CONSIDERATIONS ON THE PROBABLE TRIUMPH OF CHRISTIANITY, SUBMITTED TO
THOSE WHO MISUSE THE TERM ENTHUSIASM.
To waive the exercise of discrimination, can, under no imaginable
circumstances, be advantageous to any man; nor is it ever otherwise than
absurd to persist in an error which might be corrected by a moment's
attention to obvious facts. But assuredly some such suspension of good
sense has taken place with those who accustom themselves to designate,
in a mass, as Enthusiasts, the many thousands of their countrymen, of
all communions, who, at the present time, make profession of the
doctrines of the Reformation.
All who are not wilfully ignorant must know, that what is vulgarly
called "the religious world," now includes, not only myriads of the
lower, and middle, and imperfectly educated classes, in relation to whom
self-complacent arrogance may easily find pretexts of scorn; and not
only many of the opulent and the noble; but a fair proportion also of
all the talent, and learning, and brilliancy of mind, that adorns the
professional circles, and that vivifies the literature of the country.
What appropriateness, then, is there left to language, if a phrase of
supercilious import is to be attached to the names of men of vigorous
understanding, and energetic character, and eminent acquirement;—of men
successful in their several courses, and accomplished in whatever gives
grace to human nature? When those who in no assignable good quality can
be deemed inferior to their competitors on the arena of life, are, on
account of their religious opinions and practices, called Enthusiasts,
it is evident that nothing is actually effected but the annulling of the
contumelious power of the term so misused. We may indeed, in this
manner, neutralize the significance of a word; or we may draw upon
ourselves, the imputation of malignant prejudice; but we cannot reduce
from their rank those who stand firmly on the high stages of literary or
philosophical eminence.
But if arrogance and malignity itself be ashamed of so flagrant an abuse
of the word enthusiast, then neither ought that epithet (unless where
special proof can be adduced) to be assigned to the multitude, holding
the very same opinions: for the eminent few, seeing that they profess
these tenets, and adhere to these practices deliberately, and
explicitly, must be allowed the privilege of redeeming their belief and
usages from contempt, by whomsoever maintained.
An opinion gravely professed by a man of sense and education, demands
always, respectful consideration—demands, and actually receives it from
those whose own sense and education give them a correlative right: and
whoever offends against this sort of courtesy may fairly be deemed to
have forfeited the privileges it secures. But retaliation is declined by
those who might use it, and it is declined on the ground, not only of
Christian meekness, but of commiseration towards such violators of
candor and good manners, whom they hold to be acting under the influence
of an infatuation, at once deplorable and fatal.
That this infatuation should, in any great number of instances, be
dispelled by the mere showing of reasons, is what the religionists, the
"Enthusiasts," by no means expect: they too well understand the nature
of the malady, and too well know its inveteracy, to imagine that it may
be dissipated by force of argument, even though the cause were in the
hands of a college of dialecticians. Nevertheless, they entertain an
expectation (and have evidence to show in support of it) which, if it be
realized, will supersede many difficult controversies, and rob impiety
forever of its only effectual prop, the suffrage of the many. This
expectation is nothing less than that Christianity—or, for the sake of
distinctness, let it be said the religion of the Reformation—the
religion of Wycliffe, and Latimer, and Cranmer, and Jewel, and Hooker,
and Owen, and Howe, and Baxter—will gain, ere long, an unquestioned
ascendency, and will bear down infidelity and false doctrine, and absorb
schism, and possess itself of the substance of power, which is moral
power, and will thus rule the family of man.
In support of a belief like this, many reasons might be urged, some of
which can be expected to have weight only with the religious; while
others may well claim attention from all (whatever may be their opinion
of Christianity) who are at once competent and accustomed to anticipate
the probable course of human affairs.
There are three distinct methods in which an inquiry of this sort might
be conducted: of these, the first is the method of philosophical
calculation, on the known principles of human nature, and which, without
either denying or assuming the truth of Christianity, forecasts, from
past events and present appearances, the probable futurity. To pursue
such calculations efficiently, prepossessions of all kinds, both
sceptical and religious, should be held in abeyance, while the mere
facts that belong to the problem are contemplated as from the remoteness
of a neutral position.
The reader and writer of this page may each have formed his estimate of
the intrinsic force and validity of certain opinions; but this private
estimate may happen to be much above, or much below the level which
reason would approve; and, be it what it may, it can avail nothing for
our present purpose. If we are to calculate the probable extension or
extinction of those opinions, we must consult the evidence of facts on a
large scale; and especially must observe what manifestations of
intrinsic power they have given on certain peculiar and critical
occasions. This is the only course that can be deemed satisfactory, or
that is conformed to the procedures of modern science. We do not now
wish to ask a seraph if such or such a dogma is held to be true in
heaven; but what we have to do is to learn, from the suffrage of the
millions of mankind, whether it has a permanent power to command and to
regain ascendency over the human mind. This question must be asked of
history; and we must take care to open the book at those pages where the
great eras of religious revolution are described. Having glanced at the
past, our next business will be to look at the present: this kind of
divination is the only one known to the principles of philosophical
inquiry.
* * * * *
The early triumph of the Gospel over the fascinating idolatries and the
astute atheism of Greece and Rome has been often insisted upon, (and
conclusively) as evidence of its truth. But with that argument we have
nothing now to do; yet if the subject were not a very hackneyed one, it
might well be brought forward, in all its details, in proof of a
different point—namely, the innate power of the religion of the Bible to
vanquish the hearts of men. An opponent may here choose his alternative;
either let him grant that Christianity triumphed because it was true and
divine; or let him deny that it had any aid from heaven. In the former
case we shall be entitled to infer that the religion of God must at
length universally prevail; or in the latter we may strongly argue, that
this doctrine possesses little less than an omnipotence of intrinsic
force, by which it obtained success under circumstances of opposition
such as made its triumph seem, even to its enemies, miraculous; and on
this ground the expectation of its future prevalence cannot be thought
unreasonable.
But if there were room to imagine that the first spread of Christianity
was owing rather to an accidental conjuncture of favoring circumstances
than to its real power over the human mind, or if it might be thought
that any such peculiar virtue was all spent and exhausted in its first
expansive effort, then it is natural to look to the next occasion on
which the opinions of mankind were put in fermentation, and to watch in
what manner the system of the Bible then rode over the high billows of
political, religious, and intellectual commotion. It was a fair trial
for Christianity, and a trial essentially different from its first,
when, in the fifteenth century, after having been corrupted in every
part to a state of loathsome ulceration, it had to contend for
existence, and to work its own renovation, at the moment of the most
extraordinary expansion of the human intellect that has ever happened.
At that moment, when the splendid literature of the ancient world
started from its tomb, and kindled a blaze of universal admiration; at
that moment, when the first beams of sound philosophy broke over the
nations; and when the revival of the useful arts gave at once elasticity
to the minds of the million, and a check of practical influence to the
minds of the few; at the moment when the necromancy of the press came
into play to expose and explode necromancy of every other kind; and when
the discovery of new continents, and of a new path to the old, tended to
supplant a taste of whatever is visionary, by imparting a vivid taste
for what is substantial; at such a time, which seemed to leave no chance
of continued existence to aught that was not in its nature vigorous,
might it not confidently have been said—This must be the crisis of
Christianity? if it be not inwardly sound, if it have not a true hold of
human nature, if it be a thing of feebleness and dotage, fit only for
cells, and cowls, and the precincts of spiritual despotism; if it be not
adapted to the world of action, if it have no sympathy with the feelings
of men—of freemen; nothing can save it: no power of princes, no devices
of priests, will avail to rear it anew, and to replace it in the
veneration of the people; at least not in any country where has been
felt the refreshing gale of intellectual life. The result of this crisis
need not be narrated.
It may even be doubted, had not Christianity been fraught with power, if
all the influence of kings, or craft of priests, could have upheld it in
any part of Europe, after the revival of learning; and certainly not in
those countries which received, at one and the same time, the
invigoration of political liberty, of science, and of commerce.
Whether the religion for which the reformers suffered, "was from heaven
or of men," is not our question; but whether it is not a religion of
robust constitution, framed to endure, and to spread, and to vanquish
the hearts of men? With the history of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries in view, it is asked if Christianity be a system that must
always lean upon ignorance, and craft, and despotism, and which, when
those rotten stays are removed, must fail and be seen no more?
Yet another species of trial was in store to give proof of the
indestructibility and victorious power of Christianity. It remained to
be seen whether, when the agitations, political and moral, that were
consequent upon the great schism which had taken place in Europe had
subsided, and when the season of slumber and exhaustion came on, and
when human reason, strengthened and refined by physical science, and
elegant literature, should awake fully to the consciousness of its
powers; whether then the religion of the Bible could retain its hold of
the nations; or at least of those of them that enjoyed, without limit,
the happy influences of political liberty, and intellectual light. This
was a sort of probation which Christianity had never before passed
through.
And what were the omens under which it entered upon the new trial of its
strength? Were the friends of Christianity at that moment of portentous
conflict awake, and vigilant, and stout-hearted, and thoroughly armed to
repel assaults? The very reverse was the fact; for at the instant when
the atheistical conspiracy made its long-concerted, well-advised and
consentaneous attack, there was scarcely a pulse of life left in the
Christian body, in any one of the Protestant states. The old
superstitions had crawled back into many of their ancient corners. In
other quarters the spirit of protestation against those superstitions
had breathed itself away in trivial wranglings, or had given place to
infidelity—infidelity aggravated by stalled hypocrisy. The Church of
England, the chief prop of modern Christianity, was then, to a great
extent, torpid, and fainting under the incubus, either of false
doctrine, or of a secular spirit; at least it seemed incapable of the
effort which the peril of the time demanded: few indeed of her sons were
panoplied, and sound-hearted, as champions in such a cause should be.
