often to have dwelt in
that cloudy land, where all things have a strange and
marvellous aspect.
A later contemporary of Paul relates some of the
most remarkable events, as he deemed them, which occurred in those times. He gives occasionally minute
details of the superstition, crime, and madness of the
emperors of Rome. But the most remarkable event,
which occurred for some centuries after Tiberius, he
never speaks of. Probably he knew nothing of it. Had
he heard thereof, it would have seemed inconsiderable
to this chronicler of imperial follies. But the journey
from Jerusalem to Damascus of a young man named
Saul - if we regard its cause and its consequences, was
a more wonderful event than the world saw for the next
thousand years. Men thought little of its result at the
time. The gossips of the day had specious reasons, no
doubt, for Paul's sudden conversion, and said he was
disappointed of preferment in the old state of things, and
hoped for an easy living in the new; that he loved the
distinction and notoriety the change would give him, and
23




266           PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
hoped also for the loaves and fishes, then so abundant
in the new church. Doubtless there were some who
said, " Paul is beside himself."  But King Herod Agrippa took no notice of the matter. He was too busy with
his dreams of ambition and lust, to heed what befell a
tent-maker from a Cilician city, in his journey fiom Jerusalem to Damascus. Yet from that time the history
of the world turns on this point. If Paul had not been
raised up by the Almighty, for this very work, so to say
-who shall tell us how long Christianity would have
lain concealed under the Jewish prejudice of its earlier
disciples? These things are for no mortal to discover.
But certaif it is that Paul found the Christians an obscure Jewish sect, full of zeal and love, but narrow and
bigoted, in bondage to the letter of old Hebrew institutions; but he left them a powerful band in all great
cities, free men by the law of the Spirit of life. It seems
doubtful, that Peter, James, or John would have given
Christianity its natural form of universal faith.
There must have been a desperate struggle before
Paul became a Christian. He must renounce all the
prejudices of the Jew and the Pharisee, and the idols of
the Tribe and the Den are the last a man gives up.
He must be abandoned by his friends, the wise, the
learned, the venerable. Few men know of the battle
between new convictions and old social sympathies; but
it is of the severest character; a war of extermination.
He must condemn all his past conduct: lose the reputation of consistency; leave all the comforts of society,
all chance of reputation among men; be counted as a
thief and murderer; perhaps be put to death. But the
truth conquered. We think it easy to decide as Paul,.forgetting that many things become plain after the result, which were dim and doubtful before.




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.         267
When the young man had decided in favor of Chris —
tianity, he would require some instruction in matters
pertaining to the heavenly doctrine, we should suppose,.
- taking the popular views of Christianity, which make
it an historical thing, depending on personal authority,
or eye-witness, and external events, as the only possible
proof of internal truths. He would go and sit down
with the twelve and listen to their talk, and learn of all the
miracles, how Jesus raised the young man, the maiden,
called Lazarus from the tomb; how he changed the
water into wine, and fed the five thousand; he would
go to Martha and Mary to learn the recondite doctrine
of the Saviour; to the Mother of Jesus, to inquire abouthis birth of the Holy Spirit. But the thing went differ —
ent. He did not go to Peter, the chief apostle; nor to,
John, the beloved disciple; nor James, the Lord's brother.
"I conferred not with flesh and blood," says the new
convert, "neither went I up to Jerusalem to them that:
were apostles before me; but I went into Arabia." Three
years afterwards, for the first time, he had an interview
with Peter and James. Fourteen years later he went
up to Jerusalem, to compare notes, as it were, with
those " who seemed to be somewhat." They could tell
him nothing new. At last- many years after the commnencement of his active ministry — James, Peter, and
John, give him the right hand of their fellowship. Paul,
it seems, had heard of the great doctrines of Jesus, and
out of their principles developed his scheme of Christianity, -not a very difficult task, one would fancy, for
a plain man, who reckoned Christianity was love of man,
and love of God. In those days the Gospels were notwritten, nor yet the Epistles. Christianity had no his —
tory, except that Jesus lived, preached, was crucified,
and appeared after his crucifixion. Therefore the gos-.




268          PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
pel Paul preached might well enough be different from
those now in our hands. Certainly Paul never mentions a miracle of Jesus; says nothing of his superhuman birth. Had he known of these things, a man of
his strong love of the marvellous would scarcely be silent.
In him primitive Christianity appears to the greatest advantage. It shone in his heart, like the rising
sun chasing away the mist and clouds of night. His
prejudices went firat; his passions next. Soon he is on
foot journeying the world over to proclaim the faith,
which once he destroyed. Where are his bigotry, prejudice, hatred, his idols of the Tribe and the Den? The
flame of Religion has consumed them all. Forth he
goes to the work; the strong passion, the unconquerable will are now directed in the same channel with his
love of man. His mighty soul wars with Heathenism,
declaring an idol is nothing; with Judaism, to announce
that the Law has passed away; with Folly and Sin, to
declare them of the Devil, and lead men to Truth and
Peace. The resolute apostle goes flaming forth in his
ministry. A soul more robust, greathearted, and manly,
does not, appear in history, for some centuries at the
least. Danger is nothing; persecution nothing. It only
puts the keener edge on his well-tempered spirit. He is
content and joyful at bearing all the reproaches man can
lay on him. There was nothing sham in Paul. He felt
what he said, which is common enough. But he lived
what he felt, which is not so common. What wonder
that such a man made converts, overcame violence, and
helped the truth to triumph? It were wonderful if he
had not,. Take away the life and influence of Paul, the
Christian world is a different thing; we cannot tell what
it would have been. Under his hands, and those of his




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.          269
coadjutors, the new faith spreads from heart to heart,
till many thousands own the name, and amid all the
persecution that follows, the pious of the earth celebrate
such a jubilee as the sun never saw before.
However it was not among the great and refined, but
the low and the rude, that the faith found its early confessors.  Men came up faint and hungry, from the highways and hedges of society, to eat the bread of life at
God's table. They ate and were filled. Here it is that
all Religions take their rise. The sublime faith of the
Hebrews began in a horde of slaves. The Christian
has a carpenter for its revealer; fishermen for its first
disciples; a tent-maker for its chief apostle. Yet these
men could stand before kings' courts - and Felix trembled at Paul's reasoning.  Yes, the world trembled at
such reasoning. And when whole multitudes gave in
their adhesion; when the common means of tyranny,
prisons, racks, and the cross, failed to repress " this detestable superstition," as ill-natured Tacitus calls it;
but when two thousand men and women, delicate maidens, and men newly married, come to the Prmtor, and
say, " We are Christians all; kill us if you will; we
cannot change; " then for the first time official persons
begin to look into the matter, and inquire for the cause,
which makes women heroines, and young men martyrs.
There are always enough to join any folly because it is
new. But when the headsman's axe gleanas under his
apron, or slaves erect a score of crosses in the market-place, and men see the mangled limbs of brothers,
fathers, and sons, huddled into'bloody sacks, or thrown
to the dogs, it requires some heart to bear up, accept a
new faith, and renounce mortal life.
It is sometimes asked, what made so many converts
23*




270            PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
to Christianity, under such fearful circumstances? The
answer depends on the man. iMIost men apply the universal solvent, and call it a miracle — an overstepping,of the laws of mind. The Apostles had miraculous'authority; Peter had miraculous revelations; Paul a
miraculous conversion; both visions, and other miraculous assistance all their life. That they taught by miracles. But what could it be?  The authority of the
teachers? The authority of a Jewish peasant would
not have passed for much at Ephesus or Alexandria, or
Lycaonia or Rome.  Were they infallibly inspired, so
that they could not err, in doctrine, or practice? Thus
it has been taught. But their opponents did not believe it; their friends knew nothing of it, or there had
been no sharp dissension between Paul and Barnabas,
nor any disagreement of Paul with Peter.  They themselves seem never to' have dreamed of such an iunfallibility, or they would not change their plans and doctrine as Peter did; nor need instruction as Titus,
Timothy, and all the primitive teachers, to whom James:sent the circular epistle of the first synod. If they had
believed themselves infallibly inspired, they would not:assemble a council of all to decide, what each infallible
person could determine, as well as all the spirits and
angels together.  Still less could any discussion arise
among the apostles as to the course to be pursued.
Was it their learning that gave them success? They'could not even interpret the Psalms, without malting
-the most obvious mistalkes, as any one may see, who
-reads the book of Acts.  Was it their eloquence, their
miraculous gift of tongues?  What was the eloquence
of Peter, or James, when Paul, their chief apostle, was
weak in bodily presence, and contemptible in speech?
No; it was none of these things.  They had somewhat




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.          271
more convincing than authority; wiser than learning;
more persuasive than eloquence. Men felt the doctrine
was true and divine. They saw its truth and divinity
mirrored in the life of these rough men; they heard the
voice of God in their own hearts say, it is true. They
tried it by the standard God has placed in the heart, and
it stood the test. They saw the effect it had on Christians themselves, and said, " Here at least is something
divine, for men do not gather grapes of thorns." When
men came out from hearing Peter or Paul set forth the
Christian doctrine and apply it to life, they did not say,
" what' a moving speaker; how beautifully he'divides
the word;' how he mixes the light of the sun, and the
roar of torrents, and the sublimity of the stars, as it
were, in his speech; what a melting voice; what graceful gestures; what beautiful similes gathered from all
the arts, sciences, poetry, and nature herself."  It was
not with such reflections they entertained their journey
home. They said, " what shall we do to be saved? "
Primitive Christianity was a wonderful element, as it
came into the world. Like a twoedged sword, it cut
down through all the follies and falseness of four thousand years. It acknowledged what was good and true
in all systems, and sought to show its owrn agreement
with goodness and truth, wherever found. It told men
what they were. It bade them hope, look upon the
light, and aspire after the most noble end - to be complete men, to be reconciled to the will of God, and so
become one with him. It gave the world assurance of
a man, by showing one whose life was beautiful as his
doctrine, and that combined all the excellence of all former teachers, and went before the world, thousands of
years. It told men there was one God — who had




272           PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
made of one blood all the nations of the earth, and was
a Father to each man. It showed that all men are
brothers. Believing in these doctrines; seeing the greatness of man's nature in the very ruin sin had wrought;
filled with the beauty of a good life, the comforting
thought, that God is always near, and ready to help, no
wonder men felt moved in their heart. The life of the
apostles and early Christians, the self-denial they practised, their readiness to endure persecution, their love
one for the other, beautifully enforced the words of truth
and love.
One of the early champions of the faith appeals in
triumph to the excellence of Christians, which even Julian of a later (lay was forced to confess.  You know
the Christians soon as you see them, he says; they are
not found in taverns, nor places of infamous resort; they
neither game, nor lie, nor steal, attend the baths, or the
theatres; they are not selfish but loving. The multitude looked on, at first to see "whereunto the thing
would grow."  They saw, and said, see how these Christians love one another; how the new religion takes down
the selfishness of the proud, makes avarice charitable,
and the voluptuary self-denying.
This new spirit of piety, of love to man, and love to
God, the active application of the great Christian maxims to life, led to a manly religion; not to that palefaced pietism which hangs its head bn Sundays, and
does nothing but whine out its sentimental cant on
weekdays, in hopes to make this drivelling pass current for real manly excellence. No; it led to a noble,
upright frame of mind, heart, and soul, and in this way
it conquered the world. The first apostles of Christianity were persuasive, through the power of truth.
They told what they had felt. They had been under




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.        273
the Law, and knew its thraldorn; they had escaped
from the iron furnace, and could teach others the way.
No doubt, the wisest of them was in darkness on many
points. Their general ignorance, in the eyes of the
scholar, must have stood in strange contrast with their
clear view of religious truth. It seems, as Paul says,
that God had chosen the foolish and the weak, to confound the mighty and the wise. Now we have accomplished scholars, skilled in all the lore of the world, accomplished orators; but who does the work of Paul and
Timothy? Out of the mouth of babes and sucllings
praise was perfected; out of the mouth of clerks and
orators what do we gel?- Well said Jeremiah, " The
prophets shall become wind, and the word not be in
them."
If we come from the days of the apostles to their successors, and still later, we find the errors of'the first
teachers have become magnified; the truth of Christianity is dim; men had wandered further from that
great light God sent into the world. The errors of the
Pagans, the Jews, the errors of obstinate men, who
loved to rule God's heritage better than to be ensamples
unto the flock, had worked their way. The same freedom did not prevail as before. The word of God had
become a letter; men looked back, not forward. Superstition came into the church. The rites of Christianity - its accidents, not its substance - held an undue place; asceticism was esteemed more than hitherto.
The body began to be reckoned unholy; Christ regarded as a God, not a man living as God commands.
Then the Priest was separated from the people, and a
flood of evils came upon the church, and accomplished
what persecution, with her headsmen, and her armies,




274          PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.
never could effect. Christianity was grossly corrupted
long before it ascended the throne of the world. But
for this corruption it would have found no place in
the court of Rome or Byzantium. Still in the writings of early Christians, of Tertullian and Cyprian, for
example, we find a real living spirit, spite of the superstition, bigotry, and falseness too obvious in-the men.
They spake because they had somewhat to say, and
were earnest in their speech. You come down from
the writings of Seneca to Cyprian, you miss the elegant
speech, the wonderful mastery over language, and the
stores of beautiful imagery, with which that hard, bombastic Roman sets off his thought. But in the Christian - you find an earnestness and a love of man, which
the Roman had not, and a fervent piety, to which he
made no pretension. But alas, for the superstition of
the Bishop, his austerity and unchristian doctrines! It
remains doubtful, whether an enlightened manf who had
attained a considerable growth in religious excellence,
would not justly have preferred the Religion of Seneca
to that of Cyprian; but there is no doubt such an one
would have accepted with joyful faith the religion of
Jesus -the primitive Christianity undefiled by men.
To come down from the Christianity of Christ, to the
Religion popularly taught in the churches of New England, and we ask, can it be this for which men suffered martyrdom -this which changed the face of the
world?  Is this matter, for which sect contends with
sect, to save the Heathen world? Christianity was a
simple thing in Paul's time; in Christ's it was simpler
still. But what is it now?  A modern writer somewhat quaintly says, the early writers of the Christian church knew what Christianity was; they were




PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY.           275
thefalters; the scholastics and philosophers of the dark
ages knew what Reason was; they were the doctors;
the religionists of' modern times know  neither what
is Christianity, nor what is Reason; they are the scrutators.




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.*
THE work above named is one of profound theological significance. It marks the age we live in, and to
judge from its character and the interest it has already
excited, will make an epoch in thleological affairs.  It is
a book whose influence, for good and for evil, will not
soon pass away.  Taken by itself, it is the most remarkable work that has appeared in theology, for the last
hundred and fifty years, or since Richard Simon published his Critical HI-istory'of the Old Testament; viewed
in reference to its present effect, it may well be compared to Tindal's celebrated work, " Christianity as old
as the- Creation," to which, we are told, more than six
score replies have been made.' We do not propose to
give any answer to the work of Mr. Strauss, or to draw
a line between what we consider false, and what is true;
but only to give a description and brief analysis of the
* Das Leben.Jesu, Kritisch bearbeitet von Dr. DAVID FRIEDERICI
STRAUSS. Tiibingcn: 1837. 2 vols. 8vo. The Life of Jesus, critically treated, etc. Second improved edition. (1st edition, 1835, 3d,
1839, 4th, 1842.) - [From the Christian Examiner for April,,1840.]




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.       277
work itself, that the good and evil to be expected therefrom may be made'evident. But before we address
ourselves to this work, we must say a brief word respecting the comparative position of Germany and Eng —
land in regard to Theology.
On the fourth day of July, in the year of Grace one,
thousand seven hundred and fifty-seven, died at Halle,,
in Germany, Sigismund Jacob Baumgarten; a man;
who was deemed a great light in his time. Some
thought that Theology died with him. A few, perhaps,
more than a few, at one time doubted his soundness ins
the faith, for he studied Philosophy, the Philosophy of
Wolf, and there are always men, in Pulpits and Parlors,.
who think Philosophy is curious in unnecessary matters,.
meddling with things that are too high for the human.
arm to reach. Such was the case in Baumgarten's time.
in Halle of Saxony. Such is it now, not in Halle of Saxony, but in a great many places nearer home. But Dr..
Baumgarten outlived this suspicion, we are told, and.
avenged himself, in the most natural way, by visiting with,
thunders all such as differed from himself; a secret satis —
faction which some young mren, we are told, hope one
day to enjoy. Baumgarten may be taken, perhaps, as
representing the advanced post in German theology in
the middle of the last century. A few words, from one of
the greatest critical scholars Europe has produced, will.
serve to show what that post was a hundred years ago.
"He attempted, by means of history and philosophy, to.
throw light upon theological subjects, but wholly neglecting philology and criticism, and unacquainted with
the best sources of knowledge, he was unable to free religion from its corruptions. Every thing that the church
taught passed with him for infallible truth. He did not
take pains to inquire whether it agreed with Scripture
24




278            STRAUSS S LIFE OF JESUS.,or common sense. Devoted to the church, he assumed
its doctrines, and fortified its traditions with the show
of demonstrations, as with insurmountable walls of defence. His scholars were no less prompt and positive in
their decisions than their master. Every dogma of their
teacher was received by them, as it were, a mathematical certainty, and' his polemics exhibited to them the
Lutheran church, in exclusive possession of the truth,
and resigned all other sects covered with shame and
contempt to their respective errors. Every thing appeared to be so clearly exhibited and proved by him, that
there seemed to be nothing left for future scholars to investiga-te and explain; but only to repeat and enforce
-in an intelligible manner the truths already acquired.
Baumgarten, indeed, accounted it nothing less than hightreason against his discipline, for his scholars to presume
to think and examine for themselves; and acknowledged him  only for his genuine discipline, who left his
school confident, that with. the weapons of his instructor
in his hands, he could resist the whole theological world,
and overcome it without a violent struggle." *  Philos-:ophy was considered as a pest and its precincts forbidden
to all pious souls. Ecclesiastical history was in'the service of a mystical Pietism; its real province and genuine sources were unknown. Exegetical learning was
thought unnecessary, and even a foe to genuine piety;
the chimeras of Buxtorf, half Jewish, half Christian,
ruled with despotic sway.  Langen's method of salvation was esteemed an oracld in dogmatic theology, and
pietistic and'fanatical notions prevailed in morals. If a
* Eichhorn, Allgemeine Bibliothek, etc.; Leip., 1793; vol. V. pp.
16, 17. We have followed the beautiful translation in, "The Gen-.
eral Repository and Review." Cambridge, 1812; vol., I. p.. 65, seq.




STRAUSS'S' LIFE OF JESUS.        2 79 
man was not satisfied with this, or showed a desire for
more fundamental theological learning, it was said,' He
has forsaken his first love, and wants to study his Saviour out of the world."' Such was Germany a hundred years ago. The fate of Lawrence Schmid, the
"Wertheim Translator" of part of the Pentateuch, is a
well-known sign of the times. A young man was accused of Socinianism and Arianism, because he doubted
the genuineness of the celebrated passage, 1 John v. 7,
now abandoned by all respectable ciitics; he was reckoned unsound because he openly, or in secret, studied
Richard- Simon, Grotius, Leclere, and Wetstein.t
Let us now turn to England. Before this time the
Deists had opened their voice; Hobbs, Morgan, Collins,
Chubb, Tindal, Bolingbroke, had said their say. The
civil wars, of England, in the century before, had awakened the-soul of the nation.,Great men had risen up,
and given a progress to the Protestant Reformation, such
as it found in no other country of the world perhaps, unless it were in Transylvania and Holland. There had
been a Taylor, Cudworth, Seeker, Tillotson, Hoadly,
Hare, Lardner, Foster, Whitby, Sykes, Butler, Benson,
Watts, - yes, a Newton and a Locke, helping to liberalize theology. The works of Montaigne, Malebranche,
Bayle, even of Spinoza, had readers in England, as well
as opponents. The English theologians stood far in
advance of the Germans, among whom few great names
were to be reckoned after the Reformation.  Take the
century that ended in the year of Baumgarten's death,
and you have the period of England's greatest glory in
* Eichhorn,'le. vol. III. p. 833, seq.
t See Semler's Lebenbeschreibung; Halle, 1781, vol. I. p. 250,
seq. et passimn.




280          STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
science, literature, and theology. The works which
give character to the nation were written then. Most
of the English theology, which pays for the reading, was
written before the middle of thelast century; while in
Germany, few books had been written on that general
theme since the sixteenth century, which are now reprinted or eveni read. Such was England a century
ago.
What have the two countries done since? Compare
Taylor's Liberty of Prophesying, the writings of Cudworth, Locke, Butler, and Tillotson, or Foster, with the
writings of the men who occupy a similar relative position at this day, - with the general tone of the more liberal writers of England, - and what is the result? Need
it be told? Theology, in the main body of English theologians, has not been stationary. It has gone back.
The works of Priestley, and others like him, bear little
fruit.
Now in Germany, since the death of Baumgarten,
there has been a great advance. Compare the works of
Neander, Bretschneider, De Wette, and F. C. Bauer, with
Baumgarten, and "the great theologians" of his time,
and what a change. New land has been won; old
errors driven away. It is not in vain, that Michaelis,
Semler, Eichhorn, Kant, Schelling, Hegel, and Schleiermacher, have lived. Men study theology as the English once studied it,- as if they were in earnest. New
questions are raised; old doubts removed; some principles are fixed; and theology studied as a science, in
the light of reason.' But as another has said, ".In the
English theology there is somewhat dead, and immovable, catholic, external, mechanical; while the indtistrial power of England is active, and goes ahead with
giant strides, from invention to invention; while the




STRAUSS'S,LIFE OF JESUS.        281
commercial and warlike spirit of the nation goes storming forth, with manly and almost frantic courage, into
the remotest distance, embracing the globe with its gigantic arms, and in the midst of its material concerns,
pursues without wearying the interests of science, too
haughty to disturb itself about the truth of religions
foreign to its concerns; Theology remains, as it were,
to represent the female element in the mind of the nation, sitting at home, domestic as a snail, in the oldfashioned narrow building she has inherited from her
fathers, which has been patched up a little, here and
there, as necessity compelled. There she sits, anxiously
fearing, in her old womanly way, lest she shall be driven
out of doors by the spirit of enlightened Europe, which
sports with heathen religions. In English theology a
peace has been established between the Understanding
and Christianity, as between two deadly foes. Theology preserves unhurt the objective contents of the Christian Religion; but in the dull understanding, it lies like
a stone in the stomach."  But let us now turn to the
work of Mr. Strauss.
It is not our aim to write a polemic against the author
of the "Life of Jesus," but to describe his book, or
" define his position," as the politicians are wont to say.
The work in question comprises, first, an Introduction,
relating to the formation of " the Mythical stand-point,"
from which the Evangelical history is to be contemplated; second, the main work itself, which is divided
into three.books, relating respectively to the History of
the Birth and Childhood of Jesus; his Public Life; his
Sufferings, Death, and Resurrection; third, a conclusion
of the whole book, or the doctrinal significance of the
life of Jesus. The work forms two closely printed volumes, and comprises about sixteen hundred pages, thus
24*




282            STRAUSS'Ss LIFE OF JESUS.
making a work nearly as large as Mr. Hallam's History
of Literature. It is not properly called a Life of Jesus;
but a better, a more descriptive title would be, A Fundamental Criticism on the Four Gospels. In regard to
learning, acuteness, and sagacious conjectures, the work
resembles Niebuhr's History of Rome.  Like that, it is
not a history, but a criticism and collection of materials,
out of which a conjectural history may be constructed.
Mr. Strauss, however, is not so original as Niebuhr,
(who yet had numerous predecessors, though they are
rarely noticed,) but is much more orderly and methodical. The general manner of treating the subject, and
arranging the chapters, sections, and parts' of the argument, indicates consummate dialectical skill; while the
style is clear, the expression direct, and the author's
openness in referring to his sources of information, and
stating his conclusions in all their simplicity, is candid
and exemplary.''The Introduction to the work is valuable to every
student of the Scriptures, who has sufficient sagacity to
discern between the true and the false; to any other it
is dangerous, as are all strong books to weak heads,
very dangerous, from its " specious appearances." It is
quite indispensable to a comprehension of the main
work. We will give a brief abstract of some of its most
-important matters.  If a form  of religion rest on writ-ten documents, sooner or later, there comes a difference;between the old document and the modern discoveries:and culture shown in works written to explain it. So
long as the difference is not total, attempts will be made
to reconcile the two. A great part of religious docu* He professes very honestly, that he has no presuppositions. We
shall touch upon this point.




