minds are known by their works,—the human quite as distinctly as the
Divine: and if “the invisible things of God” “are clearly seen” “by the
things that are made,” and on the material structures of the universe
the moral attributes of his nature may be discerned,—with much greater
certainty do the secret qualities of a man’s soul,—his honesty or
cunning, his truthfulness or fraud,—impress themselves on his speech and
writings. To a clear eye his moral nature will unerringly betray itself,
even in a disquisition; more, in a fiction; more still, in a history;
and most of all, in a biography of a personal companion and teacher,
drawing forth in turns his friendship and grief, his pity and terror,
his love and doubt and trust, his feelings to country, to duty, to God,
to heaven. Accordingly in these Gospels, and in the Journal of travels
and Collection of letters, which carry out and illustrate the
development of a new religion, I find myself in the presence of honest
and earnest men, who are plainly strangers to fiction and philosophy,
and lead me through realities fairer and diviner than either. They take
me to actual places, and tell the events of a known and definite time.
They conduct me through villages, and streets, and markets; to
frequented resorts of worship, and hostile halls of justice, and the
tribunals of Roman rulers, and the theatres of Asiatic cities, and the
concourse of Mars’ hill at Athens: so that there is no denying their
appeal, these things were “not done in a corner.”[49] Yet their frank
delineation of public life is less impressive, than their true and
tender touches of private history. Following in the steps of the world’s
domestic prophet, they entered, evening and morning, the homes of
men,—especially of men in watching and in grief, the wasted in body or
the sick in soul: and the unconsciousness with which the most genuine
traits of nature gleam through the narrative, the infantile simplicity
with which every one’s emotions, of sorrow, of repentance, of affection,
give themselves to utterance, indicate that, with One who bare the key
of hearts, the writers had been into the deep places of our humanity.
The infants in his arms look up in the face of Jesus as we read; the
Pharisee mutters in our ear his sceptic discontent at that loving “woman
who was a sinner” kneeling at the Teacher’s feet; and the voice of the
bereaved sisters of Lazarus trembles upon the page.
But, above all, these writings introduce me to a Being so unimaginable,
except by the great Inventor of beauty and Architect of nature himself,
that I embrace him at once, as having all the reality of man and the
divinest inspiration of God. Gentle and unconstrained as he is, ever
standing, even on the brink of the most stupendous miracles, in the
easiest attitudes of our humanity, so that we are drawn to him as to one
of like nature, we yet cannot enter his presence without feeling our
souls transformed. Their greatness, first recognized by him, becomes
manifest to ourselves: the death of conscience is broken by his tones;
the sense of accountability takes life within the deep; new thoughts of
duty, shed from his lips, shame us for the past, and kindle us for the
future with hope and faith unknown before. His promise[50] fulfils
itself, whilst he utters it; and whenever we truly love him, God comes,
and “makes his abode with” us. He has this peculiarity: that he plunges
us into the feeling, that God acts not _there_, but _here_; not _was
once_, but _is now_; dwells, not _without us_, like a dreadful sentinel,
but _within us_ as a heavenly spirit, befriending us in weakness, and
bracing us for conflict. The inspiration of Christ is not any solitary,
barren, incommunicable prodigy; but diffusive, creative, vivifying as
the energy of God:—not gathered up and concentrated in himself, as an
object of distant wonder; but reproducing itself, though in fainter
forms, in the faithful hearts to which it spreads. While in him it had
no human origin, but was spontaneous and primitive, flowing directly
from the perception and affinity of God, it enters our souls as a gift
from his nearer spirit, making us one with him, as he is one with the
Eternal Father. Children of God indeed we all are: nor is there any mind
without his image: but in this Man of Sorrows the divine lineaments are
so distinct, the filial resemblance to the Parent-spirit is so full of
grace and truth, that in its presence all other similitude fades away,
and we behold his “glory as of the _only_ begotten of the Father.” It is
the very spirit of Deity visible on the scale of humanity. The colours
of his mind, projected on the surface of Infinitude, form there the
all-perfect God. The mere fact of his consciousness of the alliance with
the Creator, and his tranquil announcement of it, without the slightest
inflation, and amid the exercise of the meekest sympathies, appears to
me all-persuasive. From whom else could we hear such claims without
disgust? In a moment they would turn respect into aversion, and we
should pity them as insanity, or resent them as impiety. But to him they
seem only level and natural; we hear them with assent and awe, prepared
by such a transcendent veneration as only a being truly God-like could
excite. This is one of those statements which refutes or proves itself.
