painstaking, minute; eminently ingenious also, and in a certain sense,
eminently critical. In accumulating and assorting facts--such facts as
lay within their reach--and in the general thoroughness of their work,
the rabbis of Jewish exegesis might well bear comparison with the rabbis
of neologian criticism. They reigned supreme in their own circles for a
time; their work has not been without its fruits; many useful
suggestions have gone to swell the intellectual and moral inheritance of
later ages; but their characteristic teaching, which they themselves
would have regarded as their chief claim to immortality, has long since
been consigned to oblivion. It might be minute and searching, but it was
conceived in a false vein; it was essentially unhistorical, and
therefore it could not live. The modern negative school of criticism
seems to me to be equally perverse and unreal, though in a different
way; and therefore I anticipate for it the same fate.
Mr Matthew Arnold, alluding to an eccentric work of rationalizing
tendencies written by an English scholar, and using M. Renan as his
mouthpiece, expresses the opinion that 'an extravagance of this sort
could never have come from Germany where there is a great force of
critical opinion controlling a learned man's vagaries, and keeping him
straight.' [24:1] I confess that my experiences of the critical
literature of Germany have not been so fortunate. It would be difficult,
I think, to find among English scholars any parallel to the mass of
absurdities, which several intelligent and very learned German critics
have conspired to heap upon two simple names in the Philippian Epistle,
Euodia and Syntyche; first, Baur suggesting that the pivot of the
Epistle, which has a conciliatory tendency, is the mention of Clement, a
mythical or almost mythical person, who represents the union of the
Petrine and Pauline parties in the Church [24:2]; then Schwegler,
carrying the theory a step further, and declaring that the two names,
Euodia and Syntyche, actually represent these two parties, while the
true yoke-fellow is St Peter himself [24:3]; then Volkmar, improving the
occasion, and showing that this fact is indicated in their very names,
Euodia, or 'Rightway,' and Syntyche or 'Consort,' denoting respectively
the orthodoxy of the one party and the incorporation of the other
[24:4]; lastly, Hitzig lamenting that interpreters of the New Testament
are not more thoroughly imbued with the language and spirit of the Old,
and maintaining that these two names are reproductions of the patriarchs
Asher and Gad--their sex having been changed in the transition from one
language to another--and represent the Greek and Roman elements in the
Church, while the Epistle to the Philippians itself is a plagiarism from
the Agricola of Tacitus [25:1]. When therefore I find our author
supporting some of his more important judgments by the authority of
'Hitzig, Volkmar and others,' or of 'Volkmar and others,' [25:2] I have
my own opinion of the weight which such names should carry with them
[25:3].
It is not however against the eccentricities of individuals except so
far as these can be charged to a vicious atmosphere and training, that I
would rest the chief stress of my complaint. The whole tone and spirit
of the school in its excess of scepticism must, I venture to think, be
fatal to the ends of true criticism. A reviewer of _Supernatural
Religion_ compares the author's handling of the reconstructive efforts
of certain conservative critics regarding the Fourth Gospel to Sir G.C.
Lewis's objections to Niebuhr's 'equally arbitrary reconstruction of
early Roman history.' From one point of view this comparison is
instructive. We have no means of testing the value of that eminent
writer's negative criticisms of early Roman history. But where
additional knowledge has enabled us to apply a test to his opinions, as,
for instance, respecting the interpretation of the Egyptian hieroglyphic
language, we find that his scepticism led him signally astray. It seems
to be assumed that, because the sceptical spirit has its proper function
in scientific inquiry (though even here its excesses will often impede
progress), therefore its exercise is equally useful and equally free
from danger in the domain of criticism. A moment's reflection however
will show that the cases are wholly different. In whatever relates to
morals and history--in short, to human life in all its developments--
where mathematical or scientific demonstration is impossible, and where
consequently everything depends on the even balance of the judicial
faculties, scepticism must be at least as fatal to the truth as
credulity.
The author of _Supernatural Religion_ proposes to himself the task of
demonstrating that the miraculous element in Christianity is a delusion.