STRAUSS S LIFE OF JESUS.        283
ments relate to sacred history, to events and instances
of the Deity stepping into the circle of human affairs.
Subsequently, doubts arise as to the fact, and it is said
"the divinity could not have done as it is alleged,"
or, " the deed could not be divine."  Then attempts are
made to show either that these deeds were never done,
and, therefore, the documentary record is not entitled
to historical credibility, or that they were not done by
God, and,, therefore, to explain away the real contents
of the book. In each of these cases, the critic may
go fearlessly to work; look facts clearly in the face;
acknowledge the statements of the old record, with the
inconsistency between them and the truths of science;
or, he may go to work under constraint; may blind himself to this inconsistency, and seek merely to unfold the
original meaning of the text. This took place in Greece,
where religion did not rest on religious documents, but
had yet a sort of connection with the mythological stories
of Homer and Hesiod, and with others, which circulated
from mouth to mouth. The serious philosophers soon
saw that these stories could not be true. Hence arose
Plato's quarrel with Homer; hence Anaxagoras gave
an allegorical explanation of Homer, and the Stoics
naturalized Hesiod's Theogony, supposing it related to
the operations of Nature. Others, like Evhemerus, hnu-?nanized and applied these stories to men, who by great
deeds had won divine honors.
Now with the Hebrews, their stability, and their adherence to the supernatural stand-point would, on the
one hand, prevent such views being taken of their religious records; and on the other, would render this treatment the more necessary.' Accordingly, after the exile,
and still more after the time of the Maccabees, the Hebrew teachers found means to remove what was offen



284           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
sive; to fill up chasms, and introduce modern ideas into
their religious books. This was first done at Alexandria.
-Philo, — following numerous predecessors, - maintained
there was a common and a deeper sense in the Scriptures, and in some cases, the literal meaning was altogether set aside; especially when it comprised any
thing excessively anthropomorphitic, or unworthy of
God. Thus he gave up the historical character, to save
the credit of the narrative, but never followed the method
of Evhemerus. The Christians applied the same treatment to the Old Testament, and Origen found a literal,
mzoral, and mystical sense in all parts of the Scriptures,
and sometimes applied the saying, "the letter killeth,
but the spirit maketh alive," to the former. Some passages, he said, had no literal sense; in others a literal
lie lay at the bottom of a mnystical truth. Many deeds,
he says, are mentioned in Scripture, which were never
performed; fiction is woven up with fact to lead us to
virtue. He rejected the literal sense of those passages
which humanize the Deity. But Origen went further,
and applied these same principles to the New Testament,
where he found much that was distasteful to his philosophical palate. Here also he finds fictions mingled with
fact, and compares the Homeric stories of the Trojan
war, in respect to their credibility, with the Christian
narratives. In both Homer and the Gospels, he would
consider what portions can be believed; what considered
as figurative; what rejected as incredible, and the result
of human frailty. He, therefore; does not demand a
blind faith in the Gospels, but would have all Christians understand, that good-sense and diligent examination are necessary in this study, to ascertain the meaning of a particular passage. But this heretical Father
was too cautious to extend these remarks, and apply




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.        285
them extensively to particular passages. The Scriptures fell into the hands of men, who acknowledged
something divine in them; but denied that God had
made therein particular manifestations of himself. This
was done by Celsus, Porphyry, and Julian, who assented
to much that is related of Moses and Jesus; while they
found " lying legends " in other parts of the Bible.
Among the Greeks and Hebrews, whose religious literature was contemporary with the growth- of the nation,
the prevalence of allegorical interpretation of the sacred
books, proved that the old forms of religion had died
out, for the modern culture had outgrown the faith of
the fathers of the nation. But in Christianity, the allegorical explanation adopted by Origen, and the peculiar opposition of Celsus taking place so near the birth
of Christianity, prove that the world had not yet properly lived in the new form of religion. But, from the
age after this time, when the rude Germanic nations, —
too rude to find any difficulty in admitting the most
objectionable parts of the Old and New Testament,were conquering the Roman Empire, and becoming
Christians at the same time, all proofs have disappeared,
wihich would indicate the prevalence of a manner of interpreting the Scriptures, that arose from a radical discrepancy between the culture of mankind and the statements in these records. The Reformation made the
first breach upon the solid walls of Ecclesiastical faith
in the letter of the Bible. This,was the first sign, that
in Christianity as formerly in Judaism and Heathenism, there was a culture sufficiently powerful to react
upon the prevalent form of religion.
So far as the Reformation was directed against the
Romish Church, it soon accomplished its sublime mission. But in relation to the Scriptures, it took the di



286           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
rection of Deism. Toland and Bolingbroke called the
Bible a collection of fabulous books. Others robbed
the Scriptural heroes of all divine light. The law of
Moses was considered a superstition; the apostles were
called selfish; the character of Jesus was assailed; and
his resurrection denied by a " moral philosopher." Here
belong Chubb, Woolston, Morgan, and the Wolfenbiittel
Fragmentist. These scholars were ably opposed by a
host of apologetical writers in England and Germany,
who defended the supernatural character of the Bible.
But in Germany there arose a different class of men,
who designed to strip the Bible of its supernatural character, and direct divinity; but to leave its human character unharmed. They would not call the alleged miracles, miracles, noi consider them  as jugglintg.  Thus
Eichhorn opposed the Deists, —who ascribed bad motives to the writers of Scripture, -but denied that there
was any thing supernatural in the stories of the Old
Testament. He saw that he must deny this of the
Bible, or admit it likewise of all ancient religious documents; for they all claimed it. We are not to be astonished, he says, at finding miracles in these writings,
for they were produced in the infancy of the world; we
must interpret them in the same spirit that composed
them. Thus he can explain the history of Noah, Abraham, and Moses, by natural events.
Others treated the New Testament in the same manner. But the first Christian Evhemerus, was Dr. Paulus. He makes a distinction between the fact related
and the judgment or opinion respecting' the fact; for example, between the fact and the writer's opinion respecting its cause or purpose. The two, he supposes,, are
confounded in the New Testament; for its writers, like
others in that age, took a supernatural view, and referred




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         287
human actions to the direct agency of God. The office
of an interpreter is to separate the fact from the opinion
about the fact. Paulus, accordingly, believes the Gospels, but denies the supernatural causality of the events
related. Jesus is not the Son of God, in the ecclesiastical sense, but a good man; he works no miracles, but
does kind deeds, sometimes by chirurgical skill, and
sometimes by good luck. Both Paulus and Eichhorn,
in order to maintain the truth of the narrative, must
refer it to a date as early as possible; thus the former
admits that Moses wrote the Pentateuch on the march
through the wilderness, and the latter believes the genuineness of the Gospels. Both of these sacrifice the literal history for the sake of the great truths contained in
the book.
Kant took a different position. He did not concern
himself with the history, but only with the idea the history unfolded; this idea he considered not as theoretical
and practical, but only the latter. He did not refer it
to the divine mind, but to that of the writer, or his interpreter. Christian rwriters, he says, have so long interpreted. these books, that they seem to harmonize with
universal moral laws. But the Greeks and Romans did
the same, and made Polytheism only a symbol of the
various attributes of the One God, thus giving a mystical sense to the basest actions of the gods, and the
wildest dreams of the poets. In the same way the
Christian writings must be explained, so as to make
them harmonize with the universal laws of a pure moral
Religion. This, even if it does violence to the text, must
be preferred to the literal interpretation, which, in many
instances, would afford no support to morality, and
would sometimes counteract the moral sense. Thus he
makes David's denunciation of his foes signify the de



288           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
sire to overcome obstacles; but thinks it is not necessary
these ideas should have been present to the mind of the
writer of the books.
Hereh Mr. Strauss continues, was, on the one hand,
an unhistorical, and on the other, an unphilosophical
method of treating the Bible. The progressive study of
mythology shed light upon this subject. Eichhorn had
made the reasonable demand, that the Bible shbould be
treated like other ancient books; but Paulus, attempting
to treat others as he treated the Bible, could not naturalize the Greek legends and myths. Such scholars asSchelling and Gabler began to find myths in the Bible,
and apply to them  the maxim of Heyne, "a'mythis
omnis priscorum hominum cum historia, turn philosophia
procedit." Bauer ventured to write a Hebrew mythology of the Old and New Testament. A myth was defined to be a narration proceeding from an age, when
there was no written, authentic history, but when'facts
were preserved and related by oral tradition. It is a
myth, if it contains an account of things, - related in an
historical way, - which absolutely could not be the
objects o'f experience, such as events that took place in
the supersensual world, or, which could not relatively be
objects of experience, such, for example, as, from the
nature of the case, no man could witness. Or, finally,
it is a myth, if the narrative is elaborated into the wonderful, and is related in symbolic language.
Now the naturalis;tic method of interpreting the Bible
could only be resorted to on the supposition of its histdrical accuracy, and that it was written contemporary
with the events it relates. Accordingly, men who denied this, carried out the mythical theory. The Pentateuch, says Vater, can be understood only on the supposition it was not written by eye-witnesses. De Wette




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         2891
declared still more strongly against the naturalistic, and
in favor of the mythical hypotlhesis.  To test the cred-.
ibility of an account, he says, we must examine thewriter's tendency. He may write history, and yet haves
a poetic tendency, and such is the case with the writers.
of the Old Testament. Fact and fiction are blended.
together therein, and we cannot separate them, because
we have no criterion or touchstone, by which to.
examine them. The only source of our knowledge ofevents is the narrative relating the historical facts. We
cannot go beyond this. In regard to the Old Testament,.
we must admit or reject these narratives; in the latter
case, we relinquish all claim to any knowledge of the
affairs related, for we have no other evidence respecting:
them. We have no right to impose a natural explana —
tion on what is related as a miracle.  It is entirely arbitrary to say thefact is genuine history, and the drapery
alone is poetical; for example, we have no right to say
Abraham thought he would make a covenant with God,,
and that this fact lies at the bottom of the poetic narrative. Nor do we know what Abraham thought. If we-.
follow the narrative, we must take the fact as it is; if wereject it, we have no knowledge of the fact itself. It is
not reasonable that Abraham should have such thoughts.
of his descendants possessing Palestine centuries after —.
wards, but quite natural, that they should write this.
poetic fiction to glorify their ancestor.
Thus the natmuralistic explanation destroys itself, andthe mythical takes its place. Even Eichhorn confessed
the former could not be applied to the New Testament,
and Gabler, long ago, maintained, that there are in the,
New Testament, not only erroneous judgments upon.
facts, which an eye-witness might make; but also false
facts and improbable results mentioned, which an eye-.
25




290            STRAUSS S LIFE OF JESUS.
witness could not relate, but which were gradually
formed by tradition, and are, therefore, to be considered
myths. The circumstance of writings and books being
well known at the time of Christ, does not preclude the
mythical view; for th6 facts must have been preserved
orally long before they were written down. Besides,
says Bauer, we have not in the New Testament a whole
series of myths, but only single mythical stories.  Anecdotes are told of a great man, which assume a more extraordinary character, the further they spread. In a miracle-loving age, the obscure youth of Jesus would, after
his name became illustrious, be embellished with miraculous stories of celestial beings visiting his parents, predicting his birth and character. Where the records or
authentic tradition failed, men gave loose to fancy, to
historical conjectures, and reasonings in the style of the
Jewish Christians, and thus created the philosophic
myths of primitive Christian history. But men did not
sit down with fancy aforethought, saying, " Go to, now,
let us make myths; " but they were gradually formed;
a little was added here, and a little there. They would
relate chiefly to the obscurest part of Christ's history.
In obedience to this principle, Eichhorn, seeing that only
a slender thread of apostolical tradition runs through
the three first Gospels, rejects several stories from the
life of Jesus, which offended his critical taste; for example, the gospel of the infancy, the temptation, some of
his miracles, the resurrection of the saints at his death.
Now, Mr. Strauss objects to his predecessors, that for
the most part, their idea of a myth is not just and definite; for in the case of a historical myth, they permit
the interpreter to separate a natural, historical fact from
the miraculous embellishments, which they refer to tra



STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.        291
dition; not, as the naturalist had done, to the original
author. Thus' the naturalist and the supernaturalist
could admit historical but not philosophical myths, for
then the entire historical basis seemed to fall away.
Againt, these views were not applied extensively- as
far as they would go. Eichhorn admitted there was a
myth on the threshold of the Old Testament. When
the mythical hypothesis reached the New Testament, it
was not permitted to go beyond the very entrance. It
was admitted there could be no certain accounts of the
early life of Jesus, and therefore that many false stories,
suited to the taste of the times and the oracles of the
Old Testament, have taklien the place which there was
no history to fill. But this does not in the slightest
degree impair the credibility of the subsequent narrative. The evangelists give an account of the three last
years of his life; and here they were themselves eye-witnesses, or took the word of eye-witnesses. Then objections were brought against the end of the history, and
the Ascension was considered spurious or mythical.
Thus critical doubts began to nibble at both ends of
the narrative, while the middle remained untouched, or
as some one has said, "Theologians entered the domain
of Evangelical history through the gorgeous portals of
the myth, and passed out at a similar gate; but in all
that lay between these limits, they were content to take
the crooked and toilsome paths of naturalistic explanation."
Mr. Strauss next inquires, whether it is possible there
should be myths in the New Testament, and, judging.
from outward arguments, he thinks it possible. Most
Christians, he says, believe that is false which the
Heathen relate of their gods, and the Mahometans of




292           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
their prophet, while the Scriptures relate only what is
true respecting the acts of God, Christ, and the holy
men. But this is a prejudice founded on the assumption that Christianity differs from heathen religions in
the fact, that it alone is an historical, while they are
mythical religions. But this is the result of a partial
and confined view; for each of the other religions brings
this charge against its rivals, and all derive their own
origin from the direct agency of God. It is supposed
that the Gospels were written by eye-witnesses, who
were not deceived themselves, and were not deceivers,
and, therefore, no room is left for the formation, or insertion of myths. But it is only a prejudice, that the
Gospels were written by eye-witnesses. The names of
Matthew and John, for example, prefixed to these writings, prove nothing; for the Pentateuch bears the name
of Moses, though it must have been written long after
him; some of the Psalms bear the name of David,
though they were written during the exile, and the book
of Daniel ascribes itself to that prophet, though it was
not written before the times of Antiochus Epiphanies.
He finds little reason for believing the genuineness or
the authenticity of the Gospels. Indeed, he regards
them all as spurious productions of well-meaning men,
who collected the traditions that were current in the
part of the world, where they respectively lived. This
is the weakest part of his'book, important as the question is; yet weak as it is, his chief argument rests upon
it. The proofs of the spuriousness of these books are
quite to'o feeble and uncertain for his purpose, and accordingly we are pleased to see, from the preface and
many passages of the third edition, that his doubts
upon the genuineness of John's Gospel have become
doubtful, even to himself, after a further study of it,




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         293
with the aid of the recent works of Neander and De
Wette.*
Again, judging from the character of the books themselves, myths, according to Strauss, might be expected
in the New Testament. It is sometimes said, the mythical stories of the Bible differ from the Greek myths, in
their superior moral character; but the alleged immorality of the Greek myths arises from mistaking their
sense, and some of the myths in the Old Testament
are immoral; and if they could be formed, much easier
could moral myths be made and accepted. It is sometimes said in opposition to the mythical hypothesis, that
all these stories in the Bible appear natural, if you admit
the direct agency of God. But the same remark applies equally to the Greek and Indian myths.  Still
further, it is said, the Heathen myths represent God as
a changing being, and thus- contain the natural history
of God, and the birth, infancy, youth, and manhood of
Apollo, or Jupiter, for example; while those of the
Bible represent Jehovah as eternally the same. But
Jesus, the Son of God, the divine Logos incarnated, is
the subject of history. Others say there can be no myths,
because the time of Jesus was an historical and not a
mythical age; but all parts of the world were not filled
with the historical spirit, and fictions might easily grow
up among the people, who had no design to deceive,
and thus myths be formed. This is the more probable,
for in ancient times, among the Hebrews, and in particular in the religious circles of that people, history and
fiction, like poetry and prose, were never carefully separated, and the most respectable writers, among the
* Neander's Leben Jesu; De Wette's Exegetische Handbuch der
N. T. Commentar in Johan.
25*




294           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
Jews and early Christians, wrote works, and ascribed
them to distinguished men of an earlier age.
His definition and criteria of a myth are as follows:.a myth has two sides; first, it is not a history; and.second, it is a fiction, which has been produced by the
state of mind of a certain community.
I. It is not an historical statement: (1) if it contradiet the well-known laws of causality, (and here belong
the direct actions and supernatural appearances of God:and the angels, miracles, prophecies, and voices from
Heaven, violations of the order of succession, and wellknown psychological laws;) and (2) when the writers,or witnesses contradict each other, in respect to time,
(for example of the purification of the temple,) place,
(the residence of Joseph and Mary,) number, (the Gadarenes and angels at the grave,) or in respect to names:and other circumstances.
II. A narrative is shown to be legendary or fictitious,
(1) if it is poetical in form, and the discourses of the
-characters are longer and more inspired than we need
-expect, (for example, the discourses of Jesus,) and (2)
if the substance of the narrative agrees remarkably with
the preconceived opinions of the community where it
originated, it is more or less probable the narrative grew
out of the opinion. He adds several qualifications and
-modifications of these tests.
Having thus drawn lines of circumvallation and contravallation about the Gospels, Mr. Strauss thus opens
the attack upon the outworks. The narrative in Luke
relating to John the Baptist, he says, is not authentic;
it is not probable the angelic state is constituted as it is
here supposed. This idea was borrowed by the later Jews
from the Zend religion, and the name of the angel Ga



STRAUSS S LIFE OF JESUS.          295
briel, and his office to stand before God, are Babylonian.'ihe angel's discourse and conduct are objectionable;
he commands that the child shall be trained up as a
Nazarite, and smites Zacharias wnith dumbness, which
is not consistent with'" theocratic decorum."  Admitting the existence of angels, they could not reveal themselves to men, since they belong to different spheres.
The naturalists and supernaturalists fail to render this
story credible, and we are, therefore, forced to double its
literal accuracy. Some writers suppose there are historical facts at the bottom of this tale, for example, the
sterility of Elizabeth, the sudden dumbness of Zacharias, and his subsequent restoration. But there is no
better reason for admitting these facts, than for admitting the whole story. It must be regarded as a myth,
and is evidently wought out in imitation of others in
the'Old Testament.  It resembles the story of Sarah,
in the age of the parties; Elizabeth is a daughter of
Aaron, whose wife bore this same name. The appearance of the angel, who foretells the birth of John, his
character, and destiny, is evidently an imitation of the
prophecy respecting Samson, and there is a very strong
resemblance between the language of Luke in this part
of the story, and that of the Septuagint in the account
of Samson's birth. The conclusion of the story (Luke
i. 80) resembles the end of the story of Ishmael,
(Gen. xxi. 20). The name of John, [God's Gift,] which
was not a family name, renders the narrative still more
suspicious. Thus the whole is a myth. We think Mr.
Strauss, for the sake of consistency, ought to deny that
John the Baptist was an historical person, and doubtless he would have done so, were it not for an unfortunate passage in Josephus, which mentions that prophet.




296           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
A rigorous application of his tests would deprive John
of historical existence. But Josephus saves him.
He next examines the genealogies of Jesus.
Matthew enumerates three series, each of fourteen
generations, or forty-two persons in the whole, between
Abraham and Jesus, and gives the names of the individuals; but the number actually given does not agree
with his enumeration, and no hypothesis relieves us of
the difficulty. If we compare this list with the Old Testament, it is still more objectionable, for it omits several
well-known names, and contains some mistakes. Luke's
genealogy differs still more widely from the Old Testament; from Nathan, the son of David, downward, he
mentions only two persons, who occur in the Old Testament, namely Salathiel and Zorobabel, and even here it
contradicts the narratives in 1 Chronicles, iii. 17, 19, 20.
If we compare these two genealogies together, there is
a striking difference between them. Luke reckons
forty-one generations from David to Joseph, the father
of Jesus, where Matthew makes but twenty-six, and,
with the two exceptions above mentioned, the names
are all different in the two narrations. According to
Luke, the father of Joseph is Heli, a descendant of
Nathan, son of David; according to Matthew, Joseph's
father is Jacob, a descendant of Solomnon. Various
attempts have been made to reconcile these conflicting
genealogies, but they all rest on arbitrary suppositions.
It is sometimes said one contains the genealogy of
Joseph, the other of Mary; but this also is an arbitrary
supposition, at variance with the text, and is not supported by any passage in the Bible. We must, then,
conclude these genealogies are arbitrary compositions,
which do not prove the Davidic descent of Jesus, who




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         297
was called son of David, because he was considered as
the Messiah.'It is easily conceivable that a Galilean,
whose descent was unknown, after he had acquired the
title of Messiah, should be represented by tradition as
a son of David. On the strength of these traditions
genealogies were composed, which, for want of authentic documents, were as various and conflicting as these
two of Luke and Matthew.
He then treats of the miraculous birth of Jesus.
Here he makes use of two apocryphal Gospels,
quoted by several of the early fathers. He shows the
striking difference between the accounts of Matthew
and Luke, concerning the birth of Jesus. But since
the same view has been taken amongst us by Mr. Norton, and this remarkable discrepancy has been pointed
out by him in a work well known and justly valued,*
it is unnecessary to enter further into the subject. Mr.
Norton rejects Matthew's account as spurious and unauthentic; while Mr. Strauss, with more perfect logical
consistency, rejects likewise Luke's narrative, on the
ground that Gabriel talks like a Jew; that the supernatural birth is impossible; that if an human birth implies the sinfulness of the child, then a celestial mother
is needed also, that the child may be free from sin.
Again, there are exegetical difficulties, for Mark and
John omit this part of the history, and the latter had
the best possible means of information, and it is always
supposed in the New Testament that Jesus was Joseph's
son. Beside, if Jesus were the Son of God, how could
he be the son of David, and why -are the two genealogies given to prove that descent, one of which is con* Evidences of the Genuineness of the Gospels, by Andrews Nor-'
ton. Vol. I.; Boston, 183 7.




298          STRAUSS S LIFE OF JESUS.
fessed, on all hands, to be the genealogy of Joseph, who,
by the supernatural hypothesis, was nowise related to
Jesus? In this case the genealogies would prove nothing. It is not possible, they proceeded from the same
hand as the story of the supernatural birth, and Mr.
Strauss conjectures they are the work of the Ebionites,
who denied that article of faith. The attempts of the
rationalists and the supernaturalists are alike insufficient, he thinks, to explain away the difficulties of this
narrative; but if we regard it as a myth, the difficulty
vanishes, and its origin is easily explained. The story
itself, in Matthew, refers to Isaiah, (vii. 14,) and that
prophecy seems to have been the groundwork of this
myth. In the old world, it was erroneously supposed,
or pretended, that great men were the descendants of
the gods; for examples Hercules, the Dioscuri, Rorpulus, Pythagoras, and Plato, of whose remarkable birth
Jerome speaks. This myth, therefore, grew naturally
out of the common Jewish notions at the time, and was
at last written down.
He next examines the account of the census, and the
early life of Jesus.
Luke infornis us that Augustus Caesar issued a decree
" that all the world should be taxed," or numbered; but
no other writer mentions a general census in the time of
Augustus, though a census was made in some provinces.
If'we limit the term " all the world" to Judea, still it
is improbable such a census was made at that time, for
the Romans did not make a census of conquered countries, until they were reduced to the form of a province,
and Judea did not become a Roman province, until
after the disgrace and banishment of Archelaus, which
event took place after he had reigned ten years as an
allied sovereign. Luke says this census was made




STRAUSS' S LIE OF JESUS.        299
when Quirinus was governor of Syria. Now it was
not Quirinus, but Sentius Saturninus, and after him,
Quint. Varus, who were proconsuls of Syria in the latter years of Herod I., and it was some years after his
death that Quirinus became proconsul of Syria, and
actually made a census, as Josephus relates. Luke also
refers to this latter census, (Acts v. 37,) and speaks of
Judas the Galilean, who rebelled on this occasion, as
Josephus informs us. NOw it cannot be true, that Jesus
was born at so late a period ais the time of this census,
under Quirinus, for, -not to mention the chronological
difficulties this hypothesis would create in the latter
years of Jesus,-this census could not have extended
to Galilee, the residence of Joseph and Mary, for that
state was governed by Herod Antipas, in the capacity
of allied Prince, and accordingly was not a province;
therefore, Joseph would not be summoned to Judea
when the census of that province was taken. Still
further, it is not probable the Romans would assemble
the citizens together by families in the birthplace of
the founder of the family, to enroll them.
One evangelist makes Joseph live at Bethlehem,
the other at Nazareth. Now the design of the author,
in placing the birth of Jesus at Bethlehem, is obvious.
He wished the prophecy in Micah, (v. 2,) to be fulfilled
in Jesus, for the Jews applied it t6 the Messiah. The
iutlior, setting out from the opinion that Joseph and
Mary dwelt at Nazareth, sought for some natural
errand to bring them to Bethlehem. He found a suitable occasion in the well-known census of Quirinus;
but not understanding accurately the circumstances of
the time and place, he has brought hopeless confusion
into the narrative, if it is taken for genuine history. We
have, therefore, no reason, concludes Mr. Strauss. for be



300              STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
lieving Jesus was born at Bethlehem, for the story is a
myth.
Other circumstances in this narrative present difficulties.  What purpose, asks Mr. Strauss, is served by
the angels, who appear at the birth of Jesus?  It
could not be to publish the fact; nor to reward the believing shepherds, who, like Simeon, were waiting for
the consolation, nor yet to glorify the unconscious infant.
They seem sent to the shepherds, because they were
supposed to be more simple and religious than the artificial Pharisees. Similar objections may be made to
the story of the magi, who, it is presupposed, knew be-.
forehand, as astrologers, that a king of the Jews was to
be born.  A  miraculous star guides them; but a star
does not change its position relatively to earthly places,
and  a meteor does not appear so long as this guide
seems to  have done.  The  conduct of Herod is not
consistent with his shrewdness, for he sends lno officer
with the magi to seize the new-born Messiah. The
* Mr. Norton, (p. lxi. of the additional notes to his " Genuineness
of the Gospels,") thus disposes of these difficulties in Luke's narrative; " With its real miracles, the fictions of oral tradition had probably become blended; and the individual, by whom it was committed
to writing, probably added what he regarded as poetical embellishments. It is not necessary to believe, for example, that Mary and
Zachariah actually expressed themselves in the mythical language of
the hymns ascribed to them; or to receive as literal history the whole
of the account respecting the birth of John the Baptist, or of the
different appearances of an angel, announcing himself as Gabriel.
With our present means of judging, however, we cannot draw a precise line between the truth, and what has been added to the truth.
But in regard to the main event, the miraculous conception of Jesus,
it seems to me not difficult to discern in it purposes worthy of God."
But see, on the other hand, the opposite opinion of Mr. Stuart, Americani Bible Repository for October, 1838.




