fanatical "spiritualist" employs expressions, and, what is more, uses
methods, which imply it) than that, whether we have a distinct
religious faculty or whether it be the result of the action of many
faculties, the functions of our "spiritual" nature are performed
by the instrumentality, and involve the intervention, of the very
same much-abused faculties which enable us to perform any other
function. It is one and the same indivisible mind which is the subject
of religious thought and emotion, and of any other thought and
emotion. Religious truth, like any other truth, is embraced by the
understanding--as indeed it would be a queer kind of truth that is
not is stated in propositions, yields inferences, is adorned by
eloquence is illustrated by the imagination, and is thus, as well
from its intrinsic claims, rendered powerful over the emotions, the
affections, and the will. In brief, when the soul apprehends, reasons,
remembers, rejoices, hopes, fears, spiritually, it surely does not
perform these functions by totally different faculties from these
by which similar things are done on other occasions. All experience
and consciousness are against the supposition. In religion, men's
minds are employed on more sublime and elevated themes indeed, but
the operations themselves are essentially of the same nature as in
other cases. Hence we see the dependence of the true development of
religion on the just and harmonious action of all our faculties.
They march together; and it is the glorious prerogative of true
religion that it makes them do so; that all the elements of our
nature, being indissolubly connected, and perpetually acting and
reacting on one another, should aid one another and attain a more
just conjoint action. If there be acceptable faith, it presupposes
belief of the truth, as well as love of it in the heart; if there
be holy habit, it implies just knowledge of duty; if there be
spiritual emotion awakened, it will still be in accordance with
the laws which ordinarily produce it; that is, because that which
should produce it is perceived by the senses or the intellect, is
recalled by the memory, is vivified by the imagination. If faith
and hope and love often kindle into activity, and hallow these
instruments by which and through which they act, it is not the less
true, that, apart from these,--as constituting the same indivisible
mind--faith and hope and love cannot exist: and not only so; but
when faith is languid, and hope faint, and love expiring, these
faculties themselves shall often in their turn initiate the process
which shall revive them all; some outward object, some incident of
life, some "magic word," some glorious image, some stalwart truth,
suddenly and energetically stated, shall, through the medium of the
senses, the imagination, or the intellect, set the soul once more
in a blaze, and revive the emotions which it is at other times only
their office to express. A sanctified intellect, a hallowed
imagination, devout affections, have a reciprocal tendency to
stimulate each other. In whatever faculty of our nature the stimulus
may be felt,--in the intellect or the imagination,--it is thence
propagated through the mysterious net-work of the soul to the emotions,
the affections, the conscience, the will: or, conversely, these last
may commence the movement and propagate it in reverse order. Each
may become in turn a centre of influence; but so indivisible is the
soul and mind of man, so indissolubly bound together the elements
which constitute them, that the influence once commenced never stops
where it began, but acts upon them all. The ripple, as that of a
stone dropped into still water, no matter where, may be fainter and
fainter the farther from the spot where the commotion began, but it
will stop only with the bank. Ordinarily many functions of the mind
are involved in each, and sometimes all in one.
____
July 24. Yesterday, a somewhat interesting conversation took place
between Harrington and Edward Robinson, a youth at college, a friend
of George Fellowes's family. He is a devout admirer of Strauss, and
thinks that writer has completely destroyed the historical character
of the Gospels. I was, as usual, struck with the candor and logical
consistency with which our sceptic was disposed to regard the subject.
"You have Lingard and Macaulay here, I see," said young Robinson. "I
need hardly ask, I think, which you find the most pleasant reading?"
"You need not, indeed," cried Harrington. "Mr. Macaulay is so superior
to the Roman Catholic historian (though his merits are great too) in
genius, in consequence, in variety and amplitude of knowledge, in
imagination, in style, that there is no comparison between them."
"And do you think Mr. Macaulay as accurate as he is full of genius
and eloquence?"