The work is divided into three parts. The first part undertakes to prove
that miracles are not only highly improbable, but antecedently
incredible, so that no amount of testimony can overcome the objections
to them. As a subsidiary aim, he endeavours to show that the sort of
evidence, which, under the most favourable circumstances, we should be
likely to obtain in the early Christian ages, ought not to inspire
confidence. The second and third parts are occupied in examining the
actual witnesses themselves, that is, the four Gospels; the second being
devoted to the Synoptists, and the third to St John. The main contention
is that the four Gospels are entirely devoid of evidence sufficient to
satisfy us of their date and authorship, considering the momentous
import of their contents. These portions of the work therefore are
chiefly occupied in examining the external testimonies to the
authenticity and genuineness of the Gospels. In the case of St John the
internal character of the document is likewise subjected to examination.
Obviously, if the author has established his conclusions in the first
part, the second and third are altogether superfluous [27:1]. It is
somewhat strange, therefore, that more than three-fourths of the whole
work should be devoted to this needless task. Impressed, as it would
seem, by the elaboration of these portions, reviewers have singled them
out for special praise, even when they have condemned the first as
unsatisfactory. With this estimate of their value I find myself
altogether unable to agree; and in the articles which will follow I hope
to give my reasons for dissenting. Regarded as a handbook of the
critical fallacies of the modern destructive school, _Supernatural
Religion_ well deserves examination.
For this reason I shall hereafter occupy myself solely with the two
latter portions of the work, and more especially with the external
evidences of the Gospels; but there is one point, affecting the main
question at issue, which it is impossible to pass over in silence.
Anyone who, with the arguments of the first part fresh in his memory,
will turn to the final chapter, in which the author gives a confession
of faith, must be struck with the startling dislocation between the
principles from which the work starts and the manifesto with which it
concludes. Our author has eliminated, as he believes, the miraculous or
supernatural element from the Gospel. He will have nothing to say to
'Ecclesiastical Christianity,' by which strange phrase is meant the
Christianity of the Apostles and Evangelists. He will not even hear of a
future life with its hopes and fears [27:1]. He will purge the Gospel of
all 'dogmas,' and will present it as an ethical system alone. The
extreme beauty, I might almost say the absolute perfection, of Christ's
moral teaching [27:2] he not only allows, but insists upon. 'Morality,'
he adds, 'was the essence of his system; theology was an after-thought.'
[27:3] And yet almost in the same breath he adopts as his 'two
fundamental principles, Love to God and love to man.' He commends a
'morality based upon the earnest and intelligent acceptance of Divine
Law, and perfect recognition of the brotherhood of man,' as 'the highest
conceivable by humanity.' [27:4] He speaks of the 'purity of heart which
alone "sees God.'" [27:5] He enforces the necessity of 'rising to higher
conceptions of an infinitely wise and beneficent Being ... whose laws of
wondrous comprehensiveness and perfection we ever perceive in operation
around us.' [28:1] All this is well said, but is it consistent? This
universal 'brotherhood of man,' what is it but a 'dogma' of the most
comprehensive application? This 'Love to God' springing from the
apprehension of a 'wondrous perfection,' and the recognition of an
'infinitely wise and beneficent Being,'--in short, this belief in a
Heavenly Father, which on any showing was the fundamental axiom of our
Lord's teaching, and which our author thus accepts as a cardinal article
in his own creed,--what is it but a theological proposition of the most
overwhelming import, before which all other 'dogmas' sink into
insignificance?
And what room, we are forced to ask, has he left for such a dogma? In
the first portion of the work our author has been careful not to define
his position. He has studiously avoided committing himself to a belief
in a universal Father or a moral Governor, or even in a Personal God. If
he had done so, he would have tied his hands at once. Very much of the
reasoning which he brings forward against the miraculous element in
Christianity in answer to Dr Mozley and Dean Mansel falls to the ground
when this proposition is assumed. His arguments prove nothing, because
they prove too much: for they are equally efficacious, or equally
inefficacious, against the doctrine of a Divine providence or of human
responsibility, as they are against the resurrection of Christ. The
truth is, that when our author closes his work, he cannot face the
conclusions to which his premisses would inevitably lead him. They are
too startling for himself, as well as for his readers, in their naked
deformity; and with a noble inconsistency he clutches at these 'dogmas'
to save himself from sinking into the abyss of moral scepticism.