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.        301
story of the massacre of the innocents at Bethlehem is
not mentioned by any ancient author, except Macrobins, a writer of the fourth century, and he confounds
it with Herod's murder of his son Antipater. The
Rabbins, who never spare this tyrant, do not mention it..'True it was but a drop in Herod's sea of guilt, but it is
so peculiarly horrible and revolting, that they would not
pass over it. In this short passage there are four miraculous dreams and a miraculous star, not to mention themisinterpretation of the Old Testament. (Matt. ii. 23.)
But the whole story is mythical, and is derived from
ideas and opinions commonly held at the time. The.
ancients believed a heavenly body sometimes appeared
on great occasiofs; for example, a comet, at the birth.
of Mithridates, and at the death of Julius Cuesar. The
Rabbins assert a star appeared at the birth of Abraham..
It was their opinion that a star would appear in the~
East, and remain visible for a long time, at the periodi
of the Messiah's birth. Balaam also had predicted that
a star should come out of Jacob. In, ancient times, it
was supposed stars guided men, for example, _/~neas,,
Thrasybulus, and Tirnoleon; and the Jews fancied that
a star conducted Abraham to Mount Moriah. Isaiah 
had foretold, that in the days of the Messiah, men
should come from distant lands to worship, bringing'
gold and incense. Again, many great characters of an- 
tiquity had escaped from imminent peril; for example,.
Cyrus, Romulus, Augustus, and Moses, in early life..
Abraham, Jacob, and Moses had saved their lives at a
later age, by flight. - All these ideas and reminiscences,
therefore, appear in the two narratives, which are different variations of the same theme, though they have no
direct influence, one upon the other.
Matthew passes in silence over the entire period,
26




302          STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
from the return from Egypt to the baptism of Jesus,
and Luke mentions but a single circumstance of his early
life, namely, his conversation, when twelve years old,
with the Doctors. But this event cannot be historical;
for it is not probable he would, at that age, be admitted
to a seat in the council of the Rabbis. His reply to
his parents would not have been misunderstood, if the
previous events had taken place as they are related.
The whole story, Mr. Strauss contends, is a myth, conceived to suit the opinion, that great men are remarkable in their childhood. Thus, in the Old Testament,
Samuel is consecrated in his childhood; the latter traditions, which Philo and Josephus follow, ascribe wonderful things to Moses at an early age, though the Bible
knows nothing of them. Tradition says, that Samuel
prophesied from his twelfth year, and that Solomon and
Daniel uttered wise oracles at the same age; 1 Kings,
iii. 23, seq.; Susannah, vs. 45, seq.
The next chapter treats of the public ministry of
Jesus. We pass over the chronological difficulties relating to the ministry of John the Baptist,.which have
been carefully collected by Mr. Strauss, and come to his
connection with Jesus. The baptism of John seems
based chiefly on some figurative expressions of the,
Old Testament, according to which God would wash
away the sins of his unregenerate people, before the
Messiah came. These passages could easily be corn.
bined so as to make it appear that baptism, as the symbol of repentance, must precede the Messiah's coming.
Luke informs us that John was a kinsman of Jesus,
and that their respective mothers were acquainted with,
the sublime destiny of their children, even before the
latter were born. Matthew knows nothing of this, but




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         303
ascribes to John, at the baptism of Jesus, expressions,
which imply a previous acquaintance with him; for
otherwise he would not refuse to baptize Jesus, on the
ground of his own unworthiness to baptize a being so
far above him. These two gospels, then, agree in presupposing the acquaintance of John and Jesus. But
the fourth Gospel makes John distinctly deny the fact.
(i. 31-33.)  The appearance of the sign first asstres
him of the appearance of Jesus.
All the Gospels agree that John calls himself a forerunner of the Messiah, and that he was convinced Jesus
was that Messiah. But Matthew and Luke relate, that
after his imprisonment, John sent two of his disciples
to James, to ascertain the fact. Now if he was convinced by the sign at the baptism, he ought still more
to have been convinced by the miracles of Jesus, that
he was the Messiah. He could not have sent his disciples to Jesus, in order to strengthen their faith, for he
did not know Jesus would workl wonders in their presence, nor would he compromise his own assertion; that
Jesus was the Messiah; and yet if he himself believed
it, he would not urge his superior to declare himself immediately, but would leave him to decide for himself.
The fourth Gospel contains the most definite expressions respecting the Messiahship of Jesus; and puts
them in John's mouth. But did the Baptist consider
him  an expiatory sufferer?  Did he ascribe to him an
antemundane, celestial existence, as the Evangelist,
has done?  We find no proofs of it, except in this
fourth Gospel. Now it is not probable the Baptist
had this conception of the office and nature of Jesus;
nor is it probable, that he made the reply.to his disciples, which this evangelist ascribes to him, (iii. )27-36,)
where he confesses that he, (John,) is From beneath,




304          STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
but Jesus, From above, the One Sent by God, the Son
of God, Speaking God's words, and Born of God. He
must increase, and I decrease. It is probable that the
evangelist put these words into John's mouth, but not that
the Baptist ever uttered them; for if he had so deep an
insight into the nature of the kingdom of God, and the
character and office of the Messiah, and believed Jesus
to be that Messiah, the latter would never have said
that men so rude in their conceptions, as the humblest
of his disciples, were superior to John the Baptist; for
Peter, the very greatest of these disciples, never attained
the lofty conception that Jesus was the Son of God,
the " Lamb, who taketh away the sin of the world."
Besides, the character of John renders it incredible he
would place himself at the feet of Jesus, the very opposite of himself in all respects. This man of the
desert, rough and austere, could not become a pattern of
the profoundest Christian resignation. A man on a
humbler stand-point, (like that of John,) cannot comprehend the man on a superior stand-point, (like that of
Jesus).'Jf this, which is related of John were true, " It
would be the only instance on record of a man belonging to the history of the whole world, voluntarily, and
in such good-humor, giving up the reins of the affairs
he had so long directed to a man who succeeded him,
only to cast him into the shade, and render his mission
unnecessary." The fourth Gospel, then, would make
the Baptist unlike the Baptist of the Synoptics and
Josephus. The statement, in John i. 29-35, is derived
in part from fancy, and partly from an embellishment of
the narrative in the Synoptics.
Now the origin of the narratives relating to the Baptist, Mr. Strauss contends, is very easily explained.
Paul related the historical fact, that John spoke in the




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         305
name of one to come, and added, Jesus was that one.
Afterwards, men spoke as if John had a personal acquaintance with Jesus. This view, though not supported by facts, pleased the early Christians, who were
glad to have the Baptist's authority on their side. But
there seems no reason for believing there ever was such
a recognition of Jesus on the part of John; nor is it
probable that, while in prison on the charge of sedition,
(as Josephus says,) he would be permitted to hold free
intercourse with his disciples. The, historical facts are,
perhaps, the following: Jesus was baptized by John;
perhaps continued for some time one of his followers;
was intrusted by John with the idea of the approaching
Messiah. After John was cast into prison, he continued to preach the doctrines of his master in a modified form, and afterwards, when he rose far above John,
never ceased to feel and express a deep reverence for
him. Now  we can trace, the gradual formation of
these stories. John spoke indefinitely of the coming
Messiah; tradition added, that he proclaimed Jesus' as
that Messiah. It was thought the rumor of the works
of Jesus might have led him to this conclusion, and,
therefore, Matthlew's story of the mission of two disciples from the prison was formed. But since Jesus
had been a disciple of John, it was necessary the relation should be changed, and this purpose is served by
Luke's stories of events before his birth, which prove
Jesus is the superior. But these accounts were not
sufficiently defin'ite, and, therefore, the fourth Gospel
leaves no doubt in John's mind that Jesus was the Messiah, but makes him give the strongest assurance of this,
the first time he sees him, and ascribes to him the most
distinct expressions touching his eternal nature, divinity,
and character, as a suffering and atoning  Messiah.
26 




306           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
Now the' accounts of John's imprisonment and execution are easily reconciled with one another and with
Josephus; and hence we see that his life, as portrayed
in the Gospels, is surrounded by mythical shadows
only on the side turned towards Jesus, while on the
other, the historical features are clearly seen.
The Miraculous events at the baptism of Jesus, Mr.
Strauss maintains, also present difficulties. The Synoptics mention both the dove and the voice; the fourth
Gospel says fiothing of the voice, and does not say, -
though, perlhaps, it implies, -that the spirit descended
on him at the baptism. The lost gospels of Justyn and
the Ebionites, connected with this a celestial light, or
fire burning in the Jordan. According to the fourth
Gospel, John was the only witness of the spirit descending upon Jesus like a dove; but Luke would make it
appear there were many spectators. Taking all the accounts, there must have been some objective phenomena
visible and audible. But here the cultivated man finds
difficulties and objections. Must the heavens open for
the divine spirit to pass through? Is it consistent with
just notions of the infinite spirit, to suppose it; must
move like a finite being' from place to place, and can incorporate itself in the form  of a dove?  Does God
speak with a human voice? The various theories,
naturalistic and supernaturalistic, fail of removing these
difficulties. It cannot have been an aggregation of
natural events, nor a subjective vision of John, Jesus, or
the multitude.
In sotne of the old gospels now lost, the words,
" Thlou art my beloved son," &c., were followed by these,
" TLis day have I begotten thee."  Clement of Alexandria and Augustine seem to have found them in their
copies, and some manuscripts, of Luke still contain the




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         307
words. These words, (from Psalm ii. 7,) were supposed
by Jewish and Christian interpreters, to relate to the
Messiahs in their original application. Now to make
them more effective, and their application to Jesus, as
the Messiah, the more certain, this story naturally grew
up, that a celestial voice applied them to Jesus. It was
perfectly in the spirit of Judaism, and primitive Christianity, to believe such voices were addressed to men.
Some of the Rabbis, it is said, received them not rarely.
Still farther, Joel and Isaiah had predicted the outpouring of the divine spirit in, the days of the Messiah. This
spirit he also was to receive. If Jesus were the Messiah, he must receive this spirit; and the occasion of his
baptism afforded a very favorable opportunity. But
how should it be known that it came upon him?  It
must descend in a visible form. The dove is a sacred
bird in Syria, and, perhaps, in Judea.  The Jews supposed the spirit of God " moved on the face of the deep"
in this form. The dove, therefore, was a proper symbol
and representative of the divine spirit. These features
were all successively united in a mythus, which gradually grew up. There is, then, no reason for doubting that
Jesus was baptized by John;;but the other circumstances
are mythical, and have been added at a, later date.
Here Mr. Strauss is false to his principles, and separates
the fact from the drapery, which surrounds the fact.
But the whole story of the descent of the spirit on
Jesus, continues the author, seems at variance with the
previous account of his conception by that spirit. If
the divine spirit was the proper parent of Jesus, why
should that spirit descend and abide upon him? It
could not thereby produce a more intimate union between them. We must suppose this story originated
in a community which did not believe the supernatural




308           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
conception of Jesus; and in fact we find that Christians,
who did not admit the supernatural conception, believed
the divine spirit was first imparted to Jesus at his baptism, and the Orthodox fathers persecuted the old Ebionites for nothing more rigorously, than for maintaining
that the holy spirit, or the celestial spirit, first united
himself with the man Jesus at his baptism. According
to Justin, it was the Jewish notion, that, a higher power
would he first imparted to the Messiah, when he was
anointed by Elias. This seems to have been the primitive belief; but afterwards, when reverence for Jesus
rose higher, a myth grew up to prove that his Messiahship, and divine sonship, did not commence with his
baptism, but with his conception; and then the words,
" this day have 1 begotten thee," were left out, because
they could not be reconciled with the Orthodox view.
The story of the Temptation also, Mr. Strauss contends, has its difficulties. John does not mention it,
but makes Jesus appear in Galilee three days after his
baptism, while the Synoptics say, he went immediately
after this event into the wilderness, and fasted forty
days. The Synoptics also differ slightly among themselves.' There are other difficulties. Why did the Divine Spirit subject Jesus to this temptation by a visible
Satan? Not to ascertain what manner of spirit he was
of; nor to trybhim, for his subsequent trials were sufficient. Again, a man could not abstain from food for
forty days. Therefore some say, this is only a round
number, and the fasting was not total abstinence from
food; but this theory does not agree with the text. Still
farther, wherein consisted the utility of this fast? But
the personal devil is the chief stone of stumbling. His
visible appearance has its difficulties.  How could the
devil hope to seduce Jesus, knowing his superior nature?




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.        309
and, if ignorant of this, he would not have taken the
pains to appear visibly before him. The second temptation could offer no attraction to Jesus, and therefore
is not consistent with the alleged character of the devil.
How could he transfer Jesus from  place to place?
Their appearance on the pinnacle of the temple would
create a sensation. Where is the mountain, whence he
could show Jesus all the kingdoms of the world? To
say the world is Palestine, with its four provinces, is'no
less absurd than to maintain with Fritzsche, that the
devil showed Christ all the countries on the map of the
world. Attempts have been made to explain this story
as an account of what passed in the mind of Jesus,
either in an ecstatic vision, occasioned directly by God,
or the devil, or by his own natural thoughts arising in a
dreamy state, when he spontaneously transformed the
thoughts into persons speaking and acting. But why
should the Deity, or how could the Devil effect this?
To suppose it was the result of his own natural thoughts,
implies that Jewish notions of the Messiah had a strong
influence on him even after his baptism. The merely
natural view is absurd. Some call it a parable, designed
to show, that no miracle is to be wrought for the man's
self; hope of extraordinary divine aid should' not lead
to rash undertakings; and an alliance with the wicked
must never be made even to obtain the greatest good.
But if'this is so, why does it not whear the form of a
parable? It is easy to explain it as a myth. The Messiah was regarded as the concentration of all that is
good, and the devil of all evil. He opposes Jesus, but
can at farthest only produce momentary bad thoughts,
not bad resolutions. Many passages in Jewish writings
indicate a common belief, that the Messiah would be
tempted by the devil, as they say Abraham had been




310           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
before. If Jesus was the Messiah, he must encounter
this temptation, which, like that of Hercules, was very
suitably placed just at his entrance upon active life.
The scene of the temptation is well chosen, for the wilderness was not only the dwelling-place of Azazel,
(Levit. xvi. 9, 10,) Asmodeus, (Tobit, viii. 3,) and the
expelled demons; but it was the place where the whole
nation, the collective son of God, was tempted. forty
years; and there is a strong analogy between their
temptations and that of Jesus. The story was gradually formed out of these Jewish notions, without the
slightest intention to deceive.
There is a striking discrepancy, Mr. Strauss affirms,
between the Synoptics and John in respect to many
parts of Christ's ministry. The former represent him to
have spent the greater part of his life in Galilee; while
the latter places him in Jerusalem and Judea. From
them we should suppose he spent all his life in Galilee
and the Pertea, before his last visit to Jerusalem, while
John relates four previous journeys to that place, and a
visit to Bethany. If John is in the right, the Synoptics
were ignorant of an essential part of Christ's ministry;
but if the latter are in the right, then he has invented a
great part of the history, or, at least transferred it to a
wrong place.
We pass over the chronological and many other difficulties. The Synoptics and John disagree in respect to
the assumption of the office and title of the Messiah.
According to John, Jesus confessed early, that he was
the Messiah, and the disciples remained faithful to the
conviction, that he spoke the truth, (i. 42, 46, 50.) To
follow the Synoptics, he did not take this title until a
late period of his life; he supposes a special revelation
had announced the fact to Peter, (Matthew xvi. 17,)




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         311
and charges the apostle to tell no man of it. Two
views may be taken of the case. Jesus was a follower
of John the Baptist, and after his teacher was cast into
prison he preached repentance, and the approach of the
Messiah, and concluded he was himself that Messiah.
This view would account for the fact, that he was disturbed when called by this name, and therefore forbid
his disciples to speak of him in that relation. But since
these prohibitions are doubtful, and if real, they -may be
accounted for, without supposing Jesus was not thoroughly convinced of his Messiahship, for it cannot be
supposed that he, who made such a revolution in the
world, as no other man has ever done, ever faltered in
the midst of his course, in his conviction that he was
the Messiah. Since, then, he must have had a clear
consciousness of his calling, we conclude that he was
convinced of his Messiahship, from the time of his first
appearance in that relation, but was somewhat reserved
in expressions of this conviction, because he preferred
his disciples should gradually learn the truth from the
silent testimony of his life and works.
The Synoptics, says Mr. Strauss, never speak of the
preexistence of Jesus, while John often mentions it.
Now-the preexistence of the Messiah was an article of
faith with the Jews, soon after Christ, and it is probable
they believed it before his time. But it must remain
doubtful whether Jesus entertained this idea, or whether
John has ascribed it to him without any authority.
Mr. Strauss considers the story of the woman of Samaria an unhistorical myth. The whole scene has a
legendary and poetic coloring. The position at the well
is the " idyllic locality of the old Hebrew stories."  The
scene is the same as in the stories of Eliezer, Jacob, and
Moses, all of whom  meet women at a well. In this




312           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
case, the woman, weak and good-humored, who had had
five husbands, but then had none, is a symbol of the
Samaritan people, who had forsaken Jehovah, etc., etc.
This story, then, is only a poetic account of the ministry
of Jesus among the Samaritans, which itself is not a
matter of history, but is only a "legendary prelude of
the extension of Christianity" among that people after
Christ's death.
But we must press on with more rapid wheels. The
calling of the apostles presents numerous difficulties, for
there are great discrepancies between the accounts of
John and the Synoptics. It is not probable Jesus understood the character of men at first glance of their
persons, (John i. 46, seq., though the Jews expected-the
Messiah, odorando judicare, as Schottgen has it;) nor
is it probable the disciples would immediately forsake
all and follow him. These stories are mythical, and
evident imitations of the legendary history of Elijah and
his followers. As Elisha left his oxen and ran after
Elijah, (1 Kings xix. 19, seq.) so the disciples presently
left their nets and followed Jesus. Elisha received permission to go and take leave of his parents, but now the
call of the Messiah is so urgent, that he rejects a young
man who made the same request, (Luke ix. 60, seq.)
and will not suffer a convert even to go and bury his
father. The historical fact may be, that sdme of his
disciples were fishermen, but they must have come
gradually into their connection with Jesus.
John does not mention that the twelve disciples were
sent on a mission; and the Synoptics relate nothing of
their baptizing converts during- their teacher's life. It is
probable Jesus had a body of twelve disciples; but
Luke's statement, that he had also a larger circle of
seventy disciples, is not confirmed by any other evange



STRAUSS' S LIFE OF JESUS.        313
list, by the book of Acts, nor by any Epistle. It is evidently formed in imitation of the story of seventy elders
in the Pentateuch. The accounts of Peter's fishing,
expeditions, and Christ's miraculous draught of fishes,
like that of Pythagoras, are self-contradictory, and all
mythical.
There is a great difference between Christ's discourses
in John, and the Synoptics; they have but few expressions in common; even their internal character is
entirely different. The latter differ among themselves
in this respect; Matthew gives large masses of discourse, Luke short discourses on different occasions, and
Mark offers but a meagre report of his sayings. Matthew's report of the sermon on the mount differs very
widely from that of Luke; many of the expressions inl
Matthew's report are obviously misplaced; for example,
Jesus could not, at the commencement of his ministry,
have declared'that he came to fulfil the law and the
prophets, for he had not declared himself the Messiah,, of'
whom alone this was expected. By comparing all the
accounts together, we see, says Mr. Strauss, that "the,
granulary discourses of Jesus have not been dissolved'
and lost in the stream of oral tradition, but theyhave, not rarely, been loosened from their natural con —
nection, washed away from their original position, and:
like bowlders rolled to places where they do not properly belong. By this comparison, we find that Mat —
thew has not always restored the'fragments to theiroriginal connection; but yet, like a skilful collector,
for the most part, has made an intelligible arrange-.ment, joining like with like; while in the two other;
Gospels, some small pieces are suffered to lie, wherechance has thrown them, in the chasms between large.
masses of discourse, aqd Luke has sometimes givenr
27




314           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
himself the pains to arrange them artificially, but has
not been able to restore the natural connection." Vol.
I. p. 63.
We pass over the alleged instructions of the twelve,
and the parables, where the only difficulty lies in the discrepancy of the several narratives. Mr. Strauss thinks
the controversial discourses of Jesus are genuine, because they correspond so closely to the spirit and tone
of rabbinical explanations of Scripture at that time.
The discourses which John ascribes to Jesus present
greater difficulties. Let us take the conversation with
Nicodemus. He is not mentioned by the other evangelists. It is difficult to believe that, if John's account is
true, so distinguished a follower of Jesus as Nicodemus,
would be omitted by Matthew, an immediate disciple
of Christ, — to follow the tradition. Still more difficult is it to believe, he would be forgotten by the oral
tradition, which was the source of the Synoptical Gospels, which remember Joseph of Arimathea, and the
two pious Marys. This difficulty is so great, that we
are tempted to ask if it is not more natural that John has
followed a traditional legend, and that there never was
such a man as Nicodemus?  The Synoptics relate that
the mysteries of the Messiah were understood by babes
and sucklings, but were concealed from the wise and prudent. They mention Joseph of Arimathea as the only
disciple from "the better sort" of people.; John says
the Pharisees attempted to " put Jesus down," by saying, none of the rulers or Pharisees, but only the ignorant and infamous populace believed on him., Celsus
subsequently made this objection, which was, no doubt,
often brought in the early times of Christianity. So
long as only the poor and unlearned embraced this
religion, they comforted themselves by Christ's blessings




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         315
pronounced upon the poor and simple; but when men
of " character and standing" became Christians, they
wished to find others of their own class among the
direct disciples of Jesus. Not finding any such, they
could say, "they were his secret followers, who came to
him by night, for fear of the Jews," (John xii. 42, seq.,
xix. 39). Joseph of Arimrathea was one of this class;
but more than- one such was needed. Therefore this
story was formed to remove the difficulty. The Greek
name of Nicodemus clearly indicates his connection
with " higher classes " of society in Judea. He is mentioned only in John's Gospel, because this is the most
modern, and was composed in a community where the
above objection was most keenly felt.
But this is only a conjecture; and even if it is wellgrounded, it should excite no prejudice against the conversation itself. This may, in all its essential features,
be a genuine discourse Jesus held with one of the common people. It is incredible that a Jewish teacher
should not have understood the new birth; but it was
for the interest of the story to show how far Jesus rose
above other Jewish teachers. They were but fools compared tQ the Great Teacher. Nicodemus applies to
earthly things what Jesus asserts of heavenly things.
It is not probable,- that Jesus really spoke in the manner
John relates, for this manner differs from that of the
Synoptics. There he dwells on particular points, " with
genuine pedagogical assiduity," until he has completely
explained them, and then passes on, step by step, to
other instructions, as a true teacher must do. But in the
fourth Gospel, he speaks in a desultory and exaggerated
manner, which can be explained only by supposing it
was the narrator's design ~to set the Teacher's wisdom
and the pupil's ignorance in the most striking contrast.




316            STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
John makes Jesus speak very differently from  the
Synoptics; for example, in Matthew, Jesus defends his
violation of the Sabbath by three practical arguments,
the example of David eating the holy bread, of the
priests sacrificing on the Sabbath, and of a man saving
the life of a beast on that day.  But in John he uses
the metaphysical argument, drawn from the uninterrupted activity of God; " My Father worketh hitherto."
Besides, there is the closest analogy between the language of Jesus in the fourth Gospel and that of John's
first Epistle, and those passages of the Gospel, in which
either this evangelist himself, or John the Baptist
speaks; and since this language differs from that of the
other Gospels, we must conclude, the words belong to
John, and not to Jesus. Perhaps he invents suitable
occasions, (as Plato has done,) and writes down his own
reflections in the form of his master's discourses. His
frequent repetition of the same thought, or form  of expression, is quite striking.  We must conclude that this
evangelist treated the authentic tradition in the freest
manner, and in the tone and spirit of the Alexandrians,
or Hellenists.'
We pass over a long statement of discrepancies between the several Gospels, and-other matters, of greater
or less importance, which Mr. Strauss has treated with
his usual freedom, learning, and dialectical clearness of
vision. His explanation of the several stories of the
sinful women, who anointed the feet of Jesus, is quite
ingenious, to say nothing more. He supposes they all
grew  out of one simple story.  "We have, then, a
*In the third edition, p. 741, he adds; "I cannot maintain that
John's discourses contain any thing, which cannot, decidedly, be explained from John's character, or the composition of the gospel in
the latter part of his life."