"If he be not," said Harrington, laughing, "I am afraid there are
very few of us deeply versed enough in history to detect his
delinquencies, or even to say whether they have been committed. There
may be, for aught I know, some cases (of infinite importance of
course) in which he has represented an event as having taken place
on the 20th of Dec. 1693; whereas it took place on the 3d Jan. 1694;
or he may have said that Sir Thomas Nobody was the son of another
Sir Thomas Nobody, whereas two or three antiquarians can
incontestably prove that he was the son of Sir John Nobody, and nephew
of the above. To me, I confess, he appears distinguished scarcely more
by the splendor of his imagination than by the opulence of his knowledge,
and the imperial command which he possesses over it. But, in truth,
the accuracy or otherwise of history, when it is at all remote, is a
matter in which I feel less interest than I once did. I read, indeed,
Mr. Macaulay with perpetual renewal of wonder and delight. But though
I believe that his vivid pictures are the result, of a faithful use of
his materials, yet, if I must confess the full extent of my scepticism,
his work, and every other work which involves a reference to events which
transpired only a century or two ago, is poisoned as history by the
suspicion that to ascertain the truth is impossible. I know it must
be so, if the principles of your favorite Strauss are to be received;
and yet it seems so absurd, that I am sometimes inclined, on that account
alone, to laugh at Strauss's criticisms, just as David Hume did at his
own speculative doubts when he got into society and sat down to
backgammon with a friend. At other times, as I say, the whole field
of historic investigation seems more or less the territory of scepticism."
"I know not," said the other, "how you can justify any such general
scepticism from any thing that Strauss has written."
"Do you not? and yet I think it is a perfectly legitimate inference.
Does not Strauss argue that certain discrepancies are to be observed,
certain apparent contradictions and inconsistencies detected, in the
New Testament narratives; and that therefore we are to reckon, if not
the whole, yet by far the larger part, as utterly fabulous or doubtful,
mythic or legendary? Now, I cannot but feel, on the other hand, that
these narratives are as strikingly marked by all the usual indications
of historic truthfulness as any historic writings in the world. The
artlessness, simplicity, and speciality of the narrative,--a certain
inimitable tone and air of reality, earnestness, and candor,--the
general harmony of these so-called sacred writers with themselves and
with profane authors (quite as general, to say the least, as usually
distinguishes other narratives by different hands),--above all, the
long-concealed, and yet most numerous 'coincidences' which lie deep
beneath the surface and which only a very industrious mind brings to
light; coincidences which, if ingenuity had been subtle enough to
fabricate, that same ingenuity would have been too sagacious to conceal
so deep, and which are too numerous and striking (one would imagine)
to be the effect of accident;--all these things, I say, would seem
to argue (if any thing can) the integrity of the narrative. Yet all
these things must necessarily, of course, go for nothing, on Strauss's
hypothesis. There are, you say, certain discrepancies, and from them
you proceed to conclude that the narrative is uncertain, and unworthy
of credit; that, if there be a residuum of truth at all, no man can
know with any certainty what or how much it is. We must there-fore
leave the whole problematical. Now the question comes, whether we must
not in consistency apply the same principle further; and, if so, whether
we can find in any history whatever stronger marks of credibility;
whether any was ever submitted to an examination more severe, or so
severe; whether any can boast of a larger number of minds, of the
first order, giving their assent to it."
"Let me stop you there," said the other; "you must consider that
those minds were prejudiced in favor of the conclusion. They were
inclined to believe the supernatural wonders which these pretended
historians retail."
"How differently men may argue with the same premises! I was about to
mention the suspicion attaching to miraculous narratives, as attesting
(I still think so, notwithstanding your observation) that stress and
pressure of supposed historic credibility under which so many powerful
minds--minds many of them of the first order--have felt themselves
compelled to receive these histories as true, in spite of such obstacles.