Within a part only of a small body of Dissenters, (for a part was
smitten with the plague of heresy) and that part in great measure
disqualified from free and energetic action by rigidities, and scruples,
and divisions, was contained almost all the religious life and fervor
anywhere to be found in Christendom.
Meanwhile the infidel machinators had chosen their ground at leisure,
and were wrought to the highest pitch of energy by a confident, and, as
it might seem, a well-founded hope of success. They were backed by the
secret wishes, or the undissembled cheerings of almost the entire body
of educated men throughout Europe. They used the only language then
common to the civilized world, and a language which might be imagined to
have been framed and finished designedly to accomplish the demolition of
whatever was grave and venerated; a language, beyond any other, of
raillery, of insinuation, and of sophistry; a language of polished
missiles, whose temper could penetrate not only the cloak of imposture,
but the shield of truth.
At the same portentous moment the shocks and upheavings of political
commotion opened a thousand fissures in the ancient structure of moral
and religious sentiment; and the enemies of Christianity, surprised by
unexpected success, rushed forward to achieve, as they thought, an easy
triumph. The firmest and the wisest friends of old opinions desponded,
and many believed that a few years would see Atheism the universal
doctrine of the western nations, as well as military despotism the only
form of government.
It is difficult to imagine a single advantage that was lacking to the
promoters of infidelity, or a single circumstance of peril and ill-omen
that was not present to deepen the gloom of the friends of religion. The
actual issue of that signal crisis is before our eyes in the freshness
of a recent event. Christianity—we ask not whether for the benefit or
the injury of the world—has triumphed; the mere fact is all that
concerns our argument. But shall it be said, or if said, believed, that
the late resurrection of the religion of the Bible has been managed in
the cabinets of monarchs? Have kings and emperors given this turn to
public opinion, which now compels infidelity to hide its shame behind
the very mask of hypocrisy that it had so lately torn from the face of
the priest? To come home to facts with which all must be familiar: Has
there not been heard, within the last few years, from the most
enlightened, the most sober-minded, and the freest people of Europe, a
firm, articulate, spontaneous, and cordial expression of preference, and
of enhanced veneration towards Christianity? Again, then, we ask—not if
this religion be true, but if it have not, even beneath our own
observation, given proof of indestructible vigor?
The spread of the English stock, and language, and literature, over the
North American continent, has afforded a distinct and very significant
indication of the power of Christianity to retain its hold of the human
mind, and of its aptness to run hand-in-hand with civilization, even
when unaided by those secular succors to which its enemies in malice,
and some of its friends in over-caution, are prone to attribute too much
importance. The tendency of republicanism, which obviously has some
strong affinity with infidelity, and the connection of the colonies, at
the moment of their revolt, with France, and the prevalence of a
peculiarly eager and uncorrected commercial temper, and the absence of
every sort and semblance of restraint upon opinion, were concurrent
circumstances, belonging to the infancy of the American Union, of a kind
which put to the severest test the instrinsic power of Christianity, in
retaining its hold of the human mind. Could infidel experimenters have
wished for conditions more equitable, under which to try the respective
forces of the opposing systems?
And what has been the issue? It is true that infidelity holds still its
ground in the United States, as in Europe; and there, as in Europe,
keeps company with whatever is debauched, sordid, oppressive, reckless,
ruffian-like. But at the same time Christianity, has gained rather than
lost ground, and shows itself there in a style of as much fervor and
zeal as in England; and perhaps, even it has the advantage in these
respects. Wherever, on that continent, good order and intelligence are
spreading, there also the religion of the Bible spreads. And if it be
probable that the English race, and language, and institutions, will, in
a century, pervade its deserts, all appearances favor the belief that
the edifices of Christian worship will bless every landscape of the
present wilderness that shall then "blossom as the rose."
* * * * *
Before, in pursuing this method of frigid calculation, the Christian
doctrine be weighed against the several systems with which it must
contend ere it wins its universal triumph, it is proper to inquire—what
is the probability that a collision will actually take place. To
estimate fairly this probability, those who are but slenderly acquainted
with the religious world, in the British Islands, in America, and in the
Protestant states of the continent, must understand, much better than
generally they do, the precise nature of the remarkable revolution that
has, within the last thirty years, been effected in the sentiments of
Christians on the subject of the diffusion of their religion. Such
slenderly-informed persons may very naturally imagine that the
prodigious efforts that have of late been made to diffuse Christianity
through the world have sprung simply from a heat and excitement, in its
nature transient, and which, therefore, must be expected soon to
subside. But this supposition will be found to be incomplete and
erroneous. A stir and kindling of feeling has no doubt happened; but
this feeling, and the activities which followed from it, have given
occasion to the resurrection, so to speak, of a capital article of
Christian morals, which, after lying almost latent for centuries, stands
forth in undisputed and prominent authority in the modern code of
religious duty. This recovered principle is now constantly recognized
and enforced; and it is seen to exert its influence, not merely within
the circles of central movement, but even in the remotest orbits of
religious feeling, where warmth and energy are manifestly not excessive.
The founder of Christianity left with his disciples the unlimited
injunction to go forth into all the world, and to preach the Gospel to
every creature. This command, corroborated by others of equivalent
import, and enforced by the very nature of the Christian doctrine, and
by the spirit of Christian charity, is now understood and acknowledged,
in a manner new to the church, to be of universal obligation, so that no
Christian, how obscure soever may be his station, or small his talents,
or limited his means, can be held to stand altogether excused from the
duty of fulfilling, in some way, the last mandate of his Lord. Thus
understood, this command makes every believer a preacher and a
missionary; or at least obliges him to see to it, so far as his ability
extends, that the labors of diffusive evangelization are actually
performed by a substitute.
Before the commencement of the recent missionary efforts, there had been
missions to the heathen. But these, if carried on with anything more
than a perfunctory assiduity, were anomalous to the general feeling of
Christians, and sprung from the exemplary zeal of individuals. But the
modern missions are maintained neither by the zeal of the few, nor by
the mere zeal of the many; but rather by the deep-seated impulsive power
of a grave conviction, pressing on the conscience even of the inert and
the selfish—and much more on the hearts of the fervent and devoted—that
a Christian has no more liberty to withhold his aid and service from
these evangelizing associations than he has to abandon the duties of
common life; and that, for a man to profess hope in Christ, and to deny
what he might spare to promote the diffusion of the Gospel, is the most
egregious of all practical solecisms.
Those who are ignorant of this remarkable revolution of sentiment, or
who may be sceptical concerning it, would do well to take up, at hazard,
any dozen of the discourses, and reports, and tracts, that are yearly,
and monthly, and weekly, flowing from the religious press, and among
which they will hardly find one that does not assume this as an admitted
principle, and as the ultimate motive of every hortatory appeal. And if,
among these ephemera, there are any, and such are not seldom to be
found, that bear the stamp of superior intelligence, it will be seen
almost invariably, that the reasoner summons all the force of his mind,
not so much to prove that every Christian is bound to promote the
diffusion of scriptural knowledge, as by some new ingenuity of
illustration to place the acknowledged duty in a stronger light, or to
show in what manner it bears upon the specific object for which he
pleads. And it is to be noted that these popular addresses exhibit, for
the most part, much more of the gravity and calmness which naturally
belong to the style of those who feel that they are standing upon
undisputed ground, than of the solicitude, or the inflammatory verbosity
and turgidness of writers who are laboring to fan a decaying blaze of
indefensible enthusiasm.
Or again: it may well be inferred that the modern missionary zeal
springs from motives of a substantial and permanent kind, since they
affect, without exception, every body of Christians (holding the
doctrines of the Reformation) and are felt in the same manner by the
Christians of every Protestant community of Europe. And moreover the
feeling has not declined, but has sensibly increased since the first
years of its activity; and it has endured the trial, in some instances,
of severe and long-continued discomfitures, or of partial success. These
are indications of a spring of action far more sedate and enduring than
any feverish excitement can ever supply.
But if the extent, and the power, and the promise of the existing
missionary zeal are to be duly estimated, the inquirer should visit the
homes of our religious folks; or enter the schools in which their
children are trained, and there learn what is the doctrine inculcated
upon those who are rising up to take their place on the arena of life:
or let him listen to the hymns they lisp, and examine the tracts they
read, and he will meet the same great principle in a thousand manners
enforced, namely—That it is the duty of every Christian, young or old,
rich or poor, to take part in sending the Gospel to all nations. Or let
the observer notice the Missionary Box, in the school-room, in the
nursery, in the shop-parlor, in the farm-house kitchen, in the cottage,
of the religious; and let him mark the multiform contrivances for
swelling the amount of the revenues of Christian charity, devised, and
zealously persisted in, by youths and by little ones, whose parents, at
the same age, thought of nothing but of cakes and sports.