Mr J.S. Mill's inexorable logic may not be without its use, as holding
up the mirror to such inconsistency. On his own narrow premisses this
eminent logician builds up his own narrow conclusions with remorseless
rigour. Our author in his first part adopts this same narrow basis, and
truly enough finds no resting-place for Christianity upon it, as indeed
there is none for any theory of a providential government. But at the
conclusion he tacitly and (as it would seem) quite unconsciously assumes
a much wider standing-ground. If he had not done so, he himself would
have been edged off his footing, and hurled down the precipice. A whole
pack of 'pursuing wolves' [29:1] is upon him, far more ravenous than any
which beset the path of the believers in revelation; and he has left
himself no shelter. If he had commenced by defining what he meant by
'Nature' and 'Supernatural,' he might have avoided this inconsistency,
though he must have sacrificed much of his argument to save his creed.
As it is, he has unconsciously juggled with two senses of Nature. Nature
in the first part, where he is arguing against miracles, is the
aggregate of external phenomena--the same Nature against which Mr Mill
prefers his terrible indictment for its cruelty and injustice. But
Nature in the concluding chapter involves the idea of a moral Governor
and a beneficent Father; and this idea can only be introduced by opening
flood-gates of thought which refuse to be closed just at the moment when
it is necessary to bar the admission of the miraculous. Our author has
ranged himself unconsciously with the 'intuitive philosophers,' of whom
Mr Mill speaks so scornfully. He has appealed, though he does not seem
to be aware of it, to the inner consciousness of man, to the instincts
and cravings of humanity, to interpret and supplement the teachings of
external Nature; and he is altogether unaware how large a concession he
has made to believers in revelation by so doing.
Even though we should close our eyes to all other considerations, it is
vain to ignore the inevitable moral consequences which flow from this
mode of reasoning; for they are becoming every day more apparent. The
demand is made that we should abandon our Christianity on grounds which
logically involve the abandonment of any belief in the providential
government of the world and in the moral responsibility of man. Young
men are apt to be far more logical than their elders. Older persons are
taught by long experience to distrust the adequacy of their premisses:
consciously or unconsciously they supplement the narrow conclusions of
their logic by larger lessons learnt from human life or from their own
heart. But generally speaking, the young man has no such distrust. His
teacher has appealed to Nature, and to Nature he shall go. The teacher
becomes frightened, struggles to retrace his steps, and speaks of 'an
infinitely wise and beneficent Being'; but the pupil insolently points
out how
Nature, red in tooth and claw,
With ravin, shrieks against his creed.
The teacher urges, 'All that is consistent with wise and omnipotent Law
is prospered and brought to perfection:' [30:1] and the pupil replies:
'You have limited my horizon to this life, and in this life the facts do
not verify your statement.' The teacher says, Believe that you--you
personally--'are eternally cared for and governed by an omnipresent
immutable power for which nothing is too great, nothing too
insignificant.' [30:2] The pupil says: 'My Christianity did show me how
this was possible; but with my Christianity I have cast it away as a
delusion. I could not stop short at this point consistently with the
principles you have laid down for my guidance. I have done as you told
me to do; I have "ratified the fiat which maintains the order of
Nature," [30:3] and I find Nature wholly
Careless of the single life.
I will therefore please myself henceforth.' The teacher speaks of 'the
purity which alone sees God;' and to him the expression has a real
meaning, for his mind is unconsciously saturated with ideas which he has
certainly not learnt from his adopted philosophy: but to the pupil it
has lost its articulate utterance, and is no better than sounding brass
or a tinkling cymbal. Hence the pupil, having thrown off his
Christianity, too often follows out the principles of his teacher to
their logical conclusions, and divests himself also of moral restraints,
except so far as it may be convenient or necessary for him to submit to
them. Happily this has not been the case hitherto in the large majority
of instances. The permanence of habits formed in a nobler school of
teaching, the abiding presence of a loftier ideal not derived from this
new philosophy, and (we may add also) the voice of an inward witness
whose authority is denied, but whose warnings nevertheless compel a
hearing, all tend to raise the level of men's conduct above their
principles. The full moral consequences of the teaching would only then
be seen, if ever a generation should grow up, moulded altogether under
its influences.