Whoever, calmly affirming himself the Son and express similitude of God,
can thereby draw to him, instead of driving from him, the affections of
the wise and good, proclaims a thing self-evident; requiring, however,
to be stated, in order to be tested.
Of such _self-evidence_ as this, the gospels appear to me to be full.
Whenever men shall learn to prefer a religious to a theological
appreciation of Christ, and esteem his mind greater than his rank, much
more of this kind of internal proof will present itself. It has the
advantage of requiring no impracticable learning, and being open, on
internal study of the books, to all men of pure mind and genuine heart;
it is moral, not literary; addressing itself to the intuitions of
conscience, not to the critical faculties. It makes us disciples, on the
same principles with the first followers of Christ, who troubled
themselves about no books, and forged no chains of scholastic logic to
tie them to the faith; but watched the Prophet, beheld his deeds of
power, felt his heavenly spirit, heard his word, found it glad tidings,
and believed. In short, it is identical with the evidence to which our
Lord was so fond of appealing when he said, “No man can come to me,
except the Father, which hath sent me, draw him;”[51] “every one that is
of the truth heareth my voice;”[52] “if I do not the works of my Father,
believe me not;”[53] “my sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they
follow me;”[54] “if any man will do His will, he shall know of the
doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.”[55] This
spiritual attraction to Christ, arising out of mere contemplation and
study of the interior of his life, is enough to bring us reverently to
his feet,—to accept him as the divinely-sent image of Deity, and the
appointed representative of God. If this be not discipleship, allow me
to ask, “_What is it?_”
I consider, then, _this internal or self-evidence_ of the New Testament,
as incomparably the most powerful that can be adduced; as securing for
Christianity an eternal seat in human nature, so as to throw ridicule on
the idea of its subversion; and as the only evidence suitable, from its
universality, to a religion intended for the majority of men, rather
than for an oligarchy of literati.
But though the divine perfection and authority of Christ may thus be
made manifest to our moral and spiritual nature, what is called the
plenary inspiration of the whole Bible is by no means a thing equally
self-evident. By the term _plenary inspiration_ is denoted the
doctrine,—That every idea which a just interpretation may discover in
the Scriptures, is infallibly true, and that even every word employed in
its expression is dictated by the unerring spirit of God; so that every
statement, from the beginning of Genesis to the end of Revelations, must
be implicitly received, “as though from the lips of the Almighty
himself.” We are first assured that whoever denies this, shall have his
name cancelled from the Book of life; and then we are called upon to
come forward, and say plainly whether we believe it. The invitation
sounds terrible enough. Nevertheless, having a faith in God, which takes
the awe out of Church thunders, I say distinctly, this doctrine we do
not believe; and ere I have done, I hope to show that no man who can
weigh evidence, ought to believe it.