And does all this steady movement, this wide-spreading and
closely-compacted system of united effort, this mechanism in which
infancy as well as maturity takes its part, indicate nothing for
futurity? Shall it all have passed away and be forgotten with the
present generation? If indeed it were confined to a sect, or to a
province, or to a country, it might, though that were unlikely; but not
if it be the common style of Christian feeling in every part of the
world where spiritual Christianity exists at all. Particular
associations may be dissolved, and particular schemes may be broken up;
and standard-bearers in the sacred cause may faint; and the zeal of
certain communities may fade; or political disasters may here and there
bring ruin upon pious labors; but unless devastation universal sweeps
over the face of the civilized world, the doctrine of missionary zeal,
which has been broad-cast over Christendom, in the present day, will not
fail of coming to its harvest. And now, if there are any who wish ill to
Christianity, let them hasten to prevent the measures of its friends,
let them teach their babes to hate the Gospel; for those who love it are
taking such means to insure its future triumph as can hardly fail of
success, and such as, on common grounds of calculation, make it likely
that even the sons and the daughters of the present race of infidels may
be involved in the approaching conquests of the Son of David; and that
they shall actually join in the loud hosanna, announcing his accession
to the throne of universal empire.
* * * * *
It is then more than barely probable—it is almost certain—that the
attempt to offer Christianity to all nations, will not soon be
abandoned. The next question is this—whether, on grounds of frigid
calculation, such attempts are recommended by any fair promise of
success.
When the term calculation is used in reference to the diffusion of
Christianity, a use of the word which perhaps may offend the ear of
piety, an important distinction must be kept in view between that
cordial admission of the Gospel which renovates the hearts of men
individually, and that change of opinion and profession which may be
brought about among a people by means that fall short of possessing
efficiency to produce repentance and faith. And while the former must
everywhere, at home or abroad, be the great object aimed at and desired
by the Christian ministry, the latter is both in itself, even if nothing
more were done, and as a preliminary, and a probable means conducing to
the production of genuine piety, a most desirable and happy revolution.
It is moreover a revolution which may be reckoned to lie within the
range of human agency, when judiciously and perseveringly applied. For
Christianity is a species of knowledge, in its nature communicable; and,
as a system of opinions, or as a code of morals, it possesses a manifest
superiority, if fairly brought into comparison with any existing
religious system. And if it may reasonably be asked concerning any
people—how shall they believe without a preacher? the converse question
might, with little less confidence be put—how shall they not believe
with one?
Pagan and Mohammedan nations ought to be thought of by a Christian
people just as the master of a numerous household, if he be wise and
benevolent, thinks of the untutored members of his family; for although
no actual subjection is owned on the one side, or can be exercised on
the other, there exists, virtually, the relationship and the
responsibilities of that domination which is ever possessed by
knowledge, intelligence, and virtue, over ignorance and degradation.
Now, as the master of a family may, to a greater or less extent,
infallibly succeed by zeal, affection, skill, and patience, in
dispelling the superstitions and the ignorance which have happened to
come under his roof; so, with zeal, affection, skill, and patience,
proportioned to the greatness of the work, may the Christian nations at
length effect a cleansing of the earth from the cruelties and impurities
of polytheism.
Nothing inconsistent with the humblest and most devout dependence upon
the divine agency is implied in this supposition, any more than in the
belief that our children and servants may be trained in the knowledge of
God, and in the decencies of Christian worship. Is there not reason to
think that an inattention to this plain principle has prevented, in some
measure, the adoption of those vigorous and extended operations which
common sense prescribes as the proper and probable means of diffusing at
once civilization and religion through the world?
The probability of a change of religion on the part of an entire people
may, it is true, be argued on the adverse, as well as on the favorable
side, and with great appearance of reason. The obstinacy of the human
mind in adhering to the worse, even when the better is presented to its
choice, seems not seldom to possess the invincibility of a physical law;
and it has been found as impracticable to reform an absurd usage, as to
remodel the national physiognomy. How often have both reason and
despotism been baffled in their endeavors to effect even a trivial
alteration in ancient usages or costumes; and there has been room to
suppose, that the tenacity of life belonging to customs or opinions,
bears direct proportion always to their absurdity and their mischievous
consequence. The high antiquity, and the still unbroken force of the
Asiatic idolatries, in themselves so hideous, so burdensome, and so
sanguinary, stand forth as appalling confirmations of the truth, that
whatever has once gained for itself the sanction of time, may boldly
defy the assaults of reason. And then, when religious opinions and
practices are to question, we have not merely to break through the iron
law of immemorial usage, but to encounter the living opposition of the
priesthood, already firmly seated in the cloud-girt throne of supposed
supernatural power, and interested as deeply as men can be who have at
stake their civil existence, and their credit, and their means of
luxurious idleness. Again, in most instances, ancient religious opinions
have sent down their roots through the solid structure of the civil
institutions of the people:—the old superstition is an oak that was sown
by the builder of the state, and has actually pervaded the entire
foundations, and forms now the living bond-timber, to remove which would
be to bring to the ground the whole tottering masonry of the social
system.
When this side of the question has been long and exclusively
contemplated, the schemes of missionary zeal may seem to be utterly
chimerical; or if not chimerical—dangerous. But the friends of mankind
do not forget that the very same objects may be viewed in another light.
Even before particular facts are appealed to, an hypothesis of an
opposite kind may plausibly be advanced. It may be alleged that
Opinion—the invisible power that rules the world—is a name without
substance, which, though omnipotent so long as it is thought to be so,
vanishes quicker than a mist, when once suspected to be impotent. It
might also with great appearance of reason be affirmed as a universal
law of the moral world, that the better, when fairly brought into
collision with the worse, possesses an infallible certainty of ultimate
prevalence.
On this same principle, it is common to affirm that the improved
mechanical processes of a scientific people will at length necessarily
supplant the operose, and wasteful, and inefficient methods practised by
half-civilized nations. And thus probably will the ruinous and
depopulating usages of despotism give way before the wealth-giving
maxims of legal government. And thus also may it be hoped that a pure
theology, and a pure morality, shall, if zealously diffused, prevail
till they have removed all superstitions, with all their corruptions.
Even on the lowest principles of natural theology, some such meditative
power may be presumed to have been imparted to the human system, as a
provision against the progress of utter moral dissolution.
* * * * *
But while an argument of this sort is at issue, the simple method of
appealing to such facts as may seem to bear conclusively upon the
question, will assuredly not be neglected; and it will be asked, whether
there are on record any instances which give a peremptory negative to
the assertion that a national change of religion ought to be thought of
as an event in the last degree improbable. And why should not the spread
and triumph of Christianity in the first ages of its promulgation be
accepted as an instance absolutely conclusive, and in the fullest sense
analogous to the problem that is to be solved. To whatever causes that
first prevalence of the religion of the Bible may be attributed, it is
still an unquestioned fact that entire nations—not one or two, but many,
and in every stage of advancement on the course of civilization—were
actually brought to abandon their ancient superstitions, and to profess
the Gospel.
These amazing revolutions took place under almost every imaginable
variety of circumstances, and they occupied a period of not more than
three centuries, and the change had been wrought, to a great extent,
before the aid of political succor came in; and even in the front of
political opposition. People after people fell away from their
idolatries, and assumed (with how much or how little of cordial feeling
matters not) the Christian name and code.
Here once more the objector must be urged to select his alternative.—If
it be granted that Christianity won this wide success by aid from
heaven, then who will profess to believe that a religion, so supported,
shall not in the end vanquish mankind? Or if not, then manifestly, the
fact of the spread of Christianity in the east, and in the west, in the
north, and in the south, destroys altogether the supposed improbability
of its again supplanting idolatry. It has been proved that nothing
inseparable from human nature, nothing invincible, stands in the way of
the diffusion of our faith among either polished or barbarous
polytheists; for already has it been victorious in both kinds. Let it be
affirmed that the religious infatuations of mankind are firm as adamant;
still it is a fact that a hammer harder than adamant once shattered the
rock to atoms. And now, when it is proposed again to smite the same
substance with the same instrument, are those to be deemed irrational
who anticipate the same success? In such an anticipation neither the
superior purity and excellence of Christianity need be assumed, nor its
truth: nothing is peremptorily affirmed but its well-attested efficiency
to subvert and supplant other religious systems. A myriad of
philosophists may clamorously affirm the missionary project to be
insane. Nevertheless Christians, listening rather to the history of
their religion than to the harangues of its modern oppugners, will go on
to preach in every land, "That men should turn from dumb idols to serve
the living God."
That during a period of more than a thousand years Christianity should
hardly have gained a foot of ground from polytheism, and should, in some
quarters, have been driven in from its ancient frontiers, is only
natural, seeing that, in the whole course of that time, no extended
endeavors, or none guided and impelled by the genuine principles of the
Gospel, were made to diffuse it. Angels have no commission to become
evangelists; and if men neglect their duty in this instance, no means
remain for supplying their lack of service. The modern missionary
enterprises (exclusive of some very limited attempts) do not yet date
fifty years; and while the fact that this spirit of Christian zeal has
maintained itself so long, attests its solidity, and gives a promise of
its perpetuity, its recentness (recent compared with the work to be
achieved) may justly be alleged in reply to those who ask—from whatever
motive—Why are not the nations converted? Within this short space of
time the religious public has had to be formed to a right feeling on the
new subject; and all the practical wisdom that belongs to an enterprise
so immense and so difficult has had to be acquired; and the agents of
the work at home and abroad, to be trained; and the initiatory
obstacle—that occasioned by diversity of language—to be removed. The
preparatives have now been passed through, and successes obtained, large
and complete enough to quash all objection, and more than enough to
recompense what they have cost. And these successes, moreover, warrant
the belief that the universal prevalence of Christianity (considered
simply as an exterior profession) is suspended upon the continuance of
the missionary zeal among the Christians of Europe and America.