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         317
group of-five histories, the centre of which is the narrative of a woman anointing Jesus, (Matt. xxvi. 6, seq.;
Mark xiv. 3, seq). John's account of the sinful woman,
(viii. 1, seq.,) and Luke's of Mary and Martha, (x. 38,
seq.,) occupy the extreme right and left; while Luke's
picture of his anointing by a sinful woman, (vii. 36,
seq.,) and John's, by Mary, (xii. 1, seq.,) complete the
piece. All may be but different delineations of the same
event.
We come next to the rriracles of Jesus.  Miracles of
various kinds \were commonly expected of the Messiah,
who was to surpass all the former prophets and deliverers. Now Moses had furnished food and water in a
miraculous manner; Elisha had opened the blind eyes,
healed the sick, and raised the dead. The prophets had
predicted nearly the same things in general, and some
of them in special, of the Messiah, (Isaiah xxxv. 5;
xlii. 7,) and according to the Gospels Jesus did more
than realize these expectations.  The fact, that men demanded " a sign" from him proves nothing against his
miracles, for these demands seem to have been made
after a display of miraculous power. He censures the
love of miracles; but this does not prove he would
never perform one on- a suitable occasion. But when
he says no sign shall be given unto that generation, etc.,
Mr. Strauss concludes he refuses to peuform any miracles whatever before any of his contemporaries. This
statement is quite inconsistent with the miraculous narratives in the Gospels, but it agrees perfectly well with
the preaching and letters of the Apostles; for there, (excepting a general statement in Acts ii. 22, and x. 38,)
the miracles are passed ovier in silence, and all rests on
his resurrection; and this would not be so unexpected,
27*




318          STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
nor would it make an epoch in the world, if Jesus had
previously raised more than one from the dead, and
wrought miracles of all sorts. Here, then, the question
is, whether we are to explain away the Gospel accounts
of miracles, for the sake of the above refusal of Jesus to
perform them; or doubt the genuineness and authenticity of this refusal; or in consideration of that refusal,
and the silence of the apostolical writings to mistrust
the numerous miracles of the Gospels. The author
devotes above two hundred and fifty pages to miracles
in general and particular. We shall notice only some
of his most striking remarks.
It was a commonl opinion of the Jews, that certain
diseases were caused by demons; Jesus himself seems
to have shared this opinion. The belief, of course, is
not well founded. Some of the accounts, in which Jesus is said to expel these demons, are self-contradictory;
for example, it cannot be true that there were two Gadarene madmen, so fierce as they are represented, who
yet lived together. They would destroy one another.
Mark and Luke, with greater probability, mention but
one demoniac, in this place. These several accounts,
which conflict with one another, present numerous difficulties. The demoniac knows Jesus is the Messiah 
in Matthew, he calls out, " Hast thou come to torment
me?," etc.; in Luke, hefalls down and worships Jesus,
and in Mark, he knows him at a distance, runs to him,
and does homage. Here is a regular climax in the
Christian tradition. But the greatest difficulty consists
in the demon entering the swine; for, a~ Olshausen has
said, the Gadarene swine in the New Testament, like
Balaamn's ass in the old, are a stone of stumbling, and
a rock of offence. If we trust the account, the demon,
at his own request, was transferred from the body of the




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         319
man to the swine, and possessed the latter as he had
done the former. Then the possessed animals rushed
into the sea and were drowned. Here the conduct of
the demon is inexplicable; he entreated not to be cast
out into the deep, but casts himself into it.  The character of Jesus is impaired by this story; for he must
have known the result of suffering the denlons to enter
this large herd of two thousand swine, and the consequent loss their owners would sustain. He, therefore,
is thus made " accessory before the fact," and the naturalistic and supernaturalistic theories can give no satisfactory explanation of the difficulties. But, considered
as a mythical story, which grew naturally out of the
common opinions of the people, it is easily explained.
It was commonly supposed that demons must possess
some body, and that they preferred impure places; therefore the unclean bodies of the swine were the most suitable recipients of the demons, when driven from the man.
Josephus mentions a conjuror, who, to convince spectators that he really expelled demons, ordered them to overturn a vessel of water, set near the possessed men, as they
Ncame out of him, which they did to the satisfaction of
all present. Jesus meant to give a similar proof, and to
render the proof doubly strong, the test is not an inanimate body, placed near at hand, but a whole herd
of swine, "a good way off;" which the demons force
to rush upon certain destruction, contrary to the instinct of self-preservation natural to all animals.  This,
then, was a proof of the expulsion of the demons, and
of their perfect subjection to Jesus. Besides, to magnify the powers of Christ, he must not only cure simple,
but difficult cases. Accordingly, that is represented as
a desperate case; the man was fierce and malignant;
he dwelt naked in the tombs, and broke asunder all




320           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
chains that could be forced upon him; and not only
this, but he was possessed by a whole legion of devils,
thus presenting a case of the greatest possible difficulty.
Matthew gives us the most simple form of the legend,
thus constructed; Luke renders it more artificial, and
Mark adds still further embellishments to it.
John mentions nothing concerning the demoniacs or
their cure. Yet he must have shared the common Jewish notions on this point, and especially if they were the
views of Jesus. It' cannot be said, he omitted these
cases, which form a great part of Christ's miracles in
the Synoptics, because it was unnecessary to repeat
what they had recorded, for he more than once allows
himself such' repetitions; nor can it be true, that he accommodated himself to the delicate ears of his Greek converts, to whom demoniacal possessions would be offensive. It seems, therefore, that the fourth Gospel was
written not by John, but by some one who drew from
the Christian tradition as received by the more refined
Hellenists.
Another case of expelling a demon is evidently an
imitation and improvement of a similar case in the Old
Testament. The disciples had failed in their attemnpt;
but Jesus cures him at a word. So Elisha restores a
dead child after Gehazi, his servant, had tried in'vain,
(2 Kings, iv. 29, seq.). Moses and Elisha had cured the
leprosy; the Messiah must do the same. He also must
literally fulfil figurative predictions of the, prophets, and
give sight to the blind. John enlarges upon the statements of the Synoptics, and makes him cure a man
born blind. They relate that he cured paralytics, and
increased'bread, and restored a dead person; but John
enlarges these wonders, and according to him, Jesus
cures a man who had been diseased for thirty-eiglht years,




STRAUSS' S LJFE OF JESUS.        321
changes water into wine, and recalls to life a man four
days after hlis death, when the body was on the verge of
dissolution.
Mr. Strauss supposes the accounts of Jesus involuntaril.y curing such as tou'ched him, —as it were by a
species of magnetic influence, - and even persons at a
distance, whom he had never seen, are mythical stories
which have grown out of the popular reverence for
Jesus. He places them on a level with similar stories
in the Acts, of miraculous cures wrought by Peter's
shadow, and Paul's handkerchiefs and aprons, (Acts v.
15; xix. 11, 12). " It is not difficult to see what causes
have produced this branch of the gospel legends of miracles, in distinction from the others. The weak faith of
the people, unable to grasp the Divine Spirit with the
thoughts, strives to bring it down more and more to the
level of material existence. Therefore, according to the
later opinion, the reliques and bones of a saint must
work miracles after his death; Christ's body must be
actually present in the transubstantiated bread and wine,
and for the same reason, according to the earlier opinion,
the sanatory power of the New-Testament-men adhered
to their bodies, and even their garments. The less men
understand and-adhere to -the words of Jesus, the more
anxious will they be to seize upon his mantle, and the
further one is removed from sharing Paul's unconfined
spiritual power, the more confidently will he carry home
Paul's gift of healing in his pocket-handkerchief."
Mr. Strauss examines the several accounts where
Jesus is said to raise the dead, and finds a climax in
the three instances mentioned; first, he restores a girl,
on the bed where she had died; next, a young man in
his cofin, before burial; and finally, Lazarus, who had
been dead four days', and was in the tomb. He enumer



322           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
ates all the difficulties that beset a literal or mystical,
natural or supernatural interpretation of the passages,
and concludes that allf the stories grew out of popular
notions of the Messiah, or are copied from the similar
stories of Elisha's wonderful works (1 Kings xvii. 7;
2 Kings iv. 18), or from the predictions of the prophets.
He collects and dwells upon the difficulties of the
alleged transfiguration of Jesus.  What was the use
of this scene? Not to glorify Jesus, for his physical glorification is unnecessary and childish. Why or how
could Moses and Elijah appear to him, and for what
purposes? not to inform Jesus of his death; he had
himself foretold it; not- to strengthen him for future
troubles, for it did not effect this object; and we do not
know that he needed aid at that, time; not to confirm
his disciples, for only three were present, and they were
asleep, and were not permitted to relate the events
until after the resurrection. Does God speak in an
audible voice, and quote from  the Old Testament?
The theories of interpreters of the various schools are in
part absurd, and all inadequate to remove the difficulties. But the whole story has grown out of the Messianic expectations of the Jews, and an imitation of
scenes in the Old Testament. The Jews expected the
Messiah would appear with a face far more resplendent
than that of Moses, -"a mere man;" his splendor
would extend "from  one hinge of the world to the
other," was the poetic expression. Moses had been
glorified on a mountain; God had appeared to him in
a cloud. The same scene is repeated, and Jesus is
glorified on a mountain, in presence of the two representatives of the-Jewish system, who were expected to
appear. Moses and Elijah, the founders of the theo



STRAUSS'"S LIFE OF JESUS.       323
cratical law, and of theocratical prophecy, appear as
the supporters of the Messiah, who fulfils the law and
the prophets, and completes the kingdom of God. God
appears in the clouds; and acknowledges him as his
son, by a quotation from the Law, the Psalms, and the
Prophets. (Ps. ii. 7; Isa. xlii. 1; and Deut. xviii. 15).
We will now mention only the death, and final scenes
of the life of Jesus. Mr. Strauss thinks he could not
have had so accurate a foreknowledge of the manner of
his suffering and death, as the evangelists would lead
us to suppose. The prediction was written after the
event. Jesus could not definitely have foretold his
resurrection from the dead, for then the disciples would
have expected the event. But after the crucifixion they
anoint the body, as if it was to become the "prey of
dissolution." When they repair to the grave, they
think not of a resurrection; their only concern is, who
shall roll away the stone fromn the mouth of the tomb?
Not finding the body, they think it has been stolen.
When the women mention the angels they had seen, it
is idle talk to the disciples; when Mary Magdalene,
and two others, assured the disciples they had seen the
"risen Jesus,"' their words produced no belief.' It is
only. when Jesus appears in person, and upbraids them
for their unbelief, that they assert as a fact, what they
would have foreknown if he had predicted it. A foreknowledge or prediction of this event was ascribed to
Jesus after the result, not from any intention to deceive,
but by a natural mistake. He thinks, however, that
Jesus actually predicted his own second coming, in
the clouds of Heaven, the destruction of the Jewish
state, and the end of the world; all of which were to
take place before his contemporaries should pass away.




324          STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
Here, following the Wolfenbuittel Fragmentist, he says
there is no prophecy in the, whole Bible so distinct and
definite as this, and yet it is found obviously and
entirely- false. We attempt to fill up the great gulf
between this- prediction and the fact, and our hope of
success shows how easy it must have been for the
author of these predictions to suppose, that soon after
the destruction of the Jewish state,- supposed to be
the central point of the world, - the whole earth should
come to an end, and the Messiah appear to judge mankind.
John, who is supposed to have written later than the
others, does not mention so distinctly these predictions,
because they had not come to fulfilment as it was expected. Mr. Strauss thinks Jesus at last saw that his
death was inevitable, and designated the next passover
as the probable end of his life, and while -at table with
his disciples gave them the bread and wine, either as
the symbols of his body, soon to be broken by death,
and of his blood, soon to be shed; or as a memorial of
himself.. He considers as mythical the account of his
going three times to pray, and repeating the same words
at Gethsemane, as well as that of the angel's visit, and
the bloody sweat.
Many of the circumstances which, it is related, accompanied the trial and crucifixion, he sets aside as
mythical -additions, borrowed in part from the Old Testament. He maintains that the supernatural appearances at the death of Jesus; the sudden and miraculous darkness; the resurrection of the bodies of the
saints; the earthquake; and the rending of the veil,
have all grown up in the mythical fashion.- The latter
is symbolical of removing the wall of separation between the Gentiles and Jews. He thinks it quite




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         325;
improbable the Jews would set a guard over the tomb;
as it is not probable they had heard'of the promise of'
Jesus to rise from the dead; a promise which the disciples themselves did not remember, until after it wasfulfilled.'The Jews, he thinks, in later times, pretended
that Jesus did not rise from the dead, but that his dis —
ciples stole the body by night, secreted it, and then pretended he was risen; and the Christians, to counteract.
this statement, gradually formed the evangelical narra —
tive, that the door of the tomb was sealed, and a guard
set over it; but Jesus was raised, and to throw dust in
the eyes of the people, the great national council bribed'
the soldiers to assent to a very improbable falsehood,.
that the disciples stole the body, while they slept. But
it is not probable a body of seventy men would condescend to such open wickedness, with the almost certain
chance of detection.
He enlarges at great length, and with acuteness, and
some a" special pleading," which is not altogether rare in
the book, on the confusion of the statements in the fourGospels concerning the time, place, and circumstances
of the resurrection, and the several appearances of Jesus,after that event, passing through closed doors; appearing under various forms, and, like a spirit, remaining
with them but a short time, and then vanishing out:.
of sight. But the fact of the resurrection itself, Mr.
Strauss says, involves difficulties, and cannot be admitted. We must, then, suppose, with the rationalists,.
either that he was riot dead; or that the resurrection,
did not take place. He accepts the latter part of the
dilemma, and thinks the disciples were mistaken, led
astray by the figurative passages in the Psalms and
Prophets, which they erroneously referred to the Messiah.
The testimony of the Gospels and the book of Acts, he
28




326           STRAUSS' S LIFE OF JESUS.
says, is so inconsistent, contradictory, and imperfect,
that we can place no dependence upon it, and that of
Paul, which is consistent with itself, and of great weight,
only assures us of his own conviction, that Christ rose
and appeared to men, and even to himself. But Christ's
appearance to Paul was entirely subjective, and there is
no reason to believe he supposed Jesus had appeared to
others in an objective manner, visible to tle senses. Mr.
Strauss fancies the narratives originated in the following manner.  The disciples, thinking the Messiah must
remain forever, thought he must have arisen; next, they
had subjective visions; then, in a high state of enthusiasm, they mistook some unknown person for him.
Afterwards, as these disciples related their convictions,
the story was enlarged, embellished, and varied, until it
assumed the form of the present canonical and apocryphal gospels. The ascension to heaven, which many
have hitherto rejected as not trustworthy, is regarded
by Mr. Strauss as a myth, which derives its ideas from
the histories and predictions of the Old Testament, and
Jewish tradition, and with a particular reference to the
alleged translations of Enoch and Elijah.
The author adds a " Concluding Treatise" to his
critical work, "' For the inward germ of Christian faith
is entirely independent of critical investigations; the
supernatural birth of Christ, his miracles, his resurrection and ascension to Heaven, remain eternal truths,
however much their reality, as historical facts, may be
doubted."    All these he supposes are realized not in
an historical personage, but in the human race.- Mankind have unconsciously projected out of themselves
the ideal of a perfect man, an incarnation of God, a
* Vol. I. p. xii.




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         327
personification of morality and religion.\ This Ideal
has been placed upon Jesus, a man distinguished for
great virtue and piety. But neither he nor any man
ever did, or can realize the Idea; it must be realized in
the race. The history of the miraculous conception,
says one of the profoundest of the Germans, represents
the divine origin of Religion; the stories of his miracles, the independent power of the human soul, and the
sublime doctrine of spiritual self-confidence. - His resurrection is the symbol of the victory of Truth; the
omen of the triumph of the good over the evil, hereafter to be completed. His ascension is the symbol of
the eternal excellence of reli'gion; Christ on the cross is
the image of mankind purified by self-sacrifice. We
must all be crucified with him, to ascend with him to a.
new life. The idea of devotion is the ground-tone in
the history of Jesus; for every act of his life was consecrated to the thought of his Heavenly Father.
We -can only glance at the contents of this concluding treatise. It gives a fundamental criticism  of the
Christology of the Orthodox, the Rationalists, of the
Eclectics, of Schleiermacher, Kant, and De Wette, and
the speculative theology of Hegel'and his followers.
He points out the merits and defects of these various
systems, and coricltudes his work with an attempt to
reconcile, in some measure, his own views of Christ
with the wants of religious souls, and the opinions of
others. He thus concludes:" Setting aside, therefore,
the notions of the sinlessness and absolute perfection of
Jesus, as notions that could not be realized perfectly by
a human being in the flesh, we understand Christ as
that person, in whose self-consciousness the unity of the
Divine and Human first came forth, and with an energy,
that, in the whole course of his life and character, di



328           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
minished to the very lowest possible degree * all limitations of this unity. In this respect he stands alone and
unequalled in the world's history. And yet, we do not
atffirm, that the religious consciousness, which he first
attained and proclaimed, can, in its separate parts, dispense with purification and further improvement, through
the progressive development of the human mind." t
Having thus given a patient, and, we hope, faithful
account of the principles, method, and most striking
results of this celebrated work, it may not be amiss'
to point out some of the false principles, which have
conducted the author to his extreme conclusions, though
we think their extravagance answers itself. We see
no reason to doubt that he is a religious man in his
own way; nay, he calls himself a Christian, and so far
as his life abides the test, we know not why the name
should be withheld'. His religion and life may have the
Christian savor, though his theology be what it is. We
know there are fascinations which a paradox presents to
daring souls, and we are told there is a charm, to a revolutionary spirit, in attempting to pull down the work,
which has sheltered the piety, defended the weakness,
and relieved the wants of mankind'for a score of centuries, when it is supposed to rest on a false foundation.
Yet we doubt not that Mr. Strauss is honest in his convictions, and has throughout aimed to be faithful and
true. We cannot, therefore, as some have done, call
him "the Iscariot of the nineteenth century;" we cannot declare him 1" inspired by the devil," nor accuse him
of the " sin against the Holy Ghost;" nor say that he
* Bis zum verschwindenden Minimum zuriickdringte.
t Vol. II. p. 771-779, 3d edit.




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.            329
has "the heart of leviathan, hard as a piece of- the
nether mill-stone."  We judge no man's heart but our
own. However, the erroneous principles which lead to
his mistaken conclusions may be briefly glanced at.
1. He sets out, as he says, without any " presuppositions."' Now this is not possible, if it were desirable,
and not desirable, if it were possible. But he has set
out with presuppositions, namely, that the Idea precedes
the man, who is supposed to realize that idea; that
many men, having a certain doctrine, gradually and in
a natural manner, refer this doctrine to some historical
person, and thus make a mythical web of history. He
presupposes that a miracle is utterly impossible. Again
he presupposes, - and this is an important feature of
his system,-that the Ideal of Holiness and Love, for
example, like the Ideal of beauty, eloquence, philosophy,
or music, cannot be concentrated in an individual.'In a
word, there can be no incarnation of God; not even of
what, in a human manner, we call his Love, oi' Holiness.
We could enumerate many other presuppositions, but
forbear.* He explains his meaning in the controversial
replies to his opponents, but does not, satisfy us.
2. He passes quite lightly to the conclusion, that the
four Gospels are neither genuine nor authentic. Perhaps it is not fair to enurnerate this among his presuppositions, though we knownot where else to place it;
certainly not in the catalogue of proofs, for he adduces
no new arguments against them; decides entirely from
* See Ullmann, Historisch oder der Mythisch. Beitragge zur
Beantwortung der gegenwtartigen Lebensfiage der Theologic; Hamburg: 1838, p. 62, seq. De Wette 1. c. Tholuck, Glaubwiirdigkeit
der evangelischen Geschichte zugleich eine Kritik des Lebens Jesu
von Strauss. 1838, p. 26, seq.
28* 




330            STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
internal arguments, that they are not true, and were not
w-ritten by eye-witnesses, and pays no regard to the'evidence of Christian, Heretical, and even Heathen
Antiquity on some points, in their favor.  The genuine-;ness of Paul's hnost important epistles has ever been
contested, and the fact of the Christian Church stands
out before the sun; but the convictions of the one and
the faith of the other remain perfectly inexplicable, by,his theory.
3. The book is not written in a religious spirit.  It
will be said a critical work needs not be written in a
religious spirit, and certainly those works,- and we'could name many such, — which aim at two marks,
edification and criticism, usually fail of both.  They;are neither wind nor water; are too high for this world,;and too low for the next; too critical to edify; too hortatory to instruct, That anicular criticism, so common
ion this side of the waters, deserves only contempt. But
a philosophical work should be criticized philosophi-,cally; a poetical work, in the spirit of a poet, and a
religious history in a religious spirit. The criticism of
iSchleiermacher and De Wette is often as bold, unspar-ing, and remorseless, and sometimes quite as destrucfive, as that of Strauss; but they always leave an imTpression of their profound piety. We will not question,the religious character of Mr. Strauss; a Christian like'Dr. Ullman, his own countryman, does not doubt it;,others of his countrymen, in letters and conversation,,inform us that his religious character is above reproach,:and puts some of his oppohents to shame.
I
* See the necessary "presuppositions," laid down by De Wette,!Kurzgefasstes Exegetisches Handbuch zum N. T. Vol. i. Th. 3,
concluding treatise on the historical criticism of the Evangelical His-'tory; Leip., 1837. p. 214, seq.




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         331
4. His mythical hypothesis has carried him  away.
Fondness for theory is "the old Adam  of theology,"
and Strauss has inherited a large portion of " original
sin" from this great patriarch of theological error, —
this father of lies. To turn one of his own war-elephants against himself, he has looked so long at mythical stories, that, dazzled thereby, like men who have
gazed earnestly upon the sun, he can see nothing but,
myths wherever he turns his eye, - myths of all colors.
This tendency to see myths is the Proton Pseudos, the first
fib of his system. It has been maintained by many,
that the Bible, in both divisions, contained myths. Some
of his own adversaries admit their existence, to a large
extent, even in the New  Testament. But with them
the myth itself not only embodies an Idea, as Strauss
affirlms, but also covers a fact, which preceded it. Men
do not make myths out of the air, but out of historical
materials. Besides, where did they obtain the Idea?
This question he answers poorly. Shaftesbury long ago
said, with much truth, that if a Hebrew sage was asked
a deep question, he answered it by telling a story; but
the story, for the most part, had some truth in it.
Strauss is peculiar in carrying his theory further than
any one before him; yet he is not always perfectly true
to his principles; his humanity sometimes leaves a little
historical earth clinging to the roots of the tree, which
he transplants into the cold thin atmosphere of the " Absolute." Taking the' Bible as it is, says good Dr. Ullmatn, there are three ways of treating it. We may believe every word is historically true, from Genesis to
Revelation; that there is neither myth nor fdble - and
this is the theory of some supernaturalists, like Hengstenberg and his school; or with Strauss, that there is
no historical ground, which is firm and undeniably cer



332           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
tain, but only a little historical matter, around which
tradition has wrapped legends and myths; or, finally,
that the Bible, and in particular the New Testament,
always rests on historical ground, though it is not common historical ground, nor is it so rigidly historical that
no legendary or mythical elements have entered it. The
two former theories recommend themselves, for their simplicity; but neither can be maintained, while the third
is natural, easy, and offends neither thle cultivated understandingr nor the pious heart.
It is wonderful, we think, that some of the absurdities of the- theory Mr. Strauss supports have not struck
the author himself. He reverses the order of things;
makes the effect precede the cause; the idea appear in
the mass, before'it was seen in an individual, " As Plato's God formed the world by looking on the eternal
ideas, so has the community, taking occasion from the
person and fate of Jesus, projected the image of its Christ,
and unconsciously the idea of mankind, in its relations:
to God, has been waving before its eyes."  He makes
a belief in the resurrection and divinity of Christ spring
up out of the community, take hold on the world, and
produce a revolution in all human affairs perfectly un-'
examrpled; and all this without any adequate historical
cause. No doubt, theologians in his country, as well
as our own, have attempted to prove too much, and so
failed to prove any thing. Divines, like kings, lose their
just inheritance, when they aspire at universal empire.
But this justifies no man in the court of logic, for rejecting all historical faith. If there was not an historical
Christ to idealize, there could be no ideal Christ to seek
in history. We doubt if there was genius enough in
the world in the first two, or the first twenty centuries
since Christ, to devise such a character as his, with so




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         333
small an historical capital, as Strauss leaves us. No
doubt, we commit great errors in seeking for too much
of historical matter.  Christian critics, says De Wette,
will not be satisfied with knowing.as much respecting
Christ as Paul and the apostles knew. No one of them,
though they were eye-witnesses, had such a complete,
consistent, and thoroughly historical picture of the life of
Christ, as we seek after. Many of the primitive Christians could scarcely know of Christ's history a tenth part
of what our catechumens learn, and yet they were more
inspired and better believers than we. It is much learning, which makes us so mad; not the Apostle Paul.*
But if we cannot prove all things, we'can hold fast to
enough that is good.
Mr.' Strauss takes the idea, which forms the subject,
as he thinks, of a Christian myth, out of the air, and
then tells us how the myth itself grew out of that idea.
But he does not always prove from history or the nature of things, that the idea existed before the story or
the fact was invented. He finds certain opinions, prophecies, and expectations in the Old Testament, and affirms at once these were both the occasion and cause of
the later stories, in which they reappear. This method
of treatment requires very little ingenuity on the part
of the critic; we could resolve half of Luther's life into
a series of myths, which are formed after the model of
Paul's history; indeed, this has already been done. Nay,
we could dissolve any given historical event in a mythical solution, and then precipitate the" seminal ideas"
in their primitive form. We also can change an historical character into a symbol of " universal humanity."
*L. c. p. 221.




