Is it just that an historian should have the antiquaries crying out against him from every side, because, while keeping faithfully to documents, he draws something from them that has life or light? Is it just that when a character feels, moves, and speaks, rejoices or grieves, the Areopagus should declare him to be a fictitious being who could never have existed, and a pure product of the imagination? You believe that our ancestors were people like ourselves, with hearts that beat with passion and grief.—By no means; they were icy shades like those wandering on the banks of the Styx. Hitherto men had said: This being feels and moves, therefore he lives; but according to the new school, life is a fable. Nothing is authentic but what is wearisome. A man and a history are not looked upon as real living beings, unless they are colorless, stark, and cold.
Of this we have had many instances. One time we incurred this reproach: Your imagination, we were told, invents features which give animation to the subject, but about which you could know nothing. The following passage was quoted: 'When Fryth the reformer,' wrote the critic, 'was taken as a prisoner on foot to the episcopal court at Croydon, you say that "he had a calm and cheerful look, and the rest of the journey was accomplished in pious and agreeable conversation." How could you know that?' the objector went on. 'Were you of the party to see the appearance of his face?' We immediately took down the eighth volume of Foxe's Acts and Monuments, the appendix to which contains an account of Fryth's journey written by an eye-witness. We opened the book and found these words: 'And so with a cheerful and merry countenance, he went with them, spending the time in pleasant and godly communication.' What we were charged with having invented, was an almost literal transcript of a document more than three hundred years old.
If archæology were to be substituted for history, we do not think the public would be overpleased with the authors of the transformation. The investigations of palæographers are not the edifice, but the materials prepared for its construction. History is above archæology, as the house is above its foundations. The building raised by the architect is the end. In it men find a pleasant dwelling-place, sheltered from the inclemency of the seasons. But it is a good thing to excavate, to dig out fragments of rock from the bosom of the earth; it is advantageous, when you build, to have stones, and good stones too. The historian who sets little store by archæology betrays a superficial mind; the archæologist who sets little store by history betrays a mind whose cultivation is still incomplete. But we need not fear this movement; it has no chance of success. Real history will never perish.
We insert this protest in the present volume, not because of anything that may concern us personally; but as this history has been favorably received, we feel bound to prove that we have always followed the most respectable authorities, and although liable to error, we have conscientiously endeavored to give a truthful narrative—true in its facts and in the spirit by which it is animated.
When will debates and contests cease? Happily there is something in the world which the attacks of men can neither batter down nor even shake, and which is sufficient to give peace to the soul. The holy words which the prophets of God have written will exist for ever, because the Light of Life is in them, and because from age to age many hearts, longing for the highest blessings, have found, and still find, in them everlasting life. They delight us, not only on account of their divine origin, but because they fully satisfy all the wants of our existence. We say to this heavenly and living truth, which the divine words reveal to us: I was naked and thou didst clothe me. I was thirsty, and thou didst give me to drink. I was hungry, and thou gavest me meat. How is it that so many men, perishing with thirst, do not come to these waters? Writers of great power in pagan antiquity, such as Celsus, Porphyry, and Julian, attacked Christianity in the early ages, employing the same idle objections as are still used in our days. They knew not that it contained an imperishable strength. For eighteen hundred years it has withstood all attacks, and since our glorious Reformation it has received a new impulse. The nations who cover the most distant seas with their ships have scattered everywhere the seed of God. Their footsteps have reached to the ends of the world, and the crouching nations rise up at their approach. Perhaps unbelief was never more common in Europe among the lower strata of society; but at the same time believers were never so numerous throughout the world. It is a great multitude which no man can number.
And even were infidelity and atheism to increase more and more, that should not lead us to forsake Thee, thou Saviour of the world! If earthly wisdom gives its votaries a light which scorches and wastes the soul, Thou givest a light which uplifts, vivifies, and delights. In the midst of struggles Thou implantest peace in our hearts. In the depths of sorrows Thou givest a powerful and living consolation. At the approach of that death which is the terror of men, Thou fillest our souls with the firm and lively hope of reaching, by the path of Thy cross, life with Thee in the glorious and invisible world. To whom should we go, O Christ? Thou hast the words of eternal life, and we have believed and have known, that Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.
Geneva: March, 1869.
[1] The Guardian for 20th May, 1868.
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIFTH VOLUME.
BOOK VIII.
ENGLAND BREAKS WITH ROME.