Instead of allowing speculation to flit vaguely and ineptly over all the
desolate places of the earth's surface, it will be better, if we would
make our calculation definite, to fix upon a single region; and while we
assume it as probable that the existing spirit of missionary vigilance
and assiduity and self-devotion will continue in vigor during the
ensuing half-century, endeavor roughly to estimate the chances (if the
word may be used) of the entrance and spread of Christian light in that
one region; and let us select the region which may be deemed altogether
to occupy the place of an ultimate problem of evangelical enterprise.
Thus announced, every one will of course think of China.
Nothing is more difficult than to view, in the nakedness of mere truth,
any object remote from personal observation, which has once filled the
imagination with images of vastness and mystery. Thus it often happens
that benevolent schemes are robbed of their fair chance of success by
the fond illusions which are suffered to swell out an empty bulk, so as
to hide from view the real difficulties that ought to be deliberately
met. And thus it is usual for the timid to amuse their inaction by
contemplating spectral forms of danger or obstruction that exist only in
the mind. Hindrances and impossibilities may even yield a sort of
delight to the imagination, by the aspect of greatness and terror they
assume; at least while we resolve to view them only at a distance. And
in such cases he must be singularly destitute of poetic feeling, or
singularly conscientious and abstinent in the use of language, who, in
describing the proposed enterprise, does not impart to the mere facts a
form and coloring of unreal greatness and wonder.
This sort of illusiveness and exaggeration unquestionably belongs to the
subject of Christian missions to China. Who does not feel that the high
numbers of its dense and far-spread population, amounting perhaps to
more than a sixth part of the human family, and the yet unpenetrated
veil of mystery which hangs over the origin of the people, and over
their actual condition, and even over the geography of the country; and
then the singularity of the national character, and the anomalous
construction of the language, altogether raise a mist of obscurity which
rests in the way of the inquirer who asks—Is the attempt to introduce
Christianity among these millions of our brethren utterly vain and
visionary?
The natural exaggerations which infest this subject have indeed been
sensibly reduced within the last few years: twenty years ago cautious
and sagacious Protestants would have thought themselves bound, in
deference to common sense, to deride the idea of converting China to the
faith of Europe. What the _De propaganda_, with its store of
accommodating measures might attempt, none who must adhere to the
guileless methods of Christian instruction would undertake: or even if
an enterprise of this sort were commenced, it must be allowed a date of
five hundred years for achieving any considerable success! But better
information, and the actual accomplishment of the initiatory process,
must now, by the least sanguine minds, be deemed greatly to have
lessened the improbabilities of such an attempt, and to have shortened
the date of our Christian hopes. What has been accomplished of late by
the assiduity, and the intellectual vigor, and the moral intrepidity of
a few individuals, has turned the beam of calculation; and it is now
rational to talk of that which, very recently, might not have been
named, except among visionaries.
The brazen gate of China, sculptured with inscrutable characters, and
bolted and barred, as it seemed, against western ingenuity—the gate of
its anomalous language, has actually been set wide open; and although
the ribbon of despotic interdiction is still stretched across the
highway that leads to the popular mind, access, to some extent, has been
obtained; and who shall affirm that this frail barrier insurmountable as
it may now seem, shall at all times, during another fifty years, exist,
and be respected? Within even a much shorter term, is it not probable,
that revolutions of dynasty, or popular commotions, may suspend or
divert, for a moment, the vigilance of jealous ignorance? In some such
manner it may be supposed that, the means of diffusing religious
knowledge being, as they are, accumulated, and headed up above the level
of the plains of China, the dam bursting, or falling into decay, the
healing flood of Christian truth shall suffuse itself in all directions
over the vast surface.
But we are told that the national intellect is spellbound in a condition
of irremediable imbecility. The people, it is said, have no ideas but
such as are fixed under the petrifactions of their ancient usages; or
even if they had a mind in which ideas might float, they have no medium
of communication, or none which can take up even an atom of knowledge or
of sentiment that is of foreign growth. How then shall such a people be
converted to Christianity? Were it not as well to attempt to inform and
persuade the sculptures of Elephanta, or the glazed images of their own
pottery? To all this show of impossibility, a full and sufficient reply
is contained in a single affirmation of Scripture, not less
philosophically just than it is beautiful and sublime—"The Lord looketh
from heaven, he beholdeth all the sons of men: from the place of his
habitation he looketh upon all the inhabitants of the earth: he
fashioneth their hearts alike."
The old doctrine that there are certain generic and invincible
inferiorities of intellect which must forever bar the advancement of
some branches of the human family, has of late received so signal a
refutation in the instance of the African race—long and pertinaciously
consigned by interested philosophers to perpetual degradation—that it
now hardly needs to be argued against. And assuredly, if the negro
cranium is found, spite of phrenologists, to admit of mathematical
abstraction, fine taste, and fine feeling, it will not be affirmed that
the skull of the Tartar or Chinese must necessarily exclude similar
excellences. To assert, either that nature has conferred no physical
superiorities, favorable to the development of mind, on particular
races, or to maintain that the comparative disadvantages of some nations
are so great and unalterable as to constitute impassable barriers in the
way of civilization, is equally a quackery which history and existing
facts condemn, and which nothing but the love of theory or
simplification could ever recommend to an intelligent observer of
mankind. With the uniform evidence of history before us, it may well be
assumed as probable that certain races will always retain the
intellectual pre-eminence they have acquired; nor is it at all less
reasonable to suppose that every tribe, even the most degraded, is
intrinsically capable of whatever is essential to a state of social
order and moral dignity.
If the lowest degree of proficiency in the mechanical arts is justly
held to give proof of the existence of those powers of abstraction
whence, with proper culture, the sciences may take their rise, so, with
equal certainty, may we infer a susceptibility of the religious emotions
from even the feeblest indications of the moral sense. When a people
diffused over so extensive a surface, and so thickly covering that
surface, is seen to submit itself intelligently to the patriarchal form
of government, which implies the constant and powerful influence of a
moral abstraction, and a vivid sense of unseen power, no doubt can
remain of its capacity to admit the motives of Christian faith.
The Chinese are what they are, more from the natural consequence of
having sustained, during many successive generations, what may be termed
national imprisonment, than from the operation of any physical
disabilities. So complete and successful an interdiction of intercourse
with strangers has not been known to take place in any other country;
and a closer fitting of the restraints of custom and etiquette upon the
manners than has elsewhere been effected, has not failed to impart to
the national character that peculiar _gait_—if the phrase maybe
used—which must distinguish one who had been released from his
swaddling-bands only to be encumbered with a chain, and had worn that
chain through life. Of the Chinese people it may truly be said that "the
iron hath entered into their soul."
But even without resting upon the probability of the subversion of the
existing despotism, the defeat of its jealous precautions may be
anticipated as what must at length result from the present course of
events. That portion of the Chinese population which may be termed the
_extra-mural_, and which, in numbers, exceeds some European nations, may
be considered as the depository of the happy destinies of the empire;
for these expatriate millions are accessible to instruction; and if once
they become, to any considerable extent, alive to religious truth, no
prohibitions of paternal despotism will avail to exclude the new
principles from the mother country. It is a false feeling that would
draw discouragement from the comparative diminutiveness and small actual
results of the operations that are carrying on for imparting
Christianity to this people. These measures ought, in philosophical
justice, to be viewed as the commencements of an accelerative movement,
acting incessantly upon an inert mass, which, by the very laws of
nature, must at length receive impulse enough to be carried forward in
the course of the propelling cause. To be assured of this result, all
that we need is to be assured of the continuance of the spring of
movement.
If the several spheres of missionary labor are reviewed, none, it is
presumed, can be deemed to offer more serious obstacles than the one
already referred to; or if there be one such, yet have fact and
experiment already given a full reply to all objections. May it be
permitted to say that a voice from heaven, full of meaning, is heard in
the particular character of the successes, how limited soever they may
be, which have crowned the incipient attempts to convert the heathen?
The veriest reprobates of civilization and social order have been the
first to be brought in to grace the triumphs of the Gospel in its recent
attempts at foreign conquest; as if at once to solve all doubts, and to
refute all cavils, relating to the practicability and promise of the
enterprise. If it had been thought or affirmed that the stupefaction and
induration of heart produced upon a race by ages of uncorrected ferocity
and sensuality must repel forever the attempts of Christian zeal, it is
shown, in the instance of the extremest specimens that could have been
selected, that a few years only of beneficent skill and patience are
enough to transform the fierce and voluptuous savage into a being of
pure, and gentle, and noble sentiments; that within a few years all the
domestic virtues, and even the public virtues, graced with the decencies
of rising industry, may occupy the very spots that were recking with
human blood, and with the filthiness of every abomination which the sun
blushes to behold.
If one islet only of the Southern Ocean had cast away its idols and its
horrific customs, if one hamlet only of the Negro or Hottentot race had
become Christian, there would have been no more place left on which the
objector against missions could rest his cavils; for the problem of the
conversion of the heathen would have been satisfactorily solved. But in
truth, these happy and amazing revolutions have taken place with such
frequency, and under so great a diversity of circumstance, and in front
of so many obstacles, that instead of asking whether barbarous nations
may be persuaded to forsake their cruel delusions, it may with more
propriety be asked—if anything can prevent the progress of such reforms
universally, where Christian zeal and wisdom perseveringly perform their
part.