It is clear that, by no interior marks, can a book prove this sort of
inspiration to belong to itself. Accordingly, the advocates for it are
obliged to quit the intrinsic evidence, of which I have hitherto spoken,
and to seek external and foreign testimony on behalf of the Biblical
writings, and of the New Testament in the first instance. The course of
the reasoning is thus adverted to by Bishop Marsh: “The arguments which
are used,” he says, “for divine inspiration, are all founded on the
previous supposition that the Bible is _true_; for we appeal to the
contents of the Bible in proof of inspiration. Consequently, these
arguments can have no force till the authenticity and credibility of the
Bible have been already established,”[56] “Suppose,” observes the same
author, “that a professor of Divinity begins his course of lectures with
the doctrine of divine inspiration; this doctrine, however true in
itself, or however certain the arguments by which it may be established,
cannot possibly, in that stage of his enquiry, be proved to the
satisfaction of his audience; because he has not yet established other
truths, from which this must be deduced. For whether he appeals to the
promises of Christ to his Apostles, or to the declarations of the
Apostles themselves, he must take for granted that these promises and
declarations were really made; _i.e._, he must take for granted the
authenticity of the writings in which these promises and declarations
are recorded. But how is it possible that conviction should be the
consequence of postulating, instead of proving, a fact of such
importance?” “If (as is too often the case in theological works) we
undertake to prove a proposition by the aid of another which is
hereafter to be proved, the inevitable consequence is, that the
proposition in question becomes a link in the chain by which we
establish that very proposition, which at first was taken for granted.
Thus we prove premises from inferences, as well as inferences from
premises; or, in other words, we prove—nothing.”[57]
In perfect consistency with these remarks, was the lucid exposition of
the true method of theological enquiry, which I had the privilege of
hearing in Christ Church, on Wednesday last: to every word of which
(limiting it, however, to the external evidences of Christianity) I
entirely assent. It was then stated that we must
(1st.) Ascertain that the books under examination are self-consistent,
and that they contain nothing at variance with the character of God
impressed upon his works.
(2ndly.) Enquire whether the writings are really the productions of the
authors whose names they bear; or, in other words, determine their
_authenticity_.
(3dly.) Whether the writers were in circumstances to know what they
relate, and were persons of character and veracity.
(4thly.) Whether we have the works in an unmutilated state, and as they
came from the pens of the authors.
If all these researches should have an issue favourable to the writings,
the Lecturer conceives, for reasons which I think very inconclusive,
that the following inferences may be drawn:—
(1.) That the whole contents of the Bible have divine authority, because
they truly report the fulfilment of prophecy, and the performance of
miracles; and all the doctrines and lessons of a person who works
miracles must have divine authority.
(2.) That the writers were so inspired, that their writings are, in all
respects, infallibly correct; for, among the facts narrated (and which
we admit to be true), is this one; that the Holy Ghost was promised to
the Apostles, and actually descended on the disciples assembled on the
day of Pentecost, and was so extensively communicated through them to
the early church, that no New Testament writer could be without it. So
that these books are as strictly _the Word of God, as if all their
statements proceeded at once and immediately from the lips of the
Almighty himself_.
As “the Word of God” is a beautiful Scriptural phrase, which I must
refuse to give up to this most unscriptural idea, I shall replace it,
when I wish to speak of verbal inspiration, by the more appropriate
expression, the _Words_ of God. I discern in the Bible _the Word of
God_, but by no means the _Words of God_.
For the sake of brevity, I may be allowed to compress this elaborate
system of external evidence into two successive divisions; and, taking
up the first Gospel as an example, I should say, we have to enquire
respecting it,
(1.) Whether we have the words of St. Matthew. And if this be determined
in the affirmative,
(2.) Whether we have the words of God.