334           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
The whole history of the United States of America, for
example, we might call a tissue of mythical stories, borrowed in part from the Old Testament, in part from the
Apocalypse, and in part from fancy. -The British government' oppressing the Puritans is the "great red
dragon" of the Revelation, as it is shown, by the natiopal arms, and by the British legend of Saint George
and the Dragon. The splendid career of the new people
is borrowed from the persecuted woman's poetical history, her dress -"clothed with the sun."  The stars
said to be in the national banner, are only the crown of
twelve stars on the poetic being's head; the perils of
the pilgrims in the Mayflower are only the woman's
flight on the wings of a great eagle. The war between
the two countries is only " the practical application" of
the flood which the dragon cast Out against the woman,
etc.* The story of the Declaration of Independence is
liable to many objections, if we examine it a la mode
Strauss. The congress was held at a mythical town,
whose very name is suspicious,- Philadelphia, -- Brotherly Love.  The date is suspicious; it was thefourth
day of the fourth month, (reckoning from April, as it is
probable the Heraclidoe, and Scandinavians; possible
that the aboriginal Americans, and certain that the Hebrews did).'Now four was a sacred number with the
Americans; the president was chosen for four years
there were four departments of affairs; four divisions of
the political powers, namely, -the people, the congress,
the executive, and the judiciary, etc. Besides, which is
still more incredible, three of the presidents, two of whom,
* We borrowed this hint from a sermon heard in childhood," opening this Scripture," and explaining this prophecy, as relating to
America.




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         335
it is alleged signed the declaration, died on the fourth of
July, and the two latter exactly fifty years after: they
had signed it, and about the same hour of the day. The
year also is suspicious; 1776 is but an ingenious combination of the sacred number, four, which is repeated
thlt'ee times, and then multiplied by itself to produce the
date; thus, 444 X 4 = 1776, Q. E. D. Now dividing
th~e first (444) by the second (4), we have Unity thrice
repeated (111). This is a manifest symbol of the national oneness, (likewise represented in the motto, e
pluribus unum) and of the -national religion, of which the
Triniform Monad, or " Trinity in Unity " and "' Unity in
Trinity," is the well-known sign!! Still further, the Declaration is metaphysical, and presupposes an acquaintance with the transcendental philosophy, on the part of
the American people. Now the Kritik of Pure Reason
was not published till after the Declaration was made.
Still further, the Americans were never, to use the
nebulous expressions of certain philosophers, an " idealotranscendental-and-subjective," but an "objective-andconcretivo-practical" people, to the last degree; therefore a metaphysical document, and most of all a "'legal-congressional-metaphysical" document is highly suspicious if found among them. Besides, Hualteperah,
the great historian of Mexico, a neighboring state, never
mentions this document; and further still, if this Declaration had been made, and accepted by the whole nation, as it is pretended, then we cannot account for the
fact, that the fundamental maxim of that paper, namely,
the soul's equality to itself, -" all men are born free and
equal," -was perpetually lost sight of, and a large portion of the people kept in slavery; still later, petitions,
— supported by this fundamental article, - for the abo



336            STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
lition of slavery, were rejected by Congress with unexampled contempt, when, if the history is not mythical,
slavery never had a legal existence after 1776, etc. etc.
But we could go on in this way for ever. " I 11ll" prate
"'you so eight years together; dinners, and suppers, and
sleeping hours excepted; it is the right butter-woman's
rank to market."  We are forcibly reminded of the ridiculous prediction of Lichtenberg, mentioned by Jacobi;
" Our world will by and by become so fine, that it will
be as ridiculous to'believe in a God, as nowv-it is to believe in ghosts; and then again the world will become
still finer, and it will rush hastily up to the very tip-top
of refinement.  Having reached the summit, the judgment of our sages will once more turn about; knowledge Will undergo its last metamorphosis. Then - this
will be the end -we shall believe in nothing but ghosts;
we shall be as God; we shall know that Being and Essence is, and can be only, -'Ghost.  At that time the
salt sweat of seriousness will be wiped dry from every,
brodW; the tears of anxiety will'be washed from every
eye; loud laughter will peal out among men, for Reason will then have completed her work; humanity will
have reached its goal, and a crown will adorn the head
of each transfigured man."'
The work of Strauss has produced a great sensation
in Germany, and' especially in Berlin. It has called
forth replies from all quarters, and of all characters,
from the scurrilous invective to the heavy theological
* This quotation seems to be a classic commonplace against. all new
schools. Jacobi applied to it Idealism and Nature-Philosophy, and
both Tholuck and Hengstenberg cast it'upon Strauss. A writer in
the Princeton Repertory " sips the thrice-drawn infusion," and gives
the passage a new application.




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         337
treatise.'It has been met by learning and sagacity,
perhaps greater than his own, and he has yielded on
some points. He has retorted upon some of his antagonists, using the same weapons with which they
assailed him.' He has even turned upon them, and
carried the war into their borders, and laid waste their
country, with the old Teutonic war-spirit. We have
never read a controversy more awful than his reply to
Eschenmever and Menzel. Porson's criticism of poor
Mr. Travis was a lullaby in comparison. But he has
replied to Ullmann,  a Christian in heart, apparently,
as well as in theology,-as a child to a father. His
letters to this gentleman are mo~dels for theological controversy. He has modified many of his opinions, as
his enemies or his friends have pointed out his errors,
and seems most indebted to Neander, Tholuck, Weisse,
Ullmann, andDe Wette, not to mention numerous humbler and more hostile names.
His work is not to be ranked with any previous
attacks upon Christianity. It not only surpasses all its
predecessors in learning, acuteness, and thorough inves —
tigation, but it is marked by a serious and earnest spirit..
He denounces with vehemence the opinion that the
Gospels were written to deceive. There is none of the
persiflage of the English deists; none of the -haughty
scorn and bitter mockery of the far-famed Wolfenbiittel
Fragmentist. He is much- more Christian in expressinghis unbelief than Hengstenberg: and many others in
their faith. We could wish the language a little more
studied in some places. Two or three times he is
* Streitschriften zur Vertheidigung meiner Ulritik, 1837-8; 3
Hefte, 8vo.
29




338            STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
frivolous; but in general, the style is elevated, and
manly, and always pretty clear. TWe do not remember
to have met with a sneer in the whole book.  In this
respect it deserves a great praise, which can rarely be
-bestowed on the defenders of Christianity, to their
shame be it spoken.
The work derives its importance not more from the
novelty of its views, than from the fact that it is a
concentration of objections to historical Christianity.
Viewed in this light, its importance has by no means
been exaggerated. It is sometimes said, had the work
been published in England, it would have been forgotten in two months; but no man who has read the book,
and is familiar with the history of theology, ever believes such a statement. We should be glad to see the
English scholars, who are to measure swords with a
Strauss, as the  Cudworths, Warburtons, Sherlocks,
Lardners, and Clarkes encountered their antagonists in
other days, when there were giants among the English
clergy.
"'Tis no war as everybody knows,
Where only one side deals the blows,
And t' other bears'em."
We have no doubt which side would "bear the blows "
for the next five-and-twenty years, should any one be
provoked to translate Strauss to a London public.'
We cannot regard this book as the work of a single
man; it is rather the production of the age. An individual raised up by God discovers a great truth, which
* See Observations on the Attempted Application of Pantheistic
Principles to the Theory and Historic Criticism of the Gospel, etc.,
by W. H. Mill, D. D., F. R. A. S., and Chaplain to his Grace the
Archbishop of Canterbury. Part I. L(ndon, 1840.




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.         339
makes an epoch, and by its seminal character marks
the coming ages. But a book like this, which denotes
merely a crisis, a revolution, is the aggregate of many
works. Like Kant's Kritik, it is the necessary result of
the great Gdrman movement, as much so as Spinoza's
theological treatises were of the. Cartesian principles;
and, indeed, the position of Strauss is in many respects
not unlike that of Spinoza. Both, markl a crisis; both
struck at the most deeply cherished theological doctrines of their times. Before mankind could pass over
the great chasm between the frozen realm of stiff supernaturalism, and lifeless rationalism, on the one side, and
the fair domain of free religious thought, where the
only essential creed is the Christian motto, "' Be perfect,
as your Father in Heaven is perfect,"- and the only
essential form of Religion is Love to your neighbor as
to yourself, and to God with the whole heart, mind,.
and soul, on the other,- some one must plunge in,
devoting himself unconsciously, or even against his
will, for the welfare of the race. This hard lot Strauss
has chosen for himself, and done what many wished to
have done, but none dared to do. His book, therefore,
must needs be negative, destructive, and unsatisfactory.
Mr. Strauss must not be taken as the representative of
the'German theologians. Men of all parties condemn
his work; and men of all parties accept it. You see
its influence in the writings- of Tholuck, De Wette,
and Neander; men that have grown old in being taught
and teaching. The liberal party has fallen back, afraid
of its principles; the stationary party has come forward,
though reluctantly. The wonderful ability with which
it is written, the learning, so various and exact, whereWith it is stored, are surprising in any one, but truly
extraordinary in so juvenile an author; born 1808. For




340           STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
our: own part, we rejoice that the book has been written,
though it contains much that we cannot accept. May
the evil it produces soon end! But the good it does
must last forever. To estimate it aright, we must see
more than a negative work in its negations. Mr. Strauss
has plainly asked the question, "' What are the historical facts that lie at the basis of the Christian movement?"  Had he written with half this ability, and
with no manner of fairness, in defence of some popular
dogma of his sect, and against freedom of thought and
reason, no praise would have been too great to bestow
upon him. What if he is sometimes in error; was a theologian never mistaken before? What if he does push his
mythical hypothesis too far; did Luther, Zwingle, Calvin,. make no mistakes? Did they commit no sins?
Yet Strauss, we think, has never cursed, and are certain
that he never burned an opponent! We honor the
manly openness which has said so plainly what was so
strongly felt. We cannot say, a; a late highly distinguished divine used to say, that we "should not be
sorry to see the work republished here," because there
is no general theological scholarship to appreciate its
merits and defects. With many of his doctrines, as we
understand them, especially his dogmas relative to God
and Immortality, we have no sympathy; but as little
fear that they will do a permanent injury anywhere.
We still believe our real enemies are "the Flesh and
the Devil," and that neither the philosophy of Hegel,
nor the Biblical Criticism of the Germans will ever
weaken the popular faith in God or man, or the pure
religion that mediates between the two. Strauss has
thrown a huge stone into the muddy pool of theology,
and it will belopg before its splashing waters find their
former repose and level. Let it not be supposed




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.          34t
Strauss is an exponent of the German school of theology or religion as it is sometimes unwisely urged. He
is a single element in a vast mass. His work finds opponents in the leaders of the three great Protestant
theological parties in Germany. The main body of
theologians there is represented by Schleiermacher,
Tholuck, Neander, De Wette, and men of a similar
spirit. Strauss is the representative of a small party.
He is by no means the representative of the followers
of Hegel, many of whom are opposed to him.*
The whole book has the savor of Pantheism  pervading it, as we think, using Pantheism in its best sense, if
our readers can find a good sense for it. He does not
admit a personal God, we are told, and, therefore,
would not admit of a personal Christ, or incarnation of
God.  This, we suspect, is the sole cause of his aversion to personalities. But he nowhere avows this
openly and plainly; we, therefore, only give it as -our
conjecture, though Tholuck openly calls him a Pantheist of the school of Hegel, defining that school" Atheistic;" while- Ullmann brings the same charge, but
with much more modesty, asking men to translate it
more mildly if they can.
We are not surprised at the sensation Mr. Strauss
has excited in Germany, nor at the number of replies,
which have been showered down upon him. Destruction always makes a great noise, and attracts the crowd,
but nobody knows when the Gospels were published,
and the world, doubtless, was in no great haste to receive them. It is fortunate the book has been written
* See, for example, an article on the second volume of the " Leben
Jesu," in the Berlin " Jahrbiicher fur Wissenschaftliche Kritik," for~
1836. Band I. p. 681, seq., by Bruno Bauer.
29*




342          STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.
in the only country where it can be readily -answered.
We have no fears for the final result. Doubtless, some
will.be shaken in their weakly rooted faith; and the
immediate effect will probably be bad; worse than former religious revolutions with them. The Rationalists
took possession of the pulpit, but unlike Strauss, says
Mr. Tholuck, they pulled down no churches. But we
have no fear that any church will be destroyed by him.
If a church can be destroyed by criticism, or a book,
however pungent, the sooner it falls the better. A
church, we think, was never written. down, except by
itself. To write down the true Christian Church seems
-t6us as absurd as to write down the solar system, or
put an end- to tears, joys, and prayers. Still less have
we any fear, that Christianity itself should come to an
end, as some appear to fancy; a form of Religion, which
has been the parent and the guardian of all modern
civilization;. which has sent its voice to the ends of the
world; and now addresses equally the heart of the beggar and the monarch; - which is the only bond between
societies; an institution, cherished and clung to by the
choicest hopes, the deepest desires of the human race,
is not in a moment to be displaced by a book. " There
has long been a fable among men," says an illustrious
German writer, "and even, in these days is it often
heard; unbelief invented it, and little-belief has taken
it up. It runs thus; there will come a time, and, perhaps, it has already come, when it will be all over with
this Jesus of Nazareth; and this -is right. The mem*ory of a single man is. fruitful only for a time. The
human race must thank him  for much; God has
brought much to pass through him. But he is only
one of us, and his hour to be forgotten will soon strike.
It has been his earnest desire to render the world




STRAUSS'S LIFE OF JESUS.             243
entirely free; it must, therefore, be his wish to make it
free also from himself, that God may be all in all.
Then men will not only know that they have power
enough in themselves to obey perfectly the Will of God;
but in the perfect knowledge of this, they can go beyond
its requisitions, if they only will!  Yea, when  the
Christian name is forgotten, then for the first time shall
a universal kingdom of Love and Truth arise, in which
there shall lie no more any seed of enmity, that from
the, beginning has been continually sown between such
as believe in Jesus, and the children of men. But this
fable can never be true.  Ever since the day that he
was in' the flesh, the Redeemer's image has been
stamped ineffaceably on the hearts of men.  Even if
the-letter should perish, —which is holy, only because
it preserves to us this image, -the image itself would
remain forever. It is stamped so deep in the heart of
man, that it never can be effaced, and the word of the
Apostlewill ever be true,' Lord, whither shall we go?
thou only hast the words of eternal life.'"'
* While we have been preparing these pages, we have sometimes
glanced at another book, attacking Christianity. Its title is Jesus
Christ et sa doctrine, Histoire de, la Naissance de l'Eglise, de son
organization et de ses progres, pendant le premier siecle, par J. Salz)ador. Paris: 1838. 2 vols. 8vo.; a work of great pretensions and
very little merit.




XII.
THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.*
AT the present day Germany seems to be the only
country, where the various disciplines of Theology are
pursued in the liberal and scientific spirit, which some
men fancy is peculiar to the nineteenth century. It is
the only country where they seem to be studied for
their own sake, as Poetry, Eloquence, and the Mathematics have long been. Ih other quarters of the world,
they are left too much to men of subordinate intellect,
of little elevation or range of thought, who pursue their
course, which is "roundly smooth, and languishingly
slow," and after a life of strenuous assiduity find they
have not got beyond the "Standards," set up. ages
before them. Many theologians seem to set out with
their faces turned to some popular prejudice of their
times, their church, or their school, and walk backwards,
* Entwicklungsgeschichte der Lehre von der Person Christi von den
altesten Zeiten bis auf die- neuesten, dargestellt. Von J. A. DORNER,
a. o. Professor der Theologie an -der Universitat Tiibigen. Stutgart:
1839. 1 vol. 8vo. pp. xxiv. and 556. [Historical development of the
doctrine of the person of Christ, from the earliest to the latest times,
etc.] - [From the Dial- for April, 1842.]




THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.           345
as it were, or at best in a circle where the movement is
retrograde as often as direct. Somebody relates a story,
that once upon a time a scholar after visiting the place
of his Academic education, and finding the old Professors then just where they were ten years before, discussing the same- questions, and blowing similar bubbles,
and splitting hairs anew, was asked by a friend," what
they were doing at the old place." He answered, "One
was milking the barren Heifer, and the others holding
the sieve.",
To. this rule, for such we hold it to be, in France,
England, and America, at this day, there are some brilliant exceptions; men who look with a single eye
towards truth, and are, willing to follow wherever she
shall lead; men, too, whose mind and heart elevate
them to the high places of human attainment, whence
they can speak to bless mankind. These men are the
creatures of no sect or school, and are found where
God has placed them, in all the various denominations
of our common faith. It is given to no party, nor
coterie, no eld school, or new school, to monopolize
truth, freedom, and love. We are sick of that narrowness which sees no excellence, except what wears the
livery: of its own guild. But the favored sons of the free
spirit are so rare in the world at large; their attention
so seldom turned to theological pursuits, that the above
rule will be found tQ hold good in chief, and Theology to be left, as by general consent, to men of humble
talents, and confined methods of thought, who walk
mainly under the cloud of prejudice, and but rarely
escape from the trammels of Bigotry a-nd Superstition.
Brilliant and profound minds turn away to Politics,
Trade, Law, the fascinating study of nature so beautiful
and composing; men, who love freedom and are gifted




346          THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
with power to soar through the empyrean of thought,
seek a freer air, and space more ample wherein to
spread their wings. Meanwhile, the dim cloisters of
theology, once filled with the great and the wise of the
earth, are rarely trod by the, children of Genius and.
Liberty. We have wise, and pious, and learned, and
eloquent preachers, the hope of the church, the ornaments and defence of society; men who contend for
public virtue, and fight the battle for all souls with
earnest endeavor, but who yet care little for the science
of divine t!lings. We have sometimes feared our
young men forsook in this their fathers' wiser ways, for
surely there was a time when theology was studied in
our land.
From the neglect of serious, disinterested, and manly
thought, applied in this direction, there comes the obvious result; while each other science goes forward, passing through all the three stages requisite for its growth
and perfection; while it makes new observations, or
combines facts more judiciously, or from.. these infers
and induces general laws hitherto unnoticed, and so
develops itself, becoming yearly wider, deeper, and more
certain, its numerous phenomena being referred back to
elementary principles and universal laws,- Theology
remains in its old position. Its form has changed; but
the change is not scientific, the result of an elementary
principle. In the country of Bossuet and Hooker,.we
doubt that any new observation, any new cofmbination
of facts has been made, or a general law discovered in
these matters, by any theologian of the present century,
or a single step taken by theological science. In the,former country, an eminent philosopher, of a brilliant
mind, with rare faculties of combination and lucid ex



THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.          347
pression, though often wordy, has done much for psychology, chiefly however by uniting into one focus the
several truths which emanate from various anterior systems; by popularizing the discoveries of deeper spirits
than his omwn, and by turning the ingenuous youth to
this noble science. In spite of the defects arising from
his presumption, and love of making all facts square
with his formula, rather than the formula express the
spirit of the facts, he has yet furnished a magazine,
whence theological supplies- may be drawn, and so has
indirectly done much for a department of inquiry which
he has himself never entered. We would not accept
his errors, his hasty generalizations, and presumptuous
flights, -so they seem to us, -and still less would we
pass over the vast service he has done to this age by
his vigorous attacks on the sensual philosophy, and his
bold defence of spiritual thought. Mr. Coleridge also,
in England, a spirit analogous but not similar to Mr.
Cousin, —has done great service to this science, but
mainly by directing men to the old literature of his
countrymen and the Greeks, or the -new productions of
his philosophical contemporaries on the continent of
Europe. He seems to have caught a Pisgah view of
that land of stream and meadow, which he was forbid
to enter. These writers have done great service to men
whose date begins with this ceitury. Others are now
applying their methods and writing their books, sometimes with only the enthusiasm of imitators, it may be.
We would speak tenderly of existing reputations in
our own country, and honor the achievements of those
men who, with hearts animated only by love of God
and man, devote themselves to the pursuit of truth in
this path, and outwatch the Bear in their severe studies.
To them all honor. But we ask for the theologians of




348          THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
America, who shall take rank as such with our historians, our men of science and politics. Where are
they? We have only the echo for answer, Are they?
We state only a common and notorious fact,' in saying, that there is no science of theology with us. There
is enough cultivation and laborious thought in the
clerical profession, perhaps, as some one says,'more
serious and hard thinking than in both the sister professions.  The nature of the case demands — it. So
there was thinking enough about natural philosophy
among the Greeks, after Aristotle; but little good came
of it in the way of science. We hazard little in saying, that no treatise has been printed in England in the
present century, of so great theological merit as that of
pagan Cicero on the Nature of the Gods, or the preface
to his treatise of Laws. The work of Aristotle, we
are told, is still the text-book of morals at the first university in Christian England.
In all science this seems everywhere the rule: The
more Light, the freer, the more profound and searching
the investigation, why the better'; the sooner a false
theory is exploded and a new one induced from the
observed facts, the better also. In theology the opposite rule seems often to prevail. Hence, while other
sciences go smoothly on in regular advance, theology
moves only by leaps and violence. The theology of
Protestantism and Unitarianism are not regular developments, which have grown harmoniously out of a
systematic study of divine things, as the theory of
gravitation and acoustics in the progress of philosophy.
They are rarther the result of a spasmodic action, to use
that term. It was no difficult thing in philosophy to
separate astronomy from the magicians and their works
of astrology and divination. It required only years and




THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.             349l
the gradual advance of mankind. But to sep'arate re —
ligion from the existing forms, churches, or records, is a
work almost desperate, which causes strife and perhaps
bloodshed. A theological reformation throws kingdoms
into anarchy for the time. Doctrines in philosophy are —
neglected as soon as proved false, and buried as soon asdead. But the art of the embalmer preserves, in the::.
church, the hulls of effete dogmas in theology, to cumber the ground for centuries, and disgust the pious wor-.
shipper who would' offer a reasonable service. It is.,
only the living that bury the dead. The history of these
matters is curious and full of warning. What was oncecondemned by authority, becomes itself an authority to..
condemn.  What was once at the summit of the sub —
lime, falls in its turn to the depth of the ridiculous,
VWe remember a passage of Julius Firmicus, which wewill translate freely, as it illustrates this point: " Since
all these tfhings," namely, certain, false notions, "wereill concocted, they were at first a terror unto mortals;.
then, when their novelty passed away, and mankind recovered, as it were, from a long disease, a certain degreeof contempt arises for that former admiration.  Thus
gradually the human mind has ventured to scrutinizesharply, where it only admired with stupid amazement —
at the first.  Very soon some sagacious observer'pene-.s
trates to the secret places of these artificial and empty
superstitions. Then by assiduous efforts,-understanding?
the mystery of what was formerly a secret, he comes,
to a real knowledge of the causes of things.  Thus the.
human race first learns the pitiful deceits of the profane'
systems of religion; it next despises, and at lIast rejects
them with disdain."  Thus, as another'has said, " Men
quickly hated this blear-eyed religion, (the Catholic
superstitions,) when a little light had come among
30




350          THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
them, which they hugged in the night of their ignorance.
For the successful prosecution of theology, as of
every science, certain conditions must be observed.
We must abandon prejudice. The maxim of the Saint,
CONFIDO, ERGO SUM, is doubtless as true as -that of the
Philosopher, COGITO, ERGO SUM. But it is pernicious
when it means, as it often does, I BELIEVE, AND THEREFORE IT IS SO. The theologian of our day, like the astronomer' of Galileo's time, mhust cast his idols of'the
Tribe, the Den, the Market-place, and the School, to
the moles and the bats; must have a disinterested love
of truth; be willing to follow wherever she leads. He
must have a willingness to search for all the facts relative to divine things, which. can be gathered from the
deeps of the human soul, or from each nation and every
age. He must have diligence and candor to: examine
this mass of spiritual facts; philosophical skill to combine them; power to generalize and get the universal
expression of each particular fact, thus discovering the
one principle which lies-under the numerous and conflicting phenomena. Need we say that he must have a
good, pious, loving heart? An undevout theologian is
the most desperate of madmen. A whole Anticyra
would not cure him.
This empire of prejudice is still wide enough a domain
for the Prince of lies; but formerly it was: wider, and
included many departments of philosophy, which have
since, through the rebellion of their tenants, been set off
to the empire of Reason, which extends every century.
Theology, though now and then rebellious against its
tyrant, has never shaken off his yoke, and seems part of
his old ancestral domain, where he and his children
shall long reign. An old'writer unconsciously describes




THOUGHTS' ON THEOLOGY.           351
times later than his own, and says, "No two things do
so usurp upon and waste- the faculty of-Reason, as
Enthusiasm and Superstition; the one binding a faith,
the other a fear upon the soul, which they vainly entitle
some divine discovery; both train a man up to believe
beyond possibility of proof; both instruct the mind to
conceive merely by the wind, the vain words of some
passionate men, that can but: pretend a revelation, or
tell a strange story; both teach a man to deliver overhimself to the confident dictate of the sons of imagination; to determine of things by measures phantastical,
rules which cannot maintain themselves in credit by any
sober and severe discourses; both inure the mind to divine rather than to judge; to dispute for maxims rather
vehement than solid; both make a man afraid to believe himself, to acknowledge the truth that overpowers
his mind, and that would reward its cordial entertainment with assurance and true freedom of spirit. Both
place a man beyond possibility of conviction, it being
in vain to- present an argument against him that thinks.
he can confront a revelation, a miracle, or some strange
judgment from heaven, upon his adversary to your confusion. It seems, there is not a greater evil in the State,
than  W1ikedness established by Law; nor a greater in
the Church than error [established] by Religion, and
an ignorant devotion towards God.: And therefore no
pains and care are too much to remove these two beams
from the eye of human understanding, which render it
insufficient for a just and faithful discovery of objects
in religion and common science,' Pessima res est errorum apotheosis, et pro peste -intellectus habenda est, si
vanis accedat veneratio."' 
* Spencer's Discourse concerning Prodigies; London, 1665. Preface, p. xv.