The relative political and commercial condition of nations at the
present moment, affords several special grounds of reasoning, on which
the extention of Christianity may be anticipated as a probable event.
Among topics of this class may be named that of the diffusion of the
English language—the language which beyond comparison with any other is
spreading and running through all the earth, and which, by the commerce
and enterprise of two independent and powerful states, is colonizing the
shores of every sea; this language, now pouring itself over all the
waste places of the earth, is the principal medium of Christian truth
and feeling, and is rich in every means of Christian instruction, and is
fraught with religious sentiment, in all kinds, adapted to the taste of
the philosopher, the cottager, and the infant. Almost apart, therefore,
from missionary labor, the spread of this language insures the spread of
the religion of the Bible. The doctrine is entwined with the language,
and can hardly be disjoined. If the two expansive principles of
colonization and commercial enterprise, once diffused the language and
religion of Greece completely around every sea known to ancient
navigation, it is now much more probable that the same principles of
diffusion will carry English institutions, and English opinions, into
every climate.
But in calculations or speculations of this sort, merely secular as they
are, much less is included than truly belongs to the question at issue.
Not to assume the truth of Christianity, and not to argue on the ground
of its divine excellence, and not to confide in those prospective
declarations, the certainty of which has been attested beyond
possibility of doubt, is not only to grope in the dark when we might
walk in the light of noon, but to exclude from the working of our
problem the very facts of most significance in its determination. To
estimate fairly the probability of the universal triumph of true
religion, a second method must be pursued, in which the existing
condition of the Christian church is to be contemplated with a Christian
feeling. When thus viewed it will appear that a promise of a new kind is
now bursting from the bud; and the inference may confidently be drawn
that "summer is nigh."
For the purpose of measuring the progress of religion, attempts have
sometimes been made to effect a sort of Christian statistics, or
calculation of the actual number of true believers throughout the world.
But the propriety of such an application of arithmetic is far from being
conspicuous; and seeing that the subject of computation lies confessedly
beneath the reach of the human eye, its accuracy may be absolutely
denied. Endeavors, again, have been made to judge of the advance or
decline of religion by comparing the state of devotional feeling and of
morals in the present and in other times. But all such comparisons must
be deemed, at the best, extremely vague, and open to immense errors,
arising either from the prepossessions of the individual who makes the
comparison, or from the want of data sufficiently ample and exact; and
probably from both.
No attempts of this delusive kind will here be offered to the reader;
but instead of them, certain unquestionable and obvious facts will be
assumed as affording reasonable ground of very exhilarating hopes.
If any one were required, without premeditation, to give a reply to the
question—What is the most prominent circumstance in the present state of
the Christian Church? he would, if sufficiently informed on the subject,
almost certainly answer—The honor done to the Scriptures. Such an answer
may be supposed as suggested by the conspicuousness of the fact. Now in
order to gather our inference safely from this fact, it is necessary to
look back for a moment to past times.
In the first and best age of the church, the deference paid to the
inspired writings, whether of prophets or apostles, was as great as can
be imagined to exist: and whatever of beneficial influence belongs to
the Sacred Volume, was then actually in operation; or it was so with a
single drawback, namely—that arising from the scarcity of the book, and
its non-existence in the hands of the Christian commonalty. To estimate
duly the greatness of this disadvantage, let it be imagined what would
be the effect, among ourselves, of a sudden withdrawment of almost all
but the church copies of the Scriptures. This supposition need not be
enlarged upon, for every devotional Christian, and every master of a
family feels that, in whatever way the loss might be attempted to be
supplied, it would still be afflicting and injurious in the extremest
degree.
In the next, and the declining period of church history, if the
above-named disadvantage was in some small degree remedied by the
multiplication of copies, the benefit was much more than overbalanced by
the promulgation and general prevalence of a false and very pernicious
system of exposition; a system which sheathed the "sword of the Spirit,"
and scarcely left it its power or penetrating the conscience. The
immediate consequence of this abuse of the rule of faith and practice
was the rapid growth of a thousand corruptions. Thus, while in lip and
in ceremonial the Scriptures held their seat of authority, they were
dislodged from the throne of power. A night of a thousand years
succeeded, during which the witnesses of God lay in their tomb,
literally and virtually hidden, and silenced, and degraded.
The Reformation was, in all senses, a resurrection of the Bible: it was
its recovery and restoration as an ancient document; and the recognition
of its authority as the word of God; and the discovery of its meaning as
a rule of faith, and worship, and life; and its new diffusion through
the Christian body. The restoration of the Scriptures to their place of
power and honor brought with it a revival of true piety, scarcely, if at
all, inferior in extent and fervency to that which attended the
preaching of the apostles. There were, however, deductions from the full
influence and permanent benefit that might have resulted from this
recovery of the sacred canon. Of these deductions, the first was the
limited and imperfect diffusion of copies; for though the publication of
the Bible by means of the press was actually great, it fell very far
short of being complete. The next deduction arose from the infant state
of the science of biblical criticism; the next, from the still unbroken
influence of scholastic systems and modes of expression, which spread a
dense coloring medium over the lucidness of the apostolic style; the
next, and the most considerable and pernicious of these drawbacks, arose
from the acrimony of controversy, and from that spirit of contumacious
scrupulosity which is the parent of schism. These imperfections were
great enough to bar the progress of Christianity, and to sully its glory
at the time, and to procure the speedy decline of piety in all the
Protestant countries.
But when the present aspect of the church is compared with its condition
at the era of the Reformation, several circumstances connected with the
state of the Scriptures offer themselves to observation, that are
decidedly in favor of our times; and such as seem pregnant with hope for
the future. Of these, the first is the unexampled multiplication and
diffusion of the sacred volume: the second, is the progress that has
been made towards bringing the original text to a state of undisputed
purity; as well as the advancement of the science of biblical criticism,
by which means the verbal meaning of the inspired writers is now
ascertained more satisfactorily than at any time since the apostolic
age: and the third, is the incipient adoption of an improved method of
exposition; attended by an increasing disposition to bow to the Bible,
as the only arbiter in matters of religion. It remains, then, briefly to
point out in what manner these auspicious circumstances support the hope
of an approaching revival of genuine religion.
For the first of them, namely, the multiplication and diffusion of the
sacred volume:
Whenever the true and the false in matters of religion are brought into
conflict, two things are necessary to secure the triumph of the better
side, namely, in the first place, that the sound opinion should be set
forth in a perspicuous and convincing manner; and then, that it should
be borne forwards over the resistances of antiquated prejudice, and
worldly interest, and secular power, by the momentum of public feeling.
It is not the single preaching even of an archangel, that could effect
the renovation of the church when it really needs to be brought back to
purity and health. All the logic of heaven would die unheeded on the
ear, unless it were re-echoed from the multitude. Now if it may for a
moment be assumed that a general rectification of doctrine and practice,
and a revival of primitive piety is actually about to take place, what
is that preliminary measure which might be anticipated as the necessary
means of giving irresistible force, and universal spread to such a
reformation? What but the placing of the sacred canon, the arbiter of
all dispute, and the fountain of all motives, previously in the hands of
the people of every country? If, in the coming era, the teachers of
religion are to insist upon its doctrines and duties with new force and
clearness, their success must be expected to bear proportion to the
existence of scriptural knowledge, or to the means of acquiring it,
among those whom they address.
An extraordinary excitement of religious feeling, arising previously to
the general circulation of the Scriptures, can hardly be imagined to
take so prosperous and safe a course, as it would, if it followed that
circulation. So far as a conjecture on the methods of divine procedure
may be hazarded; it must be believed that the extensive dissemination of
the Scriptures, which has of late been carrying on, and which is still
in active progress, in all those parts of the world that are accessible
to Christian zeal, is a precursive measure, soon to be followed by that
happy revolution of which it gives so intelligible an augury.
Let it be said, and perhaps it may be said with some truth, that the
actual religious impression hitherto produced by the copious issuing of
Bibles among the common people in our own and other countries, is less
remarkable than might have been anticipated; then, with so much the more
confidence may the belief be entertained that this extraordinary
publication of the will of God to man is, on the part of him who
overrules all events for the furtherance of his gracious designs,
altogether a prospective measure; and that the special intention of
these many translations, and of these countless reprints of the Bible is
yet to be developed.
Is there much of gratuitous assumption, or of unwarrantable speculation
in picturing the present position of mankind in some such manner as the
following?—During a long course of ages a controversy, managed with
various success, has been carried on here and there in the world, on the
great questions of immortality, and of the liability of man to future
punishment, as the transgressor of the divine law; and concerning the
terms of reconciliation. Hitherto, there has stood, on the affirmative,
or religious side of this controversy, only a small and scattered party;
while on the other side, there has remained, with more or less of active
hostility, the great majority of mankind, who have chosen to pursue the
interests of the present life, as if no doctrine of immortality had been
credibly announced; and who have dared the future displeasure of the
Most High; and have ventured the loss of endless happiness; and have
spurned the conditions of pardon. But it is imagined that now, events of
a new order are to bring this momentous controversy to a final crisis.