(1.) Our first attempt then must be, to establish the origin of these
books from Apostles or Apostolic men,—which is the sole ground for
affirming their infallibility. The method by which their origin must be
ascertained is admitted to be similar to that which would be employed in
the case of any work not sacred. It is an enquiry altogether historical
or antiquarian;—a process of literary identification. We must collect,
and dispose along an ascending chronological line, the various writers
who have quoted and mentioned the New Testament writings; call each, in
turn, into the court of criticism, to speak to the identity of the work
he cites with that which we possess; and if the series of witnesses be
complete,—if, in following into antiquity the steps of their
attestation, we find ourselves in contact with the Apostolic age, and
near the seats of Apostolic labours, we justly conclude that we have the
genuine and original productions. By the help of this foreign testimony,
almost all the books of the New Testament may be traced perhaps to the
middle of the second century; the remaining fifty or sixty years to the
death of St. John, and eighty or ninety to that of the Apostle of the
Gentiles, must be filled up by arguments showing, that this chasm is too
small for the possibilities of forgery and mistake to take effect. The
results of this process are not fit matter for detailed criticism here;
I will simply state, in general, that they yield a preponderating
probability in favour of the general reception, in the second age of the
church, of all the New Testament writings, under the names of their
reputed authors; and that it would be unreasonable to expect more
precise external evidence of authenticity than this. It is indeed much
easier to prove in this way the origin, from the founders of our
religion, of the books which we receive, than to disprove a like
authority with respect to others which we disown, or whose memory (for
many of them are lost) we dishonour. The equal antiquity of some of
these repudiated works, it is scarcely possible to deny; their inferior
authority we are obliged either to conclude from their intrinsic
character, (a reason, often abundantly satisfactory,) or to assume on
the word of a set of ecclesiastical writers, not generally distinguished
for sound judgment or tranquil passions, nor always trustworthy, even in
matters of fact; and who notoriously formed their estimate of Christian
books, less from enquiry into their genuineness, than from the supposed
orthodoxy of their contents. The Christian Fathers, on whose statement
the whole case rests, were undoubtedly guilty of that which, at all
events, with far less justice, is charged on Unitarian authors: they
threw away many a writing as spurious, because they did not like its
doctrines; testing the work by their own belief, instead of their own
belief by the work. The zone of proof which encircles the books within
the canon, and separates them from the apocryphal tribe without, appears
to me less sacred, and more faint, than it is common for theologians to
allow. And even when the selection has been made, and we have agreed to
accept the canon as it is, it is impossible, until it is shown that one
uniform inspiration produced the whole, to acknowledge the equal value
of every part. It is usual to urge the “authenticity” upon us as a kind
of technical quantity which we must take or reject, an indivisible
theological unit admitting of no variation, but that of positive or
negative. But it would surely be extraordinary, if all the twenty-seven
books of the New Testament should have precisely the same amount of
historical attestation in their favour; and it is undeniable that they
have not. The probabilities are much stronger in behalf of some books
than in that of others, though preponderant in all. There is a gradation
of evidence, arranging the writings along at least five separate steps
in the descent of proof; in effecting this division, however, let it be
clearly understood, that I refer solely to the literary question of
personal authorship, not to that of religious worth and authority; and
that, for the moment, I take into account the internal as well as
external considerations bearing upon this single point.
1. The letters of St. Paul (excepting Hebrews) occupy the highest
station of evidence.
2. The remaining letters, excepting 2nd Peter and Hebrews again, I
should place next.
3. The Gospel of St. John is more certainly authentic than the other
three; which, however, would follow in the
4th place with the book of Acts. And the list will be closed by
5. The Apocalypse, 2 Peter, and the Epistle to the Hebrews.
This arrangement might be justified, if it were necessary, in detail.
But my sole purpose in stating it now, is to convey a distinct idea of
the kind of graduated scale of proof which, from the very nature of the
enquiry, must be applied to the authenticity of the Christian records;
and to give force to the protest, which truth compels me to enter
against the indiscriminate coercion of assent attempted by theologians
in this argument. With this qualification then, we approve the general
decision of the Protestant Churches, and adopt as authentic the canon as
it stands. “Unitarians,” we repeat, “have neither canon nor version of
their own.”