II. THE SILENCE OF EUSEBIUS.
[JANUARY, 1875.]
'It is very important,' says the author of _Supernatural Religion_, when
commencing his critical investigations, 'that the silence of early
writers should receive as much attention as any supposed allusions to
the Gospels.' [32:1] In the present article I shall act upon this
suggestion. In one province more especially, relating to the external
evidences for the Gospels, silence occupies a prominent place. This
mysterious oracle will be interrogated, and, unless I am mistaken, the
response elicited will not be at all ambiguous.
To EUSEBIUS we are indebted for almost all that we know of the lost
ecclesiastical literature of the second century. This literature was
very considerable. The Expositions of Papias, in five books, and the
Ecclesiastical History of Hegesippus, likewise in five books, must have
been full of important matter bearing on our subject. The very numerous
works of Melito and Claudius Apollinaris, of which Eusebius has
preserved imperfect lists [32:2], ranged over the wide domain of
theology, of morals, of exegesis, of apologetics, of ecclesiastical
order; and here again a flood of light would probably have been poured
on the history of the Canon, if time had spared these precious documents
of Christian antiquity. Even the extant writings of the second century,
however important they may be from other points of view, give a very
inadequate idea of the relation of their respective authors to the
Canonical writings. In the case of Justin Martyr for instance, it is not
from his Apologies or from his Dialogue with Trypho that we should
expect to obtain the fullest and most direct information on this point.
In works like these, addressed to Heathens and Jews, who attributed no
authority to the writings of Apostles and Evangelists, and for whom the
names of the writers would have no meaning, we are not surprised that he
refers to those writings for the most part anonymously and with reserve.
On the other hand, if his treatise against Marcion (to take a single
instance) had been preserved, we should probably have been placed in a
position to estimate with tolerable accuracy his relation to the
Canonical writings. But in the absence of all this valuable literature,
the notices in Eusebius assume the utmost importance, and it is of
primary moment to the correctness of our result that we should rightly
interpret his language. Above all, it is incumbent on us not to assume
that his silence means exactly what we wish it to mean. Eusebius made it
his business to record notices throwing light on the history of the
Canon. The first care of the critic therefore should be to inquire with
what aims and under what limitations he executed this portion of his
work.
Now, our author is eloquent on the silence of Eusebius. His fundamental
assumption is that where Eusebius does not mention a reference to or
quotation from any Canonical book in any writer of whom he may be
speaking, there the writer in question was himself silent. This indeed
is only the application of a general principle which seems to have taken
possession of our author's mind. The argument from silence is
courageously and extensively applied throughout these volumes. It is
unnecessary to accumulate instances, where 'knows nothing' is
substituted for 'says nothing,' as if the two were convertible terms;
for such instances are countless. But in the case of Eusebius the
application of the principle takes a wider sweep. Not only is it
maintained that A knows nothing of B, because he says nothing of B; but
it is further assumed that A knows nothing of B, because C does not say
that A says anything of B. This is obviously an assumption which men
would not adopt in common life or in ordinary history; still less is it
one to which a competent jury would listen for a moment: and therefore a
prudent man may well hesitate before adopting it.
With what unflinching boldness our author asserts his position, will
appear from the following passages:--
Of Hegesippus he writes [35:1]:--
'The care with which Eusebius searches for every trace of the use
of the books of the New Testament in early writers, and his anxiety
to produce any evidence concerning their authenticity, render his
silence upon the subject almost as important as his distinct
utterance when speaking of such a man as Hegesippus.'