Yet before the moment of awful decision comes on, and while all minds
remain in the listlessness of the ancient apathy, and while the winds of
high commotion lie hushed in the caverns of divine restraint—in this
season of portentous tranquillity, those writings, upon the authority of
which the issue is to turn, are put into every hand; and although the
hands that receive them, seem now to hold the book with a careless
grasp, ere long an alarm shall be sounded through all nations; and all
shall be roused from their spiritual sleep, and shall awake to feel that
the interests of an endless life are in suspense: then shall it appear
for what purpose the Bible has first been delivered to every people!
These views, it is granted, are in part conjectural, and yet, who that
entertains a belief of the providential guidance of the Christian
church, can suppose that the most remarkable course of events that has
hitherto ever marked the history of the Scriptures, is not charged with
the accomplishment of some unusual revolution? and what revolution less
than the installment of the inspired volume in the throne of universal
authority, can be thought of, as the probable result of the work that is
now carrying forwards? If the prejudices of the sceptical spirit, which,
in some degree, blind even the most devout, were removed, every eye,
accustomed to penetrate futurity, would see, in the recent diffusion of
the Sacred Writings, an indubitable sign of their approaching triumph
over all forms of impiety and false religion.
The friends of Bible Societies might, on this ground, find a motive for
activity that would be proof against all discouragement. When missionary
efforts meet disappointment, and when accomplished teachers are removed
in quick succession by death, and when stations where much toil has been
expended are abandoned, and when converts fall away from their
profession, the whole fruit of zeal perishes: but it is otherwise in the
work of translating and of multiplying the Scriptures; for although
these endeavors should at first be rejected by those for whose benefit
they are designed; still, what has been done is not lost; the seed sown
may spring up, even after a century of winter. Even if the existing
Bible Societies, at home and abroad, should do nothing more than
accomplish the initiative labors of translation, and should spend their
revenues in filling their warehouses with an undemanded stock of Bibles,
they would almost insure the universal diffusion of true religion in the
ensuing age. Immediate success is doubtless to be coveted; but though
this should be withheld, the work of translation and of printing is
pregnant with an infallible promise.
The restoration of the Sacred Text to a state of almost undisputed
purity, the accumulation of the resources of biblical criticism, and the
great advances that have been made in the business of ascertaining the
grammatical sense of the inspired writers, are circumstances in a very
high degree conducive to the expected prevalence of genuine religion.
Both infidelity and heresy have, till of late, found harborage in the
supposed, or pretended, corruption, or uncertainty of the canon. And the
whole of those small successes, which have served, from time to time, to
keep alive the flickering hopes of heterodoxy, have been drawn from the
detection of petty faults in the received text. There was a season when
some, even of the champions of orthodoxy, became infected with
unwarrantable fears and suspicions on this ground. But the utmost depth
of the ἕλκος has been probed. The most sanguine sceptic can henceforward
hardly hope to derive any new or important advantages from this source.
The text of the Scriptures is now in a state more satisfactory than that
of any other ancient writings; and though ignorance may go on to prate
as it is wont, no theologian, who would not forfeit his reputation as a
scholar, dares to insist upon objections which some years ago were
thought to be of the most formidable kind.
It is remarkable that this work of purgation and restoration, which,
like that of the translation and diffusion of the Scriptures, is
manifestly of a preliminary kind, should have been completed at this
precise moment. Had these doubts and suspicions remained unexamined and
unsettled, they might greatly have checked the progress of a future
religious revival: they might have given birth to new heresies, vigorous
from the enhanced tone of general feeling; they might have shaken the
minds of the faithful, and have distracted the attention of the
ministers of religion. But this preparatory work is done; and so fully
have the holds of sceptical doctrine been searched into, and so
thoroughly has the invalidity of its pleas been exposed, that nothing is
now wanted but an energetic movement of the public mind to shake off
forever all its withering sophisms.
It is not as if even the most faulty translation of the Scriptures; or
one made from the most defective text, would not abundantly convey all
necessary religious truth; or, as if Christian doctrine and practice
were, to any great extent, dependent upon philological exactitude of any
kind. But in removing occasions for the cavils and insinuations of
captious or timid spirits, the literary restoration of the Bible, and
the abundant means of ascertaining the grammatical sense of its phrases,
is highly important. And in looking towards the future, it must be
regarded as a circumstance of peculiar significance that the documents
of our faith have just passed through the severest possible ordeal of
hostile criticism at the very moment when they are in course of delivery
to all nations.
* * * * *
The recent progress made towards the adoption of an improved method of
exposition demands to be named amongst the most auspicious indications
of the present times. Insensibly, and undesignedly, and from the
operation of various causes, all well-intentioned theologians have of
late been fast advancing towards that simple and rational method of
inferring the doctrine of Scripture which corresponds with the inductive
method of inquiry, practiced in the pursuit of physical science. Just
as, in the ancient schools of philosophy, each pretended expounder of
the mysteries of nature, first framed his theory, and then imposed upon
all phenomena such an interpretation as would best accord with his
hypothesis; so have biblical expositors, in long succession, from the
ancient Jewish doctors, to the Christian divines of the last century,
with very few, if any exceptions, followed the method of interpreting
each separate portion of Scripture by the aid of a previously formed
theological hypothesis. And although these theories of divinity may have
been, perhaps, fairly founded upon scriptural evidence, partially
obtained, they have often exerted an influence scarcely less pernicious
than as if they had been altogether erroneous. This system once admitted
to constitute a synopsis of truth, has been suffered to exercise the
most arrogant domination over every part of Scripture in detail. Certain
dogmas, awfully clothed in the clouds of metaphysical phraseology, have
bid defiance to the most explicit evidence of an opposite meaning; and
no text has been permitted to utter its testimony, until it had been
placed on the rack.
But the folly and impiety of this style of interpretation have become
conspicuous; and though not yet quite abandoned, it is left to those
whose minds have been too long habituated to trammels to move at all
without them. The rule of the new mode of exposition is founded on a
principle precisely analogous to that which forms the basis of the
inductive method of inquiry in physical science. In these sciences it is
now universally admitted, that, at the best, and after all possible
diligence and sagacity have been employed, we can scarcely penetrate
beyond the exterior movements of the material system; while the interior
mechanism of nature still defies human scrutiny. Nothing then could be
more preposterous than to commence the study of nature by laying down,
theoretically, the plan of those hidden and central contrivances, as if
they were open to observation; and then to work outwards from that
centre, and to explain all facts that come under observation in
conformity with principles so ignorantly assumed. This is indeed to take
a lie in our right hand, as the key of knowledge: yet such was the
philosophy which ruled the world for ages!
The method of hypothetical interpretation is, if possible, more absurd
in theology than in natural science. Every mind not infatuated by
intellectual vanity, must admit, that it is only some few necessary
points of knowledge, relating to the constitution and movements of the
infinite and spiritual world, that can be made the matter of revelation
to mankind; and these must be offered in detached portions, apart from
their symmetry. Meanwhile the vast interior, the immeasurable whole, is
not merely concealed, but is in itself strictly incomprehensible by
human faculties. Metaphysical projections of the moral system, how neat
soever, and entire, and plausible they may seem, can have no place in
what deserves to be called a rational theology. We not only do not know,
but we could not learn, the very things which the framer of a
"scientific divinity" professes to spread forth in all their due
proportions on his chart of the upper world.
The mode in which the necessarily incomplete revelation of that upper
world is conveyed in the Scriptures, is in harmony with that in which
the phenomena of nature offer themselves to our notice. The sum or
amount of divine knowledge really intended to be conveyed to us, has
been broken up and scattered over a various surface: it has been
half-hidden, and half-displayed; it has been couched beneath hasty and
incidental allusions; it has been doled out in morsels and in atoms.
There are no logical synopses in the Bible; there are no scientific
presentations of the body of divinity; no comprehensive digests; for
such would have been not only unsuited to popular taste and
comprehension, but actually impracticable; since they must have
contained that which neither the mind of man can receive, nor his
language embody. Better far might a seraph attempt to convey the
largeness of his celestial ideas to a child, than God impart a
systematic revelation to man. On the contrary, it is almost as if the
vessel of divine philosophy had been wrecked and broken in a distant
storm; and as if the fragments only had come drifting upon our world,
which, like an islet in the ocean of eternity, has drawn to itself what
might be floating near its shores.
The abrupt and illogical style of oriental composition, and in some
instances, the characteristic simplicity of untutored minds, are to be
regarded as the appropriate means chosen for imparting to mankind such
loose particles of religious truth as it was necessary for them to
receive. This inartificial vehicle was, of all others, the one best
adapted to the conveyance of a revelation, necessarily imperfect and
partial.
Now it is manifest that the mode of exposition must be conformed to the
style of the document; and this conformity demands that the inductive
method, invariably, should be used for gleaning the sense of Scripture.
While employing all the well-known means proper for ascertaining the
grammatical sense of ancient writers, each single passage of the
Inspired Volume, like a single phenomenon of nature, is to be
interrogated for its evidence, without any solicitude for the fate of a
preconceived theory, and without asking—How is this evidence to be
reconciled with that derived from other quarters?—for it is remembered
that the revelation we are studying is a partial discovery of facts,
which could not be more than imperfectly made known. Whoever has not yet
fully satisfied himself that the Scriptures, throughout, were "given by
inspiration of God," should lose no time in determining that doubt: but
if it be determined, then it is a flagrant inconsistency not to confide
in the principle that the Bible is everywhere truly consistent with
itself, whether or not we have the means of tracing its agreements. And
while this principle is adhered to, no sentiment or fact plainly
contained in the words, need be refused or contorted on account of its
apparent incongruity with "systematic divinity."