Surely, you do not think that a miracle is in our age, or has been for
many ages, an antecedent ground of credibility; or that if a history
does not contain enough of them, as this assuredly does, it is certain
to be believed. No; do not you with Strauss contend that a miracle is
not to be believed at all, because it contradicts uniform experience?
And yet thousands of powerful minds have believed the truth of these
historic records against all this uniform experience! Their prejudices
against it must surely have been stronger than those for it.--But to
resume the statement of my difficulties. I say the question returns
whether there is any history in the world which either presents in
inexplicable marks of historic credibility, or in which as numerous
and equally inexplicable discrepancies cannot be discovered. If there
be none, then how far shall we adopt and carry out the principles
of Strauss? for if we carry them out with rigid equity, the whole
field of history is abandoned to scepticism: it is henceforth the
domain of doubt and contention; as, in truth, a very large part of
it in Germany has already become, in virtue of these very principles.
Much of profane history is abandoned, as well as the sacred; and Homer
becomes as much a shadow as Christ."
"You seem," said Robinson, "to be almost in the condition to entertain
Dr. Whately's ingenious 'Historic Doubts' touching the existence of
Napoleon Bonaparte!" *
____
* Are the ingenious "Historic Certainties," by "Aristar hus Newlight,"
from the same admirable mint?--ED.
____
"I believe that it is simply our proximity to the events which
renders it difficult to entertain them. If the injuries of time and
the caprice of fortune should in the remote future leave as large gaps
in the evidence, and as large scope for ingenious plausibilities, as
in relation to the remote past, I believe multitudes would find no
difficulty in entertaining those 'doubts.' They seem to me perfectly
well argued, and absolutely conclusive on the historic canons on
which Strauss's work is constructed,--namely, that if you find what
seem discrepancies and improbabilities in a reputed history, the mass
of that historic texture in which they are found may be regarded as
mythical or fabulous, doubtful or false. If you say the principles of
Strauss are false, that is another matter. I shall not think it worth
while to contest their truth or their falsehood with you. But if you
adhere to them, I will take the liberty of showing you that you do not
hold them consistently, if you think any remote history is to be
regarded as absolutely placed beyond doubt."
"Well, if you will be grave," said Robinson, "though, upon my word.
I thought you in jest,--is it possible that you do not see that there
is a vast difference between rejecting, on the same ground of
discrepancies, the credibility of the narratives of the Gospel, and
that of any common history?"
"I must honestly confess, then, that I do not, if the discrepancies,
as Strauss alleges, and not something else, is to be assigned as the
cause of their rejection. If indeed, like some criminals under despotic
governments, they are apprehended and convicted on a certain charge,
but really hanged for an entirely different reason, I can understand
that there may be policy in the proceeding; but I do not comprehend
its argumentative honesty. Be pleased, therefore, (that I may form
some conclusion,) to tell me what are those circumstances which so
wonderfully discriminate the discrepancies in the New Testament
histories from those in other histories, as that the inevitable
consequence of finding a certain amount of discrepancies in the former
leads to the rejection of the entire, or nearly entire, documents
in which they are found, while their presence in other histories even
to a far greater extent shall not authorize their rejection at all,
or the rejection only of the parts in which the discrepancies are found.
And yet I think I can guess."
"Well, what do you guess?"
"That you think that the miraculous nature of the events which form
a portion of the New Testament history makes a great difference in
the case."
"And do not you?"
"I cannot say I do: for though it is doubtless Strauss's principal
object to get rid of these miracles, it is not as miracles, but as
history, that his canons of historic criticism are applied to them.
It is as history that he attacks the books in which they are
contained. His weapons are directed against the miracles, indeed;
but it is only by piercing the history, with which alone the supposed
discrepancies had ally thing to do."
"But I cannot conceive that the historic discrepancies occurring in
connection with such topics must not have more weight attached to
them than if they occurred in any other history."
