Mr J.S. Mill's inexorable logic may not be without its use, as holding up the mirror to such inconsistency. On his own narrow premisses this eminent logician builds up his own narrow conclusions with remorseless rigour. Our author in his first part adopts this same narrow basis, and truly enough finds no resting-place for Christianity upon it, as indeed there is none for any theory of a providential government. But at the conclusion he tacitly and (as it would seem) quite unconsciously assumes a much wider standing-ground. If he had not done so, he himself would have been edged off his footing, and hurled down the precipice. A whole pack of 'pursuing wolves' [29:1] is upon him, far more ravenous than any which beset the path of the believers in revelation; and he has left himself no shelter. If he had commenced by defining what he meant by 'Nature' and 'Supernatural,' he might have avoided this inconsistency, though he must have sacrificed much of his argument to save his creed. As it is, he has unconsciously juggled with two senses of Nature. Nature in the first part, where he is arguing against miracles, is the aggregate of external phenomena—the same Nature against which Mr Mill prefers his terrible indictment for its cruelty and injustice. But Nature in the concluding chapter involves the idea of a moral Governor and a beneficent Father; and this idea can only be introduced by opening flood-gates of thought which refuse to be closed just at the moment when it is necessary to bar the admission of the miraculous. Our author has ranged himself unconsciously with the 'intuitive philosophers,' of whom Mr Mill speaks so scornfully. He has appealed, though he does not seem to be aware of it, to the inner consciousness of man, to the instincts and cravings of humanity, to interpret and supplement the teachings of external Nature; and he is altogether unaware how large a concession he has made to believers in revelation by so doing.
Even though we should close our eyes to all other considerations, it is vain to ignore the inevitable moral consequences which flow from this mode of reasoning; for they are becoming every day more apparent. The demand is made that we should abandon our Christianity on grounds which logically involve the abandonment of any belief in the providential government of the world and in the moral responsibility of man. Young men are apt to be far more logical than their elders. Older persons are taught by long experience to distrust the adequacy of their premisses: consciously or unconsciously they supplement the narrow conclusions of their logic by larger lessons learnt from human life or from their own heart. But generally speaking, the young man has no such distrust. His teacher has appealed to Nature, and to Nature he shall go. The teacher becomes frightened, struggles to retrace his steps, and speaks of 'an infinitely wise and beneficent Being'; but the pupil insolently points out how
Nature, red in tooth and claw,
With ravin, shrieks against his creed.
The teacher urges, 'All that is consistent with wise and omnipotent Law is prospered and brought to perfection:' [30:1] and the pupil replies: 'You have limited my horizon to this life, and in this life the facts do not verify your statement.' The teacher says, Believe that you—you personally—'are eternally cared for and governed by an omnipresent immutable power for which nothing is too great, nothing too insignificant.' [30:2] The pupil says: 'My Christianity did show me how this was possible; but with my Christianity I have cast it away as a delusion. I could not stop short at this point consistently with the principles you have laid down for my guidance. I have done as you told me to do; I have "ratified the fiat which maintains the order of Nature," [30:3] and I find Nature wholly
Careless of the single life.
I will therefore please myself henceforth.' The teacher speaks of 'the purity which alone sees God;' and to him the expression has a real meaning, for his mind is unconsciously saturated with ideas which he has certainly not learnt from his adopted philosophy: but to the pupil it has lost its articulate utterance, and is no better than sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. Hence the pupil, having thrown off his Christianity, too often follows out the principles of his teacher to their logical conclusions, and divests himself also of moral restraints, except so far as it may be convenient or necessary for him to submit to them. Happily this has not been the case hitherto in the large majority of instances. The permanence of habits formed in a nobler school of teaching, the abiding presence of a loftier ideal not derived from this new philosophy, and (we may add also) the voice of an inward witness whose authority is denied, but whose warnings nevertheless compel a hearing, all tend to raise the level of men's conduct above their principles. The full moral consequences of the teaching would only then be seen, if ever a generation should grow up, moulded altogether under its influences.
II. THE SILENCE OF EUSEBIUS.
[JANUARY, 1875.]
'It is very important,' says the author of Supernatural Religion, when commencing his critical investigations, 'that the silence of early writers should receive as much attention as any supposed allusions to the Gospels.' [32:1] In the present article I shall act upon this suggestion. In one province more especially, relating to the external evidences for the Gospels, silence occupies a prominent place. This mysterious oracle will be interrogated, and, unless I am mistaken, the response elicited will not be at all ambiguous.
To EUSEBIUS we are indebted for almost all that we know of the lost ecclesiastical literature of the second century. This literature was very considerable. The Expositions of Papias, in five books, and the Ecclesiastical History of Hegesippus, likewise in five books, must have been full of important matter bearing on our subject. The very numerous works of Melito and Claudius Apollinaris, of which Eusebius has preserved imperfect lists [32:2], ranged over the wide domain of theology, of morals, of exegesis, of apologetics, of ecclesiastical order; and here again a flood of light would probably have been poured on the history of the Canon, if time had spared these precious documents of Christian antiquity. Even the extant writings of the second century, however important they may be from other points of view, give a very inadequate idea of the relation of their respective authors to the Canonical writings. In the case of Justin Martyr for instance, it is not from his Apologies or from his Dialogue with Trypho that we should expect to obtain the fullest and most direct information on this point. In works like these, addressed to Heathens and Jews, who attributed no authority to the writings of Apostles and Evangelists, and for whom the names of the writers would have no meaning, we are not surprised that he refers to those writings for the most part anonymously and with reserve. On the other hand, if his treatise against Marcion (to take a single instance) had been preserved, we should probably have been placed in a position to estimate with tolerable accuracy his relation to the Canonical writings. But in the absence of all this valuable literature, the notices in Eusebius assume the utmost importance, and it is of primary moment to the correctness of our result that we should rightly interpret his language. Above all, it is incumbent on us not to assume that his silence means exactly what we wish it to mean. Eusebius made it his business to record notices throwing light on the history of the Canon. The first care of the critic therefore should be to inquire with what aims and under what limitations he executed this portion of his work.