“What! not the Improved Version?” I shall be asked:—that favourite
achievement of your most renowned Unitarian champions;—published by a
Unitarian society;—circulated among your laity in three simultaneous
editions; when assailed successively by Dr. Nares and Archbishop Magee,
repeatedly defended by your ablest critics in your own Journals;
containing moreover all the standard heresies of your sect; using all
your received methods of getting rid of troublesome texts; and
especially relieving you of the doctrine of the miraculous conception by
the liberal application of Jehoiakim’s pen-knife to the initial chapters
of Matthew and Luke?[58] “The shades of Belsham, Lindsey, Jebb,
Priestley, Wakefield, &c., might well be astonished to hear their
learned labours so contemptuously spoken of by” the “modern disciples of
their school.”[59]
Now it so happens, that, excepting two, all these good men were dead
before the commencement of that work. Of the two survivors, Mr. Lindsey
was disabled, by the infirmities of age, from any participation in it,
and scarcely lived to see it published.[60] The remaining divine, Mr.
Belsham, was the real editor of this translation; and alone, among
Unitarians, must have the whole honour or dishonour of the work. The
funds for the publication were doubtless furnished by a society, whose
members hoped thus to present the theologian with a valuable
contribution to Biblical literature; but had neither power nor wish to
bind themselves or others to an approval of its criticisms, or a
maintenance of its interpretations. That “all the ministers belonging to
this Society” were enrolled in the Committee for preparing the Work, is
itself a proof of the small proportion which the Association bore to the
whole body of Unitarians; and is well known to have been an inoperative
form, which had no practical effect in dividing the chief Editor’s
responsibility. The Version adopts, as a basis, the “Attempt towards
revising our English Translation of the Greek Scriptures,” by Archbishop
Newcome, Primate of Ireland; from which, including the smallest verbal
variations, there are not, on an average, more than two deviations in a
page; and it is a principle with the Editors, that these departures
shall be noticed in the margin; so that any one, having the Improved
Version in his hand, has the Archbishop’s Revision also before him. How
far this translation has authority with Unitarians, may perhaps be
judged of from one fact. The clergymen who are holding up this work to
the pious horror of their hearers are repeating charges against it, long
ago preferred by Archbishop Magee; who, in his time, reproduced them
from Dr. Nares, the Regius Professor of modern history in the University
of Oxford; who, again, borrowed no small part of his materials from a
Review of the Version, in the Monthly Repository for 1809, by Dr.
Carpenter, a distinguished Unitarian Divine. I do not mean that there
was nothing but reproduction of the original Reviewer’s materials
throughout all these steps; if it were so, I should be ashamed to call
that venerable man my friend: fresh objections were added at every
stage; and, by Archbishop Magee, a mass of abuse the most coarse, and
misrepresentation the most black; repeated still by unsuspecting and
unlearned admirers, who find it easier to acquire from him his aptitudes
for calumny than his acuteness in criticism. But the principal
objections to the Improved Version were certainly anticipated by Dr.
Carpenter, who furnished a list of unacknowledged deviations from
Newcome’s revision, and from Griesbach’s and the Received Texts;—who
censured the whole system of departure from that text, which seemed to
be adopted as a standard; the license allowed to conjectural emendation;
the preference of Newcome’s to the authorized version as a basis; the
introduction of any doctrinal notes; and, what is especially to our
present purpose, who vindicated, from the suspicion of spuriousness, the
initial chapters of St. Luke’s Gospel, and consented to part with those
of St. Matthew’s, only because at variance with the authority of the
third Evangelist. From the armoury, therefore, of our own church, are
stolen the very weapons, wherewith now, amid taunts of sacerdotal
derision, we are to be driven as intruders from the fair fields of
learning. For myself, when the learned labours of Dissenters are
ridiculed, and the “defective scholarship” of heretics affirmed, by the
privileged clergy of the established church, I always think of the
Universities,—those venerable seats of instruction, from which
Nonconformists must be excluded. The precious food of knowledge is first
locked up; the key is hung beyond our reach; and then the starvelings
must be laughed at, when they sink and fall. But so is it always with
unjust power; the habit of injury begets the propensity to scorn.[61]