"This is because you have already resolved that miracles are
impossible on totally different grounds. But you may see the fallacy
in a moment. Talk with a man who does not believe miracles a priori
impossible, and that, though of course improbable (otherwise they
would be none, I suppose), the authentication of a divine revelation
is a sufficient reason for their being wrought, and he evades your
argument. You are then compelled, you see, to throw yourself exclusively
upon the alleged historic discrepancies; they become your sole weapon;
and if it pierces the New Testament history, I want to know whether
it does not equally pierce all other remote history too? In truth, if,
as you and Mr. Fellowes agree,--I only doubt,--a miracle is impossible,
nothing can (as I think) be more strange, than that, instead of reposing
in that simple fact, which you say is demonstrable, you should fly to
historic proofs."
"And do you not think that miracles are impossible and absurd?"
"I think nothing, because, as I told Fellowes the other day, I am
half inclined to doubt whether I doubt whether a miracle is possible
or not, like a genuine sceptic as I am. And this doubt, you see,
even of a doubt, makes me cautious. But to resume. If that principle
be sound, it seems much more natural to adhere to it than to attack
the Gospels as history. Strauss, however, has thought otherwise; and
while he has left this main dictum unproved,--nay, has not even
attempted a proof of it,--he has endeavored to shake the historic
character of these records, treating them like any other records. I
say, therefore, that to adduce the circumstance that the narrative is
miraculous, is nothing to the purpose, until the impossibility of
miracles is proved; and then, when this is proved, it is unnecessary
to adduce the discrepancies. If on the other hand, a man has no
difficulty (as the Christian, for example) in believing miracles to
be possible, and that they have really occurred, Strauss's argument,
as I have said, is evaded; and the seeming discrepancies can do no
more against the credibility of the New Testament history, than equal
discrepancies can prove against any other document. I will, if possible,
make my meaning plain by yet another example. Let us suppose some Walter
Scott had compiled some purely fictitious history, professedly laid in
the Middle Ages (and surely even miraculous occurrences cannot be more
unreal than these products of sheer imagination); and suppose some
critic had engaged to prove it fiction from internal evidence supplied
by contradictions and discrepancies, and so on, would you not think it
strange if he were to enforce that argument by saying, 'And besides
all this, what is more suspicious is, that they occur in a work
of imagination!' Would you not say, 'Learned sir, we humbly thought
this was the point you were engaged in making out? Is it not to assume
the very point in debate? And if it be true, would it not be better
to stop there at once, instead of taking us so circuitous a road to
the same result, which we perceive you had already reached beforehand?
Are you not a little like that worthy Mayor who told Henri Quatre
that he had nineteen good reasons for omitting to fire a salute on
his Majesty's arrival; the first of which was, that he had no artillery;
whereupon his Majesty graciously told him that he might spare the
remaining eighteen?' So I should say in the supposed case.--To return,
then: you must, if you would consider the validity of Strauss's argument,
lay aside the miraculous objection, which must be decided on quite
different grounds, and which, in fact, if valid, settles the
controversy without his critical aid. All who read Strauss's book
either believe that miracles are impossible, or not; the former need
not his criticisms,--they have already arrived at the result by a
shorter road; the latter can only reject the history by supposing the
discrepancies in it, as history, justify them. I ask you, then,
supposing you one who, like the Christian, believes miracles possible,
whether these historic discrepancies would justify you in saying that
the New Testament records, considered simply as history, no longer
deserve credit, and that you are left in absolute ignorance how much
of them, or whether any part, is to be received,--ay or no?"
"Well, then, I should say that Strauss has shown that the history, as
history, is to be rejected."
"Very well; only then do not be surprised that, in virtue of such
conclusions, I doubt whether you ought not to push the principle a
little further, and contend that, as there are no writings in the
world which to bear more marks of historic sincerity and
trustworthiness, and certainly none of any magnitude or variety
in which far greater discrepancies are not to be founds, it is
doubtful whether we can receive any thing as absolutely veritable
history; and that the Book of Genesis, and Gospel of Luke, and
History of Lingard, and History of Hume, are alike covered with a
mist of sceptical obscurity."