In this manner only is it possible that the whole amount of religious
knowledge intended to be imparted by the Scriptures can be gathered from
them. It must be granted as not only probable, but certain, that
whatever relates to infinity, to the Divine nature, to the ultimate
purposes of the Divine government, to the unseen worlds, and to the
future state, and even to the mechanism of motives, must offer itself to
the human understanding in a form beset with difficulties. That this
must actually be the case might be demonstrated with mathematical
certainty. If therefore we resolve to receive from the Inspired Writers
nothing but what we can reconcile, first to certain abstruse notions,
and then to a particular interpretation of other passages, the
consequence is inevitable—that we obtain a theology, needlessly limited,
if not erroneous.
It may fairly be supposed that there are treasures of divine knowledge
yet latent beneath the surface of the Scriptures, which the practice of
scholastic exposition, so long adhered to, on all sides, has locked up
from the use of the Church; and it may be hoped, that when that method
has fallen completely into disuse, and when the simple and humble style
of inductive interpretation is better understood, and is more constantly
resorted to than at present, and when the necessary imperfection and
incoherency of all human knowledge of divine things is fully recognized,
and when the vain attempt to fashion a miniature model of the spiritual
universe is for ever abandoned, and when whatever the Inspired Writers
either explicitly affirm, or obscurely intimate, is embraced in
simplicity of heart, that then the boundaries of our prospect of the
hidden and the future world may be vastly enlarged. Nor is this all; for
in the same manner the occasions of controversy will be almost entirely
removed; and though small differences of opinion may remain, it will be
seen by all to be flagrantly absurd to assume such inconsiderable
diversities as the pretexts of dissention and separation.
No one cordially reverencing the Bible, and believing it to be given by
inspiration of God, who is "not the author of confusion, but of order,"
can imagine it to have been so worded and constructed as to necessitate
important diversities of interpretation among those who humbly and
diligently labor to obtain its meaning. Nor will any but bigots deny
that, with those who differ from themselves, there may be found
diligence and sincerity quite equal to their own. What account then is
to be given of those contrarieties of opinion which continue to sully
the glory of the Christian Church, and to deprive it almost entirely of
its expansive energy?
In endeavouring to give a satisfactory reply to this important question,
we are, of course, entitled to dismiss from the discussion, first, those
errors of doctrine which spring immediately from the prepossessions of
proud and unholy minds, and which are not to be refuted until such evil
dispositions are rectified. It is not a better exposition of Scripture,
merely, that will afford an efficient remedy for such false opinions. In
the next place it is proper to put out of the question all those
politico-religious divisions which, as they originated in accident, so
now rest for their maintenance much less upon reason, than upon the
authority of habit, and the pertinacity of party feeling, or perhaps
even upon motives of secular interest. All such causes of schism must be
scattered to the winds whenever the authoritative force of the divine
injunctions to peace and union, and mutual forbearance, is vividly felt.
There should moreover be dismissed from the question those differences
that have arisen in the Church on some special points of antiquarian
obscurity. These having been in a past age absurdly lifted into
importance by an exaggerated notion of the right and duty of Christians
to stickle upon their individual opinions, even at the cost of the great
law of love, are now pretty generally felt by men of right feeling, to
be heir-looms of shame and disadvantage to whoever holds them. A very
probable return to good sense and piety is all that is needed to get rid
for ever of such disputes. If the utmost endeavors of competent and
honest men, on both sides, have not availed to put certain questions of
ancient usage beyond doubt; then it is manifest that such points do not
belong to the fundamentals of faith or practice; and therefore can never
afford ground of justifiable separation; nor should the Christian
commonalty be encouraged to suppose that the solemnities of conscience
are implicated in the decision of questions which, even the most learned
cannot in fact decide. What less than a grievous injury to right
feelings can ensue from the popular belief that the manifold evils of
religious dissension are mischiefs of small moment, compared with the
breach of some niceties of ceremonial? Shall Christianity spread in the
world, and show itself glorious, while practical absurdities like these
are persisted in? assuredly not. But there is reason to believe, even in
spite of the fixedness of some unsocial spirits, that the date of schism
is nearly expired, and that a better understanding of the great law of
Christ will ere long bring all his true followers into the same fold.
When the deductions named above have been made, the remaining
differences that exist among the pious are such only as may fairly
be attributed to the influence of the old theoretic system of
interpretation; and they are such as must presently disappear when the
rule of INDUCTIVE EXPOSITION shall be thoroughly understood and
generally practised. The hope therefore of an approaching prosperous era
in the Church depends, in great measure, upon the probability of a
cordial return to the authority of Scripture—of Scripture unshackled
by hypothesis. It is this return alone that can remove the
misunderstandings which have parted the body of Christ; and it is the
reunion of the faithful that must usher in better times.
That a torn church should be eminently prosperous, that it should be
favored as the instrument of diffusing the Gospel with triumphant
success, and on a large scale, among the nations, cannot be imagined;
for doubtless the Head of the church holds the most emphatic of his
admonitions in higher esteem than that he should easily brook the breach
and contempt of it, and put extraordinary honor upon those who seem to
love their particular opinions more than they do "his commandment."
Even without laying any great stress upon that softening of party
prejudices which has of late actually taken place, the hope of a near
termination of controversy, and of the healing of all permanent
differences among true Christians, may still rest on solid ground. An
intelligent faith in the divine origination of the Scriptures contains
necessarily a belief in their power to bring the catholic church into a
state of unity, so that division should no more be thought of. That,
during so many ages this has not been the condition of the Christian
body, is satisfactorily to be attributed to causes which are by no means
of inevitable perpetuity; but, which on the contrary, seem now to be
approaching their last stage of feeble existence. Meanwhile the Oracles
of God are visibly ascending to the zenith of their rightful power. The
necessary preparations for their instalment in the place of undisputed
authority are completed; and nothing is waited for but a movement of
general feeling, to give them such influence as shall bear down whatever
now obstructs the universal communion of the faithful.
An expectation of this sort will, of course, be spurned by those (if
there are any such) who, were they deprived of their darling sectarism,
and robbed of their sinister preferences, would scarcely care at all for
Christianity, and to whom the idea of Catholic Christianity, if they can
admit such an idea, is a cold abstraction. And it will be rejected also
by those who, though their feelings are Christian, accustom themselves
to look at the state of religion always with a secular eye, and are
indisposed to admit any suppositions not obtruded upon them by immediate
matters of fact. To all such persons the existing obstacles that stand
in the way of Church union must seem utterly insurmountable, and the
hope of an annihilation of party distinctions, altogether chimerical.
But it is not to such minds that the appeal is to be made when futurity
is in question; for such are always slaves of the past, and of the
present; and they are destined to stand by, and wonder, and cavil, while
happy revolutions are in progress; and it is only when resistance to the
course of things becomes impracticable, that they are dragged on
reluctantly, more like captives than attendants, upon the triumphant
march of truth.
This assuredly may be asserted, that, so far as human agency can operate
to bring on a better era to the church, he who despairs of it, hinders
it, to the extent of his influence; while he who expects it hastens it
so far as it may be accelerated. This difference of feeling might even
be assumed as furnishing a test of character; and it might be affirmed,
that when the question of the probable revival and spread of
Christianity is freely agitated, those who embrace the affirmative side,
are (with few exceptions) the persons whose temper of mind is the most
in harmony with the expected happy revolution, and who would, with the
greatest readiness, act their parts in the new and better economy; while
on the Contrary, those who contentedly or despondingly give a long date
to existing imperfections and corruptions, may fairly be suspected of
loving "the things that are" too well.
* * * * *
There is yet another line of argument, wholly independent of the two
that have been pursued above, in which the general spread of true
religion might be made to appear an event probably not very remote;
namely, the argument from prophecy. But besides that the subject is by
far too large and serious to be treated hastily, the time is not arrived
in which it might be discussed with the calmness it demands. Yet in
passing this subject it may be suggested to whose who, notwithstanding
that they admit the truth of Christianity, constantly deride genuine
piety whenever it comes in their way, that, though the apparent course
of events seems to indicate a gradual improvement, such as would give
time to oppugners to choose the wiser part, and to range themselves
quietly in the train of the conquering religion, the general tenor of
scriptural prediction holds out a different prospect, and gives great
reason to suppose that the final triumph of the Gospel is to be ushered
in by some sudden and vindictive visitation, which shall arrest impiety
in its full career, and deny for ever to the then impenitent the option
of making a better choice.
NOTES.
SECTION VIII.