352           THOUGHTS, ON THEOLOGY.
Theology is not yet studied in a philosophical spirit,
and the method of a science. Writers seem resolved to
set up some standard of their fathers or their own; so
they explore but a small part of the field, and that only
with a certain end in view. They take a small part of
the human race as the representative of the whole, and
neglect all the rest. As the old geographers drew a
chart of the world, so far as they knew it, but crowded
the margin, where the land was unknown," with shrieks,
and shapes, and sights unholy," with figures of dragons,
chimeras, winged elephants, and four-footed whales, anthropophagi, and "men whose heads do grow beneath
their shoulders," so " divines " have given us the notions
of a few sects of religious men, and telling us they
never examined the others, have concluded to rest in
this comprehensive generalization, that all besides were
filled with falsehood and devilish devices. What is to
be expected of such methods? Surely it were as well
to give such inquirers at starting the result they must
reach at the end of their course. It appears legitimate
to leave both students and teachers of geology, mathematics, and science in general, to soar on the loftiest
thoughts toward absolute truth, only stopping when the
wing was weary or the goal reached; but to direct the
students and teachers of things divine, to accept certain
conclusions arrived at centuries ago! If Faraday and
Herschel pursued the theological method in their sciences,
no harm would be done to them or the world, if they
were required to accept the " standard" of Thales or
Paracelsus, and subscribe the old creed every lustrum.
The method could lead to nothing better, and the conclusion, the inquirer must reach, might as well be forced
upon him at the beginning as the end of his circular
course. The ridiculous, part of the matter is this,



THOUGHTS ON -THEOLOGY.;         353
that the man professes to search for whatever truth is
to be found, but has sworn a solemn oath never to accept as truth, what does not conform to the idols he
worships at home. We have sometimes thought what
a strange spectacle, - ridiculous to the merry, but sad
to the serious, - would appear if the Almighty should
have sent down the brilliant image of pure, absolute
Religion, into the assembly of divines at Westminster,
or any similar assembly. Who would acknowledge the
image?
The empire of Prejudice is perhaps the last stronghold of the Father of lies, that, will surrender to Reason.
At present, a great part of the domain of theology is
under the rule of,that most ancient czar. Therecommon
sense rarely shows his honest face; Reason seldom
comes. It is a land shadowy with the wings of Ignorance, Superstition, Bigotry, Fanaticism, the brood of
claWed, and beaked, and hungry Chaos and most ancient Night. There Darkness, as an Eagle,' stirreth up
her nest;:fluttereth over her young;. spreadeth abroad
her wings; taketh her children; beareth them  on her
wings over the high places of the earth, that they may
eat, and trample down, and defile the increase of the
fields. There stands the great arsenal of Folly, and the
old war-cry of the pagan," Great is Diana of the Ephesians,' is blazoned on the banner that floats above its
walls. There the spectres of Judaism, and Heathenism,
and Pope, and Pagan, pace forth their nightly'round;
the ghost of Moloch, Saturn, Baal, Odin, fight their battles over again, and feast upon the dead. There the
eye is terrified, and the mind made mad with the picture of a world that has scarce a redeeming feature,
with a picture of heaven such as a good free man would
30*




354           THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
scorn to enter, and a picture of hell such as a fury
would delight to paint.
If we look a little at the history of theology, it appears that errors find easiest entrance there, and are
most difficult to dislodge. It required centuries to drive
out of the Christian Church a belief in ghosts and
witches. The Devil is still a classical personage of
theology; his existence maintained by certain churches
in their articles of faith; and while we are writing these
pages, a friend tells us of hearing a preacher of the popular doctrine declare in his public teaching from  the
pulpit, that to deny the existence of the Devil, is to destroy the character of Christ. In science, we ask first,
What are the facts of observation whence we shall start.?
Next, What is the true and natural order, explanation,
and meaning of these facts?  The first work is to find
the facts, then their law and meaning. Now here are
two things to be considered, namely, FACTS and NO-FACTS.
For every false theory there are a thousand false facts.
In theology, the data, in many celebrated cases, are facts
of assumption, not observation; in a word, are NO-FACTS.
When Charles the Second asked the Royal Society,
" Why a living fish put into a vessel of water added
nothing to the weight of the water? " there were enough,
no doubt, to devise a theory, and explain the fact, " by
the upward pressure of the water,"' "the buoyancy of
air in the living fish," "its motion and the reaction of
the water." But when some one ventured to verify the
fact, it was found to be no-fact. Had the Royal Academy been composed of " Divines," and not of Naturalists and Philosophers, the theological method would
have been pursued, and we should have had theories as
numerous as the attempts to reconcile the story of




THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.            355
Jonah with human experience, and science would be
where it was at first. Theology generally passes dryshod over the first question, —What are l/he facts? —
"with its garlands and singing-robes about it."  Its
answer to the next query is therefore of no value.
We speak historically of things that have happened,
when we say, that many, if not most of those theological questions, which have been matters of dispute and
railing, belong to the class of explanations of no-facts.
Such, we take it, are the speculations, for the most part,
that have grown out of the myths of the Old and New
Testament; about Angels, Devils, personal appearances
of the Deity, miraculous judgments, supernatural prophecies, the trinity, and the whole class of miracles from
Genesis to Revelation. Easy faith and hard logic have
done enough in theology. Let us answer the first question, and verify the facts before we attempt to explain
them.
As we look back on the history of the world, the retrospect is painful. The history of science is that of
many wanderings before reaching the truth. But the
history of theology is the darkest chapter of all, for neither the true end nor the true path seems yet to be discovered and pursued. In the -history of every department of thought there seem to be three periods pretty
distinctly marked. First, the period of hypothesis, when
observation is not accurate, and the solution of the problem, when stated, is a matter of conjecture, mere guesswork. Next comes the period of observation and indiuction, when men ask for the facts, and'their law. Finally,
there is the period when science is developed still further by its own laws, without the need of new.observations. Such is the present state of mathematics, speculative astronomy, and some other departments, as we




356           THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
think. Thus science may be in advance of observation.
Some of the profound remarks of Newton belong to this
last epoch of science. An ancient was in the first when
he answered the question, " Why does a man draw his
feet under him, when he wishes to rise from his seat?"
by saying it was " on account of the occult properties of
the circle."
Now theology with us is certainly in the period of
hypothesis. The facts are assumed; the explanation is
guesswork. To take an example from a section of theology much insisted on at the present day, - the use and
meaning of miracles. The general thesis is, that miracles confirm the authority of hikn who works them, and
authenticate his teachings to be divine. We will state
it in a syllogistic and more concrete.form. Every miracle-worker is a heaven-sent and infallible teacher of
truth. Jonah is a miracl6-worker. Therefore Jonah is a
heaven-sent and infallible teacher of truth. Now we
should begin by denying the major in full, and go on to
ask proofs of the minor..But the theological method is
to assume both. When both premises are assumptions,
the conclusion will be, - what we see it is. Men build
neither castles nor temples of moonshine. Yet, in spite
of this defect, limitation, and weakiness, it is a common
thing to subject other sciences to this pretended science
of Theology. Psychology, Ethics, Geology, and Astronomy are successively arraigned, examined, and censured or condemned, because their conclusions, - though
legitimately deduced from  notorious facts,-do not
square with the assumptions of theology, which still aspires to be head of all. But to present this claim for
theology in its present state, is like making the bramble
king over the trees of the forest. The result would be
as in Jotham's parable. Theology would say, Come




THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.          357
and put your trust in my shadow. But if you will not,
a fire shall go out from the bramble and devour the cedars of Lebanon.
Now  as it seems to us, there are two legitimate
methods of attempting to improve and advance theol-,
ogy. One is for the theologian to begin anew, trusting
entirely to meditation, contemplation, and thought, and
ask WHAT can be known of divine things, and How can
it be known and legitimated? This work of course demands, that he should criticize the faculty of knowing,
and determine its laws, and see, d priori, what are our
instruments of knowing, and what the law and method
of their use, and thus discover the NOVUM ORGANUM of
theology. This determined, he must direct his eye inwa)rd on what passes there, studying the stars of that
inner firmament, as the astronomer reads the phenomena of the heavens. He must also look outward on the
face of nature and of man, and thus read the primitive
Gospel, God wrote on the heart of his child, and illustrated in the Earth and the Sky and the events of life.
Thus from observations made in the external world,
made also in the internal world, comprising both the
reflective and the intuitive faculties of man, he is to
frame the theory of God, of man, of the relation between
God and man, and -of the duties that grow out of this
relation, for with these four questions'we suppose theology is exclusively concerned. This is the philosophical method, and it is strictly legitimate. It is pursued
in the other sciences, and to good purpose. Thus science becomes the interpreter of nature, not its lawgiver.
The other method is to get the sum of the theological
thinking of the human race, and out of this mass construct a -system, without attempting a fresh observation




358           THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
of facts. This is the historical method, and it is useful
to show what has been done. The opinion of mankind
deserves respect, no doubt; but this method can lead to
a perfect theology no more than historical Eclecticism
can lead to a perfect philosophy. The former researches
in theology, as in magnetism and geology, offer but a
narrow and inadequate basis to rest on.
This historical scheme has often:been attempted, but
never systematically, thoroughly, and critically, so far as
we know. In England and America, however, it seems
almost entirely to have dispossessed the philosophical
method of its rights. But it has been conducted in
a narrow, exclusive manner, after- the fashion of antiquarians -searching to prove a preconceived opinion,
rather than in the spirit of philosophical investigation.
From  such measures we must expect melancholy
results. From the common abhorrence of the philosohpical method, and the narrow  and uncritical spirit in
which the historical method is commonly pursued,
comes this result. Our philosophy of divine things is
the. poorest of all our -poor philosophies. It is not a
theology, but a despair:of all theology. The theologian,
- as Lord Bacon says of a method of philosophizing
that was common in his time,- "hurries on rapidly
from particulars to the most general axioms, and from
them as principles, and their supposed indisputable
truth, derives and discovers the -intermediate axioms."
Of course what is built on conjecture, and only by
guess, can never satisfy men, who ask for the facts and
their law and explanation.
Still more, deference for authority is carried to the
greatest extreme in theology. The sectarian must not
dispute against the ": Standards" set up by the Synod
of Dort, the Westminster divines, or the Council of




THOUGHTS- ON THEOLOGY.         359
Trent. These settle all controversies. If the theologian
is no sectarian, in the usual sense of that word, then
his " Standard" is the Bible. He settles questions of
philosophy, morals, and religion by citing texts, which
prove only the opinion of the writer, and perhaps not
even that. The:Chain of his argument is made of
Scripture sentences well -twisted. As things are now
managed by theologians in general, there is little chance
of improvement. As Bacon says of universities in his
day, " They learn nothing but to believe; first, that
others know this which they know not, and often, [that]
themselves know that which they know not. They
are like a becalmed ship; they never move but by the
wind of other men's breath, and have no oars of their
own to steer withal."  And again. "All things are
found opposite to -advancement; for the readings and
exercises are so managed, that it cannot easily come
into any one's mind to think of things out of the common road; or if -here and there, one should'venture to
ask a liberty of judging, he can only impose the task
upon himself without obtaining assistance from his fellows; and if he could dispense with this, he-will still
find his industry and resolution a great hinderance to his.
fortune. For the studies of men in such places are
confined and penned down to the writings of certain
authors; from which if any man happens to differ, he
is presently reprehended as a disturber and innovator."
And still further. " Their wits being shut up in the
cells of a few authors, did, out of no great quantity of
matter, and infinite agitation of wit, spin cobwebs of
learning, admirable for the fineness of thread and work,
but of no substance or profit."
There are two methods of philosophizing in general,




360          THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
that of the Materialists and the Spiritualists, to use
these terms. The one is perhaps most ably represented
in the Novum Organum of Lord Bacon, and the other
in Descdirtes' Book of Method and of Principles. The
latter was early introduced to England by a few Platonizing philosophers, -now better known abroad than at
home, we fancy, -whose pious lives, severe study, and
volumes full of the ripest thought have not yet redeemed
them, in the judgment of their countrymen, from the
charge of being mystics, dreamers of dreams, too:high
for this world, too low for the next, so of no use in
either. But this method, inasmuch as it laid great
stress on the inward and the idea,-in the Platonic
sense, - and,.at least in its onesidedness and misapplication, led sometimes to the visionary and absurd, has
been abandoned by our brethren in England. Few
British scholars, since the seventeenth century, have
studied theology in the spirit of the Cartesian method.
The other method, that of Bacon, begins by neglecting
that half of man's nature which is primarily concerned
with divine things. This has been found more congenial with the taste and character of the English and
American nations. They have applied it, with eminent
success, to experimental science, for which it was
designed, and from which it was almost exclusively
derived by its illustrious author.  We would speak
with becoming diffidence respecting the defects of a
mind'so vast as Bacon's, which burst tfie trammels of
Aristotle and the School-men, emancipated philosophy
in great measure from the theological method which
would cripple the intellectual energies of the race. But
it must be confessed that Bacon's Philosophy recognizes
scarcely the possibility of a theology, certainly of none
but a historical' theology, -gathering up the limbs of




THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.             361'
Osiris dispersed throughout the world. It lives in the.
senses, not the soul. Accordingly, this method is ap —
plied chiefly in the departments of natural and rnechan-:
ical philosophy, and even here Englishmen begin tos
find it inadequate to the ultimate purposes of science;>
by reason of its exceeding outwardness, and so look for'
a better instrument than the Novurm Organum, where —
with to arm  the hand of science.'  One of the most-.
thorough Baconians of the present. day, as we understand it, is Mr. Comte, the author of the course of pos-.
itive Philosophy just published at Paris; and it is curious to see the results he has reached, namely, Material —
ism in Psychology, Selfishness in Ethics, and Atheism:
in Theology.~ It is not for us to say he is logically false:
to his principles.
Some of the countrymen of Bacon, however, have,
attempted to aplply his method in other departments of
human inquiry. Locke has done this in metaphysics..
It was with Bacon's new instrument in his hand, that
he struck at the root of innate ideas; at our idea of'
Infinity, Eternity, and the like. But here his good:
sense sometimes, his excellent heart and character,.
truly humane and Christian, much oftener, as we think;
saved him from the conclusions, to which thiB method
has legitimately led others who have followed it.  Themethod defective, so was the work.  A  Damascus
mechanic, with a very rude instrument, may form  ex —
quisite blades, and delicate filagree; but no skilliof th'eartist, no excellence of heart, can counteract thye defects
of the Novum Organum, when applied to morals, rnetaphysics, or theology. Hume furnishes another instance* See Whewell's Philosophy of the Inductive- Sciences, etc. Lon —
don, 1840. 2 vols.-8vo. Preface to Vol. I.
31




362           THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
of the same kind. His treatise of Natural Religion we
take to be a rigid application of Bacon's method in
theological inquiries, and his inductions to be legitimate,
admitting his premises and accepting his method. A
third instance of the same kind is afforded by the excellent Dr. Paley. Here this method is applied in
morals; the result is too well known to need mention.
Never did.a new broom sweep so clean as this new instrument, in the various departments of metaphysics, theology, and ethics. Love, God, and the Soul are swept
clean out of doors.* We are not surprised tha't no one,
following Bacdn's scheme, has ever succeeded in argument with th'ese illustrious men, or driven Materialism,
Selfishness, and Skepticism from the field of Philosophy, Morals, and Religion. The answer to these systems must come from men who adopt a different
method. Weapons tempered in another spring were
needed to cleave asunder the seven-orbed Baconian
shield, and rout the Skepticism sheltered thereby. No
Baconian philosopher, so it seems to' us, has. ever ruffled its terrible crest, though the merest stripling of the
Gospel could bring it to the ground. The replies to
Locke, Hume, and Paley come into England from
-countries where -a more spiritual philosophy has fortunately got footing.
The consequences, of this exclusive Baconianismn of
the English have been disastrous to theological pursuits.
The " Divines" in England, at the present day, her
Bishops, Professors, and Prebendaries, are'not theologi-,ans. They are logicians, chemists, skilled in the math* We would not have it supposed we charge these results upon the
men, but on their systems, if legitimately carried out.




THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.          363
ematics; historians, poor commentators upon Greek
poets. Theology is out of their line. They have taken
the ironical advice of Bishop Hare. Hence it comes to
pass, either that theology is not studied at all; only an
outside and preparatory department is entered; or it is
studied with little success, even when a man like Lord
Brougham girds himself for the task. The most significant theological productions of the last five-andtwenty years in England are the Bridgewater Treatises,
some of which are valuable contributions to natural
science. Of Lord Brougham's theological writings
little needs be said, and of the Oxford Tracts we shall
only say, that while we admire the piety displayed in
them, we do not wonder that their authors despair of
theology, and so fall back on dark ages; take authority
for truth, and not truth for authority. The impotence
of the English in this department is surely no marvel.
It would take even a giant a long time to hew down an
oak with a paver's maul, useful as that instrument may
be in another place. Few attempt theology, and fewer
still succeed. Men despair of the whole matter. While
truth is before them in all other- departments, and research gives not merely historical results to the antiquary, but positive conclusions to the diligent seeker,
here, in the most important of all the fields of human
speculation, she is supposed to be only behind us, and
to have no future blessing to bestow. Thus theology,
though both' Queen and Mother of all science, is left
alone, unapproached, unseeh, unhonored, though worshipped by a few weak idolaters with vain oblation, and
incense kindled afar off, while strong men and the whole
people have gone up on every hill-top, and under every
green tree, to sacrifice and do homage to the Useful
and the Agreeable. Any one, who reads the English




364           THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
theological journals, or other recent works on those subjects, will see the truth of what we have said, and
how their scholars retreat to the time of the Reformation and Revolution, and bring up the mighty dead,
the Hookers, the Thylors, the Cudworths, with their
illustrious predecessors and contemporaries, who,, with
all their faults, had a- spark of manly fire in their
bosoms, which shone out in all their works. It must
be confessed, that theology in England and America is
in about the-same state with astronomy in the time of
Scotus Erigena.
Now theological problems change from age to age;'the reflective character of our age, the philosophical
spirit that marks our time, is raising questions in theology never put before. If the " Divines " will nOt think
of theological subjects, nor meet the question, why
others will. The matter cannot be'winked out of
sight.' Accordingly, unless we are much deceived, the
educated laymen have applied good-sense to theology,
as the " Divines" have not dared to do, at least in publie, and reached conclusions far in advance of the theology of the pulpit. It is a natural consequence of the
theological method, that the men wedded to it should
be further from truth in divine things, than men free
from its shackles. It is not strange, then, for the pulpit
to be behind the pews. Yet it would be very surprising if the professors of medicine, chemistry, and mathematics understood those mysteries more imperfectly
than laymen, who but thought of the matter incidentally, as it were.
The history of theology shows an advance, at least,
a change in its great questions. They rise in one age
and are settled in the next, after some fierce disputing;




THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.            365
for it is a noticeable fact, that as religious wars, - so
they are called, -are of all others the most bloody, so
theological controversies are most distinguished for misunderstanding, perversity, and abuse.  We know not
why, but such is the fact. Now there are some great
questions in theology that come up in our time to be
settled, which have not been asked in the same spirit
before. Among them are the following.
What relation does C.hristianity bear to the Absolute?  What relation does Jesus of Nazareth bear to
the human race?  What relation do the Scriptures of
the Old and New Testament bear to Christianity?
The first is the vital question, and will perhaps be
scarce settled favorably to the Christianity of the church.
The second also is. serious question, but one which
the recent discussions of the Trinity will help to answer.
The third is a practical and historical question of great
interest. In the time of Paul the problem was to separate Religion from the forms of the Mosaic ritual; in,
Luther's day to separate it from the forms of the
Church; in' our age to separate it from the letter of
Scripture, and, all personal authority, pretended or real,
and leave it to stand or fall by itself. There is nothing
to fear from Truth, or for Truth. But if these questions
be answered, as we think they' must be, then a change
will come over the spirit of our theology, to which all
former changes therein were as nothing. But what is
true will stand; yes, will stand,,though all present theologies perish.'We have complained of the position of theology in,England and America. Let us look a little into a single
department of it, and one most congenial to the English mind, that of Ecclesiastical History; here our literature is most miserably deficient. Most English writers
31 *




366           THOUGHTS ON THEOLOGY.
quote the Fathers, as if any writer of the first six cen-turies was as good authority for whatever relates to the
primitive practice' or opinion, as Clement of Alexandria-,,or Justin Martyr. Apart from the honorable and ancient name of Cave we have scarce an original historian
*of the Church in the English tongue, unless we mention Mr. Campbell, whose little work is candid and.clear, and shows an acquaintance with the sources,
-thou'gh sometimes it betrays too much of a polemical;spirit. England has produced three great historians
within less than a century. Their works, though unequal, are classics; and their name and influence will
not soon pass away. To rank with them in Ecclesiastical history, we have Echhard, Milner, Waddington, Milman! The French have at least, Du-Pin, Tillemont,
and Fleury; the Germans, Mosheirn, Walch, Arnold,
Semler, Schroeckh, Gieseler, and Neander, not to menition others scarcely inferior to any of these. In America
little is to be expected of our.labors in this department.'We have no libraries that would enable us to verify the
quotations in Gieseler; none perhaps that contains all
the important sources of ecclesiastical history. Still all
other departments of this field are open to us, where a
large library is fortunately not needed.
Now in Germany theology is still studied by minds
-of a superior order, and that with all the- aid which
Science can offerin the nineteenth century. The mantle of the prophet, ascending from France and England,;and with it a double portion of his spirit has fallen there.
Theology has but shifted her ground, not forsaken the
earth; so, it is said, there is always one phenix, and one
alone, in the world, although it is sometimes in the
Arabian, sometimes inq the Persian Sky. In that coun-:try, we say it with thanksgiving, theology is still' pur



DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.           367
sued.  Leibnitz used to -boast that his countrymen
came late to philosophy. It seems they found their account in entering the field after the mists of morning
had left the sky, and the barriers could be seen, when
the dew had vanished from the grass. They have come
through Philosophy to Theology still later; for the theology of the Germans before Semler's time, valuable asit is in some respects, is only related to the modern, as
our Scandinavian fathers, who worshipped Odin and
Thor, two thousand years ago, are related to u's. Germany is said to be the land of books. It is palr eminence
the land of theological books. To look over the Literatur'Anzeiger; one is filled with amazement and horror
at the thought, that somebody is to read each of the
books, and many will attempt inward digestion thereof.
Some thousands of years ago it was said; "of writing books there is no end."  What would the same
man say could he look over the catalogue of the last
Leipsic fair?
We do not wonder that the eyes of theologians are
turned attentively to Germany at this time, regarding it
as the new East out of which the star of Hope is to rise.
Still it is but a mixed result which we can expect;
something will no doubt-be effected both of good and
-ill. It is the part of men to welcome the former and
ward off the latter. But we -will here close our somewhat desultory remarks, and address ourselves to the
work named at the head of this article.
In'any country but Germany, we think, this would
be reckoned a wonderful book; capable -not only of
making the author's literary reputation, but of making
an epoch in the study of Ecclesiastical history, and of
theology itself. The work is remarkable in respect to