"But really, Mr. Harrington, this is absurd and preposterous!"
"It may be so; but you must prove it, and not simply content
yourself with affirming it. I am, at all events, more consistent than
you, who tell the man who does not see your a priori objection to
the belief of miracles, that a history which certainly contains as
many marks of historic veracity as any history in the world, and
discrepancies neither greater nor more numerous, must be reduced
(ninety-nine hundredths of it) to myth on account of those
discrepancies, while the others may still legitimate their claims
to be considered as genuine history! Your only escape, as I conceive,
from this dilemma, is, by saying that the marks of historic truth
in the New Testament, looked at as mere history, are not so great as
those of other histories, or that the discrepancies are greater; and
I think even you will not venture to assert that. But if you do, and
choose to put it on that issue, I shall be most happy to try the
criterion by examining Luke and Paul, Matthew and Mark, on the one
side; and Clarendon and May, or Hume, Lingard, and Macaulay, on the
other; or, if you prefer them, Livy and Polybius, or Tacitus
and Josephus."
"But I have bethought me of another answer," said Robinson. "Suppose
the sacred writers affirm that every syllable they utter is infallibly
true, being inspired?"
"Why, then," said Harrington, "first, you must find such a passage,
which many say you cannot; secondly, you must find one which says
that every syllable would remain always infallibly true, in spite
of all errors of transcription and corruptions of time, otherwise
your discrepancies will not touch the writers; and lastly, it does
not affect my argument whether you find any such absurdities or not,
since you and I would know what to say, though the Christian would not
like to say it; namely, that these writers were mistaken in the notion
of their plenary inspiration. It would still leave the mass of their
history to be dealt with like any other history. Now I want to know why,
if I reject the mass of that on the ground of certain discrepancies,
I must not reject the mass of this on the score of equal or greater."
After a few minutes Harrington turned to Fellowes and said,--"That in
relation to the bulk of mankind there can be no authentic history of
remote events plainly appears from a statement of Mr. Newman. He says,
you know, after having relinquished the investigation of the evidences
of Christianity, that he might have spared much weary thought and
useless labor, if, at an earlier time, this simple truth had been
pressed upon him, that since the 'poor and half-educated cannot
investigate historical and literary questions, therefore these questions
cannot constitute an essential part of religion.' You, if you recollect,
mentioned it to my uncle the other night; and, in spite of what he
replied, it does appear a weighty objection; on the other hand, if I
admit it to be conclusive, I seem to be driven to the most paradoxical
conclusions, at direct variance with the experience of all mankind,--at
least so they say. For why cannot an historical fact constitute part
of a religion?"
"Because, as Mr. Newman says, it is impossible that the bulk of people
call have any 'certainty in relation to such remote facts of history,"
said Fellowes.
"And, therefore, in relation to any other remote history; for if the
bulk of men cannot obtain certainty on, such historical questions,
neither can they obtain certainty on other historical questions."
"Perhaps not; but then what does it matter, in that case, whether they
can obtain certainty or not?"
"I am not talking--I am not thinking--as to whether it would matter or
not. I merely remark that, in relation to the generality of people,
at all events, they cannot obtain certainty on any remote historical
questions. Of course, with regard to ordinary history, it is neither
a man's duty, strictly speaking, to believe or disbelieve; and therefore
I said nothing about duty. But in neither the one case nor the other
is it possible for the bulk of mankind to obtain satisfaction, from a
personal investigation, as to the facts of remote history, or indeed
any history at all, except of a man's own life and that perhaps of
his own family, up to his father and down to his son! What do you say
to this,--yes or no?"
"I do not know that I should object to say that the great bulk of
mankind never can obtain a sufficiently certain knowledge of any fact
of history to warrant their belief of it."