And again [35:2]:--
'It is certain that Eusebius, who quotes with so much care the
testimony of Papias, a man of whom he speaks disparagingly,
regarding the Gospels _and the Apocalypse_ [35:3], would not have
neglected to have availed himself of the evidence of Hegesippus,
for whom he has so much respect, had that writer furnished him with
any opportunity.'
And again [35:1]:--'As Hegesippus does not [35:2] mention any
Canonical work of the New Testament etc.' And in the second
volume he returns to the subject [35:3]:--
'It is certain that, had he (Hegesippus) mentioned [35:4] our
Gospels, and we may say particularly the Fourth, the fact would
have been recorded by Eusebius.'
Similarly he says of Papias[35:5]:--
'Eusebius, who never fails to enumerate [35:6] the works of the New
Testament to which the Fathers refer, does not pretend [35:7] that
Papias knew either the Third or Fourth Gospels.'
And again, in a later passage [35:8]:--
'Had he (Papias) expressed any recognition [35:9] of the Fourth
Gospel, Eusebius would certainly have mentioned the fact, and this
silence of Papias is strong presumptive evidence against the
Johannine Gospel.'
And a little lower down [35:10]:--
'The presumption therefore naturally is that, as Eusebius did not
mention the fact, he did not find any reference to the Fourth
Gospel in the work of Papias.' [35:11]
So again, our author writes of Dionysius of Corinth [35:12]:--
'No quotation from, or allusion to, any writing of the New
Testament occurs in any of the fragments of the Epistles still
extant; nor does Eusebius make mention of any such reference in the
Epistles which have perished [35:13], which he certainly would not
have omitted to do had they contained any.'
And lower down [36:1]:--
'It is certain that had Dionysius mentioned [36:2] books of the New
Testament, Eusebius would, as usual, have stated the fact.'
Of this principle and its wide application, as we have seen, the author
has no misgivings. He declares himself absolutely certain about it. It
is with him _articulus stantis aut cadentis critices_. We shall
therefore do well to test its value, because, quite independently of the
consequences directly flowing from it, it will serve roughly to gauge
his trustworthiness as a guide in other departments of criticism, where,
from the nature of the case, no test can be applied. In the land of the
unverifiable there are no efficient critical police. When a writer
expatiates amidst conjectural quotations from conjectural apocryphal
Gospels, he is beyond the reach of refutation. But in the present case,
as it so happens, verification is possible, at least to a limited
extent; and it is important to avail ourselves of the opportunity.
In the first place then, Eusebius himself tells us what method he
intends to pursue respecting the Canon of Scripture. After enumerating
the writings bearing the name of St Peter, as follows;--(l) The First
Epistle, which is received by all, and was quoted by the ancients as
beyond dispute; (2) The Second Epistle, which tradition had not stamped
in the same way as Canonical ([Greek: endiathêkon], 'included in the
Testament'), but which nevertheless, appearing useful to many, had been
studied ([Greek: espoudasthê]) with the other Scriptures; (3) The Acts,
Gospel, Preaching, and Apocalypse of Peter, which four works he rejects
as altogether unauthenticated and discredited--he continues [37:1]:--
'But, as my history proceeds, I will take care ([Greek: prourgou
poiêsomai]), along with the successions (of the bishops), to
indicate what Church writers (who flourished) from time to time
have made use of any of the disputed books ([Greek:
antilegomenôn]), and what has been said by them concerning the
Canonical ([Greek: endiathêkôn]) and acknowledged Scriptures, and
anything that (they have said) concerning those which do not belong
to this class. Well, then, the books bearing the name of Peter, of
which I recognise ([Greek: egnôn]) one Epistle only as genuine and
acknowledged among the elders of former days ([Greek: palai]), are
those just enumerated ([Greek: tosauta]). But the fourteen Epistles
of Paul are obvious and manifest ([Greek: prodêloi kai sapheis]).
Yet it is not right to be ignorant of the fact that some persons
have rejected the Epistle to the Hebrews, saying that it was
disputed by the Church of the Romans as not being Paul's. And I
will set before (my readers) on the proper occasions ([Greek: kata
kairon]) what has been said concerning this (Epistle) also by those
who lived before our time ([Greek: tois pro hêmon]).'