368-          DORNER'S'CHRISTOLOGY.
both of these departments of thought. Since copies of it
are rare in this country, we have been induced to transfer to our pages some of the author's most instructive
thoughts and conclusions, and give the general scope of
the book itself, widely as it differs, in many respects,
from our own view. Its& author is a Professor of Theology at one of the more Orthodox Seminaries in Germany; and, so far as we know, this is the only work hehas given to the public in an independent form.
In one' of the prefaces, - for the work has two, and
an introduction to boot,-the author says, that as
Christianity goes on developing itself, and as men get
clearer notions of what they contend about, all theological controversies come to turn more and more uponthe person of Christ, as the point where all must be decided. With this discovery much is gained, for the
right decision depends, in some measure, on puttingthe
question in -a right way.  It is easy to see that all
turns on this question, whether it is necessary that there
should be, and whether there actually has been, such a
Christ as is represented in the meaning, though not
always in the words of the Church. That is, whether
there must be and has been a being, in whom the perfect union of the Divine and the Human has been made
manifest in history. Now if Philosophy can demonstrate incontestably, that a Christ, in the above sense, is
a notion self-contradictory and therefore impossible,
there can no longer be any controversy between Philosophy and Theology. Then the Christ and the Christian Church, - as such, — have ceased to exist; or
rather Philosophy has conquered the whole department
of Christian Theology, as it were, from the enemy; for
when the citadel is taken, the outworks must surrender
at discretion. On the other hand, if it is shown that




DORNER'S CHRDTOLOGY.           369
the notion of an historical, as well as an ideal Christ, is
a necessary notion, "and the speculative construction
of the person of Christ " is admitted, then Philosophy
and Theology, essentially and most intimately set at,
one with each other, may continue their common work
in peace. Philosophy has not lost her independence,
but gained new strength. Now one party says, this is
done already,; "the person of Christ is constructed
speculatively;" while the other says, the lists are now
to be closed, inasmuch as it has been demonstrated
that there can be no Christ, who is alike historical and
ideal.
Professor Dorner thinks both parties are wrong; that
/' the speculative construction of the Christ" is not yet
completed. Or in other words, that it has not yet been
shown by speculative logic, that an entire and perfect
incarnation of the Infinite, in the form of a perfect man,
is an eternal and absolute idea, and therefore necessary
to the salvation and completion of the human race; nor,
on the other hand, has the opposite been demonstrated.
Faith has been developed on one side, and Reason
on the other, but not united. Philosophy and Religion
are only enamoured of one another, not wed; and the
course of their true love is any thing but smooth. His
object is to show what has already passed between the
two parties. Or, to speak without a figure,- to give the
net result of all attempts to explain by Reason or Faith,
the idea of the Christ; to show what has been done, and
what still remains to be done in this matter..He thinks
there is no great gulf fixed between Faith and Reason;
that if Christianity be rational, that Reason itself has
been unfolded and strengthened by Christianity, and
may go on with no limit to her course.
He adds, moreover, that if Christ be, as theologians




370           DORNERX' CHRISTOLOGY.
affirm, the key to open the history of the world, as well
as to unloose all riddles, then it is not -modesty, but arrogant inactivity which will not learn to use this key,
and disclose all mysteries.'He assumes two things in
this inquiry, with no attempt at proof, namely, first, that
the idea of a God-man, - a being who is at the same
time perfect God and perfect Man, -is the great feature of Christianity; that this idea was made actual in
Jesus of Nazareth; and again that this idea of a Godman exists, though unconsciously, in all religions; that
it has been and must be the ideal of life to be both human and divine; a man filled and inflenced by the
power of God. Soon as man turns to this subject, it
is seen that a holy and blessed life in God can only be
conceived of as the unity of the divine and human life.
Still further, the ideal of a revelation of God consists in
this, that God reveals himself not merely in signs and
the phenomena of outward nature, which is blind and
dumb, and knows not him who knows it, but that He
should reveal Himself in the form of a being who is
self-conscious, and knows him as he is known by him.
In the infancy of thought, it was concluded no a'dequate representation of God could be made in the
form of a God-man; for the Divine and Human were
reckoned incompatible elements, or incommensurable
quantities. God was considered an abstract essence,
of whom- even BEING was to be predicated only with
modesty. In its theoretic result, this differed little from
Atheism; for it was not the Infinite, but an indefinite
being, who revealed himself in the finite..
Now Christianity makes a different claim to the Godman. It has been the constant faith of the Christian
Church, that in Jesus the union of the Divine and
Human was,effected in a personal and peculiar manner.




DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.                  371
But the  objection was  made  early, and  is still repeated, that this idea is not original in  Christianity,
since there were parallel historical manifestations of
God in the flesh, before Jesus. But if this objection
were real, it is of no value. Its time has gone by, since
Christianity is regarded as a doctrine, and not merely
an historical fact; as the organization of truth, which
unites the scattered portions into one whole, that they
may lie more level to the comprehension of men.  But
to settle this question, whether the idea is original with
Christianity, it becomes necessary to examine the previous religions, and notice their essential agreement or
disagreement with this.'" In this posture of affairs, all contributions will be welcome which
serve to give a clearer notion of the ante-christian religions. So far
as these contributions contain only the truth, it is a matter of indifference, whether they are made with a design hostile or favorable to
Christianity. For the more perfectly we survey the field of antechristian religions in its whole compass, the more clearly, on the one
hand, do we perceive the preparation made for Christianity by previous ireligions, and its historical necessity; and, on the other hand, as
we look back over all the phenomena in this field, we see not less
clearly the same newness and originality of the Christian religion,
which has long been admitted by every sound, historical mind, as it
looks forward and sees its world-traversing and inexhaustible power.
Yes; we must say, that it is for the sake of proving the truth of
Christianity, and in particular of its all-supporting, fundamental idea,
-the absolute incarnation of God in Christ, - that we have abandoned the more limited stand-point which was supported by single
peculiarities,.such as inspiration, prophecy, and the like; that taking
our position in the more comprehensive stand-point supported by the,whole course of religious history before Christ, we may thoroughly
understand how the whole ante-christian world strives towards
Christ; how in him the common riddle of all previous religions is
solved, and how in him, or still more particularly, in his fundamental
idea, lies the solution by which we can understand all these religions




372              DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.
better than they understood themselves. So long as all religions are
not understood in their essential relation to Christianity, as negative
or positive preparations for it, so long the historical side thereof will
swing in the air." — pp. 3, 4.
He then goes on to inquire if it were possible this
idea of the God-man could proceed from any religion
before Christ, or was extant in his time.  The Jews
were hostile to it, as appears from the various forms of
Ebionitism  embraced by the Jewish  Christians.  Besides, the doctrine, or the fact, finds no adequate expression in Peter, or James, in Matthew, Mark, or Luke.
Hence some have conjectured it came from heathenism,
and the conjecture seems at first corroborated by the
fact, that it was not developed in the Church until the
Gentiles had come in, and the apostles who lived in the
midst of the heathens were the men who taught this
doctrine.* But this natural suspicion is without foundation. Heathenism may be divided into Eastern and
Western.  The Indian religion may be taken as the
type of one, the Greek of the other. But neither separates'God, distinctly enough from  the world.  Both
deserve to be called the worship of nature.' One proceeds from the Divine in the objective world, the other
* The influence of heathenism on the opinions of the primitive
Christians has never yet, it would seem, had justice done it by writers
of ecclesiastical history.  We see traces of it in the apocryphal
Gospels and Epistles, some of which are perhaps as ancient as the
canonical writings. In our view, the Divinity of Christ, and its
numerous correlative doctrines come from this source.
t This we think true of neither, except while the religion was in
its weak and incipient stages. In the Greek Religion there are three
stages, the Saturnian, Olympian, and Dionysian. Only the first is a.
worship of nature.




DORNER'S CIIRISTOLOGY.             373,
from  the finite, and both seek the common end, the
unity of the Divine and Human.  Hence in the East,.'the various incarnations of Krishna, in one of which heassumes the human form  as the highest of all.  Here-:
the God descends to earth and becomes a man. Agaim
Vishu actually becomes a man.  The idea of the Godman appears, as in Christianity, in the condescension,
of God to the human form.  There is no doubt these
notions were well known in Alexandria in the time of
Jesus. But the Christian idea cannot be explained'
from  this source, for the true unity of the divine andi
human natures nowhere appears, therefore the redemption of men by the Eastern religion is but momentary..
The incarnate Deity does not draw men to him. Besides, the Dualism of this system destroys its value and
influence.  It ends at last in a sort of Quietism and,
Pantheism, which denies the existence of the'world.
The Greek religion is the opposite of this.   It deifies
man, instead of humanizing God.  It admitted Polytheism, though a belief in Fate still lingered there,'as
the last relic of primitive Pantheism.  It does not:
develop the ethical idea, but confounds it with physical;
causes. It begins in part the opposite way from the-.
Indian, but comes to the same conclusion at last, a.
denial of all but God, " the one divine substance before
which all the finite is an illusion."*  Besides, our,
author finds the moral element is wanting in the Greek:
religion. In this conclusion, however, we think him too,
* This wholesale way of disposing of centuries of philosophical in —
quiry is quite as unsafe, as it were to take the middle-age philosophers,.
the Mystics, the Sensualists of England and France, with the Transcendentalists of Germany, as the natural results and legitimate issueof the. Christian Religion.
32




374           PDORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.
hasty; certainly the moral element has its proper place
in such writers as,Eschylus, Pindar, and Plato. It
would be difficult to find an author in ancient or modern times, in whom justice is more amply done to the
moral sense, than in the latter.
However, Dr. Dorner thinks Parsism is an exception
to the general rule of ancient religions. Here the
moral element occurs in so perfect a form, that some
will not reckon it with the heathen religions. But this
has not got above the adoration of Nature, which
defiles all the other heathen forms of religion. Besides,
the Dualism, which runs through all the oriental systems, allows no true union of the Divine and Human.
Accordingly, the Parsee Christians always had a strong
tendency to Manichmism, and ran it out into the
notions of the Docetm, and then found that in Jesus
there was no union of the two natures.,According to
Parsism the Divine can never coalesce with the Human;
for the Infinite Being, who is the cause of both Orrriusd
and Ahriman, remains always immovable and at perfect rest. It, however, admits a sort of Arian notion
of a mediator between him and us, and has a poor sort
of a God-man in the person of Sosioch, though some
conjecture this is a more modern notion they have taken
from the Jews. Thus it appears the central idea of
Christianity could have proceeded from  no heathen
religion.
Could it come from, the Hebrew system?  Quite as
little.' Of all the ancient religions, the Hebrew alone
separates God from the world, says our mistaken author,
* See the-attempt of Mr. Hennell, (Inquiry into; the Divine Origin of Christianity. London, 1839, 1 vol. 8vo. pp..8-23,) to derive
some of the Christian ideas from the Essenes.




DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.               375
and recognizes the distinct personality of both God and
man.  This solves the, difficulty of, heathenism.  It
dwell's on the moral union of man and God, and would
have it go on and become perfect, and in the end, God
write the law in the heart, as in the beginning He wrote
it on tables of stone.*  But in avoiding the adoration
of Nature, the Jews took such a view of the Deity, that
it seemed impossible to them that he should incarnate
himself in man. All the revelations of God in the Old
Testament are not the remotest approach to an incarnation like that in Jesus.  They made a great chasm
between Gqd and man, which they attempted to fill up
with angels, and the like.f  The descriptions of Wisdorn in Proverbs, the Apocrypha, and Philo, are not at
all like the Christian incarnation.  The Alexandrian
Jews assimilated to the Greek system, and adopted the
Platonic view of the Logos, while the Palestine Jews,
instead of making their idea of the Messiah more lofty
and pure, and rendering it more intense, only gave it a
more extensive range, and thought of a political deliverer. Thus it appears the idea of a God-man could
not come from any of these sources, nor yet from any
contemporary philosophy or religion. It must therefore
be original with Christianity itself. It was impossible
for a heathen or Hebrew to say in the Christian sense,
* If we understand the Hebrew Scriptures and St. Paul, they both
teach that He did write the law in the heart in the beginning, else the
law of stone were worthless.
t Here also the author fails to notice the striking fact of the regular progress of the theophanies of the Old Testament. 1. God ctppears himself, in human form, and speaks and eats'with man. 2. It
is an angel of God who appears. 3. He speaks only in visions,
thozghts, and the like, and his appearance is entirely subjective.  We
see the same progress in all primitive religious nations.




376               DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.
that a man was God, or the ~on of God.  But all former religions were only a prieparatio evangelica in the
highest sense. This fact shows that Christianity expresses what allireligions sought to utter, and combines
in itself the truths of heathenism and Judaism.
"Judaism was great through the idea of the absolute, personal
God; the greatest excellence of heathenism is the idea of the most
intimate nearness and residence of a divine life in a fiee human form.
But the ideaof the personal existence of God in Christ was both of'them united together into a higher unity. According to the heathen
way of considering the matter, the divine, alone absolute and impersonal Being, who soars above the gods,- if it is possible for him to
reveal himself, -must have first in Christ come to a personal consciousness of himself, which he had not before; but this would be the
generation of a personal God, through the form of human life, and
therefore a human act. Judaism had for its foundation not an obscure, impersonal being, a merely empty substance, but a subject, a
personality. But to such as admitted its form of Monotheism, the
incarnation of God seemed blasphemy. But Christianity is the truth
of both systems. In the personality of Christ, it sees as well a man
who is God, as a God who is man. With the one. it sees in Jesus, as
well the truth of the Hellenic Apotheosis of human nature, as with
the other it sees the complete condescension of God, which is the fundamental idea in the East. But it required long and various warfare, before the Christian principle went through the Greek and
Jewish principle, and presented to the understanding its true form.
We shall see that even now its work is not completed." X - pp. 33, 34.
He- next turns to consider the historical development
of this central idea, which Jesus brought to light in
word and life. This remained always enveloped in the
Church, but it was not developed, except gradually, and
part by part. Then he proceeds on the clever hypothe* We have given a pretty free version of portions of this extract,
and are not quite certain that in all cases we have taken the author's
meaning.




DORNER' S CIIRISTOLOGY.'         377
sis, that all moral and religious truth was potentially
involved in the early teachers, though not professed consciously, and actually evolved by them; a maxim which
may be applied equally to all philosophers, of all schools,
for every man involves all truth, though only here and
there a wise man evolves a little thereof.  Now the
Church did not state all this doctrine in good set
speech, yet it knew intuitively how to separate false
from true doctrine, not as an individual good man separates wrong from right, by means of conscience.  This
is rather more true of the Church, than it is of particular teachers, who have not been inventors of truth, but
only mouths which uttered the truth possessed by the
Church.' However, amid conflicting opinions, where
he gets but intimations of the idea of a God-man, and
amid many doctrines taught consciously, he finds this
tendency to glorify Christ, even to deify himr, which
he regards as a proof that the great central idea lay
there. This also we take to be a very great mistake,
and think the tendency to deify persons arose from
several causes; such as the popular despair of man.
The'outway'd aspect of the world allows us to form but
a low opinion of man; the retrospect is still worse.
Besides some distrusted the inspiration which God
gives man on condition of holiness and purity. Therefore, when any one rose up and far transcended the
achievements and expectations of mere vulgar souls,
they said he is not a man, but a god, at least the son of
a god; human nature is not capable of so much. Hence
all the heroes of times pretty ancient are either gods or
* But these mouths of the Church seem smitten with the old spirit
of Babel, for their " language was confounded, and they did not understand one another's speech," nor always their own, we fancy.
32 




378            DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.
the descendants of gods, or at least miraculously inspired
to do their particular works.  Then the polytheistic
notions of the new converts to Christianity favored this
popular despair, by referring the most shining examples
of goodness and wisdom to the gods. Hence, for those
who had believed that Hercules, Bacchus, and Devanisi
were men, and became gods by the special grace of the
Supreme, it was easy to elevate Jesus, and give him
power over their former divinities, or even expel them,
if this course were necessary. Now there are but two
scales to this balance, and what was added to the divinity of Jesus was taken from his humanity, and so the
power of man underrated. Hence we always find, that:as a party assigns Jesus a divine, extra-human, or miraculous character, on the one hand, just so far it de-.grades man, on the other, and takes low views of human nature. The total depravity of man, and the total
divinity of Jesus, come out of the same logical root.
To examine the history of the world, by striking the
-words and life of Jesus out of the series of natural and
perfectly human actions, and then deciding as if such actions had never been, seems to us quite as absurd as it
would be, in giving a description of Switzerland, to strike, out the Alps, and the lakes, and then say the country was
level and dull, monotonous and dry. To us, the popular notions of the character of Jesus "have taken away
our Lord, and we know not where they have laid him."
To our apprehension, Jesus was much greater than the,
evangelists represent him. We would not measure him.by the conceptions formed by Jewish or heathen converts, but by the long stream of light he shed on the first
three centuries after'his death, and through them on all
time since.
But to return to our task. Dr. Dorner admits this




DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.           379
idea does not appear in the earliest Christian writings,
which we think is quite as inexplicable, taking his stand-'point, as it would be if Columbus, after the discovery
of the new continent, had founded a school of geographers, and no one of his pupils had ever set down
America in his map of the world, or alluded to it, except by implication. But as Christianity went on developing, it took some extra-Christian ideas from the
Dther religions. Thus from Judaism it took the notion
of a primitive man, and a primitive prophet; from heathenism, the doctrine of the Logos.  These two rival
elements balanced each other, and gave a universal development to the new principle.  Thus while Christianity attacked its foes, it built up its own dogmatics,
not unlike the contemporaries of Ezra, who held the
sword in one hand, and the trowel in the other. He
finds three periods in the history of Christology. I.
That of the establishment of the doctrine, that there
were two essential elements in Jesus, the Divine and
Human. II. Period of the one-sided elevation of either
the one or the other; this has two epochs. 1. From
the Council of Nice to the Reformation; period of the
divine side. 2. From the Reformation to Kant; period
of the human side. III. Period of the attempt to show
both in him, and how they unite. We mast pass very
hastily over the rest of the wTdrk; for after We have thus
minutely described his stand-point and some of his
general views, and have shown his method, the student of history will see what his opinions must be of
the great teachers in the Church, whose doctrines are
well known.
To make the new doctrines of Christianity intelligible,
the first thing was to get an adequate expression, in theological dogmas, of the nature of Christ. On this ques



380           DORNER S CILRISTOLOGY.
tion the Christian world divides into two great parties,
-one follows a Hebrew, the other a Greek tendency;
-one taking the human, the other the divine side of
Christ. Hence come two independent Christologies,
the one without the divine, the other without the human
nature in Jesus. These are the Ebionites and the Docetue. " Docetism, considered in antithesis with Ebionitism, is a very powerful witness of the deep and wonderful impression of its divinity, which the new principle had made on mankind at its appearance; an impression which is by no means fully described by all
that Ebionitism could say of a new, great, and holy
prophet that had risen up. On the other hand, Ebionitism itself, in its lack of ideal tendency,, is a powerful
evidence on the historical side of Christianity, by its
rigid adhesion to the human appearance of Christ, which
the other denied." —p. 36. Strange as it may seem,
these two antithetic systems ran into one another, and lead
both of them this common ground, that God and man
could not be joined; for while the Ebionites said Jesus
was a mere man, the Christ remained a pure ideal not
connected with the body, a redemption was effected by
God, and Jesus was the symbol; while the Docetm, denying the body of Jesus had any objective reality, likewise left the Christ a pure ideal, never incarnated.
"Both were alike unsatisfactory to the Christian mind.
Both left alike unsatisfied the necessity of finding in
Christ the, union of the human and divine; therefore
this objection may be made to both of them, which, from
the nature of things, is the most significant, namely, that
man is not redeemed by them, for God has not taken
the human nature upon himself, and sanctified it by
thus assuming it. The Church, guided rather by an internal tact and necessity, than by any perfect insight,




DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.          381
could sketch no comprehensible figure of Christ in definite lines. But by these two extreme doctrines it was
advanced so far, that ift became clearly conscious of the
necessity, in general, of conceiving of the Redeemer as
divine and human at the same time." -p. 39.
Various elements of this doctrine were expressed by
the various teachers, in the' early ages. Thus, on the
divine side it was taught first, by the Pseudo-Clement,
Paul of Samosata, and Sabellius, that a higher power,
dwelt in Christ; next by Hippolytus, that it was not
merely a higher power, but a IhyPostasis that dwelt in
Christ. Tertullian, Clement,'and Dionysius of Alexandria, with Origen, considered this subordinate to the
Father, though the latter regarded it as eternally begotten. The next step was to consider this hypostasis not
merely subordinate, but eternal; nor this only, but of
the same essence with the Father. This was developed
in the controversy between Dionysius of Rome and of
Alexandria; between Athanasius and Arius. At the
same time the human side was also developed. Clement and- Origen maintained, in opposition to the Gnostics, that Christ had an actual human body. Then
Apollinaris taught that Christ had a human soul (Pvxrl),
but the Logos supplied the place of a human mind (vovg).
But in opposition to him, Gregory of Nazianzen taught
that he had a human mind also. Thus the elements of
the Christ are " speculatively constructed " on the human and divine side; but still all their elements were
not united into a human personal character, — for the
human nature of Christ was still regarded as impersonal.
But attempts were made also to unite these parts together, and construct a whole person. This, however,
led rather to a mixture than an organic and consistent
union; therefore the separateness and distinctness of the




382                DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.
two natures also required to be set forth.  This was done
very clearly. The Council of Nice declared he was perfect God; that of Chalcedon, that he was perfect man
also, but did not determine how the two natures were
reconciled  in  the  same  character.   " The  distinctive
character of these two natures" —we quote the words
of Leo the Great -" was not taken away by the union,
but rather the peculiarity of each nature is kept distinct,
and runs together with the other, into one Prosopon and
one flypostasis."*  Next follow  the attempts, to  con* We give the Greek words Prosopon and Ilypostasis, and not the
common terms derived, from the Latin. The subtleties of this doctrine can only be expressed in the Greek tongue. A Latin Christian
could believe in three pe)rsonce and one substantia, for he had no better terms, while the Greek Christian reckoned this heretical, if not
atheistical, as he believed in one essence and three substances. But to
say three persons — rpma rpoaonra — in the Godhead, was heresy in
Grieece, as to say three substances, (tres substantice,) was heresy at
Rome. Well says Augustine, apologizing for the Latin language,
"dictum est tres persona, non ut illud diceretur, sed ut non taceretur." - De Trinitate, lib. v. c. 9.,St. Augustine has some thoughts on this head, which may surprise
some of' his followers at this day. "And we recognize'in ourselves
an image of God, that is, of the Supremne Trinity, not indeed equal,
nay, far and widely different; not coeternal, and (to expiress the
whole more briefly), not of the same substance with God; yet that,
than which of all things made by Him none in nature is nearer to
God; which image is yet to be perfected by re-formation, that it may
be nearest in likeness also. For we both are to know that we are to
love to be this and to know it. In these then, moreover, no falsehood
resembling truth perplexes us." - Civ. Dei. Lib. xi. c. 26, as translated
in Pusey's ed. of Augustine's Confessions. London: 1840. 1 vol. 8vo.
p. 283, note.
The late'Dr. Emmons seems aware of the imperfection of language,
and its inability to express the idea of a Trinity. " Indeed there is
no word, ini any language, which can corvey a precise idea of this incomprehensible distinction; for it is not similar to any other distine



DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.            383
struct one person out of these two natures. Some said
there was one Will, others two Wills, in the person of
Christ., This was the quarrel of the Monothelites and
the Dyothelites.  Others said the union was effected by
the loss of the attributes of the Human or Divine being;
some supposing the one passed into and so became the
other, or that both coalesced in a tertiurm quid, a wvvOeror
vcltc.  But it became orthodox to affirm that each retained all its peculiar attributes, and so the two were
united. Now this doctrine may seem very wise, because
it is very pulzzling; but the same words may be applied
to other things. We have very little skill in showing
up absurdities, but can apply all this language to very
different matters, and it shall sbund quite as well as before. Thus, we may take a Circle instead of the Father,
and a Triangle for the Son, and say the two natures
were found in one, the circle became a triangle, and yet
lost none of its circularity, while the triangle became a
circle yet lost none of its triangularity. The union of
the two was perfect, the distinctive character of-each
being preserved. They corresponded point for point,
area for area, centre for icentre, circumference for circumference, yet was one still a circle, the other a triangle. But both made up the circle-triangle.  The one
was not inscribed, nor the other circumscribed.  We
wvould by no means deny the great fact, which we think
lies at the bottom of the notion of the trinity, a fact,
however, which it seems-to conceal as often as to express in our times, that the Deity diffuses and therefore
tion in the minds of men, so that it is very immaterial whether we use
the name person, or any other name, or a circumlocution instead of a
name, in discoursing upon this subject."- Sermon iv. p. 87. Wrentham: 1800.