The following anecdote is reported by Sulpitius, concerning St. Martin
of Tours. The Emperor Maximus, a man of a haughty temper, and elated by
victories over his rivals, had received the unworthy adulation of a
crowd of fawning bishops; while Martin alone maintained the apostolic
authority. For when suits were to be urged, he rather commanded than
entreated the royal compliance, and refused many solicitations to take a
place with others of his order at the imperial table, saying, that he
would not eat bread with a man who had deprived one emperor of his
throne, and another of life. But at length, when Maximus excused his
assumption of the purple by pleading the force that had been put upon
him by the legions, the use he had made of power, and the apparent
sanction of heaven in the successes with which he had been favored, and
stated also that he had never destroyed an enemy except in open fight,
Martin, overcome by reason, or by entreaties, repaired to the royal
banquet, to the great joy of the emperor. The tables were crowded by
persons of quality; among them, the brother and uncle of Maximus;
between these reclined one of Martin's presbyters; he himself occupied a
seat near the emperor. During supper, according to custom, the waiter
presented a goblet of wine to the emperor, who commanded it rather to be
offered to so holy a bishop, from whose hand he expected and desired to
receive it again. But Martin, when he had drank of the cup, handed it to
his presbyter, not deeming any one present more worthy to drink after
himself; nor would he have thought it becoming to his character had he
preferred even the emperor, or those next to him in dignity, to his own
presbyter. It is added, that Maximus and his officers took this contempt
in exceeding good part!—_Sulp. Sev. de Vita B. Martin_, cap. xx.
The same writer reports a not less characteristic incident in honor of
the holy bishop, in his dialogue concerning the miraculous powers of St.
Martin. This personage, it seems, was in the habit of frequenting the
palace, where he was always honorably entertained by the empress, who
not only hung upon his lips for instruction, but in imitation of the
penitent mentioned in the gospels, actually bathed his feet with her
tears, and wiped them with her hair; and he, who never before had
sustained the touch of woman, could not avoid her assiduities. She,
unmindful of the state and dignity and splendors of her royal rank, lay
prostrate at the feet of Martin, whence she could not be removed until
she had obtained permission, first from her husband, and then by his aid
from the bishop, to wait upon him at table as his servant, without the
assistance of any menial. The blessed man could no longer resist her
importunities; and the empress herself made the requisite preparations
of the couch, and table, and cookery (in temperate style), and water for
the hands; and, as he sat, stood aloof, and motionless, in the manner
proper to a slave; with due modesty and humility, mixing and presenting
the wine. And when the meal was ended, reverently collected the crumbs,
which she deemed of higher worth than the delicacies of a royal
banquet.—Cap. 6.
In how short a time may prodigious revolutions take place in the
sentiments of men! This monkish bishop was removed by not more than
three or four lives from the Apostle John! And this humble empress
occupied the honors which, within the memory of the existing generation,
had been sustained by the mother of Galerius! It should be added, that
the auditor of the story above related, shocked at the inconsistency of
St. Martin in thus admitting the offices of a woman so near his devoted
person, requires from the narrator an explanation; who, in reply,
reminds his friend, that the compliance of the bishop with the
solicitations of the emperor and empress was the price by which he
obtained, from the former, release and grace for the persecuted
Priscillianists. The best thing, by far, related of the bishop of Tours,
is his firmness in opposing persecution. There is great reason to
believe that, in common with several of the most noted characters of
church history, his true reputation has been immensely injured by the
ill-judging zeal of his biographer.
* * * * *
The life of St. Anthony, by the pious and respectable Athanasius, would
alone afford ample proof of the assertion, that, even in the third
century, the spirit of fanaticism, and the practices of religious
knavery, had reached a height scarcely surpassed at any later period.
* * * * *
The first Christian monks followed the Essenes in this particular also,
that they despised human science; and it was not until learning had been
driven from among secular persons, that it took refuge in monasteries.
If the monks had avoided the infection of the philosophy, "falsely so
called," which the Platonists brought into the church, and instead, had
given their leisure to the toils of biblical learning, they would not so
soon and so completely have spoiled Christianity.
Sulpitius affords abundant illustration of the topics adverted to in
this section. Perhaps, within so small a compass, the principles and
practices of the ancient monachism are nowhere else so fully brought
into view, as in his Dialogues and Epistles. He may properly be quoted
in the present instance. Postumianus, lately returned from the east,
that is to say, from Egypt, Arabia, and Palestine, describes to his
astonished brethren of a monastery in Gaul, the abstemiousness the
oriental monks, as well as their piety and marvellous exploits. (On his
outward voyage Postumianus had gone ashore at Carthage to visit the
spots dedicated to the saints; especially—ad sepulchrum Cypriani
Martyris adorare.) His first specimen of a monkish dinner, in the
oriental style, was the being invited to partake, with four others, of
half a barley cake; to which was added a handful of a certain sweet
herb, altogether deemed to be—prandium locupletissimum. Sulpitius hence
takes occasion to joke a brother, who was present, upon their own
comparative appetites; but he replies that it was extremely unkind to
urge upon _Gauls_ a manner of living proper only to angels. Hearty
eating, says he, in a Greek, is gluttony; but in a Gaul—nature.
SECTION IX.
The dictates of good sense are often curiously intermingled in the
writings of the fathers with the defence of the absurd system they
espoused. The incongruous mixture, has it not been of frequent
occurrence in every age? Cyril of Jerusalem, in the fourth of his
Catechetical Discourses, and in the section περι σωματος, with great
vigor and propriety urges the consideration referred to above, while
reprehending those, in his time, who affected to despise and maltreat
the body. "Is not the body," says he, "the excellent workmanship of
God?" and he reminds the ascetic that it is the soul, not the body, that
sins. He goes on, in a lively manner, to hold forth the mean of wisdom
between opposite extremes; and while he much commends the monkish
celibacy, nevertheless bestows upon matrimony its due praise. The
fathers, by appropriating the words _continence_, _chastity_,
_temperance_, _virtue_, to the monastic life, robbed the Christian
community of that standard of morals which belongs to all. Our Lord and
his apostles enjoined purity, and continence, and temperance, and
heavenly-mindedness, upon Christians universally, married and unmarried,
engaged or not engaged, in the affairs of common life. But the monks
shuddered to talk of purity and celibacy as if separable. What part then
could the married claim in the practical portions of Scripture? These
holy precepts were the property of the _elect of Christ_, that is, of
the monks. Such are the consequences of extravagance in religion!
The story of Symeon Stylites, told by Theodoret, has been often
repented. The well-attested exploits of the fakirs of India render this,
and many similar accounts related by the same writer, by Gregory Nyssen,
Sozomen, &c., perfectly credible in all but a few of the particulars;
and in these it is evident that the writers were imposed upon. The fasts
professed to have been undergone by Symeon, by Anthony, and by others of
tho same class, most certainly surpass the powers of human nature; and
must be held either to convict those monks and their accomplices of
fraud, or their biographers of falsehood.
* * * * *
Ignatius must be held to have set an example of unhappy consequence to
the church. His ardor for martyrdom, though unquestionably connected
with genuine and exalted piety, was altogether unwarranted by apostolic
precept or example, and stands in the strongest contrast imaginable with
the manner of Paul, when placed in similar circumstances, whose calm,
manly, and spirited defence of his life, liberty, and civic immunities,
on every occasion, imparts the highest possible argumentative value to
his sufferings in the cause of Christianity. Let it be imagined that
Ignatius had acquitted himself in the same spirit; had pleaded with
Trajan for his life, on the grounds of universal justice, and Roman law;
had established his innocence of any crime known to the law; and had
then professed distinctly the reasons of his Christian profession; and
at the same time calmly declared his determination to die rather than
deny his convictions. How precious a document would have been the
narrative of such a martyrdom! There can be no doubt that many such
martyrdoms actually took place; but they were less to the taste of the
church historians of the third and fourth centuries than those that were
made conspicuous by an ostentation of eagerness to die. The First
Epistle of Peter holds forth the principle and temper of Christian
submission under persecution with a dignity, calmness, pathos, good
sense, and a perfect freedom from fanatical excitement, which, if no
other document of our faith were extant, would fully carry the proof of
the truth of Christianity.
* * * * *
No serious consideration need be given to those miraculous narratives
which exist only in biographies composed in a turgid style of laudatory
exaggeration, and not published, or not fairly and fully published, till
long after the deaths of the operator, and of the witnesses. An instance
precisely in point is the life of Gregory of Neocæsarea, by Gregory
Nyssen: another of like kind has also been frequently quoted—the life of
St. Martin, by Sulpitius Severus: the life of Cyprian, by his Deacon
Pontius, might be included; as well as that of St. Anthony, by
Athanasius. In passing, it may be observed that a perusal of the
last-mentioned tract, which fills only same fifty pages, would convey a
more exact and vivid idea of the state and style of religion in the
fourth century, than is to be obtained by reading volumes of modern
compilations of church history. At once the piety and the strong sense
of the writer, and the extraordinary character of the narrative, give it
a peculiar claim to attention. Let the intelligent reader of this
curious document take the occasion to estimate the value and amount of
the information that is to be received from modern writers—even the best
of them, such as Mosheim and Milner, for example, of whom the first
gives the mere husk of church history, and the other only some separated
particles of pure farina. But can we in either of these methods obtain
the solid and safe instruction which a true knowledge of human character
and conduct should convey? It may be very edifying to read page after
page of picked sentiments of piety; but do these culled portions, which
actually belie the mass whence they are taken, communicate what an
intelligent reader of history looks for—namely, a real picture and image
of mankind in past ages? Certainly not. If nothing be wanted but
pleasing expressions of Christian feeling, there can no need to make a
painful search for them in the bulky tomes of the Greek and Latin
fathers. Nevertheless, with all its defects, Milner's Church History is
one of the best that has been compiled. A modern reader, led astray by
the malign falsifications of Gibbon, and very partially informed of
facts by church historians, has no means of correctly estimating the
state of Christianity in remote times; or none but that of examining for
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Apparent typographical errors have been corrected.