384           DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.
incarnates himself more or less perfectly in human beings, and especially in Jesus, the climax of human beings, through whom "proceed" the divine influences,
which also " proceed" from the Father. Hence the doctrine of the Holy Ghost. This truth, we think, is expressed in all religions; in the incarnations of Vishnu;
the Polytheistic notions of the Greeks; the angels, archangels, and seraphs that make up the Amshaspand of
the Persians, which Daniel seems to imitate, and the
author of the Apocalypse to have in his eye.
But to return.  These points fixed, the Catholic
church dwelt chiefly on the Divine in Christ, and continued to do so till the Reformation, while the human
side was represented by heretics and mystics, whom
here we have not space to name.
We now pass over some centuries, in which there
was little life and much death in the Church; - times
when'the rays of religious light, as they came through
the darkness, fell chiefly, it seems, on men whom the
light rendered suspicious to the Church, -and come
down to times after the Reformation. After the great
battles had been fought through, and the Council of
Trent held its sessions, and the disturbances, incident
to all great stirs of thought, had passed over, and the
oriental and one-sided view of Christ's nature had been
combated, the human side of it comes out once more,
into its due prominence. "' By the long one-sided contemplation of the Divine in Christ, his person came to
stand as somewhat absolutely supernatural, as the other
side of and beyond human nature; something perfectly
inaccessible to the subjective thought, while it is the
greatest thing in Christianity to recognize our brother
in him."  With the Reformation there had come a subjective tendency, which laid small stress on the old no



DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.            385-.
tions of Christ, in which the objective divine nature had'
overlaid and crushed the subjective and human nature
in him. This new subjective tendency is a distinctive
feature of the Reformation. It shows itself in the doctrine of Justification by Faith, and quite as powerfully
in the altered form of Christology. But here, too, we.must tread with rapid feet, and rest on only two of the
numerous systems of this period, one from the Reformers themselves, the other from a Theosophist.  The hu —
mall nature is capable of divinity, (humana natura
divinitatis capa-x) said the early Protestants; what
Christ has first done, all may do afterwards. Well said
Martin Luther, strange as it may seem to modern Protestants, who learn ecclesiastical history from the "Library of useful knowledge," " Lo, Christ takes our birth
(that is, the sinfulness of human nature,) from us unto
himself, and sinks it in his birth, and gives us his, that
we thereby may become pure and new, as if it were
our own, so that every Christian may enjoy this birth;
of Christ not less than if he also, like Jesus, were born
bodily of the Virgin Mary. Whoso disbelieves or doubts
this, the same is no Christian."  Again. "This is the
meaning of Esaias, To us a child is born, to us a son is
given. To us, to us, to us is he born, and to us given.
Therefore look to it, that thou not only gettest out of the
Evangel a fondness for the history itself, but that thou
makest this birth thine own, and exchangest with him,
becomest free from thy birth, and passest over to his, -
then thou indeed shalt sit in the lap of the Virgin Mary,
and art her dear child." This thought lay at the back —
ground of the R, eformation, which itself was but an im —
perfect exhibition of that great principle.,He that will)
look finds traces of the action of this same principle in,
the Greek revival of Religion, five centuries before
33




386            DORNERX'S CHRISTOLOGY.
Christ; in the numerous mystical sects from the first
century to the Reformation; in such writers as Ruysbroek, Harphius, Meister Eckhart, Suso, Tauler, the St.
Victors, and many others. Perhaps it appears best in
that little book, once well known in England under the
title Theologia Germana, and now studied in Germany
and called Deutsche Theologie; a book of which Luther says, in the preface to his edition of it, in 1520,
4" Next to the Bible and St. Augustine, I have never
met with a book, from which I have learnt mo)re what
God, Christ, mian, and all things are. Read this little
book who will, and then say, whether our theology is
old or new; for this little book is not new."
We give a few words from it, relating to the incarnation of God, for the private. ear of such as think all is
new which they never heard before, and all naughty
things exist only in modern German. It says, man
comes to a state of union with God, "1 when he feels
and loves no longer this or that, or his own self, but
only the eternal good;' so likewise God loves not himself as himself, but as the eternal good, and if there were
somewhat better than God, the God would love that.
The same takes place in a divine man, or one united
with God, else he is not united with him. This'state
existed in Christ in all its perfection, else he' would not
be the Christ. If it were possible that a man should be
perfect and entire, in true obedience' be as the human
nature of Christ was, that man would be. one with
Christ, and would be by grace, what he was} by nature.
Man in this state of obedience would be one with God,
for he would be not himself, but God's Own (Eigen),
and God himself would then alone become man. Christ
is to you not merely the Objective, isolated in his sublimity, but we-are all called to this, that God should




DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.                   387
become man in us. He -that believes in Christ believes
that his'(Christ's) life is the noblest and best of all lives,
and so far as the life of Christ is man, so far also is
Christ in him."  In,. this book, — and  its ideas are as
old in this shape, as the time of Dionysius the Areopagite,- the historical Christ is only the primitive type,
the divine idea of man, who appears only as a model
for us, and we may be all that he was, and we are
Christians only in so far as we attain this. It is only on
this hypothesis, we take-it, that there can be a Christology which does not abridge the nature of man.*  This
same idea,-  that all men are capable of just the same
kind and degree of union with God, which Jesus attained to, - runs through all the following Christologies.
It appears in a modified form in Osiander and Schwenkfeld, whom  we shall only name. t  But they all place
* Dr. Baur, a very able Trinitarian writer and Professor at Tiibingen, sums up the various Christological theories in this way. Reconciliation must be regarded, either, (1) as a necessary process in the
development of the Deity himself, as he realizes the idea of his being,
or (2) as an analogous and necessary process in the development
of man, as he becomes reconciled with himself, the one is wholly objective, the other wholly subjective, or (3) as the mediation of a
tertiumrn quid, which holds the human and divine natures both, so involves both the above. In this case reconciliation rests entirely on
the historical fact, which must be regarded as the necessary condition
of reconciliation between God and man, of course he, who takes this
latter view, considers Jesus as a sacrifice for the sins of the world.
See his Die Christliche Lehre von der Versohnung in ihrer geschichtliche Entwickelung, etc. Tub. 1838.
t See Osiander's Confessio de unico Mediatore J. C. et Justificatione fidei, 1551. His Epistola in qua confitantur, etc., 1549. See
also  Schwenkfeld  qusestiones von  Erkentnis J. C. und' seiner
Glorien, 1561, von der Speyse des ewigen Lebens, 1547.  Schwenkfeld's Christology agrees closely in many respects with that of Swedenborg.




388            DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.
the historical below the eternal Christ which is formed
in the heart, and here commences what Dr. Dorner calls
the degeneracy of the principle of the Reformers, though
the antithesis between nature and grace was still ac'
knowledged by the Protestants. But as our author
thinks, the subjective view received a one-sided development, especially in Servetus and the Socinians, who
differ, however, in this at least, that while the former,
in his pantheistic way, allows Christ to be, in part,
uncreated (res increata) the latter considers him cer-.tainly a created being, to whom God had imparted the
divine attributes.
We pass over Theophrastus and Paracelsus, and give
a fewv extracts from  Valentine Weigel's " Giildenie
Griff." With him, man is an epitome of the whole
world, - a favorite notion with many mystics, — all his
knowledge is self-knowledge. " The eye, by which all
things are seen, is man himself, but only in reference to
natural knowledge, for in supernatural knowledge man
himself is not the eye, but God himself is both the light
and the eye in us. Our eye therefore must be passive,
and not active. Yet God is not foreign to men in
whom he is the eye, but that passive relation of man to
him has this significance; that man is the yielding instrument by which Go'd.ecormes the seeing eye." This
Light in us, or the WVord, is for him the true Christ,
and the historical God-man disappears entirely in the
background. The book whence all wisdom comes is
God's Word, a book written by the finger of God in
the heart of all men, though all cannot read it. Out of
this are all books written. This book of life, to which
the Sacred Scriptures are an external testimony, is the
likeness of God in man; the Seed of God; the Light;




DORNER' S CHRISTOLOGY.            389
the Word; the Son; Christ.  This book lies concealed
in the heart; concealed in the'flesh; concealed in the
letter of Scriptures. But if it were not in the heart, it
could not be found in the flesh and the Scripture. If
this were not preached within us, if it were not always
within us, - though in unbelief, - we could have nothing of it. A doctrine common enough with the fathers
of the first three or four centuries. If we had remained
in Paradise, we should never have needed the outward
Word of'Scripture, or the historical incarnation of
Jesus.* But expelled from Paradise, and fallen through
sin, it is needful that we be born again of Christ, for
we have lost the holy Flesh and the Holy Ghost, and
must recover both- from Christ. Because we cannot
read this inner book, God will alter our spirit by Scriptures and Sermons.  All books are only for fallen men.
Christ was necessary to the race, as the steel to the stone,
but his office is merely that of a Prophet and Preacher
of Righteousness, for God'was incarnate in Abel, Noah,
Adam,, and Abraham, as well as in Jesus, " and the
Lord from Heaven" exists potentially in all men; the
external Christ, who was born of Mary, as an expressive and visible model of the internal Christ. In a word,
he makes Christ the universal divine spirit, shed down
into man, though it lies buried and immovable in most
men. But whenever it cormes to consciousness, and is
lived out, there is an incarnation of God.
* Quaint George Herbert has a similar thought. We quote from
memory.
"For sure when Adam did not know
To sin, or sin to smother,
He might to Heaven from Paradise go,
As from one room to another."
33 *




390            DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.
These views are shared by many teachers, who modify them more or less, of whom we need mention but a:few of the more prominent; Poiret, Henry More, Bishops
Fowler and Gastrell, Robert Fleming, Hussey, Bennef,
and Thomas Burn-et, Goodwin, and Isaac Watts.*
This mystical view appears in Jacob B6hme, and.through him it passed on to Philosophy, for it is absurd
*to deny that this surprising man has exerted an influence in science as deep almost as in religion.  German
Philosophy seems to be the daughter of Mysticismn.
But we must make a: long leap from  Valentine
Weigel to Immanuel Kant, who has had an influence on:Christology that will never pass away. It came as a
thunderbolt out of the sky, to strike down the phan-toms of doubt, and scatter the clouds of skepticism.
Kant admits that in practice, and the actual life of man,
the moral law is subordinate to sensuality; this subordination. he calls radical evil. Then to perfect mankind,
we need a radical restoration, to restore the principles
to their true order from which they have been inverted;
this restoration is possible on three conditions. 1. By
the idea of a race of men that is well pleasing to God,
in which each man would feel his natural destination
and perfectibility. It is the duty of each to rise to this,
believe it attainable, and trust its power. This state
may not be attained empirically, but by embracing the
principle well pleasing to God, and all the faults in'manifesting  this principle vanish, when  the whole
course is looked at. WVe should not be disturbed by
X See,.who will, his three discourses " on the Glory of Christ as
God-man," (Lond. 1746,) and Goodwin's book, to which' he refers;
A" Knowledge of God the Father and his Son J. C." See also the
writings of Edward Irving, Cudworth's Sermon before the House of
Parliament, in the American ed. of his work. Vol. ii. p. 549, seq.




DORNERS COHRISTOLOGY.              391
fear lest the new moral disposition be transient, for the
power of goodness increases with the exercise of it.,
The past sins are expiated only by suffering, or diminution of well-being in the next stage of progress.  2. The
foundation of a moral commopnowealtlh, — without this
there will be confusion. This is possible only on condition that it is religious also.  Thus this commonwealth is, at the same time, a church, though only an
ideal one; for it can rest on nothing external, but only
on the " unconditional authority of Reason, which contains in itself theI moral idea." 3. This ideal Church,
to become real, must take a statutary form, for it is an
universal tendency of man to demand a sensual confirmation of the truth of Reason, and this renders it
necessary to take some outward means of introducing
the true rational religion, since without the hypothesis
of a revelation, man would have no confidence in Reason, though it disclosed the same truths with Revelation, because it'is so difficult to convince men that pure
morality is the only service of God, while'they seek to
make it easier by some superstitious service (Afterdienst).
On these notions the following Christology is naturally constructed. Man needs no outward aid for the
purpose of reconciliation, sanctification, or happiness;
but the belief in an outward revelation is needed for
the basis of the moral commonwealth. Christianity
can allow this, as it has a pure moral spirit. Here
every thing -turns on the person of its founder.  He
* It is a saying of Pagan Plato in the Timoeus, "We shall never
have perfect men, until we can surround them with perfect circumstances," an idea the English Socialists are attempting to carry out in
a,ery one-sided manner.




392            DORNERS CHRISTOLOGY.
demands perfect virtue, and would found a kingdom of
God on the earth. It is indifferent to practical religion,
whether or not we are certain of his historical existence,
for historical existence adds no authority. The historical is necessary only to give us an idea of a man well
pleasing to God, which we can only understand by seeing it realized in a man, who preserves his moralityunder the most difficult circumstances. To get a concrete knowledge of supersensual qualities, such as the
idea of the good, moral actions must be presented to
us performed in a human manner. This is only needed
to awaken and purify moral emotions that live in us.
The historical appearance of a man without sin is possible; but it is not necessary to consider he is born
supernaturally, even if the impossibility of the latter is
not absolutely demonstrable. But since the archetype
of a man well pleasing to God lies in us in an incomprehensible manner, what need have we of further incomprehensibilities, since the exaltation of such a saint
above all the imperfections of human nature would
only offer an objection to his being a model for us, -
since it gives him not an achieved but an innate virtue,
- for it would make the distance between him and us
so great, that we should find in him no proof that we,could ever attain that ideal. Even if the great teacher
does not completely correspond to the idea, he may yet
speak of himself, as if the ideal of the good was bodily
and truly represented in him, for he could speak of what
his maxims would make him. He must derive his
whole strength from reason. The value of his revelation consists only in leading to a conscious, voluntary
morality, in the way of authority. When this is done,
the statutary scaffolding may fall.- The time must
come, when religion shall be freed from all statutes,




DORNER S CHRISTOLOGY.          393
which rest only on history, and pure Reason at last
reign, and God be all in all. Wise men must see that
belief in the Son of God is only belief in man himself;
that the human race, so far as it is moral, is the well
pleasing Son of God. This idea of a perfect man
does not proceed from us, but from God, so we say that
HE has condescended anrd taken human nature upon
himself. The Christ without and the Christ within us
are not two principles, but the same. Butif we make'
a belief in the historical manifestation of this idea of
humanity in Christ the necessary condition of salvation,
then we have two principles, an empiric and a rational
one. The true God-man is the archetype that lies in
our reason, to which the historical manifestation conform s.
I The system has excellences and defects. By exalting the idea of moral goodness, Kant led men to acknowledge'an absolute spiritual power, showing that
this is the common ground between Philosophy and
Christianity, and with this begins the reconciliation of
the two.' He recognized the Divine as something
dwelling in man, and therefore filled up the chasm, as
it were, between the two natures. Again, he acknowledged no authority, so long as it was merely outward
and not legitimated in the soul, for he'had felt the
slavery incident upon making the historical a dogma.
He saw the mind cannot be bound by any thing merely,
external, for that has value only so far as it contains'
the idea and makes it historical. But, on the other
hand, he exalts the subjective too high, and does not
legitimate the internal moral law, which Dr. Dorner
thinks requires legitimating, as much as'the historical
Leibnitz made the attempt to effect the same thing, but in a manner more mechanical and unsatisfactory.




394            DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.
manifestation.  His foundation therefore is unstable
until this is done. Besides he is not consistent with
himself; for while he ascribes absolute power to this
innate ideal of a perfect man, he leaves, nothing for the
historical appearance of the God-man.  He  u makes his
statutary form  useless, if not injurious, and makes a
dualistic antithesis between Reason and God. Still
more is it inconsistent with Christianity, for it makes
morality the whole of religion; it cuts off all connection
between the divine and human life, by denying that influence comes down from God upon man. He makes
each man his own redeemer, and allows no maturity of
excellence, but only a growth towards it. In respect to
the past, present, and future, it leaves men no comfort
in their extremest need.
We pass next to the Christology of Schelling, leaping over such thinkers as Rihr, Wegscheider, De Wette,
Hase, Hamann, Oettinger, Franz Baader, Novalis,
Jacobi, and Fichte.
The divine unity is. always actualizing itself; the
One is constantly passing into the many; or in plain
English, God is eternally creative.  God necessarily
reveals himself in the finite; to be comprehensible to
us, He must take the limitations- of finite existence.
But since He cannot be represented in any finite form,
the divine life is portrayed in a variety of individuals;
in a copious history, each portion whereof is a revelation of a particular side of the divine life. God therefore appears in historical life as the finite, which is the
necessary form of the revelation of Him. The finite
is God in his development, or the Son of God. All
history, therefore, has a higher sense. The human does
not exclude the divine. Thus the idea of the incarna



DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.             395
tion of God is a principle of philosophy; and since this
is the essence of Christianity, philosophy is reconciled
with it. Nature herself points forward to the Son of God,
and has in him its final cause., Now the theologians
consider Christ as a single person; but, as an eternal
idea alone can be made a dogma, so their Christology is
untenable as a dogma. Now the incarnation of God
is from eternity. Christ is an eternal idea. The divinity
of Christianity cannot be proved in an empirical way, but
only by contemplating the whole of history as a divine
act. The sacred history must be to us only a subjective
Symbol, not an objective one, as such things were to the
Greeks, who thereby became subordinate to the finite,
and refused to see the infinite, except in that form. But
as Christianity goes immediately to the infinite, so the
finite becomes only an allegory of the infinite.- The fundamental idea of Christianity is eternial and universal,
therefore it cannot be constructed historically without
the religious construction of history. This idea existed
before Christianity, and is a proof of its necessity. Its
existence is a prediction of Christianity in a distant
foreign country. The man Christ is the climax of this
incarnation, and also the beginning of it; for all his
followers are to be incarnations of God, members of
the same body to which he is the head. God first becomes truly objective in him, for before him none has
revealed the infinite in such amanner.  The old world
is the natural side of history. A new-era, in which the
infinite world preponderates, could only be brought by
the truly infinite coming into the finite, not to deify it,
but to sacrifice it to God, and thereby effect a reconciliation; that is, bV. his death; he showed that the Finite is
nothing; but the true existence, and life is only in the
Infinite. The eternal SoLa of God is the human race




396             DORNER'S CHRISTOQLOGY.
created out of the substance of the Father of all; appearing as a suffering divinity, exposed to the horrors of
time, reaching its highest point in Christ; it closes the
world of the finite and discloses that -of the infinite, as
the sign of the spirit. With this conclusion, the mythological veils, in which Christ, as the only God-man,
has been arrayed, must fall off. The ever-living spirit
will clothe Christianity in new and permanent forms.
Speculation, not limited by the past, but comprehending distinction, as it stretches far on into time, has prepared for the regeneration of esoteric Christianity, and
the proclamation of the absolute gospel. Viewed in
this light, Christianity is not regarded merely as doctrine or history, but as a progressive divine act; the history of Christ is not merely an empirical and single,
but an eternal history.  At the same time it finds its
antitype in the human race.  Christianity, therefore, is
not merely one religious constitution among others, but
THE RELIGION; the true mode of spiritual existence;
the soul of history, which is incorporated in the human
race, to organize it into one vast body, whose head is
Christ.  Thus he would make us all brothers of Christ,
and show that the incarnation of God still goes on to
infinity, in the birth of the Son of God, until the divine
life takes to itself the whole human race; sanctifies
and penetrates all through it, and recognizes it as his
body, of which Christ is the head; as his temple,
of which  Christ is the corner-stone.  We shall not
dwell upon the excellence of this view, nor point out
its defects. The few, who understand the mystical
words of St. John, and the many, who do not understand them, can do this for themselves.
Our remarks are already so far extended, that we




DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.           397
must omit the Christology of Hegel, though this, however, we do with the less reluctance, as the last word of
that system has but just reached us; it comes with the
conclusion of Strauss's work on  Dogmatics.'  We
regret to pass over the views of Schleiermacher, which
have had so deep an influence in Germany, and among
many of the more studious of our Trinitarian brethren
in this country. To most of our own denomination
only the Lemnian horrors of its faint echo have come.
We give Dr. Dorner's conclusion in his own words.
"Christology has now reached a field as full of anticipations, as it is of decisions. But the anxiety, which
here takes possession of us, is a joyful one, and bears
in itself the tranquil and certain conviction, that, after
a long night, a beautiful dawn is nigh. A great course
has been run through, and the deep presentiments of
the greatest minds of the primitive times of Christianity begin to find their scientific realization. After long
toil of the human mind, the time has at last come,
when a rich harvest is to be reaped from this dogma,
while the union, already hastening, is effected between
the essential elements of Christology, which seem the
most hostile to each other. Previous Christologies have
chiefly presented these elements in their separation and
opposition to one another. Now, while we contemplate them together in their living unity, which verifies
their distinction from one another, we see their historical confirmation and necessity, and now, as iEthiopia
and Arabia, according to the prophet, were to present
their homage to the Lord, so must the middle ages
with their scholasticism, and modern philosophy, the
* Die Christliche Glaubenslehre, etc. Von Dr. D. F Strauss. 2
vols. 8vo. 1840, 1841.
34




398             DORNER' S CHRISTOLOGY.
whole of history, — as well of the ante-christian religions, as that of the Christian dogma,- assemble about
the One, (the Son of Man,) that they may lay down
their best gifts before him, who first enables them to
understand themselves,; while, on the other hand, he
confers on them the dignity of his own glorification,
and allows them to contribute to it, so that by their service, likewise, his character shall pass into the con-:sciousness of the human race with an increasing brilliancy."
Now, if we ask what are the merits and defects of
the work we have passed over, the answer is easy. It
is a valuable history of Christology; as such, it is rich
with instructions and suggestions. A special history of
this matter was much needed. That this, in all historical respects, answers the demands of the times, we are
not competent to decide. However, if it be imperfect
as a history, it has yet great historical merits. Its chief
defects are of another kind. Its main idea is this, that
the true Christ is perfect God and perfect, man, and that
Jesus of Nazareth is the true Christ. Now he makes
no attempt to prove either point; yet he was bound, in
the first instance, as a philosopher, to prove his proposilion; in the second, as an historian to verify his fact.
He attempts neither. He has shown neither the eternal
necessity, nor the actual existence of a God-man. Nay,.he admits that only two writers in the New Testarnent ever represent Jesus as the God-man. His admission is fatal to his fact. He gives us the history of:a dogma of the church; but does not show it has any
foundation to rest on.
We must apply to this book the words of Leibnitz,
in his letter to Burnet on the manner of establishing the




DORNER'S CHRISTOLOGY.         399
Christian religion.*" "I have often remarked, as well in
philosophy as theology, and even in medicine, jurisprudence, and history, that we have many good books and
good thoughts scattered about here and there, but that
we scarce ever come to establishments. I call it an
establishment, when at least certain points are determined and fixed for ever; when certain theses'are put
beyond dispute, and thus ground is gained where something may be built. It is properly the method of mathematicians, who separate the certain from the uncertain,
the known from. the unknown.  In other departments
it is rarely followed, because we love to flatter the ears
by fine words, which make an agreeable mingling of
the certain and the uncertain. But it is a very transient
benefit that is thus conferred; like music and the opera,
which leave scarce any trace in the mind, and give us
nothing to repose on; so we are always turning round
and round, treating the same questions, in the same
way, which is problematic, and subject to a thousand
exceptions." - Somebody once led M. Casaubon th'e elder
into a hall of the Sorbonne, and told him, " The divines
have disputed here for more than three hundred years!
He answered, And what have they decided? It is exactly what happens to us in most of our studies."...
" I am confident that if we will but use the abilities
wherewith God and nature have furnished us, we can remove many of the evils which now oppress mankind, can
establish the truth of religion, and put an end to many
controversies which divide men, and cause so much evil
to the human race, if we are willing to think consecutively, and proceed as we ought..... I would proceed
in this way, and distinguish propositions into two
* Opp. ed. Dutens., vol. vi. p. 243, seq.




400            DORNER S CHRISTOLOGY.
classes: 1. what could be absolutely demonstrated by a
metaphysical necessity, and in an incontestable way:
2. what could be demonstrated mOrally; that is, in a
way which gives what is called moral certainty, as we
know there is a China and a Peru, though we have never
seen them.... Theological truths and deductions therefrom are also of two kinds. The first rest on definitions, axioms, and theorems, derived from true philosophy and natural theology; the second rest in part on
history and events, and in part on the interpretation of
texts, on the genuineness and divinity of our sacred
books, and even on ecclesiastical antiquity; in a word,
on the sense of the texts."  And again:  " We must
demonstrate rigorously the truth of natural religion, that
is, the existence of a Being supremely powerful and
wise, and the immortality of the soul.  These two
points solidly fixed, there is but one step more to take,to show, on the one hand, that God could never have left
man without a true religion, and on the other, that no
known religion can compare with the Christian. The
necessity of embracing it is a consequence of these two
plain truths. However, that the victory may be still
more complete, and the mouth of impiety be shut forever,
I cannot forbear hoping, that some man, skilled in history, the tongues, and philosophy, in a word, filled with
all sorts of erudition,'will exhibit all the harmony and
beauty of the Christian religion, and scatter forever the
countless objections which may be brought against its
dogmas, its books, and its history."
* Epistola II. ad Spizelium. Opp. v. p. 344.